f a marriage between the daughter of the
King of England and the son of the King of Scots. The treaty established
a peace which had not yet been broken, and the Princess Margaret of
England was now the Queen of Scotland. But while on that embassy to York
Earl Hamish of Bute won more than the gratitude of his sovereign, for he
won the heart of the Lady Adela Warwick, and, making her his wife, he
brought her to his castle of Rothesay, where she had lived happily ever
since.

She was thinking of these matters as she heard Earl Roderic's story of
his great unhappiness, and her eyes were fixed dreamily before her.

Now Roderic, to whom the presence of this sweet and beautiful lady was a
new experience, observed her pensiveness and wondered thereat. His
roving glance presently fell upon her plate.

"Ah!" said he, "you have no salt, my lady."

And thereupon he took her knife and dug its point into the salt horn.

"Nay, nay!" she cried in alarm; and she grasped his wrist so that he
spilled the salt upon the table.

"What have you done?" he exclaimed. "This is the most unlucky thing that
could have happened! Alas, alas!"

"Would you, then, have helped my lady to sorrow?" cried Sir Oscar
Redmain, rising wrathfully. "By the rood, but you are a thoughtless loon!"

Earl Hamish at the head of the board, hearing his lady's cry, rose
hastily and approached her, and saw that she was very pale.

"I will retire," said she, "for the hall is over warm. I am faint and
uneasy."

Earl Hamish led her to the door. There he kissed her fondly on her white
brow and she went to her chamber.

CHAPTER IV. THE DARKENING HALL.

The lord of Bute sat not down again, for the feast was at an end. Sir
Oscar Redmain, minding that he had to travel all the way to Kilmory that
night, went to his master and spoke with him aside. While the earl and
his steward were thus engaged, a tall seneschal with his serving men
came into the hall to clear away the remains of the banquet; and as the
old minstrel left his place at the fireside to continue his harping in
the supping room of the guards, the two lads, Alpin of Bute and Allan
Redmain, stepped to the hearth to hold converse with the three guests.

Alpin and his young friend were both about nineteen years of age. They
were almost full grown, and manly exercise had made them strong. They
wore their rough hunting clothes -- loose vests of leather, homespun
kilts, and untanned buskins. They carried