with a peculiar, dare-devil expression in his deep, dark eye, richly
attired, and wearing a long sword and Scottish dagger. His companion,
who deferentially remained a few paces behind, was a man of gigantic
stature, swarthy and dark in complexion, with fierce and restless eyes.

"Sir Erick," began the chamberlain, "allow me to introduce Sir James
Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, a noble peer, ambassador from Mary Queen of
Scots to his Danish majesty."

"We thank you for your gracious hospitality, fair sir," said Bothwell,
with a profound courtesy; then, turning to Konrad, "And now, brave
youth, by whose valour we have been saved, let me thank _you_."

He warmly shook Konrad's hand, while the youth tried to catch the eye of
Anna, the governor's fair-haired and lovely niece. But Anna was too
intently regarding the strangers.

Suddenly Bothwell perceived her; his colour heightened, his eyes
sparkled.

"Anna--Lady Anna," he exclaimed, "art _thou_ here? When we parted at the
palace of King Frederick, I feared it was to meet no more."

"Thou seest, my lord," she replied gaily, "that fate never meant to
separate us altogether."

It was Bothwell who sat by Anna's side at the banquet, not Konrad, her
lover from childhood. Konrad was displaced and slighted; he left the
hall with a heart full of jealous and bitter thoughts.

"Dost thou not see the hand of fate in this meeting with Anna?" said
Bothwell, when retiring, to his gigantic companion, Black Hob of
Ormiston, the most merciless and ferocious of border barons.

"Nay," said Hob; "I perceive only the finger of mischief!"

"I own to thee," replied the earl, "that all my old passion is revived
in full force. My whole heart and soul are hers," he went on
passionately.

"Remember your solemn plight to the Lady Jane Gordon. If that be broken,
our doleful case will be worse than ever." For Bothwell was no
ambassador, but an exile; and his real mission to King Frederick was in
pursuit of a design to hand over the northern Scottish isles to Denmark,
and become viceroy of them.

"Hob, be not insolent," retorted Bothwell. "I love her a thousand times
more than Huntly's sickly sister."

It was always thus with this reckless noble--the passion of the moment
was ever too strong for past pledges and future policy. While waiting at
Bergen for the ship to be repaired, he wooed Anna with all the skill of
an accomplished man of pleasure.

Anna's heart was ready to be won, and it was