ot ower leal either,' said Eleanor.

'Lealty is a rare plant ony gate,' sighed Margaret, 'and where sae
little is recked of our Scots royalty, mayhap ye'll find that tocherless
lasses be less sought for than at hame. Didna I see thee, Elleen,
clavering with that muckle Archduke that nane can talk with?'

'Ay,' said Eleanor.

'He is come here a-courting Madame Yolande, with his father's goodwill,
for Alsace and Tyrol be his, mountains that might be in our ain
Hielands, they tell me.'

'Methougnt,' said Eleanor, 'she scunnered from him, as Jeanie does
at--shall I say whom?'

'And reason gude,' said Margaret. 'She has a joe of her ain, Count Ferry
de Vaudemont, that is the heir male of the line, and a gallant laddie.
At the great joust the morn methinks ye'll see what may well be sung by
minstrels, and can scarce fail to touch the heart of a true troubadour,
as is my good uncle Rene.'

Margaret became quite animated, and her sisters pressed her to tell them
if she knew of any secret; but she playfully shook her head, and said
that if she did know she would not mar the romaunt that was to be played
out before them.

'Nay,' said Eleanor, 'we have a romaunt of our own. May I tell, Jeanie?'

'Who recks?' replied Jean, with a little toss of her head.

Thus Eleanor proceeded to tell her sister what--since the adventure of
the goose--had gone far beyond a guess as to the tall, red-haired young
man-at-arms who had ridden close behind David Drummond.

'Douglas, Douglas, tender and true,' exclaimed Margaret. 'He loves you
so as to follow for weeks, nay, months, in this guise without word or
look. Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie, happy lassie, did ye but ken it! Nay, put not
on that scornful mou'. It sorts you not weel, my bairn. He is of degree
befitting a Stewart, and even were he not, oh, sisters, sisters, better
to wed with a leal loving soul in ane high peel-tower than to bear a
broken heart to a throne!' and she fell into a convulsive fit of choked
and bitter weeping, which terrified her sisters.

At the sound of a lute, apparently being brought nearer, accompanied
with footsteps, she hastily recovered herself, and rose to her feet,
while a smile broke out over her face, as the musician, a slender,
graceful figure, appeared on the path in the moonlight.

'Answering the nightingales, Maitre Alain?' she said.

'This is the court of nightingales, Madame,' he replied. 'It is
presumption to endeavour to rival them even though the