The duchess, Katherine, who was a daughter of the Duke of Hamilton, came hurriedly forward to meet the famous outlaw, of whom she had heard so much, and to whom she frankly presented her hand to kiss,--for she was as yet ignorant of the vile plot her husband had framed. She then presented to him her son, the little Lord Tullybardine, who eight-and-twenty years after was to unfurl the banner of Prince Charles Edward in Glenfinnan; and poor Rob, when he saw the rich dress of the fair-haired boy, thought with a sigh of his own sons, who were at times compelled to share the abode of the fox and the eagle. "MacGregor," exclaimed the duchess, on seeing him without a sword; "MacGregor here, and _unarmed_!" Rob discovered in a moment that he was the victim of some perfidy, for by this simple exclamation the duchess proved that her husband had been guilty of falsehood. He bestowed a glance of stern inquiry on the duke, who coloured deeply, and said with an air of manifest confusion-- "I thought your sword might prove troublesome if anything unpleasant occurred between us." "Between friends--between a guest and a host--what could occur that would be unpleasant?" replied MacGregor; "Athole, I understand you not." "You will understand this, _Mr._ MacGregor," said the duke, suddenly throwing aside all disguise, "that you have committed such wild work along the Highland border since the battle of Sheriffmuir, ay, since you harried the lands of Kippen, after the battle of Killycrankie, that I must detain you." "Detain?" repeated Rob, with surprise and contempt. "And send you to Edinburgh." "Where I should swing on a gibbet, a holiday sight for the psalm-singing burgesses, even as Alaster of Glenstrae was swung after the field of Glenfruin! Am I then snared--betrayed?" exclaimed Rob, starting back, and looking round for the means of defence or escape; but the high walls of the garden were on three sides, and the towers of the castle closed in the fourth, and therein was his faithful henchman, whom he could not desert in peril, even could he have made an escape from the garden. "Dare you tell me, Duke of Athole," he resumed, "that you have betrayed me?" "Phrase it as you please, I----" "Has a man of your rank and name a soul so mean, so vile, that he will forfeit honour and faith to win the paltry reward offered for the head of a loyal and unfortunate gentleman, whom tyranny and oppression have covered with ruin, and driven to despair and shame?" Deadly pale and terrified by this unexpected scene, the gentle duchess shrunk close to her husband, who when MacGregor made a forward stride, laid his hand on his sword. "Sir," said he, "do you threaten me, in my own castle of Blair?"; "Villain!" exclaimed MacGregor, "you shall live to repent the deed of to-day."