“Even so, fair kinsman.  Whilst thou wert doing such loyal duty to Edward, after the battle of Falkirk, forgetting thou hadst a wife and castle to look after, Robert Earl of Carrick found a comfortable domicile within thy stone walls, and in the fair, sweet company of thine Isabella, my lord.  No doubt, in all honorable and seemly intercourse; gallant devotion on the one side, and dignified courtesy on the other—­nothing more, depend on’t; still it seems but natural that the memory of a comely face and knightly form should prove incentives to loyalty and patriotism.”

“The foul fiend take thy jesting!” exclaimed Buchan.  “Natural, forsooth; aye, the same nature that bade me loathe the presence, aye, the very name of that deceiving traitress.  And so that smooth-faced villain Carrick found welcome in the castle of a Comyn the months we missed him from the court.  Ha, ha! thou hast done me good service, Lord of Fife.  I had not enough of injuries before to demand at the hand of Robert Bruce.  And for Dame Isabella, may the fury of every fiend follow me, if I place her not in the hands of Edward, alive or dead! his wrath will save me the trouble of seeking further vengeance.”

“Nay, thou art a very fool to be so chafed,” coolly observed Fife.  “Thou hast taken no care of thy wife, and therefore hast no right to demand strict account of her amusements in thy absence; and how do we know she is not as virtuous as the rest of them?  I do but tell thee of these things to pass away the time.  Ha! there goes the prince’s Gascon favorite, by mine honor.  Gaveston sports it bravely; look at his crimson mantle wadded with sables.  He hath changed his garb since morning.  Faith, he is a lucky dog! the prince’s love may be valued at some thousand marks a year—­worth possessing, by St. Michael!”

A muttered oath was all the reply which his companion vouchsafed, nor did the thunder-cloud upon his brow disperse that evening.

The careless recklessness of Fife had no power to lessen in the earl’s mind the weight of the shameful charge he had brought against the countess.  Buchan’s dark, suspicious mind not alone received it, but cherished it, revelled in it, as giving him that which he had long desired, a good foundation for dislike and jealousy, a well-founded pretence for every species of annoyance and revenge.  The Earl of Fife, who had, in fact, merely spoken, as he had said, to while away the time, and for the pleasure of seeing his brother-in-law enraged, thought as little of his words after as he had before they were uttered.  A licentious follower of pleasure in every form himself, he imagined, as such thoughtless characters generally do, that everybody must be like him.  From his weak and volatile mind, then, all remembrance of that evening’s conversation faded as soon as it was spoken; but with the Earl of Buchan it remained brooding on itself, and filling his dark spirit with yet blacker fancies.