Accompanied by MacAleister, he duly appeared on a day in July at the castle of Blair, in a chamber of which the duke had treacherously concealed an officer and sixty soldiers. The castle is a baronial edifice of great extent and unknown antiquity; one portion of it is still named the Comyns Tower, from John of Strathbolgie, who built it, and it has stood many a siege in the stormy times of old. A forest of splendid trees and a vast expanse of beautiful scenery are around it. The wandering life led by MacGregor had now imparted somewhat of wildness to the aspect and costume of his henchman and himself. His eyes were sunken and had become keen and fierce, as those of one who in every sound, even to the rustle of a dry leaf, heard the tread of an enemy. Long untrimmed and unshorn, his hair and curly beard waved in masses about his weatherbeaten face. His red tartans, every thread of which had been spun by Helen's hands, her labour of love, were worn and frittered. His coat was made of coarse homespun black and white wool in its natural state, just as it came from the sheep's back, with two rows of large wooden buttons; and he wore a red woollen shirt, for the Highlanders still disdained linen and cotton as effeminate. He had an eagle's feather and a sprig of pine in his bonnet; his target, battered and dinted by many a blade and bullet, was slung on his left shoulder, and he had as usual his sword, dirk, and pistols, when, all unconscious of the wicked snare that was laid for him, he and his follower presented themselves at the splendid residence of the Duke of Athole. The latter, who had been made aware of his approach, received him, apparently, with great cordiality. "I know not how to express the joy I feel in having so brave a gentleman in my house," said he, "but, as a first favour, I must beg of you to lay aside your sword and pistols." "Wherefore, my lord?" asked Rob, who felt surprised at a request so unusual. "The duchess is somewhat timid, and the sight of such things always alarms her." "By my faith, Athole, had she seen her rooftree in flames, and as much of her own blood shed as the goodwife of Inversnaid has seen in her time, the sight of an armed man would not cause uneasiness," replied Rob, with a sigh of anger, as he unbuckled his sword-belt, took the dirk and pistols from his girdle, and said, "but where is your good lady, duke?" "In the garden, where we shall join her." "MacAleister, keep my claymore and tacks for me, and await me here," said Rob, handing the weapons to his henchman, through whose mind some vague suspicions floated, as he never once removed his keen glance from the face of the duke, on whom he gazed as if he would have read his soul. But now Rob and his host descended by a flight of steps into the garden of the castle.