ity for the fate of her whom they had
once hated with such good cause.

CHAPTER LXI

LEAP YEAR IN GALLOWAY

Morning dawned fair over the wide strath of Dee. Cairnsmuir and Ben
Gairn stood out south and north like blue, round-shouldered sentinels.
Castle Thrieve rose grey in the midst of the water-meadows, massive
and sombre in the early sunrise.

Andro the Penman and his brother John, with the taciturnity natural to
early risers, were silently hoisting the flag which denoted the
presence of the noble young chatelaine of the great fortress.

Sholto also was early astir, for the affairs of the castle and of the
host were in his hand, and there was much business to be despatched
that morning. The young Avondale Douglases were riding away from
Thrieve, for word had come that James the Gross, seventh Earl of
Douglas, was surely at death's door.

"Besides," said William Douglas, "wherefore should we stay--our work
is done. No one will molest our cousin in her heritages now! We five
have stood about her while there was need. But for the present Sir
Sholto and his men can keep count and reckoning with any from the
back-shore of Leswalt to Berwick bound."

"Aye, indeed," cried James Douglas, "we will go till the time come
when the suitors gather, like corbies about a dead lamb!"

"That is not a savoury comparison," cried Margaret of Douglas, now
grown older, and already giving more than a mere promise of that
wondrous beauty which afterwards made her celebrated in all lands,
"but after all, you, cousin James, have some right to make it. For,
but for you and our good Sholto there, this little ewe lamb would have
been carrion indeed!"

"Good-by!" cried James of Avondale. "Haste thee and grow up, sweet
coz. Then will I come back with the rest of the corbies and take my
chance of the feast. I will keep myself for that day."

But William Douglas sat square and silent on his charger.

The Maid of Galloway waved her hand gaily to the younger of the
knights.

"You shall have your chance with the rest," she cried; "but you will
not care about me then. Very likely I may have to fleech and cozen
with you like a sweetie-wife at a fair before either of you will marry
me. And you know I have sworn on the bones of Saint Bride to marry
none but a Douglas of the Douglases!"

Then William Douglas saluted without a word, and turning his
bridle-rein rode away with his face steadfastly set to the north. But
James ever cried