So the morning passed so quickly that I scarce knew it. We went together to a little turret-room facing the north and fronting the broad avenue which all must pass who come to the house; and here we waited for the coming of Nicol. I felt a fierce regret as I looked away over the woods and meadows to the little ridge of hills beyond which lay Barns, and saw the fair landscape all bathed in spring sunshine. It was so still and peaceful that I felt a great desire to dwell there with Marjory in quiet, and have done forever with brawling and warfare. I had come home from the Low Countries with a longing for the plain country life of Tweeddale, such as I had been bred to. I was prepared in heart to get ready my fishing-rods and see to my guns, and begin again my long-loved sports. But harsh fate had decreed otherwise, and I was to fare forth like a partridge on the mountains, and taste the joys of the chase in a new manner. But at the thought my spirits rose again. I would love dearly to play a game of hide-and-go-seek with my cousin Gilbert, and so long as I had my sword and my wits about me, I did not fear. My one care was Marjory, and this, in truth, was a sore one. I cursed my cousin right heartily, and all his belongings, and vowed, deep down in my heart, to recompense him some day for all his doings. It is true that all this while it lay open to me to brazen it out before His Majesty’s Council, and try to clear my name from guilt. But as the hours passed this method grew more distasteful to me. There I should be in a strange place among enemies and scenes of which I knew nothing. Innocent though I might be, it was more than likely that I should find myself worsted. More, it seemed the gallanter thing to contest the matter alone among the hills, a fight between soldiers, with no solemn knaves to interfere. So by this time I had all but resolved on the course which my servant had first advised. About twelve of the clock we saw a long figure slinking up the avenue, keeping well in the shade of the trees, and looking warily on all sides. I knew my man, and going down to the door, I set it open, and waited for his coming. Nor did I wait long. When he saw me he changed his walk for a trot, and came up breathing hard, like a hound which has had a long run. I led him into the dining-hall, and Marjory prepared for him food and drink. Never a word spoke he till he had satisfied his hunger. Then he pushed back his chair, and looking sadly at my lady, shook his head as though in dire confusion. "A bonny bigging, Maister John," he said, "but ye’ll sune hae to leave it." "That’s a matter on which I have waited for your coming," said I, "but I would hear how you fared since I left you." "I’ve nae guid news," he said sadly, "but such as they are ye maun e’en hear them." And this was the tale he told. CHAPTER IV HOW MICHAEL VEITCH MET HIS END