"Father," retorted the proud young prince, "do you forget that we Stuarts were _once_ but thanes of Strathyryffe?" "I do not," said the king, rising; "and by that proud memory command you to renounce this woman!" "Impossible! mortal man may not now put us asunder." James III. grew pale with anger. "If, like King Duncan, thou hadst openly wedded the miller of Forteviot's daughter, I could have forgiven it; but the secrecy, the deceit of thee, and of this Lord Drummond, whose friend and benefactor I have been, sting me to the soul. He has but wiled and intrigued with thee, that his daughter may be a queen, and I dethroned, even perhaps before my wretched days are numbered. Now my own son conspires against me!" added the king, wildly, as he covered his face with his hands; "for I have fallen on evil times. Ah! woe is me!" "I beseech your majesty to pardon me!" said Rothesay, who was crushed for a moment by the grief and bitterness of his father. "Promise me, first, the renunciation of this artful woman!" said the king, looking up, imploringly. "Rather than conceive a thought so base, I will take my sword, and, renouncing the Scottish crown in favour of my little brother the Duke of Ross, or even of the exiled son of my uncle Albany and Anne of Auvergne, I will enter the service of Charles VIII. to fight against the Breton lords, or of Ferdinand the Catholic, to fight the Spanish Moors; I will go wherever my sword can find me bread, and leave this land for ever!" James III. grew pale again, for he knew well the rashness of which Rothesay was capable. "Another menace such as this," said he, snatching up a silver whistle which lay on the table, "and I will send thee under guard to the Tower of Lochmaben or the Castle of Inverlochie. Inconsiderate boy, this rash espousal is every way illegal, for ye are both related within the third and forbidden degree of blood!" "The Lord Bishop of Dunblane----" "He has been captured on the seas by English pirates." "Alas! I know, but he was bringing our dispensation from Rome." "Ho! what is this thou tellest me? A dispensation! Could Henry VII. know of it? Impossible; yet why seize the poor bishop and destroy his papers." James bit his lip, and, smiling disdainfully, added, "This wily Tudor toils hard to have his daughter wedded to a Stuart--but Barton's bones are yet unburied, and his kinsmen will yet avenge his death. But do, dear Rothesay, pause, for it seems that this frantic love hath bewitched thee." "I have no reason to blush for it. Have not the bravest soldiers, the wisest philosophers--yea, the most virtuous saints--been vanquished by its power? Think over it calmly, my dearest king and father, and say, wouldst thou have me to deceive one who has trusted to me, and whose love for me is not second even to thine."