“But Montrose, sir,” said Sir Christopher Hall, “has not been heard of since our ineffectual attempt to rise in the north of England.  It is thought he has returned to the King at Oxford for farther instructions.”

“Returned!” said Allan, with a scornful laugh; “I could tell ye, but it is not worth my while; ye will know soon enough.”

“By my honour, Allan,” said Lord Menteith, “you will weary out your friends with this intolerable, froward, and sullen humour—­But I know the reason,” added he, laughing; “you have not seen Annot Lyle to-day.”

“Whom did you say I had not seen?” said Allan, sternly.

“Annot Lyle, the fairy queen of song and minstrelsy,” said Lord Menteith.

“Would to God I were never to see her again,” said Allan, sighing, “On condition the same weird were laid on you!”

“And why on me?” said Lord Menteith, carelessly.

“Because,” said Allan, “it is written on your forehead, that you are to be the ruin of each other.”  So saying, he rose up and left the room.

“Has he been long in this way?” asked Lord Menteith, addressing his brother.

“About three days,” answered Angus; “the fit is wellnigh over, he will be better to-morrow.—­But come, gentlemen, don’t let the tappit-hen scraugh to be emptied.  The King’s health, King Charles’s health! and may the covenanting dog that refuses it, go to Heaven by the road of the Grassmarket!”

The health was quickly pledged, and as fast succeeded by another, and another, and another, all of a party cast, and enforced in an earnest manner.  Captain Dalgetty, however, thought it necessary to enter a protest.

“Gentlemen cavaliers,” he said, “I drink these healths, Primo, both out of respect to this honourable and hospitable roof-tree, and, Secundo, because I hold it not good to be preceese in such matters, inter POCULA; but I protest, agreeable to the warrandice granted by this honourable lord, that it shall be free to me, notwithstanding my present complaisance, to take service with the Covenanters to-morrow, providing I shall be so minded.”

M’Aulay and his English guests stared at this declaration, which would have certainly bred new disturbance, if Lord Menteith had not taken up the affair, and explained the circumstances and conditions.  “I trust,” he concluded, “we shall be able to secure Captain Dalgetty’s assistance to our own party.”

“And if not,” said the Laird, “I protest, as the Captain says, that nothing that has passed this evening, not even his having eaten my bread and salt, and pledged me in brandy, Bourdeaux, or usquebaugh, shall prejudice my cleaving him to the neck-bone.”

“You shall be heartily welcome,” said the Captain, “providing my sword cannot keep my head, which it has done in worse dangers than your fend is likely to make for me.”

Here Lord Menteith again interposed, and the concord of the company being with no small difficulty restored, was cemented by some deep carouses.  Lord Menteith, however, contrived to break up the party earlier than was the usage of the Castle, under pretence of fatigue and indisposition.  This was somewhat to the disappointment of the valiant Captain, who, among other habits acquired in the Low countries, had acquired both a disposition to drink, and a capacity to bear, an exorbitant quantity of strong liquors.