ged with long silver lace, through which
could be seen here and there as the wind blew the sheen of the glossy
skin. The buckles and bits were also of massive silver, and at sight
of them the cup of Sholto's happiness was full. For a space, as he
gazed upon his steed, he forgot even Maud Lindesay.

Then when he was mounted and out upon the green, waiting for the
coming forth of his lord, what delight it was to feel the noble dark
grey answer to each touch of the rein, obeying his master's thought
more than the strength of his wrist or the prick of his heel.

As he waited there, his predecessor in office, old Sir John of
Abernethy, Landless Jock as he was nicknamed, came out from the main
doorway. He carried a gleaming headpiece from which the blue feather
of the Douglas fell over his arm half-way to the ground. On its front
was a lion crest which ramped among golden _fleur-de-lys_. The old man
held it up for Sholto to take.

"Hae," he said in a surly tone, "this is his lordship's new helmet
just brought as a present frae the Dauphin of France. So he has cast
off the well-tried one, and with it also the auld servant that hath
served him these many years."

"Nay, Sir John," said Sholto, with courtesy, taking the helmet which
it was his duty as his master's esquire to carry before him on a
velvet-covered placque, "nay--well has the good servant deserved his
rest, and to take his ease. The young to the broil and the moil, the
old to the inglenook and the cup of wine beneath the shade."

"Ah, lad, I envy ye not, think not that of puir Landless Jock," said
the mollified old man, sadly shaking his head; "I also have tried the
new office, the shining armour, and felt the words of command rise
proudly in the throat. I envy you not, though your advancement hath
been sudden--and well--for my own son John I had hoped, though indeed
the loon is paper backed and feckless. But now there remains for me
only to go to the Kirk of Saint Bride in Douglasdale, and there set me
down by my auld master's coffin till I die."

At that moment there issued forth from the gateway the young Earl,
holding by the hand the Lady Sybilla. His mother, the Countess, came
to the door to see them ride away. The Queen of the Sports was in a
merry mood, and as she tripped down the steps she turned, and looking
over her shoulder she called to the Lady Douglas, "Fear not for your
son, I will take good care of him!"

But the elder woman answered neither h