Then I minded how I had taken the matter myself. Yet I was sorrier for him, because I knew that he had loved her longer and better than I. But nevertheless he tossed his sword hand in air, and cried, ’We are in time for a bridal, brave lads; this is more than we bargained for. Let us go greet the bride and wish her joy.’ And this I grant was a better way than sulking and self-pity in the greenwood, which would have been mine that day, had I been left alone. With that he put the horses to the gallop, and we rode through the narrow pass of the drawbridge by two and two. The roar of the horses passing over was as the roar of the sea when the storm drives up from the west on the Craigs of Culzean. As we came by the corner of the terrace, I saw him give a look at that window of the White Tower which faced to the landward. It had been the Lady Marjorie’s, and now was to be hers no more. Then I saw him look down on the fretting sea, as it tumbled white on the pebbles and rocks by the Cove. And I knew why he looked there, and I knew more also, for I remembered what I had heard Marjorie say after he had gone clanking down the shore in his anger and pride. Yet all the while Bargany rode light-hand upon his bridle-rein, the pride of his horsemen clattering behind him, gay with the music of hoofs and the dance of red and white pennons. I wondered not that, as they said, he took the eyes of ladies wherever he went. So that the Queen’s bower-women quarrelled concerning him, till Her Majesty said, ’I shall have no peace till I take him for myself. But what would James say if young Bargany were to sing "John, come kiss me now," beneath my bower window?’ But more than all ladies’ favours I envied him such a brave repair of horse to follow him. For Culzean was too poor, and the Lord of Cassillis too near the bone to keep any such array of mounted gentlemen. For hackbuttmen, and footmen with spears, were more to our Earl’s mind, being better in the time of war, and a deal cheaper in the days of peace—which even in these troubled years were so many more than the days of fighting. As we rode up, and the Bargany squadron halted with a great spattering of sand and tossing of the heads of horses, the wedding folk were just coming out. First of all there issued forth the bride, our Marjorie, the Marjorie that had been ours, on James Mure’s arm—he that now was her husband. And behind them came the Minister of Maybole and Sir Thomas, walking together very caigy[#] and jocose. [#] Friendly. But Marjorie’s face was like stone, though the bitterness of death overpast was gone from it. I trust mine eyes may never see such a look of reproach and pain in any human face, as was in hers when she saw Gilbert Kennedy sitting his horse in front of the squadron, upon the gravel stones from the seashore that were laid before the castle steps. But Gilbert only saluted her, and cried aloud as was customary, ’Luck to the wedding and health to the bride!’