It is, indeed, a quaint falling out, for of late, as you may have heard, the Tutor and the Queen have scarce been of the number of my intimates." The Earl of Douglas appeared strangely disturbed.

He paid no further attention to his host, but strode to and fro in the courtyard with his thumbs in his belt, in an attitude of the deepest meditation.
The Chancellor watched him from under his eyebrows with alternate apprehension and satisfaction, like a timid hunter who sees the lion half in and half out of the snare.
"I have a letter for you, my Lord Douglas," he said, after a long pause.
"Ah," cried Douglas, with obvious relief, "why did you not tell me so at first.

Pray give it me." "I knew not whether it might afford you pleasure or no," answered the Chancellor.
"Give it me!" cried Douglas, imperiously, as though he spoke to an underling.
Sir William Crichton drew a square parcel from beneath his long-furred gown, and handed it to William Douglas, who, without stepping back, instantly broke the seal.
"Pshaw," cried he, contemptuously, "it is from the Queen Mother and Alexander Livingston!" He thought it had been from another, and his disappointment was written clear upon his face.
"Even so," said the Chancellor, suavely; "it was delivered by the same servant who brought the message which called away the ambassador and his companion." The Earl read it from beginning to end.

After the customary greetings and good wishes the letter ran as follows: "The King greatly desires to see his noble cousin of Douglas at the castle of Edinburgh, presently put at his Majesty's disposal by the High Chancellor of Scotland.

Here in this place are now assembled all the men who desire the peace and assured prosperity of the realm, saving the greatest of all, my Lord and kinsman of Douglas.