thou look to humour the fool," he said; "I care not how little I see
him, knowing what is to be done."

"Trust all to me," said the physician, shrugging his shoulders. "What
sort of a butcher is he that can cut the lamb's throat, yet is afraid to
hear it bleat?"

"Tush, fear not my constancy: I cannot forget that he would have cast
me into the cloister with as little regard as if he threw away the
truncheon of a broken lance. Begone--yet stay; ere you go to arrange
this silly pageant, something must be settled to impose on the thick
witted Charteris. He is like enough, should he be left in the belief
that the Duchess of Rothsay is still here, and Catharine Glover in
attendance on her, to come down with offers of service, and the like,
when, as I need scarce tell thee, his presence would be inconvenient.
Indeed, this is the more likely, that some folks have given a warmer
name to the iron headed knight's great and tender patronage of this
damsel."

"With that hint, let me alone to deal with him. I will send him such a
letter, that for this month he shall hold himself as ready for a journey
to hell as to Falkland. Can you tell me the name of the Duchess's
confessor?"

"Waltheof, a grey friar."

"Enough--then here I start."

In a few minutes, for he was a clerk of rare celerity, Dwining finished
a letter, which he placed in Ramorny's hand.

"This is admirable, and would have made thy fortune with Rothsay. I
think I should have been too jealous to trust thee in his household,
save that his day is closed."

"Read it aloud," said Dwining, "that we may judge if it goes trippingly
off."

And Ramorny read as follows: "By command of our high and mighty Princess
Marjory, Duchess of Rothsay, and so forth, we Waltheof, unworthy brother
of the order of St. Francis, do thee, Sir Patrick Charteris, knight of
Kinfauns, to know, that her Highness marvels much at the temerity with
which you have sent to her presence a woman of whose fame she can judge
but lightly, seeing she hath made her abode, without any necessity,
for more than a week in thine own castle, without company of any other
female, saving menials; of which foul cohabitation the savour is gone
up through Fife, Angus, and Perthshire. Nevertheless, her Highness,
considering the ease as one of human frailty, hath not caused this
wanton one to be scourged with nettles, or otherwise to dree penance;
but, as two good brethren of the convent of Lindores, the Fathers
Thi