riving to put whatever I do in a cruel light, if I dinna walk
after her will--hers, as if she could rule a king's daughter!'

And Margaret stamped her foot on the ground, while a hot flush arose in
her cheeks. Her sisters, young girls as they were, could not understand
her moods, either of wild mirth, eager delight in poetry and music,
childish wilfulness and petulant temper or deep melancholy, all
coming in turn with feverish alternation and vehemence. As the ladies
approached the castle they were met by various gentlemen, among whom
was Maitre Alain Chartier, and a bandying of compliments and witticisms
began in such rapid French that even Eleanor could not follow it; but
there was something in the ring of the Dauphiness's hard laugh that
pained her, she knew not why.

At the entrance they found the chief of the party returning from
the cathedral, where they had heard mass, not exactly in state, but
publicly.

'Ha! ha! good daughter,' laughed the King, 'I took thee for a slug abed,
but it is by thy errant fashion that thou hast cheated us.'

'I have been to mass at St Mary's,' returned Margaret, 'with my sisters.
I love the early walk across the park.'

'No wonder,' came from between the thin lips of the Dauphin, as his keen
little eye fell on Chartier. Margaret drew herself up and vouchsafed not
to reply. Jean marvelled, but Eleanor felt with her, that she was too
proud to defend herself from the insult. Madame de Ste. Petronelle,
however, stepped forward and began: 'Madame la Dauphine loves not
attendance. She made her journey alone with Mesdames ses soeurs with no
male company, till she reached home.'

But before the first words were well out of the good lady's mouth Louis
had turned away, with an air of the most careless indifference, to a
courtier in a long gown, longer shoes, and a jewelled girdle, who became
known to the sisters as Messire Jamet de Tillay. Eleanor felt indignant.
Was he too heedless of his wife to listen to the vindication.

Madame de Ste. Petronelle took the Lady of Glenuskie aside and poured
out her lamentations. That was ever the way, she said, the Dauphiness
would give occasion to slanderers, by her wilful ways, and there were
those who would turn all she said or did against her, poisoning the ear
of the Dauphin, little as he cared.

'Is he an ill man to her?' asked Dame Lilias little prepossessed by his
looks.

'He! Madame, mind you an auld tale of the Eatin wi' no heart in his