med
the effect of care or of dissipation, or of both these wasting causes
combined. His eyes were sunk and dim, as from late indulgence in revelry
on the preceding evening, while his cheek was inflamed with unnatural
red, as if either the effect of the Bacchanalian orgies had not passed
away from the constitution, or a morning draught had been resorted to,
in order to remove the effects of the night's debauchery.

Such was the Duke of Rothsay, and heir of the Scottish crown, a sight
at once of interest and compassion. All unbonneted and made way for him,
while he kept repeating carelessly, "No haste--no haste: I shall arrive
soon enough at the place I am bound for. How's this--a damsel of the
joyous science? Ay, by St. Giles! and a comely wench to boot. Stand
still, my merry men; never was minstrelsy marred for me. A good voice,
by the mass! Begin me that lay again, sweetheart."

Louise did not know the person who addressed her; but the general
respect paid by all around, and the easy and indifferent manner in which
it was received, showed her she was addressed by a man of the highest
quality. She recommenced her lay, and sung her best accordingly; while
the young duke seemed thoughtful and rather affected towards the close
of the ditty. But it was not his habit to cherish such melancholy
affections.

"This is a plaintive ditty, my nut brown maid," said he, chucking the
retreating glee maiden under the chin, and detaining her by the collar
of her dress, which was not difficult, as he sat on horseback so close
to the steps on which she stood. "But I warrant me you have livelier
notes at will, ma bella tenebrosa; ay, and canst sing in bower as well
as wold, and by night as well as day."

"I am no nightingale, my lord," said Louise, endeavouring to escape a
species of gallantry which ill suited the place and circumstances--a
discrepancy to which he who addressed it to her seemed contemptuously
indifferent.

"What hast thou there, darling?" he added, removing his hold from her
collar to the scrip which she carried.

Glad was Louise to escape his grasp, by slipping the knot of the riband,
and leaving the little bag in the Prince's hand, as, retiring back
beyond his reach, she answered, "Nuts, my lord, of the last season."

The Prince pulled out a handful of nuts accordingly. "Nuts, child! they
will break thine ivory teeth, hurt thy pretty voice," said Rothsay,
cracking one with his teeth, like a village schoolboy.