"To tread the same path my hapless father trod," replied the duke, with something of dignity and pathos in his manner. "It may lead, alas!----" "To the same bloody doom, you would say?" "Yes; I would pray your grace to be wary." "I care not; I shall live and die, Robert Stewart, duke of Albany and earl of Rosse, if I die not something better." A cunning smile twinkled in the hawk-like eyes of the unfathomable Achanna. "Sit with us, Luaig," said Albany; "my heart ever warms to my countrymen, though cold as ice to my little cousin their king; and there are times when I hope to close my eyes peacefully in the same place where they first saw the light, the old castle of Rothesay by the sea--the waves that flow through the bonnie kyles of Bute, and past the hills of Cowal; but of all that more anon. Sit with us, sir, the more the merrier." "With this poor stoup of wine?" said the prosaic Achanna, peering into the tankard with one of his cunning eyes. "True, the old saw did not add that," said Albany, rattling the purse at his girdle; "but gibe me not about it. What can be worse than having too much liquor?" "Having none at all," returned the thirsty parasite. "_Laus Deo!_ you are right, Achanna. Hallo, tapster! more wine, and quickly too. Think of Robert of Albany having for a server that slipshod varlet, who is all breeches and horn buttons! But you seem to have been severely wounded, laird of Luaig?" "Almost to death," said Gray, and while Achanna, as if inspired by some undefinable suspicion, surveyed him keenly, he writhed at having to falsify so much, and trembled for the next question; but, on the wine being placed on the table, the careless Albany filled their cups to the brim, saying, "Drink, my friend, drink of this, it comes from the land of old Duke Philip the Good, and you will find it better than arquebusade," he added, referring to a medicinal lotion then famous for gun-shot wounds. "May I ask in what direction your grace is travelling?" inquired Gray, who had some anxiety in the matter. "The direction that suits our fancy," replied Achanna. "I spoke to the duke of Albany," said Gray, with a flash in his eye, and a gush of fury through his heart. "True, and Albany can answer for himself," said the duke; "we are travelling with all speed to overtake the earl of Douglas and his friends." "Who are now at Breda?" said Gray, eagerly. "No; they are at--how name you the place, Achanna?" "Where?" asked Gray, as the latter hesitated. "At Bommel." "Is it distant?" "Nay, 'tis thirty miles nearer than Breda, and we shall reach it to-morrow." "And to-morrow, perhaps, I may see _her_," thought the lover in his heart. "To the great Earl James of Douglas, Abercorn, and Avondale, and to our happy meeting," exclaimed Albany, draining another large cup of wine.