At this the dame cast up her hands and her eyes again. "Eh, what will
Marget Ahanny o' the Shankfit say noo--this frae the Yerl William. Eh,
sirce, this is better than an Abbot's absolution. I declare 'tis mair
sustainin' than a' the consolations o' religion. Malise, do you hear,
great dour cuif that ye are, what says my lord? And you to think so
little of your married wife as ye do! Think shame, you being what ye
are, and me the ain sister to that master o' merchandise and Bailie o'
Dumfries, Maister Ninian Halliburton o' the Vennel!"

And with that she vanished into the black oblong of the door opposite
the smithy.




CHAPTER II

MY FAIR LADY


The strong man of Carlinwark made no long job of the horseshoeing.
For, as he hammered and filed, he marked the eye of the young Earl
restlessly straying this way and that along the green riverside paths,
and his fingers nervously tapping the ashen casing of the smithy
window-sill. Malise MacKim smiled to himself, for he had not served a
Douglas for thirty years without knowing by these signs that there was
the swing of a kirtle in the case somewhere.

Presently the last nail was made firm, and Black Darnaway was led,
passaging and tossing his bridle reins, out upon the green sward.