looked up at his visitor with no great good nature, and said
sharply,--

"Well, what is it?"

"Your majesty," cried MacDonald jubilantly, "I think I have found a
method of escape, and that without in any way impugning our pledges."

"Oh, is that all," said the king, with the air of snubbing too
enthusiastic a courtier. "I thought the house was on fire."

"And I thought, your majesty," returned MacDonald, "that this subject
was ever uppermost in your mind."

The king rested his closed fist on his hip, leaned his head a little
to one side and examined his rival critically.

"Why have you returned so unexpectedly to the phrase, your majesty?"

"Because, your majesty," answered MacDonald laughing, "the phrase,
Guidman of Ballengeich, no longer matters."

"I do not understand you."

"It is to make myself understood that I have come so hurriedly. I beg
then to inform your majesty, that Miss MacLeod has consented to become
my wife. I have spoken to her father, who has somewhat grudgingly and
conditionally given his consent. It occurred to me that if I wedded
the daughter of your gaoler, I may have enough influence with the
family to secure your majesty's release."

"I have no doubt," said the king, "that this was your object from the
beginning. And so you have exchanged a temporary gaoler for one that
will last you all your life."

The Highlander knit his brow and compressed his lips, as if to hold
back some retort which later he might regret. There was a moment's
constrained silence, then the king flung off his ill-humour as if it
were a cloak.

"Forgive me, Jamie," he cried, springing to his feet. "Forgive the
wounded vanity of the vanquished."

He extended his hand impetuously, which the other grasped with eager
cordiality.

"Jamie, my lad, you were right. The crown weighs heavy when it is
thrown into the scale, but with this lassie I well believe it would
have made not an ounce of difference. Let the best man win, say I,
and you're the victor, so you have my warmest congratulation. Still,
Jamie, you must admit that the Gaelic is the cursedest lingo ever a
poor Lowland-bred man tried to get his tongue round. So now you see,
Jamie, we are even again. You think the crown defeated you at
Stirling, and I hold the language defeated me in Skye; thus we are
both able to retain a good opinion of ourselves, which is the splendid
privilege of every Scotchman to hold. Your bravery deserves success,
for it requires