“Odds life! ye hae been ganging a fine gait, young sir,” he cried.  “Ye maun be demented to ride down a hill i’ that fashion, and as if your craig war of nae account.  It’s weel ye hae come aff scaithless.  Are ye tired o’ life—­or was it the muckle deil himsel’ that drove ye on?  Canna ye find an excuse, man?  Nay, then, I’ll gi’e ye ane.  The loadstane will draw nails out of a door, and there be lassies wi’ een strang as loadstanes, that drag men to their perdition.  Stands the magnet yonder, eh?” he added, glancing towards the little group before them.  “Gude faith! the lass maun be a potent witch to exercise sic influence, and we wad fain see the effect she has on you when near.  Sir Richard Hoghton,” he called out to the knight, who rode a few paces behind him, “we pray you present Sir Richard Assheton and his daughter to us.”

Had he dared so to do, Richard would have thrown himself at the King’s feet, but all he could venture upon was to say in a low earnest tone, “Do not prejudge Alizon, sire.  On my soul she is innocent!”

“The King prejudges nae man,” replied James, in a tone of rebuke; “and like the wise prince of Israel, whom it is his wish to resemble, he sees with his ain een, and hears with his ain ears, afore he forms conclusions.”

“That is all I can desire, sire,” replied Richard.  “Far be it from me to doubt your majesty’s discrimination or love of justice.”

“Ye shall hae proofs of baith, man, afore we hae done,” said James.  “Ah! here comes our host, an the twa lassies wi’ him.  She wi’ the lintwhite locks is your sister, we guess, and the ither is Alizon—­and, by our troth, a weel-faur’d lass.  But Satan is aye delusive.  We maun resist his snares.”

The party now came on, and were formally presented to the monarch by Sir Richard Hoghton.  Sir Richard Assheton, a middle-aged gentleman, with handsome features, though somewhat haughty in expression, and stately deportment, was very graciously received, and James thought fit to pay a few compliments to Dorothy, covertly regarding Alizon the while, yet not neglecting Richard, being ready to intercept any signal that should pass between them.  None, however, was attempted, for the young man felt he should only alarm and embarrass Alizon by any attempt to caution her, and he therefore endeavoured to assume an unconcerned aspect and demeanour.

“We hae heard the beauty of the Lancashire lassies highly commended,” said the King; “but, faith! it passes expectation.  Twa lovelier damsels than these we never beheld.  Baith are rare specimens o’ Nature’s handiwark.”

“Your Majesty is pleased to be complimentary,” rejoined Sir Richard Assheton.

“Na, Sir Richard,” returned James.  “We arena gien to flichtering, though aften beflummed oursel’.  Baith are bonnie lassies, we repeat.  An sae this is Alizon Nutter—­it wad be Ailsie in our ain Scottish tongue, to which your Lancashire vernacular closely approximates, Sir Richard.  Aweel, fair Alizon,” he added, eyeing her narrowly, “ye hae lost your mither, we understand?”