CHAPTER XX.

INSTRUCTION IN LOVING

It becomes not me to write of the doings of William Douglas--of how he began to realise his ideal, by taking the king out of the hands of Crichton and Livingston, of his being made Lieutenant-General of the Realm--of how he besieged and destroyed Crichton Castle, and afterwards took that of Edinburgh. Of course William Douglas would succeed. I never doubted of that of him, being my husband.

Twice only did he take me with him when he was received in state, and stood at the king’s right hand. But I liked not James Stewart’s appearance--no, not though he was a king and twice the descendant of kings. On his face was the birth tache which gave him his nickname--James of the Fiery Face. His temper was naturally uncertain, yet capable of rages which made him dangerous as a cur that runs amuck in the dog-days. Never could I bear the name and kind all the days of me--Stewards and turnspits mating with foreign kings and princes, yet ceasing not to intrigue with the scum and filth of the land, in order to put down the noblest and bravest of their own. Out upon the Stewarts, I say! And as to this, it was Malise who first opened my eyes.

Sholto was now often away in the north or in Edinburgh and Stirling with the Earl William. For my husband came but seldom to Thrieve since he grew so great in the land, even as it was written that he should. Yet this I think was for my sake, and he never came without bringing me a present of the rarest and best--such things as he knew would please me, curious Oriental caskets, egg-shaped, carved out of ivory, carpets of Turkey work, and for myself all manner of beautiful garmentry, which, if I had put upon me, I would have been gayer than the peacock that pivoted his tail upon the sundial in front of the arbour beneath the ilex in my garden.

I knew he meant to be kind. For ofttimes it seemed that he would arrive at Thrieve with something to say to me, and yet sit in the garden talking of indifferent things, while he took my hand, holding it in his--but only as a cousin might do, even in France. I think he remembered always the Lady’s Bower, and what had been said and done there. For me I sometimes wished he had forgotten.

I have said that my south-looking chamber had beneath it a terrace with a baluster, the same whereon I had heard the brothers A’Hannay take up their parable concerning Magdalen M‘Kim. At the least it was so, and by opening my window, either in the little outer chamber or in the bedroom, one could hear excellently what went on beneath. For my