* * * * *

JAMES GRANT

Bothwell

The author of “Bothwell,” and many other romantic tales, was a Scotsman by birth, parentage, and perfervid sentiment.  He was born at Edinburgh on August 1, 1822.  His father was a distinguished Highland officer; by his mother he was related to his illustrious literary exemplar, Sir Walter Scott.  He was only twenty-three years of age when “The Romance of War” made him one of the most famous authors of his day.  Other tales quickly followed, including, in 1853, “Bothwell, or The Days of Mary Queen of Scots,” and it seemed as if readers could not have too much of the lively adventure and vigorous historical portraiture to which Grant unfailingly treated them.  Altogether he wrote more than fifty novels, many of them involving considerable research.  Grant outlived his popularity; the public sought new writers, and when he died, on May 5, 1887, he was penniless.  For fertility of incident, rapid change of scene, and skilful intermingling of historical with imaginary people and events, “Bothwell” is not surpassed by any of the romances that came from its author’s fertile pen.

I.—­Anna of Bergen

Erick Rosenkrantz, Governor of Aggerhuis, in Norway, and castellan of Bergen, stood in the hall of his castle to welcome noble guests.  It was a bleak and stormy day in September of 1565.  Ill, indeed, would it have fared with the newcomers had not Konrad of the Salzberg, the young captain of the crossbowmen of Bergen, ventured forth on the raging sea at the peril of his life, and piloted their vessel into safety.

The first of these was a tall and handsome man, about thirty years old, with a peculiar, dare-devil expression in his deep, dark eye, richly attired, and wearing a long sword and Scottish dagger.  His companion, who deferentially remained a few paces behind, was a man of gigantic stature, swarthy and dark in complexion, with fierce and restless eyes.

“Sir Erick,” began the chamberlain, “allow me to introduce Sir James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, a noble peer, ambassador from Mary Queen of Scots to his Danish majesty.”

“We thank you for your gracious hospitality, fair sir,” said Bothwell, with a profound courtesy; then, turning to Konrad, “And now, brave youth, by whose valour we have been saved, let me thank you.”

He warmly shook Konrad’s hand, while the youth tried to catch the eye of Anna, the governor’s fair-haired and lovely niece.  But Anna was too intently regarding the strangers.

Suddenly Bothwell perceived her; his colour heightened, his eyes sparkled.

“Anna—­Lady Anna,” he exclaimed, “art thou here?  When we parted at the palace of King Frederick, I feared it was to meet no more.”

“Thou seest, my lord,” she replied gaily, “that fate never meant to separate us altogether.”