"Shame," reiterated Rothesay, kissing away her tears. "Ah, Margaret, have you forgotten that night in the cathedral at Dunblane, when we were so solemnly united, as Father Zuill and the cathedral registrars shall yet bear testimony in Parliament. Ere long the Bishop of Dunblane will bring from Rome the dispensation that shall clear us all, and then I shall _again_ espouse thee, Margaret, with such splendour as Scotland has not seen since Mary of Gueldres stood by the side of James II. at the altar of the Holy Cross." "But till then, I must live in terror, and love in secret. Oh, prince, had I loved thee less--had I known or foreseen--but I most not weary thee with unavailing reproaches, prince----" "Prince again! Now this is most unkind. Dear Margaret, why call me otherwise than James Stuart--am I not thine own James?" "Thou art, indeed, and my beloved one!" said Margaret, laying her beautiful head on the breast of her handsome lover, with one of her sweetest and most confiding smiles; "but do pardon me, if I say, that there are times when I look forward and tremble--look back and weep. There is something to me so terrible in the renewal of the old strife between the king and the nobles. My father, the proudest among them, is ever muttering deep threats of vengeance against the royal favourites, and in the quarrel which I see too surely coming, if all the pride and ferocity of the peers are unchained against the throne, what may be the fate of thee, of this poor tender bud, and of myself? Oh, James, think of the many who wish for the English alliance, and who would brush me from their path like a gossamer web!" "Thee!" exclaimed the prince, clutching his poniard; "not Angus himself, even in the heart of his strongest fortresses, or amid his twenty thousand vassals, dare harbour an evil thought against the lady Rothesay loves. Nay, nay, Maggie, thou art sorely in error." "At a wave from the hand of Angus, all the troopers of the east and middle marches are in their helmets; then think of the hatred of Shaw and Hailes--the treachery of Kyneff--the mad ambition of them all! They are brooding over revolt--one day it will come. Would, dear prince, that we had never met or rather, that I had never been!" "Still regrets," said Rothesay, impatiently. "Pardon me, dearest, if I weary thee--I do not regret, but I fear." "What glamour hath possessed thee to-night, Margaret? for, by the Black Rood, I never saw thee so full of dolorous thoughts." "An evil omen, perhaps," said Margaret, with one of her faint smiles. "This morning, when looking for the prayers prepared for those who are in tribulation, I thrice opened my missal at the burial service for the dead." "And what then?" "Madam my aunt, the Duchess of Montrose, told me, to-day, it was a sure sign of coming evil." "Your aunt the Duchess of Montrose is an--old fool!" said the prince, bluntly.