[Illustration: p. 148. ]

The

DAYS OF BRUCE

BY

GRACE AGUILAR

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 

THE

DAYS OF BRUCE;

A Story

FROM

SCOTTISH HISTORY. 

BY

GRACE AGUILAR, AUTHOR OF "HOME INFLUENCE, " "THE MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE, " "WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP, " "THE VALE OF CEDARS" ETC. ETC. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOL. I. 

 NEW YORK: D. APPLETON & CO. , 90, 92 & 94 GRAND ST. 1871. 

PREFACE. 

As these pages have passed through the press, mingled feelings of painand pleasure have actuated my heart. Who shall speak the regret thatshe, to whom its composition was a work of love, cannot participate inthe joy which its publication would have occasioned--who shall tell ofthat anxious pleasure which I feel in witnessing the success of each andall the efforts of her pen?

THE DAYS OF BRUCE must be considered as an endeavor to placebefore the reader an interesting narrative of a period of history, initself a romance, and one perhaps as delightful as could well have beenselected. In combination with the story of Scotland's brave deliverer, it must be viewed as an illustration of female character, anddescriptive of much that its Author considered excellent in woman. Inthe high minded Isabella of Buchan is traced the resignation of a heartwounded in its best affections, yet trustful midst accumulated misery. In Isoline may be seen the self-inflicted unhappiness of a tooconfident and self reliant nature; while in Agnes is delineated theoverwhelming of a mind too much akin to heaven in purity and innocenceto battle with the stern and bitter sorrows with which her life isstrewn. 

How far the merits of this work may be perceived becomes not me tojudge; I only know and _feel_ that on me has devolved the endearing taskof publishing the writings of my lamented child--that I am fulfillingthe desire of her life. 

SARAH AGUILAR. 

_May_, 1852. 

THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 

CHAPTER I. 

The month of March, rough and stormy as it is in England, would perhapsbe deemed mild and beautiful as May by those accustomed to meet andbrave its fury in the eastern Highlands, nor would the evening on whichour tale commences bely its wild and fitful character. 

The wind howled round the ancient Tower of Buchan, in alternate gusts ofwailing and of fury, so mingled with the deep, heavy roll of the lashingwaves, that it was impossible to distinguish the roar of the one elementfrom the howl of the other. Neither tree, hill, nor wood intercepted therushing gale, to change the dull monotony of its gloomy tone. The Ythan, indeed, darted by, swollen and turbid from continued storms, threateningto overflow the barren plain it watered, but its voice wasundistinguishable amidst the louder wail of wind and ocean. Pine-trees, dark, ragged, and stunted, and scattered so widely apart that each oneseemed monarch of some thirty acres, were the only traces of vegetationfor miles round. Nor were human habitations more abundant; indeed, fewdwellings, save those of such solid masonry as the Tower of Buchan, could hope to stand scathless amidst the storms that in winter everswept along the moor. 

No architectural beauty distinguished the residence of the Earls ofBuchan; none of that tasteful decoration peculiar to the Saxon, nor ofthe more sombre yet more imposing style introduced by the Norman, andknown as the Gothic architecture. 

Originally a hunting-lodge, it had been continually enlarged bysucceeding lords, without any regard either to symmetry or proportion, elegance or convenience; and now, early in the year 1306, appearedwithin its outer walls as a most heterogeneous mass of ill-shapedturrets, courts, offices, and galleries, huddled together in ill-sortedconfusion, though presenting to the distant view a massive squarebuilding, remarkable only for a strength and solidity capable ofresisting alike the war of elements and of man. 

Without all seemed a dreary wilderness, but within existed indisputablesigns of active life. The warlike inhabitants of the tower, thoughcomparatively few in number, were continually passing to and fro in thecourts and galleries, or congregating in little knots, in eagerconverse. Some cleansing their armor or arranging banners; others, youngand active, practising the various manoeuvres of mimic war; each andall bearing on their brow that indescribable expression of anticipationand excitement which seems ever on the expectant of it knows not what. The condition of Scotland was indeed such as to keep her sons constantlyon the alert, preparing for defence or attack, as the insurging effortsof the English or the commands of their lords should determine. From therichest noble to the veriest serf, the aged man to the little child, however contrary their politics and feelings, one spirit actuated all, and that spirit was war--war in all its deadliest evils, its unmitigatedhorrors, for it was native blood which deluged the rich plains, thesmiling vales, and fertile hills of Scotland. 

Although the castle of Buchan resembled more a citadel intended for theaccommodation of armed vassals than the commodious dwelling of feudallords, one turret gave evidence, by its internal arrangement, of adegree of refinement and a nearer approach to comfort than its fellows, and seeming to proclaim that within its massive walls the lords of thecastle were accustomed to reside. The apartments were either hung withheavy tapestry, which displayed, in gigantic proportions, the combats ofthe Scots and Danes, or panelled with polished oak, rivalling ebony inits glossy blackness, inlaid with solid silver. Heavy draperies ofdamask fell from the ceiling to the floor at every window, a pleasantguard, indeed, from the constant winds which found entrance through manycreaks and corners of the Gothic casements, but imparting a dingy aspectto apartments lordly in their dimensions, and somewhat rich indecoration. 

The deep embrasures of the casements were thus in a manner severed fromthe main apartment, for even when the curtains were completely loweredthere was space enough to contain a chair or two and a table. Thefurniture corresponded in solidity and proportion to the panelling ortapestry of the walls; nor was there any approach even at those doubtfulcomforts already introduced in the more luxurious Norman castles ofSouth Britain. 

The group, however, assembled in one of these ancient rooms needed notthe aid of adventitious ornament to betray the nobility of birth, andthose exalted and chivalric feelings inherent to their rank. The sun, whose stormy radiance during the day had alternately deluged earth andsky with fitful yet glorious brilliance, and then, burying itself in thedark masses of overhanging clouds, robed every object in deepest gloom, now seemed to concentrate his departing rays in one living flood ofsplendor, and darting within the chamber, lingered in crimson gloryaround the youthful form of a gentle girl, dyeing her long andclustering curls with gold. Slightly bending over a large and cumbrousframe which supported her embroidery, her attitude could no more concealthe grace and lightness of her childlike form, than the glossy ringletsthe soft and radiant features which they shaded. There was archnesslurking in those dark blue eyes, to which tears seemed yet a stranger;the clear and snowy forehead, the full red lip, and health-bespeakingcheek had surely seen but smiles, and mirrored but the joyous lightwhich filled her gentle heart. Her figure seemed to speak a child, butthere was a something in that face, bright, glowing as it was, which yetwould tell of somewhat more than childhood--that seventeen summers haddone their work, and taught that guileless heart a sterner tale thangladness. 

A young man, but three or four years her senior, occupied an embroideredsettle at her feet. In complexion, as in the color of his hair and eyes, there was similarity between them, but the likeness went no further, norwould the most casual observer have looked on them as kindred. Fair andlovely as the maiden would even have been pronounced, it was perhapsmore the expression, the sweet innocence that characterized her featureswhich gave to them their charm; but in the young man there wasinfinitely more than this, though effeminate as was his complexion, andthe bright sunny curls which floated over his throat, he was eminentlyand indescribably beautiful, for it was the mind, the glorious mind, thekindling spirit which threw their radiance over his perfect features;the spirit and mind which that noble form enshrined stood apart, andthough he knew it not himself, found not their equal in that dark periodof warfare and of woe. The sword and lance were the only instruments ofthe feudal aristocracy; ambition, power, warlike fame, the principaloccupants of their thoughts; the chase, the tourney, or the foray, therelaxation of their spirits. But unless that face deceived, there wasmore, much more, which charactered the elder youth within that chamber. 

A large and antique volume of Norse legends rested on his knee, which, in a rich, manly voice, he was reading aloud to his companion, diversifying his lecture with remarks and explanations, which, from thehappy smiles and earnest attention of the maiden, appeared to impart thepleasure intended by the speaker. The other visible inhabitant of theapartment was a noble-looking boy of about fifteen, far less steadilyemployed than his companions, for at one time he was poising a heavylance, and throwing himself into the various attitudes of a finishedwarrior; at others, brandished a two-handed sword, somewhat taller thanhimself; then glancing over the shoulder of his sister--for so nearlywas he connected with the maiden, though the raven curls, the brightflashing eye of jet, and darker skin, appeared to forswear such nearrelationship--criticising her embroidery, and then transferring hisscrutiny to the strange figures on the gorgeously-illuminatedmanuscript, and then for a longer period listening, as it were, irresistibly to the wild legends which that deep voice was somelodiously pouring forth. 

"It will never do, Agnes. You cannot embroider the coronation of KennethMacAlpine and listen to these wild tales at one and the same time. Lookat your clever pupil, Sir Nigel; she is placing a heavy iron buckler onthe poor king's head instead of his golden crown. " The boy laughed longand merrily as he spoke, and even Sir Nigel smiled; while Agnes, blushing and confused, replied, half jestingly and half earnestly, "Andwhy not tell me of it before, Alan? you must have seen it long ago. "

"And so I did, sweet sister mine; but I wished to see the effect of suchmarvellous abstraction, and whether, in case of necessity, an ironshield would serve our purpose as well as a jewelled diadem. "

"Never fear, my boy. Let but the king stand forth, and there will beScottish men enow and willing to convert an iron buckler into a goodlycrown;" and as Sir Nigel spoke his eyes flashed, and his wholecountenance irradiated with a spirit that might not have been suspectedwhen in the act of reading, but which evidently only slept till awakenedby an all-sufficient call. "Let the tyrant Edward exult in thepossession of our country's crown and sceptre--he may find we need notthem to make a king; aye, and a king to snatch the regal diadem from theproud usurper's brow--the Scottish sceptre from his blood-stainedhands!"

"Thou talkest wildly, Nigel, " answered the lad, sorrowfully, hisfeatures assuming an expression of judgment and feeling beyond hisyears. "Who is there in Scotland will do this thing? who will dare againthe tyrant's rage? Is not this unhappy country divided within itself, and how may it resist the foreign foe?"

"Wallace! think of Wallace! Did he not well-nigh wrest our country fromthe tyrant's hands? And is there not one to follow in the path hetrod--no noble heart to do what he hath done?"

"Nigel, yes. Let but the rightful king stand forth, and were there noneother, I--even I, stripling as I am, with my good sword and single arm, even with the dark blood of Comyn in my veins, Alan of Buchan, wouldjoin him, aye, and die for him!"

"There spoke the blood of Duff, and not of Comyn!" burst impetuouslyfrom the lips of Nigel, as he grasped the stripling's ready hand; "anddoubt not, noble boy, there are other hearts in Scotland bold and trueas thine; and even as Wallace, one will yet arise to wake them fromtheir stagnant sleep, and give them freedom. "

"Wallace, " said the maiden, fearfully; "ye talk of Wallace, of his bolddeeds and bolder heart, but bethink ye of his _fate_. Oh, were it notbetter to be still than follow in his steps unto the scaffold?"

"Dearest, no; better the scaffold and the axe, aye, even the ironchains and hangman's cord, than the gilded fetters of a tyrant's yoke. Shame on thee, sweet Agnes, to counsel thoughts as these, and thou aScottish maiden. " Yet even as he spoke chidingly, the voice of Nigelbecame soft and thrilling, even as it had before been bold and daring. 

"I fear me, Nigel, I have but little of my mother's blood within myveins. I cannot bid them throb and bound as hers with patriotic love andwarrior fire. A lowly cot with him I loved were happiness for me. "

"But that cot must rest upon a soil unchained, sweet Agnes, or joy couldhave no resting there. Wherefore did Scotland rise against hertyrant--why struggle as she hath to fling aside her chains? Was it hernoble sons? Alas, alas! degenerate and base, they sought chivalric fame;forgetful of their country, they asked for knighthood from proudEdward's hand, regardless that that hand had crowded fetters on theirfatherland, and would enslave their sons. Not to them did Scotland owethe transient gleam of glorious light which, though extinguished in thepatriot's blood, hath left its trace behind. With the bold, the hardy, lowly Scot that gleam had birth; they would be free to them. Whatmattered that their tyrant was a valiant knight, a worthy son ofchivalry: they saw but an usurper, an enslaver, and they rose andspurned his smiles--aye, and they _will_ rise again. And wert thou oneof them, sweet girl; a cotter's wife, thou too wouldst pine for freedom. Yes; Scotland will bethink her of her warrior's fate, and shout aloudrevenge for Wallace!"

Either his argument was unanswerable, or the energy of his voice andmanner carried conviction with them, but a brighter glow mantled themaiden's cheek, and with it stole the momentary shame--the wish, thesimple words that she had spoken could be recalled. 

"Give us but a king for whom to fight--a king to love, revere, obey--aking from whose hand knighthood were an honor, precious as life itself, and there are noble hearts enough to swear fealty to him, and brightswords ready to defend his throne, " said the young heir of Buchan, as hebrandished his own weapon above his head, and then rested his arms uponits broad hilt, despondingly. "But where is that king? Men speak of mymost gentle kinsman Sir John Comyn, called the Red--bah! The sceptrewere the same jewelled bauble in his impotent hand as in his sapientuncle's; a gem, a toy, forsooth, the loan of crafty Edward. No! the RedComyn is no king for Scotland; and who is there besides? The rightfulheir--a cold, dull-blooded neutral--a wild and wavering changeling. Ipray thee be not angered, Nigel; it cannot be gainsaid, e'en though heis thy brother. "

"I know it Alan; know it but too well, " answered Nigel, sadly, thoughthe dark glow rushed up to cheek and brow. "Yet Robert's blood is hotenough. His deeds are plunged in mystery--his words not less so; yet Icannot look on him as thou dost, as, alas! too many do. It may be that Ilove him all too well; that dearer even than Edward, than all the rest, has Robert ever been to me. He knows it not; for, sixteen years mysenior, he has ever held me as a child taking little heed of his waywardcourse; and yet my heart has throbbed beneath his word, his look, as ifhe were not what he seemed, but would--but must be something more. "

"I ever thought thee but a wild enthusiast, gentle Nigel, and thisconfirms it. Mystery, aye, such mystery as ever springs from actions atvariance with reason, judgment, valor--with all that frames the patriot. Would that thou wert the representative of thy royal line; wert thou inEarl Robert's place, thus, thus would Alan kneel to thee and hail theeking!"

"Peace, peace, thou foolish boy, the crown and sceptre have no charm forme; let me but see my country free, the tyrant humbled, my brother as mytrusting spirit whispers he _shall_ be, and Nigel asks no more. "

"Art thou indeed so modest, gentle Nigel--is thy happiness so distinctfrom self? thine eyes tell other tales sometimes, and speak they false, fair sir?"

Timidly, yet irresistibly, the maiden glanced up from her embroidery, but the gaze that met hers caused those bright eyes to fall more quicklythan they were raised, and vainly for a few seconds did she endeavor soto steady her hand as to resume her task. Nigel was, however, sparedreply, for a sharp and sudden bugle-blast reverberated through thetower, and with an exclamation of wondering inquiry Alan bounded fromthe chamber. There was one other inmate of that apartment, whosepresence, although known and felt, had, as was evident, been norestraint either to the employments or the sentiments of the two youthsand their companion. Their conversation had not passed unheeded, although it had elicited no comment or rejoinder. The Countess of Buchanstood within one of those deep embrasures we have noticed, at timesglancing towards the youthful group with an earnestness of sorrowingaffection that seemed to have no measure in its depth, no shrinking inits might; at others, fixing a long, unmeaning, yet somewhat anxiousgaze on the wide plain and distant ocean, which the casement overlooked. 

It was impossible to look once on the countenance of Isabella of Buchan, and yet forbear to look again, The calm dignity, the graceful majesty ofher figure seemed to mark her as one born to command, to hold in willinghomage the minds and inclinations of men; her pure, pale brow and marblecheek--for the rich rose seemed a stranger there--the long silky lash ofjet, the large, full, black eye, in its repose so soft that few wouldguess how it could flash fire, and light up those classic features withpower to stir the stagnant souls of thousands and guide them with aword. She looked in feature as in form a queen; fitted to be beloved, formed to be obeyed. Her heavy robe of dark brocade, wrought with thickthreads of gold, seemed well suited to her majestic form; its long, loose folds detracting naught from the graceful ease of her carriage. Her thick, glossy hair, vying in its rich blackness with the raven'swing, was laid in smooth bands upon her stately brow, and gathered upbehind in a careless knot, confined with a bodkin of massive gold. Thehood or coif, formed of curiously twisted black and golden threads, which she wore in compliance with the Scottish custom, that thus madethe distinction between the matron and the maiden, took not from thepeculiarly graceful form of the head, nor in any part concealed therichness of the hair. Calm and pensive as was the general expression ofher countenance, few could look upon it without that peculiar sensationof respect, approaching to awe, which restrained and conquered sorrowever calls for. Perchance the cause of such emotion was all toodelicate, too deeply veiled to be defined by those rude hearts who wereyet conscious of its existence; and for them it was enough to own herpower, bow before it, and fear her as a being set apart. 

Musingly she had stood looking forth on the wide waste; the distantocean, whose tumbling waves one moment gleamed in living light, atothers immersed in inky blackness, were barely distinguished from thelowering sky. The moaning winds swept by, bearing the storm-cloud ontheir wings; patches of blue gleamed strangely and brightly forth; and, far in the west, crimson and amber, and pink and green, inlaid inbeautiful mosaic the departing luminary's place of rest. 

"Alas, my gentle one, " she had internally responded to her daughter'swords, "if thy mother's patriot heart could find no shield for woe, norher warrior fire, as thou deemest it, guard her from woman's trials, what will be thy fate? This is no time for happy love, for peacefuljoys, returned as it may be; for--may I doubt that truthful brow, thatknightly soul (her glance was fixed on Nigel)--yet not now may theScottish knight find rest and peace in woman's love. And better is itthus--the land of the slave is no home for love. "

A faint yet a beautiful smile, dispersing as a momentary beam theanxiety stamped on her features, awoke at the enthusiastic reply ofNigel. Then she turned again to the casement, for her quick eye haddiscerned a party of about ten horsemen approaching in the direction ofthe tower, and on the summons of the bugle she advanced from her retreatto the centre of the apartment. 

"Why, surely thou art but a degenerate descendant of the brave Macduff, mine Agnes, that a bugle blast should thus send back every drop of bloodto thy little heart, " she said, playfully. "For shame, for shame! howart thou fitted to be a warrior's bride? They are but Scottish men, andtrue, methinks, if I recognize their leader rightly. And it is even so. "

"Sir Robert Keith, right welcome, " she added, as, marshalled by youngAlan, the knight appeared, bearing his plumed helmet in his hand, anddisplaying haste and eagerness alike in his flushed features and soiledarmor. 

"Ye have ridden long and hastily. Bid them hasten our evening meal, myson; or stay, perchance Sir Robert needs thine aid to rid him of thisgarb of war. Thou canst not serve one nobler. "

"Nay, noble lady, knights must don, not doff their armor now. I bring yenews, great, glorious news, which will not brook delay. A royalmessenger I come, charged by his grace my king--my country's king--withmissives to his friends, calling on all who spurn a tyrant's yoke--wholove their land, their homes, their freedom--on all who wish forWallace--to awake, arise, and join their patriot king!"

"Of whom speakest thou, Sir Robert Keith? I charge thee, speak!"exclaimed Nigel, starting from the posture of dignified reserve withwhich he had welcomed the knight, and springing towards him. 

"The patriot and the king!--of whom canst thou speak?" said Alan, at thesame instant. "Thine are, in very truth, marvellous tidings, Sir Knight;an' thou canst call up one to unite such names, and worthy of them, heshall not call on me in vain. "

"Is he not worthy, Alan of Buchan, who thus flings down the gauntlet, who thus dares the fury of a mighty sovereign, and with a handful ofbrave men prepares to follow in the steps of Wallace, to the throne orto the scaffold?"

"Heed not my reckless boy, Sir Robert, " said the countess, earnestly, asthe eyes of her son fell beneath the knight's glance of fiery reproach;"no heart is truer to his country, no arm more eager to rise in herdefence. "

"The king! the king!" gasped Nigel, some strange over-mastering emotionchecking his utterance. "Who is it that has thus dared, thus--"

"And canst thou too ask, young sir?" returned the knight, with a smileof peculiar meaning. "Is thy sovereign's name unknown to thee? Is RobertBruce a name unknown, unheard, unloved, that thou, too, breathest itnot?"

"My brother, my brave, my noble brother!--I saw it, I knew it! Thou wertno changeling, no slavish neutral; but even as I felt, thou art, thouwilt be! My brother, my brother, I may live and die for thee!" and theyoung enthusiast raised his clasped hands above his head, as inspeechless thanksgiving for these strange, exciting news; his flushedcheek, his quivering lip, his moistened eye betraying an emotion whichseemed for the space of a moment to sink on the hearts of all whowitnessed it, and hush each feeling into silence. A shout from the courtbelow broke that momentary pause. 

"God save King Robert! then, say I, " vociferated Alan, eagerly graspingthe knight's hand. "Sit, sit, Sir Knight; and for the love of heaven, speak more of this most wondrous tale. Erewhile, we hear of this goodlyEarl of Carrick at Edward's court, doing him homage, serving him as hisown English knight, and now in Scotland--aye, and Scotland's king. Howmay we reconcile these contradictions?"

"Rather how did he vanish from the tyrant's hundred eyes, and leave thecourt of England?" inquired Nigel, at the same instant as the Countessof Buchan demanded, somewhat anxiously--

"And Sir John Comyn, recognizes he our sovereign's claim? Is he amongstthe Bruce's slender train?"

A dark cloud gathered on the noble brow of the knight, replacing thechivalric courtesy with which he had hitherto responded to hisinterrogators. He paused ere he answered, in a stern, deep voice--

"Sir John Comyn lived and died a traitor, lady. He hath received themeed of his base treachery; his traitorous design for the renewedslavery of his country--the imprisonment and death of the only one thatstood forth in her need. "

"And by whom did the traitor die?" fiercely demanded the young heir ofBuchan. "Mother, thy cheek is blanched; yet wherefore? Comyn as I am, shall we claim kindred with a traitor, and turn away from the goodcause, because, forsooth, a traitorous Comyn dies? No; were the Bruce'sown right hand red with the recreant's blood--he only is the Comyn'sking. "

"Thou hast said it, youthful lord, " said the knight, impressively. "Alanof Buchan, bear that bold heart and patriot sword unto the Bruce'sthrone, and Comyn's traitorous name shall be forgotten in the scion ofMacduff. Thy mother's loyal blood runs reddest in thy veins, young sir;too pure for Comyn's base alloy. Know, then, the Bruce's hand is redwith the traitor's blood, and yet, fearless and firm in the holy justiceof his cause, he calls on his nobles and their vassals for their homageand their aid--he calls on them to awake from their long sleep, andshake off the iron yoke from their necks; to prove that Scotland--thefree, the dauntless, the unconquered soil, which once spurned the Romanpower, to which all other kingdoms bowed--is free, undaunted, andunconquered still. He calls aloud, aye, even on ye, wife and son ofComyn of Buchan, to snap the link that binds ye to a traitor's house, and prove--though darkly, basely flows the blood of Macduff in onedescendant's veins, that the Earl of Fife refuses homage and allegianceto his sovereign--in ye it rushes free, and bold, and loyal still. "

"And he shall find it so. Mother, why do ye not speak? You, from whoselips my heart first learnt to beat for Scotland my lips to pray that onemight come to save her from the yoke of tyranny. You, who taught me toforget all private feud, to merge all feeling, every claim, in the onegreat hope of Scotland's freedom. Now that the time is come, whereforeart thou thus? Mother, my own noble mother, let me go forth with thyblessing on my path, and ill and woe can come not near me. Speak to thyson!" The undaunted boy flung himself on his knee before the countess ashe spoke. There was a dark and fearfully troubled expression on hernoble features. She had clasped her hands together, as if to still orhide their unwonted trembling; but when she looked on those bright andglowing features, there came a dark, dread vision of blood, and the axeand cord, and she folded her arms around his neck, and sobbed in all amother's irrepressible agony. 

"My own, my beautiful, to what have I doomed thee!" she cried. "Todeath, to woe! aye, perchance, to that heaviest woe--a father's curse!exposing thee to death, to the ills of all who dare to strike forfreedom. Alan, Alan, how can I bid thee forth to death? and yet it is Ihave taught thee to love it better than the safety of a slave; longed, prayed for this moment--deemed that for my country I could even give mychild--and now, now--oh God of mercy, give me strength!"

She bent down her head on his, clasping him to her heart, as thus tostill the tempest which had whelmed it. There is something terrible inthat strong emotion which sometimes suddenly and unexpectedly overpowersthe calmest and most controlled natures. It speaks of an agony someasureless, so beyond the relief of sympathy, that it falls like anelectric spell on the hearts of all witnesses, sweeping all minorpassions into dust before it. Little accustomed as was Sir Robert Keithto sympathize in such emotions, he now turned hastily aside, and, as iffearing to trust himself in silence, commenced a hurried detail to NigelBruce of the Earl of Carrick's escape from London, and his presentposition. The young nobleman endeavored to confine his attention to thesubject, but his eyes would wander in the direction of Agnes, who, terrified at emotions which in her mother she had never witnessedbefore, was kneeling in tears beside her brother. 

A strong convulsive shuddering passed over the bowed frame of Isabellaof Buchan; then she lifted up her head, and all traces of emotion hadpassed from her features. Silently she pressed her lips on the fairbrows of her children alternately, and her voice faltered not as shebade them rise and heed her not. 

"We will speak further of this anon, Sir Robert, " she said, so calmlythat the knight started. "Hurried and important as I deem your mission, the day is too far spent to permit of your departure until the morrow;you will honor our evening meal, and this true Scottish tower for anight's lodging, and then we can have leisure for discourse on theweighty matters you have touched upon. "

She bowed courteously, as she turned with a slow, unfaltering step toleave the room. Her resumed dignity recalled the bewildered senses ofher son, and, with graceful courtesy, he invited the knight to followhim, and choose his lodging for the night. 

"Agnes, mine own Agnes, now, indeed, may I win thee, " whispered Nigel, as tenderly he folded his arm round her, and looked fondly in her face. "Scotland shall be free! her tyrants banished by her patriot king; andthen, then may not Nigel Bruce look to this little hand as his reward?Shall not, may not the thought of thy pure, gentle love be mine, in thetented field and battle's roar, urging me on, even should all othervoice be hushed?"

"Forgettest thou I am a Comyn, Nigel? That the dark stain of traitor, ofdisloyalty is withering on our line, and wider and wider grows thebarrier between us and the Bruce?" The voice of the maiden was choked, her bright eyes dim with tears. 

"All, all I do forget, save that thou art mine own sweet love; andthough thy name is Comyn, thy heart is all Macduff. Weep not, my Agnes;thine eyes were never framed for tears. Bright times for us and Scotlandare yet in store!"

CHAPTER II. 

For the better comprehension of the events related in the precedingchapter, it will be necessary to cast a summary glance on matters ofhistorical and domestic import no way irrelevant to our subject, saveand except their having taken place some few years previous to thecommencement of our tale. 

The early years of Isabella of Buchan had been passed in happiness. Theonly daughter, indeed for seven years the only child, of Malcolm, Earlof Fife, deprived of her mother on the birth of her brother, her youthhad been nursed in a tenderness and care uncommon in those rude ages;and yet, from being constantly with her father, she imbibed those higherqualities of mind which so ably fitted her for the part which in afteryears it was her lot to play. The last words of his devoted wife, imploring him to educate her child himself, and not to sever the tiebetween them, by following the example of his compeers, and sending hereither to England, France, or Norway, had been zealously observed by theearl; the prosperous calm, which was the happy portion of Scotlandduring the latter years of Alexander III. , whose favorite minister hewas, enabled him to adhere to her wishes far more successfully thancould have been the case had he been called forth to war. 

In her father's castle, then, were the first thirteen years of the LadyIsabella spent, varied only by occasional visits to the court ofAlexander, where her beauty and vivacity rendered her a universalfavorite. Descended from one of the most ancient Scottish families, whose race it was their boast had never been adulterated by the blood ofa foreigner, no Norman prejudice intermingled with the education ofIsabella, to tarnish in any degree those principles of loyalty andpatriotism which her father, the Earl of Fife, so zealously inculcated. She was a more true, devoted Scottish woman at fourteen, than many ofher own rank whose years might double hers; ready even then to sacrificeeven life itself, were it called for in defence of her sovereign, or thefreedom of her country; and when, on the death of Alexander, cloudsbegan to darken the horizon of Scotland, her father scrupled not toimpart to her, child though she seemed, those fears and anxieties whichclouded his brow, and filled his spirit with foreboding gloom. It wasthen that in her flashing eye and lofty soul, in the undaunted spirit, which bore a while even his colder and more foreseeing mood along withit, that he traced the fruit whose seed he had so carefully sown. 

"Why should you fear for Scotland, my father?" she would urge; "is itbecause her queen is but a child and now far distant, that anarchy andgloom shall enfold our land? Is it not shame in ye thus craven to deemher sons, when in thy own breast so much devotion and loyalty have rest?why not judge others by yourself, my father, and know the dark things ofwhich ye dream can never be?"

"Thou speakest as the enthusiast thou art, my child. Yet it is not therule of our maiden queen my foreboding spirit dreads; 'tis that on sucha slender thread as her young life suspends the well-doing or the ruinof her kingdom. If she be permitted to live and reign over us, all maybe well; 'tis on the event of her death for which I tremble. "

"Wait till the evil day cometh then, my father; bring it not nearer byanticipation; and should indeed such be, thinkest thou not there arebold hearts and loyal souls to guard our land from foreign foe, and givethe rightful heir his due?"

"I know not, Isabella. There remain but few with the pure Scottish bloodwithin their veins, and it is but to them our land is so dear: theywould peril life and limb in her defence. It is not to the proud barondescended from the intruding Norman, and thinking only of his knightlysports and increase of wealth, by it matters not what war. Nor dare welook with confidence to the wild chiefs of the north and the Lords ofthe Isles; eager to enlarge their own dominions, to extend the terrorsof their name, they will gladly welcome the horrors and confusion thatmay arise; and have we true Scottish blood enough to weigh againstthese, my child? Alas! Isabella, our only hope is in the health andwell-doing of our queen, precarious as that is; but if she fail us, woeto Scotland!"

The young Isabella could not bring forward any solid arguments in answerto this reasoning, and therefore she was silent; but she felt herScottish blood throb quicker in her veins, as he spoke of the few pureScottish men remaining, and inwardly vowed, woman as she was, to devoteboth energy and life to her country and its sovereign. 

Unhappily for his children, though perhaps fortunately for himself, theEarl of Fife was spared the witnessing in the miseries of his countryhow true had been his forebodings. Two years after the death of hisking, he was found dead in his bed, not without strong suspicion ofpoison. Public rumor pointed to his uncle, Macduff of Glamis, as theinstigator, if not the actual perpetrator of the deed; but as no decidedproof could be alleged against him, and the High Courts of Scotland notseeming inclined to pursue the investigation, the rumor ceased, andMacduff assumed, with great appearance of zeal, the guardianship of theyoung Earl of Fife and his sister, an office bequeathed to him under thehand and seal of the earl, his nephew. 

The character of the Lady Isabella was formed; that of her brother, achild of eight, of course was not; and the deep, voiceless suffering herfather's loss occasioned her individually was painfully heightened bythe idea that to her young brother his death was an infinitely greatermisfortune than to herself. He indeed knew not, felt not the agony whichbound her; he knew not the void which was on her soul; how utterly, unspeakably lonely that heart had become, accustomed as it had been torepose its every thought, and hope, and wish, and feeling on a parent'slove; yet notwithstanding this, her clear mind felt and saw that whilefor herself there was little fear that she should waver in thoseprinciples so carefully instilled, for her brother there was much, verymuch to dread. She did not and could not repose confidence in herkinsman; for her parent's sake she struggled to prevent dislike, tocompel belief that the suavity, even kindness of his manner, thesentiments which he expressed, had their foundation in sincerity; butwhen her young brother became solely and entirely subject to hisinfluence, she could no longer resist the conviction that their guardianwas not the fittest person for the formation of a patriot. She couldnot, she would not believe the rumor which had once, but once, reachedher ears, uniting the hitherto pure line of Macduff with midnightmurder; her own noble mind rejected the idea as a thing utterly andwholly impossible, the more so perhaps, as she knew her father had beenlatterly subject to an insidious disease, baffling all the leech's art, and which he himself had often warned her would terminate suddenly; yetstill an inward shuddering would cross her heart at times, when in hispresence; she could not define the cause, or why she felt it sometimesand not always, and so she sought to subdue it, but she sought in vain. 

Meanwhile an event approached materially connected with the LadyIsabella, and whose consummation the late Thane of Fife had earnestlyprayed he might have been permitted to hallow with his blessing. Alexander Comyn, Earl of Buchan and High Constable of Scotland, had beenfrom early youth the brother in arms and dearest friend of the Earl ofFife, and in the romantic enthusiasm which ever characterized thecompanionship of chivalry, they had exchanged a mutual vow that in afteryears, should heaven grant them children, a yet nearer and dearer tieshould unite their houses. The birth of Isabella, two years after thatof an heir to Buchan, was hailed with increased delight by both fathers, and from her earliest years she was accustomed to look to the Lord Johnas her future husband. Perhaps had they been much thrown together, Isabella's high and independent spirit would have rebelled against thiswish of her father, and preferred the choosing for herself; but from theages of eleven and nine they had been separated, the Earl of Buchansending his son, much against the advice of his friend, to England, imagining that there, and under such a knight as Prince Edward, he wouldbetter learn the noble art of war and all chivalric duties, than in themore barbarous realm of Scotland. To Isabella, then, her destinedhusband was a stranger; yet with a heart too young and unsophisticatedto combat her parent's wishes, by any idea of its affections becomingotherwise engaged, and judging of the son by the father, to whom she wasever a welcome guest, and who in himself was indeed a noble example ofchivalry and honor, Isabella neither felt nor expressed any repugnanceto her father's wish, that she should sign her name to a contract ofbetrothal, drawn up by the venerable abbot of Buchan, and to which thename of Lord John had been already appended; it was the lingering echoesof that deep, yet gentle voice, blessing her compliance to his wishes, which thrilled again and again to her heart, softening her grief, evenwhen that beloved voice was hushed forever, and she had no thought, nowish to recall that promise, nay, even looked to its consummation withjoy, as a release from the companionship, nay, as at times she felt, thewardance of her kinsman. 

But this calm and happy frame of mind was not permitted to be of longcontinuance. In one of the brief intervals of Macduff's absence from thecastle, about eighteen months after her father's death, the young earlprevailed on the aged retainer in whose charge he had been left, toconsent to his going forth to hunt the red deer, a sport of which, boyas he was, he was passionately fond. In joyous spirits, and attended bya gallant train, he set out, calling for and receiving the readysympathy of his sister, who rejoiced as himself in his emancipation fromrestraint, which either was, or seemed to be, adverse to the usualtreatment of noble youths. 

Somewhat sooner than Isabella anticipated, they returned. Earl Duncan, with a wilfulness which already characterized him, weary of the extremewatchfulness of his attendants, who, in their anxiety to keep him fromdanger, checked and interfered with his boyish wish to signalize himselfby some daring deed of agility and skill, at length separated himself, except from one or two as wilful, and but little older than himself. Theyoung lord possessed all the daring of his race, but skill and foresighthe needed greatly, and dearly would he have paid for his rashness. Ayoung and fiery bull had chanced to cross his path, and disregarding theentreaties of his followers, he taunted them with cowardice, and goadedthe furious animal to the encounter; too late he discovered that he hadneither skill nor strength for the combat he had provoked, and had itnot been for the strenuous exertions of a stranger youth, who divertedaside the fury of the beast, he must have fallen a victim to histhoughtless daring. Curiously, and almost enviously, he watched thecombat between the stranger and the bull, nor did any emotion ofgratitude rise in the boy's breast to soften the bitterness with whichhe regarded the victory of the former, which the reproaches of hisretainers, who at that instant came up, and their condemnation of hisfolly, did not tend to diminish; and almost sullenly he passed to therear, on their return, leaving Sir Malise Duff to make theacknowledgments, which should have come from him, and courteously invitethe young stranger to accompany them home, an invitation which, somewhatto the discomposure of Earl Duncan, was accepted. 

If the stranger had experienced any emotion of anger from the boy'sslight of his services, the gratitude of the Lady Isabella would havebanished it on the instant, and amply repaid them; with cheeks glowing, eyes glistening, and a voice quivering with suppressed emotion, she hadspoken her brief yet eloquent thanks; and had he needed further proof, the embrace she lavished on her young brother, as reluctantly, and aftera long interval, he entered the hall, said yet more than her brokenwords. 

"Thou art but a fool, Isabella, craving thy pardon, " was his ungraciousaddress, as he sullenly freed himself from her. "Had I brought thee thebull's horns, there might have been some cause for this marvellouslywarm welcome; but as it is--"

"I joy thou wert not punished for thy rashness, Duncan. Yet 'twas not insuch mood I hoped to find thee; knowest thou that 'tis to yon bravestranger thou owest thy life?"

"Better it had been forfeited, than that he should stand between me andmine honor. I thank him not for it, nor owe him aught like gratitude. "

"Peace, ungrateful boy, an thou knowest not thy station better, " was hissister's calm, yet dignified reply; and the stranger smiled, and by hiscourteous manner, speedily dismissed her fears as to the impression ofher brother's words, regarding them as the mere petulance of a child. 

Days passed, and still the stranger lingered; eminently handsome, hiscarriage peculiarly graceful, and even dignified, although it wasevident, from the slight, and as it were, unfinished roundness of hisfigure, that he was but in the first stage of youth, yet his discourseand manner were of a kind that would bespeak him noble, even had hisappearance been less convincing. According to the custom of the time, which would have deemed the questioning a guest as to his name andfamily a breach of all the rules of chivalry and hospitality, heremained unknown. 

"Men call me Sir Robert, though I have still my spurs to win, " he hadonce said, laughingly, to Lady Isabella and her kinsman, Sir MaliseDuff, "but I would not proclaim my birth till I may bring it honor. "

A month passed ere their guest took his departure, leaving regard andregret behind him, in all, perhaps, save in the childish breast of EarlDuncan, whose sullen manner had never changed. There was a freshness andlight-heartedness, and a wild spirit of daring gallantry about thestranger that fascinated, men scarce knew wherefore; a recklessindependence of sentiment which charmed, from the utter absence of allaffectation which it comprised. To all, save to the Lady Isabella, hewas a mere boy, younger even than his years; but in conversation withher his superior mind shone forth, proving he could in truth appreciatehers, and give back intellect for intellect, feeling for feeling;perhaps her beauty and unusual endowments had left their impression uponhim. However it may be, one day, one little day after the departure ofSir Robert, Isabella woke to the consciousness that the calm which hadso long rested on her spirit bad departed, and forever; and to what hadit given place? Had she dared to love, she, the betrothed, the promisedbride of another? No; she could not have sunk thus low, her heart hadbeen too long controlled to rebel now. She might not, she would notlisten to its voice, to its wild, impassioned throbs. Alas! shemiscalculated her own power; the fastnesses she had deemed secure wereforced; they closed upon their subtle foe, and held their conquerorprisoner. 

But Isabella was not one to waver in a determination when once formed;how might she break asunder links which the dead had hallowed? Shebecame the bride of Lord John; she sought with her whole soul to forgetthe past, and love him according to her bridal vow, and as time passedshe ceased to think of that beautiful vision of her early youth, save asa dream that had had no resting; and a mother's fond yearnings senttheir deep delicious sweetness as oil on the troubled waters of herheart. She might have done this, but unhappily she too soon discoveredher husband was not one to aid her in her unsuspected task, to sootheand guide, and by his affection demand her gratitude and reverence. Enwrapped in selfishness or haughty indifference, his manner towards herever harsh, unbending, and suspicious, Isabella's pride would havesustained her, had not her previous trial lowered her in self-esteem;but as it was, meekly and silently she bore with the continued outbreakof unrestrained passion, and never wavered from the path of duty herclear mind had laid down. 

On the birth of a son, however, her mind regained its tone, and inwardlyyet solemnly she vowed that no mistaken sense of duty to her husbandshould interfere with the education of her son. As widely opposed aswere their individual characters, so were the politics of the now Earland Countess of Buchan. Educated in England, on friendly terms with herking, he had, as the Earl of Fife anticipated, lost all nationality, allinterest in Scotland, and as willingly and unconcernedly taken the vowsof homage to John Baliol, as the mere representative and lieutenant ofEdward, as he would have done to a free and unlimited king. He had beenamong the very first to vote for calling in the King of England asumpire; the most eager to second and carry out all Edward's views, andconsequently high in that monarch's favor, a reputation which his enmityto the house of Bruce, one of the most troublesome competitors of thecrown, did not tend to diminish. Fortunately perhaps for Isabella, thebustling politics of her husband constantly divided them. The births ofa daughter and son had no effect in softening his hard and selfishtemper; he looked on them more as incumbrances than pleasures, andleaving the countess in the strong Tower of Buchan, he himself, with atroop of armed and mounted Comyns, attached himself to the court andinterests of Edward, seeming to forget that such beings as a wife andchildren had existence. Months, often years, would stretch between theearl's visits to his mountain home, and then a week was the longestperiod of his lingering; but no evidence of a gentler spirit or of lessindifference to his children was apparent, and years seemed to haveturned to positive evil, qualities which in youth had merely seemedunamiable. 

Desolate as the situation of the countess might perhaps appear, shefound solace and delight in moulding the young minds of her childrenaccording to the pure and elevated cast of her own. All thelong-suppressed tenderness of her nature was lavished upon them, and ontheir innocent love she sought to rest the passionate yearnings of herown. She taught them to be patriots, in the purest, most beautifulappropriation of the term, --to spurn the yoke of the foreigner, and theoppressor, however light and flowery the links of that yoke might seem. She could not bid them love and revere their father as she longed to do, but she taught them that where their duty to their country and theirfree and unchained king interfered not, in all things they must obey andserve their father, and seek to win his love. 

Once only had the Countess of Buchan beheld the vision which had crossedher youth. He had come, it seemed unconscious of his track, and askedhospitality for a night, evidently without knowing who was the owner ofthe castle; perhaps his thoughts were preoccupied, for a deep gloom wason his brow, and though he had started with evident pleasure whenrecognizing his beautiful hostess, the gloom speedily resumedascendency. It was but a few weeks after the fatal battle of Falkirk, and therefore Isabella felt there was cause enough for depression anduneasiness. The graces of boyhood had given place to a finishedmanliness of deportment, a calmer expression of feature, denoting thatyears had changed and steadied the character, even as the form. He thenseemed as one laboring under painful and heavy thought, as one broodingover some mighty change within, as if some question of weighty importwere struggling with recollections and visions of the past. He hadspoken little, evidently shrinking in pain from all reference to orinformation on the late engagement. He tarried not long, departing withdawn next day, and they did not meet again. 

And what had been the emotions of the countess? perhaps her heart hadthrobbed, and her cheek paled and flushed, at this unexpected meetingwith one she had fervently prayed never to see again; but not onefeeling obtained ascendency in that heart which she would have dreadedto unveil to the eye of her husband. She did indeed feel that had herlot been cast otherwise, it must have been a happy one, but the thoughtwas transient. She was a wife, a mother, and in the happiness of herchildren, her youth, and all its joys and pangs, and dreams and hopes, were merged, to be recalled no more. 

The task of instilling patriotic sentiments in the breast of her son hadbeen insensibly aided by the countess's independent position amid theretainers of Buchan. This earldom had only been possessed by the familyof Comyn since the latter years of the reign of William the Lion, passing into their family by the marriage of Margaret Countess of Buchanwith Sir William Comyn, a knight of goodly favor and repute. Thisinterpolation and ascendency of strangers was a continual source ofjealousy and ire to the ancient retainers of the olden heritage, andcontinually threatened to break out into open feud, had not the soothingpolicy of the Countess Margaret and her descendants, by continuallyemploying them together in subjecting other petty clans, contrived tokeep them in good humor. As long as their lords were loyal to Scotlandand her king, and behaved so as to occasion no unpleasant comparisonbetween them and former superiors, all went on smoothly; but the haughtyand often outrageous conduct of the present earl, his utter neglect oftheir interests, his treasonous politics, speedily roused the slumberingfire into flame. A secret yet solemn oath went round the clan, by whichevery fighting man bound himself to rebel against their master, ratherthan betray their country by siding with a foreign tyrant; to deserttheir homes, their all, and disperse singly midst the fastnesses androcks of Scotland, than lift up a sword against her freedom. Thesentiments of the countess were very soon discovered; and even yetstronger than the contempt and loathing with which they looked upon theearl was the love, the veneration they bore to her and to her children. If his mother's lips had been silent, the youthful heir would havelearned loyalty and patriotism from his brave though unletteredretainers, as it was to them he owed the skin and grace with which hesate his fiery steed, and poised his heavy lance, and wielded hisstainless brand--to them he owed all the chivalric accomplishments ofthe day; and though he had never quitted the territories of Buchan, hewould have found few to compete with him in his high and gallant spirit. 

Dark and troubled was the political aspect of unhappy Scotland, at theeventful period at which our tale commences. The barbarous and mostunjust execution of Sir William Wallace had struck the whole country aswith a deadly panic, from which it seemed there was not one to rise tocast aside the heavy chains, whose weight it seemed had crushed thewhole kingdom, and taken from it the last gleams of patriotism and ofhope. Every fortress of strength and consequence was in possession ofthe English. English soldiers, English commissioners, English judges, laws, and regulations now filled and governed Scotland. The abrogationof all those ancient customs, which had descended from the Celts andPicts, and Scots, fell upon the hearts of all true Scottish men as thetearing asunder the last links of freedom, and branding them as slaves. Her principal nobles, strangely and traitorously, preferred safety andwealth, in the acknowledgment and servitude of Edward, to glory andhonor in the service of their country; and the spirits of the middleranks yet spurned the inglorious yoke, and throbbed but for one to leadthem on, if not to victory, at least to an honorable death. That oneseemed not to rise; it was as if the mighty soul of Scotland haddeparted, when Wallace slept in death. 

CHAPTER III. 

A bustling and joyous aspect did the ancient town of Scone present nearthe end of March, 1306. Subdued indeed, and evidently under somerestraint and mystery, which might be accounted for by the near vicinityof the English, who were quartered in large numbers over almost thewhole of Perthshire; some, however, appeared exempt from these mostunwelcome guests. The nobles, esquires, yeomen, and peasants--all, bytheir national garb and eager yet suppressed voices, might be known atonce as Scotsmen right and true. 

It had been long, very long since the old quiet town had witnessed suchbusy groups and such eager tongues as on all sides thronged it now; thevery burghers and men of handicraft wore on their countenances tokens ofsomething momentous. There were smiths' shops opening on every side, armorers at work, anvils clanging, spears sharpening, shieldsburnishing, bits and steel saddles and sharp spurs meeting the eye atevery turn. Ever and anon, came a burst of enlivening music, and wellmounted and gallantly attired, attended by some twenty or fiftyfollowers, as may be, would gallop down some knight or noble, his armorflashing back a hundred fold the rays of the setting sun; his silkenpennon displayed, the device of which seldom failed to excite a heartycheer from the excited crowds; his stainless shield and heavy spearborne by his attendant esquires; his vizor up, as if he courted anddared recognition; his surcoat, curiously and tastefully embroidered;his gold or silver-sheathed and hilted sword suspended by the silkensash of many folds and brilliant coloring. On foot or on horseback, these noble cavaliers were continually passing and repassing the ancientstreets, singly or in groups; then there were their followers, allcarefully and strictly armed, in the buff coat plaited with steel, thewell-quilted bonnet, the huge broadsword; Highlanders in their peculiarand graceful costume; even the stout farmers, who might also be foundamongst this motley assemblage, wearing the iron hauberk and sharp swordbeneath their apparently peaceful garb. Friars in their gray frocks andblack cowls, and stately burghers and magistrates, in their velvetcloaks and gold chains, continually mingled their peaceful forms withtheir more warlike brethren, and lent a yet more varied character to thestirring picture. 

Varied as were the features of this moving multitude, the expression onevery countenance, noble and follower, yeoman and peasant, burgher andeven monk, was invariably the same--a species of strong yet suppressedexcitement, sometimes shaded by anxiety, sometimes lighted by hope, almost amounting to triumph; sometimes the dark frown of scorn and hatewould pass like a thunder-cloud over noble brows, and the mailed handunconsciously clutched the sword; and then the low thrilling laugh ofderisive contempt would disperse the shade, and the muttered oath ofvengeance drown the voice of execration. It would have been a strangeyet mighty study, the face of man in that old town; but men were all toomuch excited to observe their fellows, to them it was enough--unspoken, unimparted wisdom as it was--to know, to feel, one common feeling boundthat varied mass of men, one mighty interest made them brothers. 

The ancient Palace of Scone, so long unused, was now evidently thehead-quarters of the noblemen hovering about the town, for whateverpurpose they were there assembled. The heavy flag of Scotland, in allits massive quarterings, as the symbol of a free unfettered kingdom, waved from the centre tower; archers and spearmen lined the courts, sentinels were at their posts, giving and receiving the watchword fromall who passed and repassed the heavy gates, which from dawn tillnightfall were flung wide open, as if the inmates of that regal dwellingwere ever ready to receive their friends, and feared not the approach offoes. 

The sun, though sinking, was still bright, when the slow and dignifiedapproach of the venerable abbot of Scone occasioned some stir and bustleamidst the joyous occupants of the palace yard; the wild joke washushed, the noisy brawl subsided, the games of quoit and hurling the bara while suspended, and the silence of unaffected reverence awaited thegood old man's approach and kindly-given benediction. Leaving hisattendants in one of the lower rooms, the abbot proceeded up the massivestone staircase, and along a broad and lengthy passage, darkly panelledwith thick oak, then pushing aside some heavy arras, stood within one ofthe state chambers, and gave his fervent benison on one within. This wasa man in the earliest and freshest prime of life, that period unitingall the grace and beauty of youth with the mature thought, and steadywisdom, and calmer views of manhood. That he was of noble birth andblood and training one glance sufficed; peculiarly and gloriouslydistinguished in the quiet majesty of his figure, in the mild attemperedgravity of his commanding features. Nature herself seemed to have markedhim out for the distinguished part it was his to play. Already therewere lines of thought upon the clear and open brow, and round the mouth;and the blue eye shone with that calm, steady lustre, which seldom comestill the changeful fire and wild visions of dreamy youth have departed. His hair, of rich and glossy brown, fell in loose natural curls oneither side his face, somewhat lower than his throat, shading hischeeks, which, rather pale than otherwise, added to the somewhat graveaspect of his countenance; his armor of steel, richly and curiouslyinlaid with burnished gold, sat lightly and easily upon his peculiarlytall and manly figure; a sash, of azure silk and gold, suspended hissword, whose sheath was in unison with the rest of his armor, though thehilt was studded with gems. His collar was also of gold, as were hisgauntlets, which with his helmet rested on a table near him; a coronetof plain gold surmounted his helmet, and on his surcoat, which lay on aseat at the further end of the room, might be discerned the rampant lionof Scotland, surmounted by a crown. 

The apartment in which he stood, though shorn of much of that splendorwhich, ere the usurping invasion of Edward of England, had distinguishedit, still bore evidence of being a chamber of some state. The hangingswere of dark-green velvet embroidered, and with a very broad fringe ofgold; drapery of the same costly material adorned the broad casements, which stood in heavy frames of oak, black as ebony. Large folding-doors, with panels of the same beautiful material, richly carved, opened intoan ante-chamber, and thence to the grand staircase and more public partsof the building. In this ante-chamber were now assembled pages, esquires, and other officers bespeaking a royal household, though muchless numerous than is generally the case. 

"Sir Edward and the young Lord of Douglas have not returned, sayestthou, good Athelbert? Knowest thou when and for what went they forth?"were the words which were spoken by the noble we have described, as theabbot entered, unperceived at first, from his having avoided the publicentrance to the state rooms; they were addressed to an esquire, who, with cap in hand and head somewhat lowered, respectfully awaited thecommands of his master. 

"They said not the direction of their course, my liege; 'tis thought toreconnoitre either the movements of the English, or to ascertain thecause of the delay of the Lord of Fife. They departed at sunrise, withbut few followers. "

"On but a useless errand, good Athelbert, methinks, an they hope togreet Earl Duncan, save with a host of English at his back. Bid SirEdward hither, should he return ere nightfall, and see to the instantdelivery of those papers; I fear me, the good lord bishop has waited forthem; and stay--Sir Robert Keith, hath he not yet returned?"

"No, good my lord. "

"Ha! he tarrieth long, " answered the noble, musingly. "Now heavenforefend no evil hath befallen him; but to thy mission, Athelbert, Imust not detain thee with doubts and cavil. Ha! reverend father, rightwelcome, " he added, perceiving him as he turned again to the table, onthe esquire reverentially withdrawing from his presence, and bending hishead humbly in acknowledgment of the abbot's benediction. "Thou findestme busied as usual. Seest thou, " he pointed to a rough map of Scotlandlying before him, curiously intersected with mystic lines and crosses, "Edinburgh, Berwick, Roxburgh, Lanark, Stirling, Dumbarton, in the powerof, nay peopled, by English. Argyle on the west, Elgin, Aberdeen, withBanff eastward, teeming with proud, false Scots, hereditary foes to theBruce, false traitors to their land; the north--why, 'tis the same foultale; and yet I dare to raise my banner, dare to wear the crown, andfling defiance in the teeth of all. What sayest thou, father--is't not amadman's deed?"

All appearance of gravity vanished from his features as he spoke. Hiseye, seemingly so mild, flashed till its very color could not have beendistinguished, his cheek glowed, his lip curled, and his voice, everpeculiarly rich and sonorous, deepened with the excitement of soul. 

"Were the fate of man in his own hands, were it his and his alone tomake or mar his destiny, I should e'en proclaim thee mad, my son, andseek to turn thee from thy desperate purpose; but it is not so. Man isbut an instrument, and He who urged thee to this deed, who wills notthis poor land to rest enslaved, will give thee strength and wisdom forits freedom. His ways are not as man's; and circled as thou seemest withfoes, His strength shall bring thee forth and gird thee with His glory. Thou wouldst not turn aside, my son--thou fearest not thy foes?"

"Fear! holy father: it is a word unknown to the children of the Bruce! Ido but smile at mine extensive kingdom--of some hundred acres square;smile at the eagerness with which they greet me liege and king, as ifthe words, so long unused, should now do double duty for long absence. "

"And better so, my son, " answered the old man, cheerfully. "Devotion toher destined savior argues well for bonny Scotland; better do homageunto thee as liege and king, though usurpation hath abridged thykingdom, than to the hireling of England's Edward, all Scotland at hisfeet. Men will not kneel to sceptred slaves, nor freemen fight fortyrants' tools. Sovereign of Scotland thou art, thou shalt be, Robertthe Bruce! Too long hast thou kept back; but now, if arms can fight andhearts can pray, thou shalt be king of Scotland. "

The abbot spoke with a fervor, a spirit which, though perhaps littleaccordant with his clerical character, thrilled to the Bruce's heart. Hegrasped the old man's hand. 

"Holy father, " he said, "thou wouldst inspire hearts with ardor needinginspiration more than mine; and to me thou givest hope, and confidence, and strength. Too long have I slept and dreamed, " his countenancedarkened, and his voice was sadder; "fickle in purpose, uncertain inaccomplishment; permitting my youth to moulder 'neath the blastingatmosphere of tyranny. Yet will I now atone for the neglected past. Atone! aye, banish it from the minds of men. My country hath a claim, adouble claim upon me; she calls upon me, trumpet-tongued, to arise, avenge her, and redeem my misspent youth. Nor shall she call on me invain, so help me, gracious heaven!"

"Amen, " fervently responded the abbot; and the king continued morehurriedly--

"And that stain, that blot, father? Is there mercy in heaven to wash itsdarkness from my soul, or must it linger there forever preying on myspirit, dashing e'en its highest hopes and noblest dreams with poison, whispering its still voice of accusation, even when loudest rings thepraise and love of men? Is there no rest for this, no silence for thatwhisper? Penitence, atonement, any thing thou wilt, let but my soul befree!" Hastily, and with step and countenance disordered, he traversedthe chamber, his expressive countenance denoting the strife within. 

"It was, in truth, a rash and guilty deed, my son, " answered the abbot, gravely, yet mildly, "and one that heaven in its justice will scarcepass unavenged. Man hath given thee the absolution accorded to the trueand faithful penitent, for such thou art; yet scarcely dare we hopeoffended heaven is appeased. Justice will visit thee with trouble--sore, oppressing, grievous trouble. Yet despair not: thou wilt come forth thepurer, nobler, brighter, from the fire; despair not, but as a childreceive a father's chastening; lean upon that love, which wills notdeath, but penitence and life; that love, which yet will bring theeforth and bless this land in thee. My son, be comforted; His mercy isyet greater than thy sin. "

"And blest art thou, my father, for these _blessed_ words; a messengerin truth thou art of peace and love; and oh, if prayers and penitenceavail, if sore temptation may be pleaded, I shall, I shall be pardoned. Yet would I give my dearest hopes of life, of fame, of all--saveScotland's freedom--that this evil had not chanced; that blood, hisblood--base traitor as he was--was not upon my hand. "

"And can it be thou art such craven, Robert, as to repent a Comyn'sdeath--a Comyn, and a traitor--e'en though his dastard blood be on thyhand?--bah! An' such deeds weigh heavy on thy mind, a friar's cowl werebetter suited to thy brow than Scotland's diadem. "

The speaker was a tall, powerful man, somewhat younger in appearancethan the king, but with an expression of fierceness and haughty pride, contrasting powerfully with the benevolent and native dignity which socharacterized the Bruce. His voice was as harsh as his manner wasabrupt; yet that he was brave, nay, rash in his unthinking daring, avery transient glance would suffice to discover. 

"I forgive thee thine undeserved taunt, Edward, " answered the king, calmly, though the hot blood rushed up to his cheek and brow. "I trust, ere long, to prove thy words are as idle as the mood which promptedthem. I feel not that repentance cools the patriot fire which urges meto strike for Scotland's weal--that sorrow for a hated crime unfits mefor a warrior. I would not Comyn lived, but that he had met a traitor'sfate by other hands than mine; been judged--condemned, as his blacktreachery called for; even for our country's sake, it had been betterthus. "

"Thou art over-scrupulous, my liege and brother, and I too hasty, "replied Sir Edward Bruce, in the same bold, careless tone. "Yet beshrewme, but I think that in these times a sudden blow and hasty fate theonly judgment for a traitor. The miscreant were too richly honored, thatby thy royal hand he fell. "

"My son, my son, I pray thee, peace, " urged the abbot, in accents ofcalm, yet grave authority. "As minister of heaven, I may not list suchwords. Bend not thy brow in wrath, clad as thou art in mail, in youthfulmight; yet in my Maker's cause this withered frame is stronger yet thanthou art. Enough of that which hath been. Thy sovereign spoke in lowlypenitence to me--to me, who frail and lowly unto thee, am yet theminister of Him whom sin offends. To thee he stands a warrior and aking, who rude irreverence may brook not, even from his brother. Bepeace between us, then, my son; an old man's blessing on thy fierce yetknightly spirit rest. "

With a muttered oath Sir Edward had strode away at the abbot's firstwords, but the cloud passed from his brow as he concluded, and slightly, yet with something of reverence, he bowed his head. 

"And whither didst thou wend thy way, my fiery brother?" demandedRobert. "Bringest thou aught of news, or didst thou and Douglas but setfoot in stirrup and hand on rein simply from weariness of quiet?"

"In sober truth, 'twas even so; partly to mark the movements of theEnglish, an they make a movement, which, till Pembroke come, they areall too much amazed to do; partly to see if in truth that poltroonDuncan of Fife yet hangs back and still persists in forswearing theloyalty of his ancestors, and leaving to better hands the proud task ofplacing the crown of Scotland on thy head. "

"And thou art convinced at last that such and such only is hisintention?" The knight nodded assent, and Bruce continued, jestingly, "And so thou mightst have been long ago, my sage brother, hadst thoulistened to me. I tell thee Earl Duncan hath a spite against me, not fordaring to raise the standard of freedom and proclaim myself a king, butfor very hatred of myself. Nay, hast thou not seen it thyself, when, fellow-soldiers, fellow-seekers of the banquet, tournay, or ball, hehath avoided, shunned me? and why should he seek me now?"

"Why? does not Scotland call him, Scotland bid him gird his sword anddon his mail? Will not the dim spectres of his loyal line start fromtheir very tombs to call him to thy side, or brand him traitor andpoltroon, with naught of Duff about him but the name? Thou smilest. "

"At thy violence, good brother. Duncan of Fife loves better the silkencords of peace and pleasure, e'en though those silken threads hidechains, than the trumpet's voice and weight of mail. In England bred, courted, flattered by her king, 'twere much too sore a trouble to excitehis anger and lose his favor; and for whom, for what?--to crown the manhe hateth from his soul?"

"And knowest thou wherefore, good my son, in what thou hast offended?"

"Offended, holy father? Nay, in naught unless perchance a servicerendered when a boy--a simple service, merely that of saving life--hathrendered him the touchy fool he is. But hark! who comes?"

The tramping of many horses, mingled with the eager voices of men, resounded from the courtyard as he spoke, and Sir Edward strode hastilyto the casement. "Sir Robert Keith returned!" he exclaimed, joyfully;"and seemingly right well attended. Litters too--bah! we want no morewomen. 'Tis somewhat new for Keith to be a squire of dames. Why, whatbanner is this? The black bear of Buchan--impossible! the earl is a foulComyn. I'll to the court, for this passes my poor wits. " He turnedhastily to quit the chamber, as a youth entered, not without someopposition, it appeared, from the attendants without, but eagerly he hadburst through them, and flung his plumed helmet from his beautiful brow, and, after glancing hastily round the room, bounded to the side ofRobert, knelt at his feet, and clasped his knees without uttering asyllable, voiceless from an emotion whose index was stamped upon hisglowing features. 

"Nigel, by all that's marvellous, and as moon-stricken as his wont! Why, where the foul fiend hast thou sprung from? Art dumb, thou foolish boy?By St. Andrew, these are times to act and speak, not think and feel!Whence comest thou?"

So spoke the impatient Edward, to whom the character of his youngestbrother had ever been a riddle, which it had been too much trouble toexpound, and that which it _seemed_ to his too careless thought he everlooked upon with scorn and contempt. Not so, King Robert; he raised himaffectionately in his arms, and pressed him to his heart. 

"Thou'rt welcome, most, most welcome, Nigel; as welcome as unlooked for. But why this quick return from scenes and studies more congenial to thygentle nature, my young brother? this fettered land is scarce a home forthee; thy free, thy fond imaginings can scarce have resting here. " Hespoke sadly, and his smile unwittingly was sorrowful. 

"And thinkest thou, Robert--nay, forgive me, good my liege--thinkestthou, because I loved the poet's dream, because I turned, in sad andlonely musing, from King Edward's court, I loved the cloister betterthan the camp? Oh, do me not such wrong! thou knowest not the guidingsof my heart; nor needs it now, my sword shall better plead my cause thancan my tongue. " He turned away deeply and evidently pained, and a halflaugh from Sir Edward prevented the king's reply. 

"Well crowed, my pretty fledgling, " he said, half jesting, half inscorn. "But knowest thou, to fight in very earnest is somethingdifferent than to read and chant it in a minstrel's lay? Better hie theeback to Florence, boy; the mail suit and crested helm are not for suchas thee--better shun them now, than after they are donned. "

"How! darest thou, Edward? Edward, tempt me not too far, " exclaimedNigel, his cheek flushing, and springing towards him, his hand upon hishalf-drawn sword. "By heaven, wert thou not my mother's son, I wouldcompel thee to retract these words, injurious, unjust! How darest thoujudge me coward, till my cowardice is proved? Thy blood is not more redthan mine. "

"Peace, peace! what meaneth this unseemly broil?" said Robert, hastilyadvancing between them, for the dark features of Edward were lowering inwrath, and Nigel was excited to unwonted fierceness. "Edward, begone!and as thou saidst, see to Sir Robert Keith--what news he brings. Nigel, on thy love, thy allegiance so lately proffered, if I read thy greetingright, I pray thee heed not his taunting words. I do not doubt thee;'twas for thy happiness, not for thy gallantry, I trembled. Look notthus dejected;" he held out his hand, which his brother knelt to salute. "Nay, nay, thou foolish boy, forget my new dignity a while, and now thatrude brawler has departed, tell me in sober wisdom, how camest thouhere? How didst thou know I might have need of thee?" A quick blushsuffused the cheek of the young man; he hesitated, evidently confused. "Why, what ails thee, boy? By St. Andrew, Nigel, I do believe thou hastnever quitted Scotland. "

"And if I have not, my lord, what wilt thou deem me?"

"A very strangely wayward boy, not knowing his own mind, " replied theking, smiling. "Yet why should I say so? I never asked thy confidence, never sought it, or in any way returned or appreciated thy boyish love, and why should I deem thee wayward, never inquiring into thyprojects--passing thee by, perchance, as a wild visionary, much happierthan myself?"

"And thou wilt think me yet more a visionary, I fear me, Robert; yetthine interest is too dear to pass unanswered, " rejoined Nigel, afterglancing round and perceiving they were alone, for the abbot haddeparted with Sir Edward, seeking to tame his reckless spirit. 

"Know, then, to aid me in keeping aloof from the tyrant of my country, whom instinctively I hated, I confined myself to books and such lore yetmore than my natural inclination prompted, though that was strongenough--I had made a solemn vow, rather to take the monk's cowl andfrock, than receive knighthood from the hand of Edward of England, orraise my sword at his bidding. My whole soul yearned towards the countryof my fathers, that country which was theirs by royal right; and whenthe renown of Wallace reached my ears, when, in my waking and sleepingdreams, I beheld the patriot struggling for freedom, peace, the only onewhose arm had struck for Scotland, whose tongue had dared to speakresistance, I longed wildly, intensely, vainly, to burst the thraldomwhich held my race, and seek for death beneath the patriot banner. Ilonged, yet dared not. My own death were welcome; but mother, father, brothers, sisters, all were perilled, had I done so. I stood, I deemed, alone in my enthusiast dreams; those I loved best, acknowledged, bowedbefore the man my very spirit loathed; and how dared I, a boy, a child, stand forth arraigning and condemning? But wherefore art thou thus, Robert? oh, what has thus moved thee?"

Wrapped in his own earnest words and thoughts, Nigel had failed untilthat moment to perceive the effect of his words upon his brother. Robert's head had sunk upon his hand, and his whole frame shook beneathsome strong emotion; evidently striving to subdue it, some momentselapsed ere he could reply, and then only in accents of bitterself-reproach. "Why, why did not such thoughts come to me, instead ofthee?" he said. "My youth had not wasted then in idle folly--worse, oh, worse--in slavish homage, coward indecision, flitting like the motharound the destructive flame; and while I deemed thee buried in romanticdreams, all a patriot's blood was rushing in thy veins, while mine wasdull and stagnant. "

"But to flow forth the brighter, my own brother, " interrupted Nigel, earnestly. "Oh, I have watched thee, studied thee, even as I loved thee, long; and I have hoped, felt, _known_ that this day would dawn; thatthou _wouldst_ rise for Scotland, and she would rise for thee. Ah, nowthou smilest as thyself, and I will to my tale. The patriot died--let menot utter how; no Scottish tongue should speak those words, save withthe upraised arm and trumpet shout of vengeance! I could not rest inEngland then; I could not face the tyrant who dared proclaim and executeas traitor the noblest hero, purest patriot, that ever walked thisearth. But men said I sought the lyric schools, the poet's haunts inProvence, and I welcomed the delusion; but it was to Scotland that Icame, unknown, and silently, to mark if with her Wallace all life andsoul had fled. I saw enough to know that were there but a fitting head, her hardy sons would struggle yet for freedom--but not yet; that chiefart thou, and at the close of the last year I took passage to Denmark, intending to rest there till Scotland called me. "

"And 'tis thence thou comest, Nigel? Can it be, intelligence of mymovements hath reached so far north already?" inquired the king, somewhat surprised at the abruptness of his brother's pause. 

"Not so, my liege. The vessel which bore me was wrecked off the breakersof Buchan, and cast me back again to the arms of Scotland. I foundhospitality, shelter, kindness; nay more, were this a time and place tospeak of happy, trusting love--" he added, turning away from the Bruce'spenetrating eye, "and week after week passed, and found me still aninmate of the Tower of Buchan. "

"Buchan!" interrupted the king, hastily; "the castle of a Comyn, andthou speakest of love!"

"Of as true, as firm-hearted a Scottish patriot, my liege, as ever livedin the heart of woman--one that has naught of Comyn about her or herfair children but the name, as speedily thou wilt have proof. But ingood time is my tale come to a close, for hither comes good Sir Robert, and other noble knights, who, by their eager brows, methinks, havematters of graver import for thy grace's ear. "

They entered as he spoke. The patriot nobles who, at the first call oftheir rightful king, had gathered round his person, few in number, yetfirm in heart, ready to lay down fame, fortune, life, beside hisstandard, rather than acknowledge the foreign foe, who, setting asideall principles of knightly honor, knightly faith, sought to claim theircountry as his own, their persons as his slaves. Eager was the greetingof each and all to the youthful Nigel, mingled with some surprise. Theirconference with the king was but brief, and as it comprised matters moreof speculation than of decided import, we will pass on to a later periodof the same evening. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"Buchan! the Countess of Buchan, sayest thou, Athelbert? nay, 'tisscarce possible, " said a fair and noble-looking woman, still in thebloom of life, though early youth had passed, pausing on her way to thequeen's apartment, to answer some information given by the senior page. 

"Indeed, madam, 'tis even so; she arrived but now, escorted by SirRobert Keith and his followers, in addition to some fifty of theretainers of Buchan. "

"And hath she lodging within the palace?"

"Yes, madam; an it please you, I will conduct you to her, 'tis but astep beyond the royal suite. "

She made him a sign of assent, and followed him slowly, as if musingly. 

"It is strange, it is very strange, " she thought, "yet scarcely so; shewas ever in heart and soul a patriot, nor has she seen enough of herhusband to change such sentiments. Yet, for her own sake, perchance ithad been better had she not taken this rash step; 'tis a desperate gamewe play, and the fewer lives and fortunes wrecked the better. "

Her cogitations were interrupted by hearing her name announced in a loudvoice by the page, and finding herself in presence of the object of herthoughts. 

"Isabella, dearest Isabella, 'tis even thine own dear self. I deemed theboy's tale well-nigh impossible, " was her hasty exclamation, as with amuch quicker step she advanced towards the countess, who met herhalf-way, and warmly returned her embrace, saying as she did so--

"This is kind, indeed, dearest Mary, to welcome me so soon; 'tis long, long years since we have met; but they have left as faint a shadow onthy affections as on mine. "

"Indeed, thou judgest me truly, Isabella. Sorrow, methinks, doth butsoften the heart and render the memory of young affections, youthfulpleasures, the more vivid, the more lasting: we think of what we havebeen, or what we are, and the contrast heightens into perfect bliss thatwhich at the time, perchance, we deemed but perishable joy. "

"Hast thou too learnt such lesson, Mary? I hoped its lore was allunknown to thee. "

"It was, indeed, deferred so long, so blessedly, I dared to pictureperfect happiness on earth; but since my husband's hateful captivity, Isabella, there can be little for his wife but anxiety and dread. Butthese--are these thine?" she added, gazing admiringly and tearfully onAgnes and Alan, who had at their mother's sign advanced from theembrasure, where they had held low yet earnest converse, and gracefullyacknowledged the stranger's notice. "Oh, wherefore bring them here, myfriend?"

"Wherefore, lady?" readily and impetuously answered Alan; "art thou afriend of Isabella of Buchan, and asketh wherefore? Where our sovereignis, should not his subjects be?"

"Thy mother's friend and sovereign's sister, noble boy, and yet I grieveto see thee here. The Bruce is but in name a king, uncrowned as yet andunanointed. His kingdom bounded by the confines of this one fair county, struggling for every acre at the bright sword's point. "

"The greater glory for his subjects, lady, " answered the youth. "Thevery act of proclaiming himself king removes the chains of Scotland, andflings down her gage. Fear not, he shall be king ere long in somethingmore than name. "

"And is it thus a Comyn speaks?" said the Lady Campbell. "Ah, were theidle feuds of petty minds thus laid at rest, bold boy, thy dreams mighte'en be truth; but knowest thou, young man--knowest thou, Isabella, thebreach between the Comyn and the Bruce is widened, and, alas! by blood?"

"Aye, lady; but what boots it? A traitor should have no name, no kin, orthose who bear that name should wash away their race's stain by noblerdeeds of loyalty and valor. "

"It would be well did others think with thee, " replied Lady Campbell;"yet I fear me in such sentiments the grandson of the loyal Fife willstand alone. Isabella, dearest Isabella, " she added, laying her hand onthe arm of the countess, and drawing her away from her children, "hastthou done well in this decision? hast thou listened to the calmer voiceof prudence as was thy wont? hast thou thought on all the evils thoumayest draw upon thy head, and upon these, so lovely and so dear?"

"Mary, I have thought, weighed, pondered, and yet I am here, " answeredthe countess, firmly, yet in an accent that still bespoke some inwardstruggle. "I know, I feel all, all that thou wouldst urge; that I amexposing my brave boy to death, perchance, by a father's hand, bringinghim hither to swear fealty, to raise his sword for the Bruce, in directopposition to my husband's politics, still more to his will; yet, Mary, there are mutual duties between a parent and a child. My poor boy hasever from his birth been fatherless. No kindly word, no glowing smilehas ever met his infancy, his boyhood. He scarce can know hisfather--the love, the reverence of a son it would have been such joy toteach. Left to my sole care, could I instil sentiments other than thosea father's lips bestowed on me? Could I instruct him in aught savelove, devotion to his country, to her rights, her king? I have done thisso gradually, my friend, that for the burst of loyalty, of impetuousgallantry, which answered Sir Robert Keith's appeal, I was well nighunprepared. My father, my noble father breathes in my boy; and oh, Mary, better, better far lose him on the battle-field, struggling forScotland's freedom, glorying in his fate, rejoicing, blessing me forlessons I have taught, than see him as my husband, as my brother--alas!alas! that I should live to say it--cringing as slaves before thefootstool of a tyrant and oppressor. Had he sought it, had heloved--treated me as a wife, Mary, I would have given my husbandall--all a woman's duty--all, save the dictates of my soul, but eventhis he trampled on, despised, rejected; and shall I, dare I thenforget, oppose the precepts of that noble heart, that patriot spiritwhich breathed into mine the faint reflection of itself?--offend thedead, the hallowed dead, my father--the heart that loved me?"

She paused, in strong, and for the moment overpowering, emotion. Theclear, rich tones had never faltered till she spoke of him beloved evenin death--faltered not, even when she spoke of death as the portion ofher child; it was but the quivering of lip and eye by which the anguishof that thought could have been ascertained. Lady Campbell clasped herhand. 

"Thou hast in very truth silenced me, my Isabella, " she said; "there isno combating with thoughts as these. Thine is still the same noble soul, exalted mind that I knew in youth: sorrow and time have had no power onthese. "

"Save to chasten and to purify, I trust, " rejoined the countess, in herown calm tone. "Thrown back upon my own strength, it must have gatheredforce, dear Mary, or have perished altogether. But thou speakest, methinks, but too despondingly of our sovereign's prospects--are theyindeed so desperate?"

"Desperate, indeed, Isabella. Even his own family, with the soleexception of that rash madman, Edward, must look upon it thus. Howthinkest thou Edward of England will brook this daring act of defiance, of what he will deem rank apostasy and traitorous rebellion? Aged, infirm as he is now, he will not permit this bold attempt to passunpunished. The whole strength of England will be gathered together, and pour its devastating fury on this devoted land. And what to this hasRobert to oppose? Were he undisputed sovereign of Scotland, we might, without cowardice, be permitted to tremble, threatened as he is; butconfined, surrounded by English, with scarce a town or fort to call hisown, his enterprise is madness, Isabella, patriotic as it may be. "

"Oh, do not say so, Mary. Has he not some noble barons already by hisside? will not, nay, is not Scotland rising to support him? hath he notthe hearts, the prayers, the swords of all whose mountain homes andfreeborn rights are dearer than the yoke of Edward? and hath he not, ifrumor speaks aright, within himself a host--not mere valor alone, butprudence, foresight, military skill--all, all that marks a general?"

"As rumor speaks. Thou dost not know him then?" inquired Lady Campbell. 

"How could I, dearest? Hast thou forgotten thy anxiety that we shouldmeet, when we were last together, holding at naught, in thy merry mood, my betrothment to Lord John--that I should turn him from his wanderingways, and make him patriotic as myself? Thou seest, Mary, thy brotherneeded not such influence. "

"Of a truth, no, " answered her friend; "for his present partner is avery contrast to thyself, and would rather, by her weak and tremblingfears, dissuade him from his purpose than inspire and encourage it. Welldo I remember that fancy of my happy childhood, and still I wish it hadbeen so, all idle as it seems--strange that ye never met. "

"Nay, save thyself, Mary, thy family resided more in England than inScotland, and for the last seventeen years the territory of Buchan hasbeen my only home, with little interruption to my solitude; yet I haveheard much of late of the Earl of Carrick, and from whom thinkestthou?--thou canst not guess--even from thy noble brother Nigel. "

"Nigel!" repeated Lady Mary, much surprised. 

"Even so, sweet sister, learning dearer lore and lovelier tales thaneven Provence could instil; 'tis not the land, it is the _heart_ wherepoesie dwells, " rejoined Nigel Bruce, gayly, advancing from the side ofAgnes, where he had been lingering the greater part of the dialoguebetween his sister and the countess, and now joined them. "Aye, Mary, "he continued, tenderly, "my own land is dearer than the land of song. "

"And dear art thou to Scotland, Nigel; but I knew not thy fond dreamsand wild visions could find resting amid the desert crags and barrenplains of Buchan. "

"Yet have we not been idle. Dearest Agnes, wilt thou not speak for me?the viol hath not been mute, nor the fond harp unstrung; and deeper, dearer lessons have thy lips instilled, than could have flowed fromfairest lips and sweetest songs of Provence. Nay, blush not, dearest. Mary, thou must love this gentle girl, " he added, as he led her forward, and laid the hand of Agnes in his sister's. 

"Is it so? then may we indeed be united, though not as I in my girlhooddreamed, my Isabella, " said Lady Campbell, kindly parting the clusteringcurls, and looking fondly on the maiden's blushing face. She was aboutto speak again, when steps were heard along the corridor, andunannounced, unattended, save by the single page who drew aside thehangings, King Robert entered. He had doffed the armor in which we sawhim first, for a plain yet rich suit of dark green velvet, cut andslashed with cloth of gold, and a long mantle of the richest crimson, secured at his throat by a massive golden clasp, from which gleamed theglistening rays of a large emerald; a brooch of precious stones, surrounded by diamonds, clasped the white ostrich feather in his cup, and the shade of the drooping plume, heightened perhaps by the advanceof evening, somewhat obscured his features, but there was that in hismajestic mien, in the noble yet dignified bearing, which could not forone moment be mistaken; and it needed not the word of Nigel to cause theyouthful Alan to spring from the couch where he had listlessly thrownhimself, and stand, suddenly silenced and abashed. 

"My liege and brother, " exclaimed Lady Campbell, eagerly, as she hastilyled forward the Countess of Buchan, who sunk at once on her knee, overpowered by the emotion of a patriot, thinking only of her country, only of her sovereign, as one inspired by heaven to attempt her rescue, and give her freedom. "How glad am I that it has fallen on me to presentto your grace, in the noble Countess of Buchan, the chosen friend of mygirlhood, the only descendant of the line of Macduff worthy to bear thatname. Allied as unhappily she is to the family of Comyn, yet still, still most truly, gloriously, a patriot and loyal subject of your grace, as her being here, with all she holds most dear, most precious uponearth, will prove far better than her friend's poor words. "

"Were they most rich in eloquence, Mary, believe me, we yet should needthem not, in confirmation of this most noble lady's faithfulness andworth, " answered the king, with ready courtesy, and in accents that wereonly too familiar to the ear of Isabella. She started, and gazed up forthe first time, seeing fully the countenance of the sovereign. "Rise, lady, we do beseech you, rise; we are not yet so familiar with the formsof royalty as to behold without some shame a noble lady at our feet. Nay, thou art pale, very pale; thy coming hither hath been too rapid, too hurried for thy strength, methinks; I do beseech you, sit. " Gentlyhe raised her, and leading her gallantly to one of the cumbrous couchesnear them, placed her upon it, and sat down beside her. "Ha! that iswell; thou art better now. Knowest thou, Mary, thine office would havebeen more wisely performed, hadst thou presented _me_ to the Countess ofBuchan, not her to me. "

"Thou speakest darkly, good my liege, yet I joy to see thee thusjestingly inclined. "

"Nay, 'tis no jest, fair sister; the Countess of Buchan and I have metbefore, though she knew me but as a wild, heedless stripling first, anda moody, discontented soldier afterwards. I owe thee much, gentle lady;much for the night's lodging thy hospitality bestowed, though at thetime my mood was such it had no words of courtesy, no softening fancy, even to thyself; much for the kindness thou didst bestow, not only then, but when fate first threw us together; and therefore do I seek thee, lady--therefore would I speak to thee, as the friend of former years, not as the sovereign of Scotland, and as such received by thee. " Hespoke gravely, with somewhat of sadness in his rich voice. Perhaps itwas well for the countess no other answer than a grateful bow wasneeded, for the sudden faintness which had withdrawn the color from hercheek yet lingered, sufficient to render the exertion of speakingpainful. 

"Yet pause one moment, my liege, " said Nigel, playfully leading Alanforward; "give me one moment, ere you fling aside your kingly state. Here is a young soldier, longing to rush into the very thickest of afight that may win a golden spur and receive knighthood at your grace'shand; a doughty spokesman, who was to say a marvellously long speech ofduty, homage, and such like, but whose tongue at sight of thee hasturned traitor to its cause. Have mercy on him, good my liege; I'llanswer that his arm is less a traitor than his tongue. "

"We do not doubt it, Nigel, and will accept thy words for his. Besatisfied, young sir, the willing homage of all true men is precious toKing Robert. And thou, fair maiden, wilt thou, too, follow thy monarch'sfortunes, cloudy though they seem? we read thine answer in thy blushingcheek, and thus we thank thee, maiden. "

He threw aside his plumed cap, and gallantly yet respectfully salutedthe fair, soft cheek; confused yet pleased, Agnes looked doubtinglytowards Nigel, who, smiling a happy, trusting, joyous smile, led her afew minutes apart, whispered some fond words, raised her hand to hislips, and summoning Alan, they left the room together. 

"Sir Robert Keith informs me, noble lady, " said the king, againaddressing Isabella, "that it is your determination to represent, inyour own proper person, the ancient line of Duff at the approachingceremony, and demand from our hands, as such representative, theprivilege granted by King Malcolm to your noble ancestor and hisdescendants, of placing on the sovereign's brow the coronet of Scotland. Is it not so?"

"I do indeed most earnestly demand this privilege, my gracious liege, "answered the countess, firmly; "demand it as a right, a glorious right, made mine by the weak and fickle conduct of my brother. Alas! the onlymale descendant of that line which until now hath never known atraitor. "

"But hast thou well considered, lady? There is danger in this act, danger even to thyself. "

"My liege, that there is danger threatening all the patriots ofScotland, monarch or serf, male or female, I well know; yet in what doesit threaten me more in this act, than in the mere acknowledgment of theEarl of Carrick as my sovereign?"

"It will excite the rage of Edward of England against thyselfindividually, lady; I know him well, only too well. All who join ingiving countenance and aid to my inauguration will be proclaimed, hunted, placed under the ban of traitors, and, if unfortunately taken, will in all probability share the fate of Wallace. " His voice becamehusky with strong emotion. "There is no exception in his sweepingtyranny; youth and age, noble and serf, of either sex, of either land, if they raise the sword for Bruce and freedom, will fall by thehangman's cord or headsman's axe; and I, alas! must look on and bear, for I have neither men nor power to avert such fate; and that hand whichplaces on my head the crown, death, death, a cruel death, will be thedoom of its patriot owner. Think, think on this, and oh, retract thynoble resolution, ere it be too late. "

"Is she who gives the crown in greater danger, good my liege, than hewho wears it?" demanded the countess, with a calm and quiet smile. 

"Nay, " he answered, smiling likewise for the moment, "but I were worsethan traitor, did I shrink from Scotland in her need, and refuse herdiadem, in fear, forsooth, of death at Edward's hands. No! I have heldback too long, and now will I not turn back till Scotland's freedom isachieved, or Robert Bruce lies with the slain. Repentance for the past, hope, ambition for the future; a firm heart and iron frame, a steady armand sober mood, to meet the present--I have these, sweet lady, to fitand nerve me for the task, but not such hast thou. I doubt not thypatriot soul; perchance 'twas thy lip that first awoke the slumberingfire within my own breast, and though a while forgotten, recalled, whenagain I looked on thee, after Falkirk's fatal battle, with the charge, the solemn charge of Wallace yet ringing in mine ears. Yet, lady, noblelady, tempt not the fearful fate which, shouldst thou fall into Edward'shands, I know too well will be thine own. I dare not promise suredefence from his o'erwhelming hosts: on every side they compass me. Isee sorrow and death for all I love, all who swear fealty to me. I shallsucceed in the end, for heaven, just heaven will favor the righteouscause; but trouble and anguish must be my lot ere then, and I would savethose I can. Remain with us an thou wilt, gratefully I accept the homageso nobly and unhesitatingly tendered; but still I beseech thee, lady, expose not thy noble self to the blind wrath of Edward, as thou surelywilt, if from thy hand I receive my country's crown. "

"My liege, " answered the countess, in that same calm, quiet tone, "Ihave heard thee with a deep grateful sense of the noble feeling, thekindly care which dictates thy words; yet pardon me, if they fail toshake my resolution--a resolution not lightly formed, not the mereexcitement of a patriotic moment, but one based on the principles ofyears, on the firm, solemn conviction, that in taking this sacred officeon myself, the voice of the dead is obeyed, the memory of the dead, thenoble dead, preserved from stain, inviolate and pure. Would my fatherhave kept aloof in such an hour--refused to place on the brow ofScotland's patriot king the diadem of his forefathers--held back in fearof Edward? Oh! would that his iron hand and loyal heart were hereinstead of mine; gladly would I lay me down in his cold home and placehim at thy side, might such things be: but as it is, my liege, I dobeseech thee, cease to urge me. I have but a woman's frame, a woman'sheart, and yet death hath no fear for me. Let Edward work his will, ifheaven ordain I fall into his ruthless hands; death comes but once, 'tisbut a momentary pang, and rest and bliss shall follow. My father'sspirit breathes within me, and as he would, so let his daughter do. 'Tisnot now a time to depart from ancient forms, my gracious sovereign, andthere are those in Scotland who scarce would deem thee crowned, did notthe blood of Fife perform that holy office. "

"And this, then, noble lady, is thy firm resolve--I may not hope tochange it?"

"'Tis firm as the ocean rock, my liege. I do not sue thee to permit mywill; the blood of Macduff, which rushes in my veins, doth mark it as myright, and as my right I do demand it. " She stood in her majesticbeauty, proudly and firmly before him, and unconsciously the kingacknowledged and revered the dauntless spirit that lovely formenshrined. 

"Lady, " he said, raising her hand with reverence to his lips, "do asthou wilt: a weaker spirit would have shrunk at once in terror from thevery thought of such open defiance to King Edward. I should have knownthe mind that framed such daring purpose would never shrink from itsfulfilment, however danger threatened; enough, we know thy faithfulnessand worth, and where to seek for brave and noble counsel in the hour ofneed. And now, may it be our privilege to present thee to our queen, sweet lady? We shall rejoice to see thee ever near her person. "

"I pray your grace excuse me for this night, " answered the countess; "wehave made some length of way to-day, and, if it please you, I wouldseek rest. Agnes shall supply my place; Mary, thou wilt guard her, wiltthou not?"

"Nay, be mine the grateful task, " said the king, gayly taking themaiden's hand, and, after a few words of courtesy, he quitted thechamber, followed by his sister. 

There were sounds of mirth and revelry that night in the ancient hallsof Scone, for King Robert, having taken upon himself the state andconsequence of sovereignty, determined on encouraging the high spiritsand excited joyousness of his gallant followers by all the amusements ofchivalry which his confined and precarious situation permitted, andseldom was it that the dance and minstrelsy did not echo blithely in theroyal suite for many hours of the evening, even when the day had broughtwith it anxiety and fatigue, and even intervals of despondency. Therewere many noble dames and some few youthful maidens in King Robert'scourt, animated by the same patriotic spirit which led their husbandsand brothers to risk fortune and life in the service of their country:they preferred sharing and alleviating their dangers and anxieties, bythronging round the Bruce's wife, to the precarious calm and safety oftheir feudal castles; and light-heartedness and glee shed their brightgleams on these social hours, never clouded by the gloomy shades thatdarkened the political horizon of the Bruce's fortunes. Perchance thisnight there was a yet brighter radiance cast over the royal halls, therewas a spirit of light and glory in every word and action of the youthfulenthusiast, Nigel Bruce, that acted as with magic power on all around;known in the court of England but as a moody visionary boy, whose dreamswere all too ethereal to guide him in this nether world, whose hand, however fitted to guide a pen, was all too weak to wield a sword; thechange, or we should rather say the apparent change, perceived in himoccasioned many an eye to gaze in silent wonderment, and, in thesuperstition of the time, argue well for the fortunes of one brotherfrom the marvellous effect observable in the countenance and mood of theother. 

The hopefulness of youth, its rosy visions, its smiling dreams, allsparkled in his blight blue eye, in the glad, free, ringing joyance ofhis deep rich voice, his cloudless smiles. And oh, who is there canresist the witchery of life's young hopes, who does not feel the warmblood run quicker through his veins, and bid his heart throb even as ithath throbbed in former days, and the gray hues of life melt away beforethe rosy glow of youth, even as the calm cold aspect of waning night islost in the warmth and loveliness of the infant morn? And what was themagic acting on the enthusiast himself, that all traces of gloom andpensive thought were banished from his brow, that the full tide ofpoetry within his soul seemed thrilling on his lip, breathing in hissimplest word, entrancing his whole being in joy? Scarce could hehimself have defined its cause, such a multitude of strong emotions werebusy at his heart. He saw not the dangers overhanging the path of theBruce, he only saw and only felt him as his sovereign, as his brother, his friend, destined to be all that he had hoped, prayed, and believedhe would be; willing to accept and return the affection he had so longfelt, and give him that friendship and confidence for which he hadyearned in vain so long. He saw his country free, independent, unshackled, glorious as of old; and there was a light and lovely beingmingling in these stirring visions--when Scotland was free, whathappiness would not be his own! Agnes, who flitted before him in thatgay scene, the loveliest, dearest object there, clinging to him in hertimidity, shrinking from the gaze of the warriors around, respectful asit was, feeling that all was strange, all save him to whom her youngheart was vowed--if such exclusiveness was dear to him, if it were blissto him to feel that, save her young brother, he alone had claim upon hernotice and her smile, oh! what would it be when she indeed was all, allindivisibly his own? Was it marvel, then, his soul was full of the joythat beamed forth from his eye, and lip, and brow--that his faintesttone breathed gladness?

There was music and mirth in the royal halls: the shadow of care hadpassed before the full sunshine of hope; but within that palace wall, not many roods removed from the royal suite, was one heart strugglingwith its lone agony, striving for calm, for peace, for rest, to escapefrom the deep waters threatening to overwhelm it. Hour after hour beheldthe Countess of Buchan in the same spot, well-nigh in the same attitude;the agonized dream of her youth had come upon her yet once again, thevoice whose musical echoes had never faded from her ear, once more hadsounded in its own deep thrilling tones, his hand had pressed her own, his eye had met hers, aye, and dwelt upon her with the unfeignedreverence and admiration which had marked its expression years before;and it was to him her soul had yearned in all the fervidness of loyalty, not to a stranger, as she had deemed him. Loyalty, patriotism, reverenceher sovereign claimed, aye, and had received; but now how dare sheencourage such emotions towards one it had been, aye, it was her duty toforget, to think of no more? Had her husband been fond, sought the nobleheart which felt so bitterly his neglect, the gulf which now dividedthem might never have existed; and could she still the voice of thatpatriotism, that loyalty towards a free just monarch, which the dyingwords of a parent had so deeply inculcated, and which the sentiments ofher own heart had increased in steadiness and strength? On what had thatlone heart to rest, to subdue its tempest, to give it nerve and force, to rise pure in thought as in deed, unstained, unshaded in itsnobleness, what but its own innate purity? Yet fearful was the stormthat passed over, terrible the struggle which shook that bent form, asin lowliness and contrition, and agony of spirit, she knelt before thesilver crucifix, and called upon heaven in its mercy to give peace andstrength--fierce, fierce and terrible; but the agonized cry was heard, the stormy waves were stilled. 

CHAPTER V. 

Brightly and blithely dawned the 26th of March, 1306, for the loyalinhabitants of Scone. Few who might gaze on the olden city, and markedthe flags and pennons waving gayly and proudly on every side; the richtapestry flung over balconies or hung from the massive windows, in everystreet; the large branches of oak and laurel, festooned with gayribands, that stood beside the entrance of every house which boasted anyconsequence; the busy citizens in goodly array, with their wives andfamilies, bedecked to the best of their ability, all, as inspired by onespirit, hurrying in the direction of the abbey yard, joining the merryclamor of eager voices to the continued peal of every bell of which theold town could boast, sounding loud and joyously even above the roll ofthe drum or the shrill trumpet call;--those who marked these thingsmight well believe Scotland was once again the same free land, whichhad hailed in the same town the coronation of Alexander the Third, someyears before. Little would they deem that the foreign foeman stillthronged her feudal holds and cottage homes, that they waited but thecommands of their monarch, to pour down on all sides upon the daringindividual who thus boldly assumed the state and solemn honor of a king, and, armed but by his own high heart and a handful of loyal followers, prepared to resist, defend, and _free_, or _die_ for Scotland. 

There was silence--deep, solemn, yet most eloquent silence, reigning inthe abbey church of Scone. The sun shining in that full flood of glorywe sometimes find in the infant spring, illumined as with golden lustrethe long, narrow casements, falling thence in flickering brilliance onthe pavement floor, its rays sometimes arrested, to revolve inheightened lustre from the glittering sword or the suit of half-mail ofone or other of the noble knights assembled there. The rich plate of theabbey, all at least which had escaped the cupidity of Edward, wasarranged with care upon the various altars; in the centre of the churchwas placed the abbot's oaken throne, which was to supply the place ofthe ancient stone, the coronation seat of the Scottish kings--no longerthere, its absence felt by one and all within that church as the closingseal to Edward's infamy--the damning proof that as his slave, not as hissister kingdom, he sought to render Scotland. From the throne to thehigh altar, where the king was to receive the eucharist, a carpet ofrichly-brocaded Genoa velvet was laid down; a cushion of the sameelegantly-wrought material marked the place beside the spot where he wasto kneel. Priests, in their richest vestments, officiated at the highaltar; six beautiful boys, bearing alternately a large waxen candle, andthe golden censers filled with the richest incense, stood beside them, while opposite the altar and behind the throne, in an elevated gallery, were ranged the seventy choristers of the abbey, thirty of whom wereyouthful novices; behind them a massive screen or curtain of tapestryconcealed the organ, and gave a yet more startling and thrilling effectto its rich deep tones, thus bursting, as it were, from spheres unseen. 

The throne was already occupied by the patriot king, clothed in hisrobes of state; his inner dress was a doublet and vest of white velvet, slashed with cloth of silver; his stockings, fitting tight to the knee, were of the finest woven white silk, confined where they met the doubletwith a broad band of silver; his shoes of white velvet, broidered withsilver, in unison with his dress; a scarf of cloth of silver passed overhis right shoulder, fastened there by a jewelled clasp, and, crossinghis breast, secured his trusty sword to his left side; his head, ofcourse, was bare, and his fair hair, parted carefully on his arched andnoble brow, descended gracefully on either side; his countenance wasperfectly calm, unexpressive of aught save of a deep sense of the solemnservice in which he was engaged. There was not the faintest trace ofeither anxiety or exultation--naught that could shadow the brows of hisfollowers, or diminish by one particle the love and veneration which inevery heart were rapidly gaining absolute dominion. 

On the right of the king stood the Abbot of Scone, the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, and Bishop of Glasgow, all of which venerable prelates hadinstantaneously and unhesitatingly declared for the Bruce; ranged oneither side of the throne, according more to seniority than rank, wereseated the brothers of the Bruce and the loyal barons who had joined hisstandard. Names there were already famous in the annals ofpatriotism--Fraser, Lennox, Athol, Hay--whose stalwart arms had so noblystruck for Wallace, whose steady minds had risen superior to the pettyemotions of jealousy and envy which had actuated so many of similarrank. These were true patriots, and gladly and freely they once morerose for Scotland. Sir Christopher Seaton, brother-in-law to the Bruce, Somerville, Keith, St. Clair, the young Lord Douglas, and ThomasRandolph, the king's nephew, were the most noted of those now around theBruce; yet on that eventful day not more than fourteen barons weremustered round their sovereign, exclusive of his four gallant brothers, who were in themselves a host. All these were attired with the care andgallantry their precarious situation permitted; half armor, concealed byflowing scarfs and graceful mantles, or suits of gayer seeming among theyounger knights, for those of the barons' followers of gentle blood andchivalric training were also admitted within the church, forming agoodly show of gallant men. Behind them, on raised seats, which weredivided from the body of the church by an open railing of ebony, satethe ladies of the court, the seat of the queen distinguished from therest by its canopy and cushion of embroidered taffeta, and amongstthose gentle beings fairest and loveliest shone the maiden of Buchan, asshe sate in smiling happiness between the youthful daughter of theBruce, the Princess Margory, and his niece, the Lady Isoline, childrenof ten and fourteen, who already claimed her as their companion andfriend. 

The color was bright on the soft cheek of Agnes, the smile laughed alikein her lip and eye; for ever and anon, from amidst the courtly crowdbeneath, the deep blue orb of Nigel Bruce met hers, speaking in itspassioned yet respectful gaze, all that could whisper joy and peace untoa heart, young, loving, and confiding, as that of Agnes. The eveningprevious he had detached the blue riband which confined her flowingcurls, and it was with a feeling of pardonable pride she beheld itsuspended from his neck, even in that hour, when his rich habilimentsand the imposing ceremony of the day marked him the brother of a king. Her brother, too, was at his side, gazing upon his sovereign withfeelings, whose index, marked as it was on his brow, gave him theappearance of being older than he was. It was scarcely the excitement ofa mere boy, who rejoiced in the state and dignity around him; theemotion of his mother had sunk upon his very soul, subduing the wildbuoyancy of his spirit, and bidding him feel deeply and sadly thesituation in which he stood. It seemed to him as if he had never thoughtbefore, and now that reflection had come upon him, it was fraught with aweight and gloom he could not remove and scarcely comprehend. He felt nopower on earth could prevent his taking the only path which was open tothe true patriot of Scotland, and in following that path he raised thestandard of revolt, and enlisted his own followers against his father. Till the moment of action he had dreamed not of these things; but thedeep anxieties, the contending feelings of his mother, which, despiteher controlled demeanor, his heart perceived, could not but have theireffect; and premature manhood was stealing fast upon his heart. 

Upon the left of the king, and close beside his throne, stood theCountess of Buchan, attired in robes of the darkest crimson velvet, witha deep border of gold, which swept the ground, and long falling sleeveswith a broad fringe; a thick cord of gold and tassels confined the robearound the waist, and thence fell reaching to her feet, and well-nighconcealing the inner dress of white silk, which was worn to permit therobes falling easily on either side, and thus forming a long trainbehind. Neither gem nor gold adorned her beautiful hair; a veil wastwisted in its luxuriant tresses, and served the purpose of the matron'scoif. She was pale and calm, but such was the usual expression of hercountenance, and perhaps accorded better with the dignified majesty ofher commanding figure than a greater play of feature. It was not thecalmness of insensibility, of vacancy, it was the still reflection of acontrolled and chastened soul, of one whose depth and might was knownbut to-herself. 

The pealing anthem for a while had ceased, and it was as if that churchwas desolate, as if the very hearts that throbbed so quickly for theircountry and their king were hushed a while and stilled, that every wordwhich passed between the sovereign and the primate should be heard. Kneeling before him, his hands placed between those of the archbishop, the king, in a clear and manly voice, received, as it were, the kingdomfrom his hands, and swore to govern according to the laws of hisancestors; to defend the liberties of his people alike from the foreignand the civil foe; to dispense justice; to devote life itself torestoring Scotland to her former station in the scale of kingdoms. Solemnly, energetically, he took the required vows; his cheek flushed, his eye glistened, and ere he rose he bent his brow upon his spreadhands, as if his spirit supplicated strength, and the primate, standingover him, blessed him, in a loud voice, in the name of Him whose lowlyminister he was. 

A few minutes, and the king was again seated on his throne, and from thehands of the Bishop of Glasgow, the Countess of Buchan received thesimple coronet of gold, which had been hastily made to supply the placeof that which Edward had removed. It was a moment of intense interest:every eye was directed towards the king and the dauntless woman by hisside, who, rather than the descendant of Malcolm Cean Mohr should demandin vain the service from the descendants of the brave Macduff, exposedherself to all the wrath of a fierce and cruel king, the fury of anincensed husband and brother, and in her own noble person representedthat ancient and most loyal line. Were any other circumstance needed toenhance the excitement of the patriots of Scotland, they would havefound it in this. As it was, a sudden, irrepressible burst of applausebroke from many eager voices as the bishop placed the coronet in herhands, but one glance from those dark, eloquent eyes sufficed to hushit on the instant into stillness. 

Simultaneously all within the church stood up, and gracefully andsteadily, with a hand which trembled not, even to the observant andanxious eyes of her son, Isabella of Buchan placed the sacred symbol ofroyalty on the head of Scotland's king; and then arose, as with onevoice, the wild enthusiastic shout of loyalty, which, bursting from allwithin the church, was echoed again and again from without, almostdrowning the triumphant anthem which at the same moment sent its rich, hallowed tones through the building, and proclaimed Robert Bruce indeeda king. 

Again and yet again the voice of triumph and of loyalty arosehundred-tongued, and sent its echo even to the English camp; and when itceased, when slowly, and as it were reluctantly, it died away, it was agrand and glorious sight to see those stern and noble barons one by oneapproach their sovereign's throne and do him homage. 

It was not always customary for the monarchs of those days to receivethe feudal homage of their vassals the same hour of their coronation, itwas in general a distinct and almost equally gorgeous ceremony; but inthis case both the king and barons felt it better policy to unite them;the excitement attendant on the one ceremonial they felt would preventthe deficiency of numbers in the other being observed, and they actedwisely. 

There was a dauntless firmness in each baron's look, in his manlycarriage and unwavering step, as one by one he traversed the spacebetween him and the throne, seeming to proclaim that in himself he heldindeed a host. To adhere to the usual custom of paying homage to thesuzerain bareheaded, barefooted, and unarmed, the embroidered slipperhad been adopted by all instead of the iron boot; and as he knelt beforethe throne, the Earl of Lennox, for, first in rank, he first approachedhis sovereign, unbuckling his trusty sword, laid it, together with hisdagger, at Robert's feet, and placing his clasped hands between those ofthe king, repeated, in a deep sonorous voice, the solemn vow--to liveand die with him against all manner of men. Athol, Fraser, Seaton, Douglas, Hay, gladly and willingly followed his example; and it wascurious to mark the character of each man, proclaimed in his mien andhurried step. 

The calm, controlled, and somewhat thoughtful manner of those grown wisein war, their bold spirits feeling to the inmost soul the whole extentof the risk they run, scarcely daring to anticipate the freedom of theircountry, the emancipation of their king from the heavy yoke thatthreatened him, and yet so firm in the oath they pledged, that haddestruction yawned before them ere they reached the throne, they wouldhave dared it rather than turned back--and then again those hot andeager youths, feeling, knowing but the excitement of the hour, believingbut as they hoped, seeing but a king, a free and independent king, bounding from their seats to the monarch's feet, regardless of thesolemn ceremonial in which they took a part, desirous only, in the wordsof their oath, to live and die for him--caused a brighter flush tomantle on King Robert's cheek, and his eyes to shine with new andradiant light. None knew better than himself the perils that encircledhim, yet there was a momentary glow of exultation in his heart as helooked on the noble warriors, the faithful friends around him, and feltthat they, even they, representatives of the oldest, the noblest housesin Scotland--men famed not alone for their gallant bearing in war, buttheir fidelity and wisdom, and unstained honor and virtue in peace--eventhey acknowledged him their king, and vowed him that allegiance whichwas never known to fail. 

Alan of Buchan was the last of that small yet noble train who approachedhis sovereign. There was a hot flush of impetuous feeling on the boy'scheek, an indignant tear trembled in his dark flashing eye, and hisvoice, sweet, thrilling as it was, quivered with the vain effort torestrain his emotion. 

"Sovereign of Scotland, " he exclaimed, "descendant of that glorious lineof kings to whom my ancestors have until this dark day vowed homage andallegiance; sovereign of all good and faithful men, on whose inmostsouls the name of Scotland is so indelibly writ, that even in death itmay there be found, refuse not thou my homage. I have but my sword, note'en a name of which to boast, yet hear me swear, " he raised his claspedhands towards heaven, "swear that for thee, for my country, for theealone, will I draw it, alone shall my life be spent, my blood be shed. Reject me not because my name is Comyn, because I alone am here of thatonce loyal house. Oh! condemn me not; reject not untried a loyal heartand trusty sword. "

"Reject thee, " said King Robert, laying his hand kindly on the boy'sshoulder; "reject thee, young soldier, " he said, cheeringly: "in Alan ofBuchan we see but the noble son of our right noble countrywoman, theLady Isabella; we see in him but a worthy descendant of Macduff, thenoble scion, though but by the mother's side, of the loyal house ofFife. Young as thou art, we ask of thee but the heart and sword whichthou hast so earnestly proffered, nor can we, son of Isabella of Fife, doubt their honesty and truth; thou shalt earn a loyal name for thyself, and till then, as the brother in arms, the chosen friend of Nigel Bruce, all shall respect and trust thee. We confer knighthood on twenty of ouryouthful warriors seven days hence; prepare thyself to receive it withour brother: enough for us to know thou hast learned the art of chivalryat thy mother's hand. "

Dazzled, bewildered by the benign manner, and yet more gracious words ofhis sovereign, the young heir of Buchan remained kneeling for a briefspace, as if rooted to the ground, but the deep earnest voice of hismother, the kind greeting of Nigel Bruce, as he grasped his arm, andhailed him companion in arms, roused him at once, and he sprung to hisfeet; the despondency, shame, doubt, anxiety which like lead had weigheddown his heart before, dissolved before the glad, buoyant spirit, thebright, free, glorious hopes, and dreams, and visions which are known toyouth alone. 

Stentorian and simultaneous was the eager shout that hailed theappearance of the newly-anointed king, as he paused a moment on thegreat stone staircase, leading from the principal doors of the abbey tothe abbey yard. For miles round, particularly from those counties whichwere but thinly garrisoned by the English, the loyal Scots had poured atthe first rumor of the Bruce's rising, and now a rejoicing multitudewelcomed him with one voice, the execrations against their foesforgotten in this outpouring of the heart towards their native prince. 

Inspired by this heartfelt greeting, the king advanced a few paces onthe stone terrace, and raised his right hand, as if about to speak; onthe instant every shout was hushed, and silence fell upon that eagermultitude, as deep and voiceless as if some mighty magic chained themspell-bound where they stood, their very breathing hushed, fearful tolose one word. 

Many an aged eye grew dim with tears, as it rested on the fair andgraceful form, the beautifully expressive face of him, who, witheloquent fervor, referred to the ancient glory of their country; tearsof joy, for they felt they looked upon the good genius of their land, that she was raised from her dejected stupor, to sleep a slave no more;and the middle-aged and the young, with deafening shouts and eagergestures, swore to give him the crown, the kingdom he demanded, free, unshackled as his ancestors had borne them, or die around him to a man;and blessings and prayers in woman's gentler voice mingled with theswelling cry, and little children caught the Bruce's name and bade "Godbless him, " and others, equally impetuous shouted "Bruce and freedom!"

"Love, obey, follow me, for Scotland's sake; noble or gentle, let allprivate feud be forgotten in this one great struggle for liberty ordeath. Thus, " he concluded, "united and faithful, the name of Wallace oneach lip, the weal of Scotland in each heart, her mountains our shield, her freedom our sword, shall we, can we fail? No! no! Scotland shall befree, or her green sod and mountain flowers shall bloom upon our graves. I have no crown save that which Scotland gives, no kingdom save whatyour swords shall conquer, and your hearts bestow; with you I live anddie. "

In the midst of the shouts and unrestrained clamor succeeding thiseloquent address, the fiery chargers of the king and his attendantbarons and esquires were led to the foot of the staircase. And a fairand noble sight was the royal _cortège_ as slowly it passed through theold town, with banners flying, lances gleaming, and the rich swell oftriumphant music echoing on the air. Nobles and dames mingledindiscriminately together. Beautiful palfreys or well-trained glossymules, richly caparisoned, gracefully guided by the dames and maidens, bore their part well amid the more fiery chargers of their companions. The queen rode at King Robert's left hand, the primate of Scotland athis right, Lennox, Seaton, and Hay thronged around the Countess ofBuchan, eager to pay her that courteous homage which she now no longerrefused, and willingly joined in their animated converse. The Lady MaryCampbell and her sister Lady Seaton found an equally gallant and willingescort, as did the other noble dames; but none ventured to dispute thepossession of the maiden of Buchan with the gallant Nigel, who, ridingclose at her bridle rein, ever and anon whispered some magic words thatcalled a blush to her cheek and a smile on her lip, their attentioncalled off now and then by some wild jest or courteous word from theyoung Lord Douglas, whose post seemed in every part of the royal train;now galloping to the front, to caracole by the side of the queen, toaccustom her, he said, to the sight of good horsemanship, then lingeringbeside the Countess of Buchan, to give some unexpected rejoinder to thegraver maxims of Lennox. The Princess Margory, her cousins, the LadyIsoline Campbell and Alice and Christina Seaton, escorted by Alan ofBuchan, Walter Fitz-Alan, Alexander Fraser, and many other youngesquires, rejoicing in the task assigned them. 

It was a gay and gorgeous sight, and beautiful the ringing laugh andsilvery voice of youth. No dream of desponding dread shadowed theirhearts, though danger and suffering, and defeat and death, were darklygathering round them. Who, as he treads the elastic earth, fresh withthe breeze of day, as he gazes on the cloudless blue of the circlingsky, or the dazzling rays of the morning sun, as the hum of happy lifeis round him--who is there thinks of the silence, and darkness, andtempest that come in a few brief hours, on the shadowy pinions of night?

CHAPTER VI. 

Some ten or twelve days after the momentous event recorded in our lastchapter, King Edward's royal palace, at Winchester, was thronged at anunusually early hour by many noble knights and barons, bearing on theircountenances symptoms of some new and unexpected excitement; and therewas a dark boding gloom on the now contracted brow and altered featuresof England's king, as, weakened and well-nigh worn out by a lingeringdisease, he reclined on a well-cushioned couch, to receive theeagerly-offered homage of his loyal barons. He, who had been fromearliest youth a warrior, with whose might and dauntless prowess therewas not one, or prince, or noble, or English, or foreigner, couldcompete, whose strength of frame and energy of mind had ever borne himscathless and uninjured through scenes of fatigue, and danger, andblood, and death; whose sword had restored a kingdom to his father--hadstruggled for Palestine and her holy pilgrims--had given Wales toEngland, and again and again prostrated the hopes and energies ofScotland into the dust; even he, this mighty prince, lay prostrate now, unable to conquer or to struggle with disease--disease that attacked theslave, the lowest serf or yeoman of his land, and thus made manifest, how in the sight of that King of kings, from whom both might andweakness come, the prince and peasant are alike--the monarch and theslave!

The disease had been indeed in part subdued, but Edward could not closehis eyes to the fact that he should never again be what he had been;that the strength which had enabled him to do and endure so much, theenergy which had ever led him on to victory, the fire which had so ofteninspired his own heart, and urged on, as by magic power, hisfollowers--that all these were gone from him, and forever. Ambition, indeed, yet burned within, strong, undying, mighty; aye, perhapsmightier than ever, as the power of satisfying that ambition glided fromhis grasp. He had rested, indeed, a brief while, secure in thefulfilment of his darling wish, that every rood of land composing theBritish Isles should be united under him as sole sovereign; he believed, and rejoiced in the belief, that with Wallace all hope or desire ofresistance had departed. His disease had been at its height when Brucedeparted from his court, and disabled him a while from composedlyconsidering how that event would affect his interest in Scotland. As theviolence of the disease subsided, however, he had leisure to contemplateand become anxious. Rumors, some extravagant, some probable, now floatedabout; and the sovereign looked anxiously to the high festival of Easterto bring all his barons around him, and by the absence or presence ofthe suspected, discover at once how far his suspicions and the floatingrumors were correct. 

Although the indisposition of the sovereign prevented the feasting, merry-making, and other customary marks of royal munificence, which everattended the solemnization of Easter, yet it did not in any wayinterfere with the bounden duty of every earl and baron, knight andliegeman, and high ecclesiastics of the realm to present themselvesbefore the monarch at such a time; Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas, being the seasons when every loyal subject of fit degree appearedattendant on his sovereign, without any summons so to do. 

They had been seasons of peculiar interest since the dismemberment ofScotland, for Edward's power was such, that seldom had the peers andother great officers of that land refused the tacit acknowledgment ofEngland's supremacy by their non-appearance. Even in that which wasdeemed the rebellion of Wallace, the highest families, even thecompetitors for the crown, and all the knights and vassals in theirinterest, had swelled the train of the conqueror; but this Easter ten ortwelve great barons and their followers were missing. The nobles hadeagerly and anxiously scanned the countenances of each, and whisperedsuspicions and rumors, which one glance on their monarch's ruffled browconfirmed. 

"So ho! my faithful lords and gallant knights, " he exclaimed, after thepreliminaries of courtesy between each noble and his sovereign had beenmore hastily than usual performed, speaking in a tone so unusually harshand sarcastic, that the terms "faithful and gallant" seemed used but inmockery; "so ho! these are strange news we hear. Where be my lords ofCarrick, Athol, Lennox, Hay? Where be the knights of Seaton, Somerville, Keith, and very many others we could name? Where be these proud lords, Isay? Are none of ye well informed on these things? I ask ye where bethey? Why are they not here?"

There was a pause, for none dared risk reply. Edward's voice had waxedlouder and louder, his sallow cheek flushed with wrath, and he raisedhimself from his couch, as if irritability of thought had impartedstrength to his frame. 

"I ask ye, where be these truant lords? There be some of ye who _can_reply; aye, and by good St. Edward, reply ye shall. Gloucester, my lordof Gloucester, stand forth, I say, " he continued, the thunderstormdrawing to that climax which made many tremble, lest its bolt shouldfall on the daring baron who rumor said was implicated in the flight ofthe Bruce, and who now stood, his perfect self-possession and calmnessof mien and feature contrasting well with the fury of his sovereign. 

"And darest thou front me with that bold, shameless brow, false traitoras thou art?" continued the king, as, with head erect and arms proudlyfolded in his mantle, Gloucester obeyed the king's impatient summons. "Traitor! I call thee traitor! aye, in the presence of thy country'snoblest peers, I charge thee with a traitor's deed; deny it, if thoudarest. "

"Tis my sovereign speaks the word, else had it not been spoken withimpunity, " returned the noble, proudly and composedly, though his cheekburned and his eye flashed. "Yes, monarch of England, I dare deny thecharge! Gloucester is no traitor!"

"How! dost thou brave me, minion? Darest thou deny the fact, that fromthee, from thy traitorous hand, thy base connivance, Robert of Carrick, warned that we knew his treachery, fled from our power--that 'tis tothee, we owe the pleasant news we have but now received? Hast thou notgiven that rebel Scotland a head, a chief, in this fell traitor, and artthou not part and parcel of his guilt? Darest thou deny that from theehe received intelligence and means of flight? Baron of Gloucester, thoudarest not add the stigma of falsity to thy already dishonored name!"

"Sovereign of England, my gracious liege and honored king, " answeredGloucester, still apparently unmoved, and utterly regardless of thedanger in which he stood, "dishonor is not further removed from thyroyal name than it is from Gloucester's. I bear no stain of eitherfalsity or treachery; that which thou hast laid to my charge regardingthe Earl of Carrick, I shrink not, care not to acknowledge; yet, Edwardof England, I am no traitor!"

"Ha! thou specious orator, reconcile the two an thou canst! Thou art ascholar of deep research and eloquence profound we have heard. Speak on, then, in heaven's name!" He flung himself back on his cushions as hespoke, for, despite his wrath, his suspicions, there was that in thecalm, chivalric bearing of the earl that appealed not in vain to one whohad so long been the soul of chivalry himself. 

The tone in which his sovereign spoke was softened, though his wordswere bitter, and Gloucester at once relaxed from his proud and coldreserve; kneeling before him, he spoke with fervor and impassionedtruth--

"Condemn me not unheard, my gracious sovereign, " he said. "I speak notto a harsh and despotic king, who brings his faithful subjects to theblock at the first whisper of evil or misguided conduct cast to theircharge; were Edward such Gloucester would speak not, hope not forjustice at his hands; but to thee, my liege, to thee, to whom all trueknights may look up as to the minor of all that knight should be--thelife and soul of chivalry--to thee, the noblest warrior, the truestknight that ever put lance in rest--to thee, I say, I am no traitor; andappeal but to the spirit of chivalry actuating thine own heart to acquitor condemn me, as it listeth. Hear me, my liege. Robert of Carrick andmyself were sworn brothers from the first hour of our entrance togetherupon life, as pages, esquires, and finally, as knights, made such bythine own royal hand; brothers in arms, in dangers, in victories, indefeat; aye, and brothers--more than brothers--in mutual fidelity andlove; to receive life, to be rescued from captivity at each other'shand, to become equal sharers of whatever honors might be granted to theone and not the other. Need my sovereign be reminded that suchconstitutes the ties of brothers in arms, and such brothers were Robertof Carrick and Gilbert of Gloucester. There came a rumor that theinstigations of a base traitor had poisoned your grace's ear against oneof these sworn brothers, threatening his liberty, if not his life; thatwhich was revealed, its exact truth or falsehood, might Gloucester pauseto list or weigh? My liege, thou knowest it could not be. A piece ofmoney and a pair of spurs was all the hint, the warning, that he daredto give, and it was given, and its warning taken; and the imperativeduty the laws of chivalry, of honor, friendship, all alike demandeddone. The brother by the brother saved! Was Gloucester, then, a traitorto his sovereign, good my liege?"

"Say first, my lord, how Gloucester now will reconcile these widelyadverse duties, how comport himself, if duty to his liege and sovereigncall on him to lift his sword against his brother?" demanded Edward, raising himself on his elbow, and looking on the kneeling nobleman witheyes which seemed to have recovered their flashing light to penetratehis soul. Wrath itself appeared to have subsided before this calm yeteloquent appeal, which in that age could scarcely have been resistedwithout affecting the honor of the knight to whom it was addressed. 

An expression of suffering, amounting almost to anguish, took the placeof energy and fervor on the noble countenance of Gloucester, and hisvoice, which had never once quivered or failed him in the height ofEdward's wrath, now absolutely shook with the effort to master hisemotion. Twice he essayed to speak ere words came; at length--

"With Robert of Carrick Gilbert of Gloucester was allied as brother, myliege, " he said. "With Robert the rebel, Robert the would-be king, thedaring opposer of my sovereign, Gloucester can have naught in common. Myliege, as a knight and gentleman, I have done my duty fearlessly, openly; as fearlessly, as openly, as your grace's loyal liegeman, fief, and subject, in the camp and in the court, in victory or defeat, againstall manner or ranks of men, be they friends or foes; to my secret heartI am thine, and thine alone. In proof of which submission, my royalliege, lest still in your grace's judgment Gloucester be not clearedfrom treachery, behold I resign alike my sword and coronet to your royalhands, never again to be resumed, save at my sovereign's bidding. "

His voice became again firm ere he concluded, and with the samerespectful deference yet manly pride which had marked his bearingthroughout, he laid his sheathed sword and golden coronet at hissovereign's feet, and then rising steadily and unflinchingly, returnedEdward's searching glance, and calmly awaited his decision. 

"By St. Edward! Baron of Gloucester, " he exclaimed, in his own tone ofkingly courtesy, mingled with a species of admiration he cared not toconceal, "thou hast fairly challenged us to run a tilt with thee, not ofsword and lance, but of all knightly and generous courtesy. I were notrue knight to condemn, nor king to mistrust thee; yet, of a truth, thefruit of thy rash act might chafe a cooler mood than ours. Knowest thouSir John Comyn is murdered--murdered by the arch traitor thou hast savedfrom our wrath?"

"I heard it, good my liege, " calmly returned Gloucester. "Robert ofCarrick was no temper to pass by injuries, aggravated, traitorousinjuries, unavenged. "

"And this is all thou sayest!" exclaimed Edward, his wrath once againgaining dominion. "Wouldst thou defend this base deed on plea, forsooth, that Comyn was a traitor? Traitor--and to whom?"

"To the man that trusted him, my liege; to him he falsely swore tosecond and to aid. To every law of knighthood and of honor I say he wasa traitor, and deserved his fate. "

"And this to thy sovereign, madman? To us, whose dignity and personhave been insulted, lowered, trampled on! By all the saints, thou hasttempted us too far! What ho, there, guards! Am I indeed so old andwitless, " he muttered, sinking back again upon the couch from which hehad started in the moment of excitement, "as so soon to forget aknightly nobleness, which in former days would have knitted my very soulto his? Bah! 'tis this fell disease that spoke, not Edward. Away withye, sir guards, we want ye not, " he added, imperatively, as theyapproached at his summons. "And thou, sir earl, take up thy sword, andhence from my sight a while;--answer not, but obey. I fear more for mineown honor than thou dost for thy head. We neither disarm nor restrainthee, for we trust thee still; but away with thee, for on our kinglyfaith, thou hast tried us sorely. "

Gloucester flung himself on his knee beside his sovereign, his lips uponthe royal hand, which, though scarcely yielded to him, was not withheld, and hastily resuming his sword and coronet, with a deep reverence, silently withdrew. 

The king looked after him, admiration and fierce anger struggling fordominion alike on his countenance as in his heart, and then sternly andpiercingly he scanned the noble crowd, who, hushed into a silence ofterror as well as of extreme interest during the scene they had beheld, now seemed absolutely to shrink from the dark, flashing orbs of theking, as they rested on each successively, as if the accusation of _lip_would follow that of eye, and the charge of treason fallindiscriminately on all; but, exhausted from the passion to which he hadgiven vent, Edward once more stretched himself on his cushions, andmerely muttered--

"Deserved his fate--a traitor. Is Gloucester mad--or worse, disloyal?No; that open brow and fearless eye are truth and faithfulness alone. Iwill _not_ doubt him; 'tis but his lingering love for that foul traitor, Bruce, which I were no true knight to hold in blame. But that murder, that base murder--insult alike to our authority, our realm--by everysaint in heaven, it shall be fearfully avenged, and that madman rue theday he dared fling down the gauntlet of rebellion!" and as he spoke, hisright hand instinctively grasped the hilt of his sword, and half drew itfrom its sheath. 

"Madman, in very truth, my liege, " said Aymer de Valence, Earl ofPembroke, who, high in favor with his sovereign, alone ventured toaddress him; "as your grace will believe, when I say not only hath hedared defy thee by the murder of Comyn, but has had the presumptuousfolly to enact the farce of coronation, taking upon himself all theinsignia of a king. "

"How! what sayst thou, De Valence, " returned Edward, again starting up, "coronation--king? By St. Edward! this passeth all credence. Whencehadst thou this witless news?"

"From sure authority, my liege, marvellous as they seem. These papers, if it please your grace to peruse, contain matters of import whichdemand most serious attention. "

"Anon, anon, sir earl!" answered Edward, impatiently, as Pembroke, kneeling, laid the papers on a small table of ivory which stood at themonarch's side. "Tell me more of this strange farce; a king, ha! ha!Does the rebel think 'tis but to put a crown upon his head and a sceptrein his hand that makes the monarch--a king, forsooth. And who officiatedat this right solemn mockery? 'Twas, doubtless, a goodly sight!"

"On my knightly faith, my liege, strangely, yet truly, 'twas a ceremonyregally performed, and, save for numbers, regally attended. "

"Thou darest not tell me so!" exclaimed the king, striking his clenchedhand fiercely on the table. "I tell thee thou darest not; 'tis a falsetale, a lie thrust upon thee to rouse thy spirit but to laugh at. DeValence, I tell thee 'tis a thing that cannot be! Scotland is laid toolow, her energies are crushed; her best and bravest lying in nobloodless graves. Who is there to attend this puppet king, save the fewwe miss? who dared provoke our wrath by the countenance of such a deed?Who would dare tempt our fury by placing a crown on the rebel's head?I tell thee they have played thee false--it cannot be!"

"Thy valor hath done much, my gracious liege, " returned Pembroke, "farmore than ever king hath done before; but pardon me, your grace, the_people_ of Scotland are not yet crushed, they lie apparently in peace, till a chief capable of guiding, lordly in rank and knightly in war, ariseth, and then they too stand forth. Yet what are they? they do butnominally swell the rebel's court: they do but _seem_ a multitude, whichneeds but thy presence to disperse. He cannot, if he dare, resist thee. "

"And wherefore should these tidings so disturb you grace?" interposedthe Earl of Hereford, a brave, blunt soldier, like his own charger, snuffing the scent of war far off. "We have but to bridle on ourharness, and we shall hear no more of solemn farces like to this. Givebut the word, my sovereign, and these ignoble rebels shall be cut off toa man, by an army as numerous and well appointed as any that have yetfollowed your grace to victory; 'tis a pity they have but to encountertraitors and rebels, instead of knightly foes, " continued the HighConstable of England. 

"Perchance Robert of Carrick deems the assumption of king will provokeyour grace to combat even more than his traitorous rebellion, imagining, in his madness, the title of king may make ye equals, " laughinglyobserved the Earl of Arundel; and remarks and opinions of similar importpassed round, but Edward, who had snatched the papers as he ceased tospeak, and was now deeply engrossed in their contents, neither repliedto nor heeded them. Darker and darker grew the frown upon his brow; histightly compressed lip, his heaving chest betraying the fearful passionthat agitated him; but when he spoke, there was evidently a struggle forthat dignified calmness which in general distinguished him, though everand anon burst forth the undisguised voice of wrath. 

"'Tis well, 'tis very well, " he said. "These wild Scots would tempt us tothe utmost, and they shall be satisfied. Ah! my lords of Buchan andFife, give ye good morrow. What think ye of these doings amidst yourcountrymen, bethink ye they have done well?"

"Well, as relates to their own ruin, aye, very well, my liege; they actbut as would every follower of the murderer Bruce, " replied Buchan, harshly and sullenly. 

"They are mad, stark mad, your highness; the loss of a little blood maybring them to their senses, " rejoined the more volatile Fife. 

"And is it thus ye think, base, villainous traitors as ye are, leaguedwith the rebel band in his coronation? My Lord of Chester, attach themof high treason. "

"What means your grace?" exclaimed both noblemen at once, but in verydifferent accents, "Of what are we charged, and who dare make this lyingaccusation?"

"Are ye indeed so ignorant?" replied the king, jibingly. "Know ye notthat Isabella, Countess of Buchan, and representative, in the absenceof her brother, of the earldom of Fife, hath so dared our displeasure asto place the crown on the rebel's head, and vow him homage?"

"Hath she indeed dared so to do? By heaven, she shall rue this!" burstwrathfully from Buchan, his swarthy countenance assuming a yet swarthieraspect. "My liege, I swear to thee, by the Holy Cross, I knew no more ofthis than did your grace. Thinkest thou I would aid and abet the causeof one not merely a rebel and a traitor, but the foul murderer of aComyn--one at whose hands, by the sword's point, have I sworn to demandmy kinsman, and avenge him?"

"And wherefore did Isabella of Buchan take upon herself this deed, myliege, but because the only male descendant of her house refused to givehis countenance or aid to this false earl? Because Duncan of Fife wasneither a rebel himself nor gave his aid to rebels, On the honor of aknight, my liege, I know naught of this foul deed. "

"It may be, it may be, " answered Edward, impatiently. "We will see toit, and condemn ye not unheard; but in times like these, when traitorsand rebels walk abroad and insult us to our very teeth, by St. Edward, our honor, our safety demands the committal of the suspected till theybe cleared. Resign your swords to my Lord of Chester, and confineyourselves to your apartments. If ye be innocent, we will find means torepay you for the injustice we have done; if not, the axe and the blockshall make short work. Begone!"

Black as a thunderbolt was the scowl that lowered over the brow ofBuchan, as he sullenly unclasped his sword and gave it into the LordConstable's hand; while with an action of careless recklessness the Earlof Fife followed his example, and they retired together, the onescowling defiance on all who crossed his path, the other jesting andlaughing with each and all. 

"I would not give my best falcon as pledge for the Countess of Buchan'swell-doing, an she hath done this without her lord's connivance, "whispered the Prince of Wales to one of his favorites, with many of whomhe had been conversing, in a low voice, as if his father's wrathfulaccents were not particularly grateful to his ear. 

"Nor would I pledge a hawk for her safety, if she fall into his grace'shands, whether with her lord's consent or no, " replied the youngnobleman, laughing. "Your royal father is fearfully incensed. "

"Better destroy them root and branch at once, " said the prince, who, like all weak minds, loved any extremity better than a protractedstruggle. "Exterminate with fire and sword; ravage the land till therebe neither food for man nor beast; let neither noble nor serf remain, and then, perchance, we shall hear no more of Scotland. On my faith, Iam sick of the word. "

"Not so the king, my royal lord, " returned his companion. "See howeagerly he talks to my lords of Pembroke and Hereford. We shall have oursovereign yet again at our head. "

And it was even as he said. The king, with that strong self-commandwhich disease alone could in any way cause to fail, now conquering alikehis bitter disappointment and the fury it engendered, turned his wholethought and energy towards obtaining the downfall of his insolentopponents at one stroke; and for that purpose, summoning around him thebrave companions of former campaigns, and other officers of state, heretired with them to his private closet to deliberate more at length onthe extraordinary news they had received, and the best means of nippingthe rebellion in the bud. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The evening of this eventful day found the Scottish earls seatedtogether in a small apartment of one of the buildings adjoining theroyal palace, which in the solemn seasons we have enumerated was alwayscrowded with guests, who were there feasted and maintained at the king'sexpense during the whole of their stay. Inconveniences in their privatequarters were little heeded by the nobles, who seldom found themselvesthere, save for the purpose of a few hours sleep, and served but toenhance by contrast the lavish richness and luxury which surrounded themin the palace and presence of their king; but to the Earls of Buchan andFife the inconveniences of their quarters very materially increased theirritability and annoyance of their present situation. Fife hadstretched himself on two chairs, and leaning his elbows on the broadshelf formed by the small casement, cast many wistful glances on thestreet below, through which richly-attired gallants, both on foot andhorseback, were continually passing. He was one of those frivolouslittle minds with whom the present is all in all, caring little for thepast, and still less for the future. It was no marvel, therefore, thathe preferred the utter abandonment of his distracted country for theluxury and ease attending the court and camp of Edward, to the greatdangers and little recompense attending the toils and struggles of apatriot. The only emotion of any weight with him was the remembrance ofand desire of avenging petty injuries, fancying and aggravating themwhen, in fact, none was intended. 

Very different was the character of the Earl of Buchan; morose, fierce, his natural hardness of disposition unsoftened by one whisper ofchivalry, although educated in the best school of knighthood, andcontinually the follower of King Edward, he adhered to him first, simplybecause his estates in England were far more to his taste than those inScotland, towards which he felt no filial tie; and soon after hismarriage, repugnance to his high-minded and richly-gifted countess, which ever seemed a reproach and slur upon himself, kept him still morealoof, satisfied that the close retirement in which she lived, thedesert and rugged situation of his castle, would effectually debar herfrom using that influence he knew she possessed, and keep her wholly andsolely his own; a strange kind of feeling, when, in reality, the widecontrast between them made her an object of dislike, only to beaccounted for by the fact that a dark, suspicious, jealous temper wasever at work within him. 

"Now, do but look at that fellow's doublet, Comyn. Look, how gay theypass below, and here am I, with my new, richly-broidered suit, withwhich I thought to brave it with the best of them--here am I, I say, pent up in stone walls like a caged goldfinch, 'stead of theentertainment I had pictured; 'tis enough to chafe the spirit of asaint. "

"And canst thou think of such things now, thou sorry fool?" demandedBuchan, sternly, pausing in his hurried stride up and down the narrowprecincts of the chamber; "hast thou no worthier subject forcontemplation?"

"None, save thy dutiful wife's most dutiful conduct, Comyn, which, being the less agreeable of the two, I dismiss the first I owe her smallthanks for playing the representative of my house; methinks, herimprisonment would better serve King Edward's cause and ours too. "

"Aye, imprisonment--imprisonment for life, " muttered the earl, slowly. "Let but King Edward restore me my good sword, and he may wreak hisvengeance on her as he listeth. Not all the castles of Scotland, thearms of Scottish men, dare guard a wife against her husband; bitterlyshall she rue this deed. "

"And thy son, my gentle kinsman, what wilt thou do with him, bethinkthee? Thou wilt find him as great a rebel as his mother; I have evertold thee thou wert a fool to leave him so long with his brainstruckmother. "

"She hath not, she dared not bring him with her to the murderer of hiskinsman--Duncan of Fife, I tell thee she dare not; but if she hath, whyhe is but a child, a mere boy, incapable of forming judgment one way orthe other. "

"Not so much a child as thou thinkest, my good lord; some sixteen yearsor so have made a stalwart warrior ere this. Be warned; send off atrusty messenger to the Tower of Buchan, and, without any time forwarning, bring that boy as the hostage of thy good faith and loyalty toEdward; thou wilt thus cure him of his patriotic fancies, and renderthine interest secure, and as thou desirest to reward thy dutifulpartner, thou wilt do it effectually; for, trust me, that boy is thevery apple of her eye, in her affections her very doting-place. "

"Jest not, Duncan, or by all the saints, thou wilt drive me mad!"wrathfully exclaimed Buchan. "It shall be as thou sayest; and more, Iwill gain the royal warrant for the deed--permission to this effect mayshorten this cursed confinement for us both. I have forgotten the boy'sage; his mother's high-sounding patriotism may have tinctured himalready. Thou smilest. "

"At thy marvellous good faith in thy wife's _patriotism_, goodkinsman--oh, well perchance, like charity, it covereth a multitude ofsins. "

"What meanest thou, my Lord of Fife?" demanded Buchan, shortly andabruptly, pausing in his walk to face his companion, his suspicioustemper instantly aroused by Fife's peculiar tone. "What wouldst thouinsinuate? Tamper not with me; thou knowest I am no subject for ajest. "

"I have but to look on thee to know that, my most solemn-visagedbrother. I neither insinuate nor tamper with your lordship. Simply andheartily I do but give thee joy for thy faith in female patriotism, "answered Fife, carelessly, but with an expression of countenance thatdid not accord with his tone. 

"What, in the fiend's name, then, has urged her to this mad act, if itbe not what she and others as mad as she call patriotism?"

"May not a lurking affection for the Bruce have given incentive to loveof country? Buchan, of a truth, thou art dull as a sword-blade whenplunged in muddy water. "

"Affection for the Bruce? Thou art mad as she is, Duncan. What the foulfiend, knows she of the Bruce? No, no! 'tis too wild a tale--when havethey ever met?"

"More often than thou listeth, gentle kinsman, " returned Fife, with justsufficient show of mystery to lash his companion into fury. "I couldtell thee of a time when Robert of Carrick was domesticated with myimmaculate sister, hunting with her, hawking with her, reading with her, making favorable impressions on every heart in Fife Castle save mineown. "

"And she loved him!--she was loved, " muttered Buchan; "and she vowed hertroth to me, the foul-mouthed traitress! She loved him, saidst thou?"

"On my faith, I know not, Comyn. Rumors, I know, went abroad that itwould have been better for the Lady Isabella's peace and honor if thisgallant, fair-spoken knight had kept aloof. "

"And then, her brother, carest not to speak these things, and in thatreckless tone? By St. Swithin, ye are well matched, " returned Buchan, with a short and bitter laugh of scorn. 

"Faith, Comyn, I love mine own life and comfort too well to stand up thechampion of woman's honor; besides, I vouch not for the truth offloating rumors. I tell thee but what comes across my brain; for itsworth thou art the best judge. "

"I were a fool to mine own interest to doubt thee now, little worth asare thy words in common, " again muttered the incensed earl, resuming hishasty strides. "Patriotism! loyalty! ha, ha! high-sounding words, forsooth. And have they not met since then until now?" he demanded, stopping suddenly before his companion. 

"Even so, fair kinsman. Whilst thou wert doing such loyal duty toEdward, after the battle of Falkirk, forgetting thou hadst a wife andcastle to look after, Robert Earl of Carrick found a comfortabledomicile within thy stone walls, and in the fair, sweet company of thineIsabella, my lord. No doubt, in all honorable and seemly intercourse;gallant devotion on the one side, and dignified courtesy on theother--nothing more, depend on't; still it seems but natural that thememory of a comely face and knightly form should prove incentives toloyalty and patriotism. "

"The foul fiend take thy jesting!" exclaimed Buchan. "Natural, forsooth;aye, the same nature that bade me loathe the presence, aye, the veryname of that deceiving traitress. And so that smooth-faced villainCarrick found welcome in the castle of a Comyn the months we missed himfrom the court. Ha, ha! thou hast done me good service, Lord of Fife. Ihad 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 placeher not in the hands of Edward, alive or dead! his wrath will save methe trouble of seeking further vengeance. "

"Nay, thou art a very fool to be so chafed, " coolly observed Fife. "Thouhast taken no care of thy wife, and therefore hast no right to demandstrict account of her amusements in thy absence; and how do we know sheis not as virtuous as the rest of them? I do but tell thee of thesethings to pass away the time. Ha! there goes the prince's Gasconfavorite, by mine honor. Gaveston sports it bravely; look at his crimsonmantle wadded with sables. He hath changed his garb since morning. Faith, he is a lucky dog! the prince's love may be valued at somethousand marks a year--worth possessing, by St. Michael!"

A muttered oath was all the reply which his companion vouchsafed, nordid the thunder-cloud upon his brow disperse that evening. 

The careless recklessness of Fife had no power to lessen in the earl'smind the weight of the shameful charge he had brought against thecountess. Buchan's dark, suspicious mind not alone received it, butcherished it, revelled in it, as giving him that which he had longdesired, a good foundation for dislike and jealousy, a well-foundedpretence for every species of annoyance and revenge. The Earl of Fife, who had, in fact, merely spoken, as he had said, to while away thetime, and for the pleasure of seeing his brother-in-law enraged, thoughtas little of his words _after_ as he had _before_ they were uttered. Alicentious follower of pleasure in every form himself, he imagined, assuch thoughtless characters generally do, that everybody must be likehim. From his weak and volatile mind, then, all remembrance of thatevening's conversation faded as soon as it was spoken; but with the Earlof Buchan it remained brooding on itself, and filling his dark spiritwith yet blacker fancies. 

The confinement of the Scottish noblemen was not of long duration. Edward, whose temper, save when his ambition was concerned, wasgenerally just and equitable, discovering, after an impartialexamination, that they were in no ways connected with the affairs in thenorth, and feeling also it was his interest to conciliate the regard ofall the Scottish nobles disaffected to Bruce, very soon restored themalike to their personal liberty and to his favor; his courteous apologyfor unjust suspicion, frankly acknowledging that the news from Scotland, combined with his irritating disease, had rendered him blind andsuspicious, at once disarmed Fife of wrath. Buchan, perhaps, had notbeen so easily appeased had his mind been less darkly engrossed. Hispetition, that his son might be sent for, to be placed as a hostage inthe hands of Edward, and thus saved from the authority of his mother, whom he represented as an artful, designing woman, possessed ofdangerous influence, was acceded to on the instant, and the king's fullconfidence restored. It was easy to act upon Edward's mind, alreadyincensed against Isabella of Buchan for her daring defiance of hispower; and Buchan did work, till he felt perfectly satisfied that thewife he hated would be fully cared for without the very smallest troubleor interference on his part, save the obtaining possession of herperson; that the vengeance he had vowed would be fully perfected, without any reproach or stigma cast upon his name. 

Meantime the exertions of the King of England for the suppression of therebels continued with unabated ardor. Orders were issued and proclaimedin every part of England for the gathering together one of the noblestand mightiest armies that had ever yet followed him to war. To render itstill more splendidly impressive, and give fresh incentive to hissubjects, whose warlike spirit he perhaps feared might be somewhatdepressed by this constant call upon them for the reduction of acountry ever rising in revolt, Edward caused proclamation to beseverally made in every important town or county, "that all who wereunder the obligation to become knights, and possessed the necessarymeans, should appear at Westminster on the coming solemn season ofWhitsuntide, where they should be furnished with every requisite, saveand except the trappings for their horses, from the king's wardrobe, andbe treated with all solemn honor and distinction as best befitted theirrank, and the holy vows they took upon themselves. "

A proclamation such as this, in the very heart of the chivalric era, wasall-sufficient to engage every Englishman heart and soul in the serviceof his king; and ere the few weeks intervening between Easter andWhitsuntide were passed, Westminster and its environs presented a sceneof martial magnificence and knightly splendor, which had never beforebeen equalled. Three hundred noble youths, sons of earls, barons, andknights, speedily assembled at the place appointed, all attendedaccording to their rank and pretensions; all hot and fiery spirits, eager to prove by their prompt attendance their desire to accept theirsovereign's invitation. The splendor of their attire seemed to demandlittle increase from the bounty of the king, but nevertheless, finelinen garments, rich purple robes, and superb mantles woven with gold, were bestowed on each youthful candidate, thus strengthening the linkswhich bound him to his chivalric sovereign, by the gratification of hisvanity in addition to the envied honors of knighthood. As our talerelates more to Scottish than to English history, we may not lingerlonger on the affairs of South Britain than is absolutely necessary forthe clear comprehension of the situation of her far less flourishingsister. Exciting therefore as was the scene enacted in Westminster, descriptive as it was of the spirit of the age, we are compelled to giveit but a hasty glance, and pass on to events of greater moment. 

Glorious, indeed, to an eyewitness, must have been the ceremony ofadmitting these noble and valiant youths into the solemn mysteries andchivalric honors of knighthood. On that day the Prince of Wales wasfirst dubbed a knight, and made Duke of Aquitaine; and so great was thepressure of the crowd, in their eagerness to witness the ceremonial inthe abbey, where the prince hastened to confer his newly-receiveddignity on his companions, that three knights were killed, and severalfainted from heat and exhaustion. Strong war-horses were compelled todrive back and divide the pressing crowds, ere the ceremony was allowedto proceed. A solemn banquet succeeded; and then it was that Edward, whose energy of mind appeared completely to have annihilated disease andweakness of frame, made that extraordinary vow, which it has puzzledboth historian and antiquary satisfactorily to explain. The matter ofthe vow merely betrayed the indomitable spirit of the man, but themanner seemed strange even in that age. Two swans, decorated with goldennets and gilded reeds, were placed in solemn pomp before the king, andhe, with imposing fervor, made a solemn vow to the Almighty and theswans, that he would go to Scotland, and, living or dead, avenge themurder of Comyn, and the broken faith of the traitorous Scots. Then, with that earnestness of voice and majesty of mien for which he wasremarkable, he adjured his subjects, one and all, by the solemn fealtythey had sworn to him, that if he should die on the journey, they wouldcarry his body into Scotland, and never give it burial till the prince'sdominion was established in that country. Eagerly and willingly thenobles gave the required pledge; and so much earnestness of purpose, somuch martial spirit pervaded that gorgeous assembly, that once more didhope prevail in the monarch's breast, once more did he believe hisambitious yearnings would all be fulfilled, and Scotland, rebellious, haughty Scotland, lie crushed and broken at his feet. Once more his darkeye flashed, his proud lip curled with its wonted smiles; his warriorform, erect and firm as in former days, now spurned the couch ofdisease, and rode his war-horse with all the grace and ease of formeryears. A gallant army, under the command of Aymer de Valence, Earl ofPembroke, had already been dispatched towards Scotland, bearing with itthe messengers of the Earl of Buchan, armed both with their lord'scommands and Edward's warrant for the detention of the young heir ofBuchan, and to bring him with all honor to the head-quarters of theking. The name of Isabella of Buchan was subjoined to that of the Bruce, and together with all those concerned in his rising proclaimed astraitors and a price set upon their heads. This done, the king had beenenabled to wait with greater tranquillity the assembling of his largerarmy, and after the ceremonials of Westminster, orders were issued forevery earl and baron to proceed with their followers to Carlisle, whichwas named the head-quarters of the army, there to join their sovereignwith his own immediate troops. The Scottish nobles Edward's usual policyretained in honorable posts about his person, not choosing to trusttheir fidelity beyond the reach of his own eye. 

Obedient to these commands, all England speedily appeared in motion, thetroops of every county moving as by one impulse to Carlisle. Yet therewere some of England's noblest barons in whose breasts a species ofadmiration, even affection, was at work towards the very man they werenow marching to destroy, and this was frequently the case in the ages ofchivalry. Fickle as the character of Robert Bruce had appeared to be, there was that in it which had ever attracted, riveted the regard ofmany of the noble spirits in King Edward's court. The rash daring of hisenterprise, the dangers which encircled him, were such as dazzled andfascinated the imagination of those knights in whom the true spirit ofchivalry found rest. Pre-eminent amongst these was the noble Earl ofGloucester. His duty to his sovereign urged him to take the field; hisattachment for the Bruce would have held him neuter, for the ties thatbound brothers in arms were of no common or wavering nature. Brothers inblood had frequently found themselves opposed horse to horse, and lanceto lance, on the same field, and no scruples of conscience, no pleadingsof affection, had power to avert the unnatural strife; but not such wasit with brothers in arms--a link strong as adamant, pure as their ownsword-steel, bound their hearts as one; and rather, much rather wouldGloucester have laid down his own life, than expose himself to thefearful risk of staining his sword with the blood of his friend. Thedeepest dejection took possession of his soul, which not all theconfidence of his sovereign, the gentle, affectionate pleadings of hiswife, could in any way assuage. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

It was the month of June, and the beautiful county of Perth smiled inall the richness and loveliness of early summer. Not yet had the signalof war floated on the pure springy breeze, not yet had the stains ofblood desecrated the gladsome earth, although the army of De Valence wasnow within very few miles of Scone, which was still the head-quarters ofthe Scottish king. Aware of the very great disparity of numbers betweenhis gallant followers and those of Pembroke, King Robert preferredentrenching himself in his present guarded situation, to meeting DeValence in the open field, although, more than once tempted to do so, and finding extreme difficulty in so curbing the dauntless spirit of hisfollowers as to incline them more towards the defensive than the attack. Already had the fierce thunders of the Church been launched against himfor the sin of murder committed in consecrated ground. Excommunicationin all its horrors exposed him to death from any hand, that on anypretence of private hate or public weal might choose to strike; butalready had there arisen spirits bold enough to dispute the awfulmandates of the Pope, and the patriotic prelates who had beforeacknowledged and done homage to their sovereign, now neither wavered intheir allegiance nor in any way sought to promulgate the sentencethundered against him. A calm smile had passed over the Bruce's noblefeatures as the intelligence of the wrath of Rome was communicated tohim. 

"The judge and the avenger is in heaven, holy father, " he said; "to Hishands I commit my cause, conscious of deserving, as humbly awaiting, chastisement for that sin which none can reprobate and abhor morestrongly than myself; if blood must flow for blood, His will be done. Iask but to free my country, to leave her in powerful yet righteoushands, and willingly I will depart, confident of mercy for my soul. "

Fearful, however, that this sentence might dispirit his subjects, KingRobert watched his opportunity of assembling and addressing them. In abrief, yet eloquent speech, he narrated the base, cold-blooded system oftreachery of Comyn; how, when travelling to Scotland, firmly trustingin, and depending on, the good faith the traitor had so solemnlypledged, a brawl had arisen between his (Bruce's) followers and some menin the garb of Borderers, who were discovered to be emissaries of theRed Comyn, and how papers had been found on them, in which all thatcould expose the Bruce to the deadly wrath of Edward was revealed, andhis very death advised as the only effectual means of quelling hisefforts for the freedom of Scotland, and crushing the last hopes of herstill remaining patriots. He told them how, on the natural indignationexcited by this black treachery subsiding, he had met Sir John Comyn atDumfries--how, knowing the fierce irascibility of his natural temper, hehad willingly agreed that the interview Comyn demanded should take placein the church of the Minorite Friars, trusting that the sanctity of theplace would be sufficient to restrain him. 

"But who may answer for himself, my friends?" he continued, mournfully;"it needs not to dilate on that dark and stormy interview, suffice itthat the traitor sought still to deceive, still to win me by hisspecious sophistry to reveal my plans, again to be betrayed, and thatwhen I taunted him with his base, cowardly treachery, his blackdishonor, words of wrath and hate, and blind deluded passion arosebetween us, and the spirit of evil at work within me urged my rash swordto strike. Subjects and friends, I plead no temptation as excuse, I makeno defence; I deplore, I contemn the deed. If ye deem me worthy ofdeath, if ye believe the sentence of our holy father in God, hisholiness the Pope, be just, that it is wholly free from the machinationsof England, who, deeming force of arms not sufficient, would hurl thewrath of heaven's viceregent on my devoted head, go, leave me to thefate it brings; your oath of allegiance is dissolved. I have yetfaithful followers, to make one bold stand against the tyrant, and diefor Scotland; but if ye absolve me, if ye will yet give me your heartsand swords, oh, fear me not, my countrymen, we may yet be free!"

Cries, tears, and blessings followed this wisely-spoken appeal, oneuniversal shout reiterated their vows of allegiance; those who had feltterrified at the mandate of their spiritual father, now traced it not tohis impartial judgment, but to the schemes of Edward, and instantly feltits weight and magnitude had faded into air. The unwavering loyalty ofthe Primate of Scotland, the Bishop of Glasgow, and the Abbot of Sconestrengthened them alike in their belief and allegiance, and a band ofyoung citizens were instantly provided with arms at the expense of thetown, and the king entreated by a deputation of the principalmagistrates to accept their services as a guard extraordinary, lest hislife should be yet more endangered from private individuals, by thesentence under which he labored; and gratified by their devotedness, though his bold spirit spurned all Fear of secret assassination, theirrequest was graciously accepted. 

The ceremony of knighthood which the king had promised to confer onseveral of his young followers had been deferred until the present time, to admit of their preparing for their inauguration with all the solemnservices of religion which the rites enjoined. 

The 15th day of June was the time appointed, and Nigel Bruce and Alan ofBuchan were to pass the night previous, in solemn prayer and vigil, inthe abbey church of Scone. That the rules of chivalry should not betransgressed by his desire to confer some honor on the son of theCountess of Buchan, which would demonstrate the high esteem in which shewas held by her sovereign, Alan had served the king, first as page andthen as esquire, in the interval that had elapsed since his coronation, and now he beheld with ardor the near completion of the honor for whichhe pined. His spirit had been wrung well-nigh to agony, when amidst thelist of the proscribed as traitors he beheld his mother's name; not somuch at the dangers that would encircle her--for from those he mightdefend her--but that his father was still a follower of the unmanlytyrant, who would even war against a woman--his father should stillcalmly assist and serve the man who set a price upon his mother's head. Alas! poor boy, he little knew that father's heart. 

It was evening, a still, oppressive evening, for though the sun yetshone brightly as he sunk in the west, a succession of blackthunder-clouds, gradually rising higher and higher athwart the intenseblue of the firmament, seemed to threaten that the wings of the tempestwere already brooding on the dark bosom of night. The very flowersappeared to droop beneath the weight of the atmosphere; the trees movednot, the birds were silent, save when now and then a solitary note washeard, and then hushed, as if the little warbler shrunk back in hisleafy nest, frightened at his own voice. Perchance it was the stillnessof nature which had likewise affected the inmates of a retired chamberin the palace, for though they sate side by side, and their looksbetrayed that the full communion of soul was not denied, few words werespoken. The maiden of Buchan bent over the frame which contained theblue satin scarf she was embroidering with the device of Bruce, in goldand gems, and it was Nigel Bruce who sate beside her, his deep, expressive eyes fixed upon her in such fervid, such eloquent love, thatseldom was it she ventured to raise her glance to his. A slight shadowwas on those sweet and gentle features, perceptible, perchance, to theeye of love alone; and it was this that, after enjoying that silentcommunion of the spirit, so dear to those who love, which bade Nigelfling his arm around that slender form, and ask--

"What is it, sweet one? why art thou sad?"

"Do not ask me, Nigel, for indeed I know not, " she answered, simply, looking up a moment in his face, in that sweet touching confidence, which made him draw her closer to his protecting heart; "save that, perchance, the oppression of nature has extended to me, and filled mysoul with unfounded fancies of evil. I ought to be very happy, Nigel, loved thus by _thee_, " she hid her eyes upon his bosom; "received as thypromised bride, not alone by thy kind sisters, thy noble brothers, but--simple-hearted maiden as I am--deemed worthy of thee by good KingRobert's self. Nigel, dearest Nigel, why, in an hour of joy like this, should dreams of evil come?"

"To whisper, my beloved, that not on earth may we look for theperfection of joy, the fulness of bliss; that while the mortal shell isround us joy is chained to pain, and granted us but to lift up thespirit to that heaven where pain is banished, bliss made perfect;dearest, 'tis but for this!" answered the young enthusiast, and the richyet somewhat mournful tones of his voice thrilled to his listener'sheart. 

"Thou speakest as if thou, too, hadst experienced forebodings like tothese, my Nigel, " said Agnes, thoughtfully. "I deemed them but thefoolishness of my weaker mind. "

"Deem them not foolishness, beloved. There are minds, indeed, that knowthem not, but they are of that rude, coarse material which owns nothought, hath no hopes but those of earth and earthly things, insensibleto that profundity of joy which makes us _feel_ its _chain_: 'tis not tothe lightly feeling such forebodings come. "

"But thou--hast thou felt them, Nigel, dearest? hast thou listened to, _believed_ their voice?

"I have felt, I feel when I gaze on thee, sweet one, a joy so deep, sofull, that I scarce dare trace it to an earthly cause, " he said, slightly evading a direct answer. "I cannot look forward and, as itwere, extend that deep joy to the future; but the fetter binding it topain reminds me I am mortal, that not an earth may I demand find seekand hope to find its fulfilment. "

She looked up in his face, with an expression both of bewilderment andfear, and her hand unconsciously closed on his arm, as thus to detainhim to her side. 

"Yes, my beloved, " he added, with more animation, "it is not because Iput not my trust in earth for unfading joy that we shall find not itssweet flowers below; that our paths on earth may be darkened, becausethe fulness of bliss is alone to be found in heaven. Mine own sweetAgnes, while darkness and strife, and blood and death, are thus at workaround us, is it marvel we should sometimes dream of sorrow? Yet, ohyet, have we not both the same hope, the same God, the same home inheaven; and if our doom be to part on earth, shall we not, oh, shall wenot meet in bliss? I say not such things will be, my best beloved; butbetter look thus upon the dim shadow sometimes resting on the rosy wingsof joy, than ever dismiss it as the vain folly of a weakened mind. "

He pressed his lips, which quivered, on the fair, beautiful brow thenresting in irresistible sorrow on his bosom; but he did not attempt bywords to check that maiden's sudden burst of tears. After a while, whenhe found his own emotion sufficiently restrained, soothingly and fondlyhe cheered her to composure, and drew from her the thoughts which haddisturbed her when he first spoke. 

"'Twas of my mother, Nigel, of my beloved, my noble mother that Ithought; proscribed, hunted, set a price upon as a traitor. Can herchildren think on such indignity without emotion--and when I rememberthe great power of King Edward, who has done this--without fear for herfate?"

"Sweetest, fear not for her; her noble deed, her dauntless heroism hascircled her with such a guard of gallant knights and warriors, that, inthe hands of Edward, trust me, dearest, she shall never fall; and evenif such should be, still, I say, fear not. Unpitying and cruel as Edwardis, where his ambition is concerned, he is too true a knight, too noblein spirit to take a woman's blood; he is now fearfully enraged, andtherefore has he done this. And as to indignity, 'tis shame to theproscriber not to the proscribed, my love!"

"There is one I fear yet more than Edward, " continued the maiden, fearfully; "one that I should love more. Oh, Nigel, my very spiritshrinks from the image of my father. I have sought to love him, todismiss the dark haunting visions which his name has ever brought beforeme. I saw him once, but once, and his stern terrible features and harshvoice so terrified my childish fancies, that I hid myself till he haddeparted, and I have never seen him since, and yet, oh yet, I fear him!"

"What is it that thou fearest, love?"

"I know not, " she answered; "but if evil approach my mother, it willcome from him, and so silently, so unsuspectedly, that none may avoidit. Nigel, he cannot love my mother! he is a foe to Bruce, a friend ofthe slaughtered Comyn, and will he not demand a stern account of thedeed that she hath done? will he not seek vengeance? and oh, will henot, may he not in wrath part thee and me, and thus thy bodings befulfilled?"

"Agnes, never! The mandate of man shall never part us; the power of man, unless my limbs be chained, shall never sever thee and me. He that hathnever acted a father's part, can have no power on his child. Thou artmine, my beloved!--mine with thy mother's blessing; and mine thou shaltbe--no earthly power shall part us. Death, death alone can break thelinks that bind us, and must be of God, though man may seem the cause. Be comforted, sweet love. Hark! they are chiming vespers; I must be gonefor the solemn vigil of to-night, and to-morrow thou shalt arm thine owntrue knight, mine Agnes, and deck me with that blue scarf, more preciouseven than the jewelled sword my sovereign brother gives. Farewell, for abrief, brief while; I go to watch and pray. Oh, let thy orisons attendme, and surely then my vigil shall be blest. "

"Pray thou for me, my Nigel, " whispered the trembling girl, as heclasped her in his arms, "that true as I may be, strength befitting thypromised bride may be mine own. Nigel, my beloved, indeed I need suchprayer. "

He whispered hope and comfort, and departed by the stone stairs whichled from the gothic casement where they had been sitting, into thegarden; he lingered to gather some delicate blue-bells which had justblown, and turned back to place them in the lap of Agnes. She eagerlyraised them and pressed them to her lips, but either their fragileblossoms could not bear even her soft touch, or the heavy air hadinwardly withered their bloom, for the blossoms fell from their stalks, and scattered their beautiful petals at her feet. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The hour of vespers had come and passed; the organ and choir had hushedtheir solemn sounds. The abbot and his attendant monks, the king who, with his train, had that evening joined the solemn service, all haddeparted, and but two inmates were left within the abbey church ofScone. Darkness and silence had assumed their undisturbed dominion, forthe waxen tapers left burning on the altar lighted but a few yardsround, leaving the nave and cloisters in impenetrable gloom. Some twentyor thirty yards east of the altar, elevated some paces from the ground, in its light and graceful shrine, stood an elegantly sculptured figureof the Virgin and Child. A silver lamp, whose pure flame was fed witharomatic incense, burned within the shrine and shed its soft light on asuit of glittering armor which was hanging on the shaft of a pillarclose beside it. Directly behind the altar was a large oriel window ofstained glass, representing subjects from Scripture. The window, withits various mullions and lights, formed one high pointed arch, marked bysolid stone pillars on each side, the capitals of which traced thecommencement of the arch. Another window, similar in character, thoughsomewhat smaller in dimensions, lighted the west end of the church; andnear it stood another shrine containing a figure of St. Stephen, lightedas was that of the Virgin and Child, and, like that, gleaming on a suitof armor, and on the figure of the youthful candidate for knighthood, whose task was to pass that night in prayer and vigil beside his armor, unarmed, saved by that panoply of proof which is the Christian'sportion--faith, lowliness, and prayer. 

No word passed between these pledged brothers in arms. Their watch wasin opposite ends of the church, and save the dim, solemn light of thealtar, darkness and immeasurable space appeared to stretch between them. Faintly and fitfully the moon had shone through one of the long, narrowwindows of the aisles, shedding its cold spectral light for a briefspace, then passing into darkness. Heavy masses of clouds sailed slowlyin the heavens, dimly discernible through the unpainted panes; theoppression of the atmosphere increasing as the night approached herzenith, and ever and anon a low, long peal of distant thunder, eachsucceeding one becoming longer and louder than the last, and heralded bythe blue flash of vivid lightning, announced the fury of the comingtempest. 

The imaginations even as the feelings of the young men were alreadystrongly excited, although their thoughts, perchance, were less akinthan might have been expected. The form of his mother passed not fromthe mental vision of the young heir of Buchan: the tone of her voice, the unwonted tear which had fallen on his cheek when he had knelt beforeher that evening, ere he had departed to his post, craving her blessingon his vigil, her prayers for him--that tone, that tear, lingered on hismemory, hallowing every dream of glory, every warrior hope that enteredin his soul. Internally he vowed he would raise the banner of his race, and prove the loyalty, the patriotism, the glowing love of liberty whichher counsels, her example had planted in his breast; and if therecollection of his mother's precarious situation as a proscribedtraitor to Edward, and of his father's desertion of his country and herpatriot king in his adherence to a tyrant--if these reflections came todamp the bright glowing views of others, they did but call the indignantblood to his cheek, and add greater firmness to his impatient step, foryet more powerfully did they awake his indignation against Edward. Tillnow he had looked upon him exclusively in the light of Scotland'sfoe--one against whom he with all true Scottish men must raise theirswords, or live forever 'neath the brand of slaves and cowards; but nowa personal cause of anger added fuel to the fire already burning in hisbreast. His mother was proscribed--a price set upon her head; and as ifto fill the measure of his cup of bitterness to overflowing, his ownfather, he who should have been her protector, aided and abetted thecruel, pitiless Edward. Traitress! Isabella of Buchan a traitress! thenoblest, purest, bravest amid Scotland's children. She who to him hadever seemed all that was pure and good, and noblest in woman; and mostnoble and patriot-hearted now, in the fulfilment of an office inherentin the House of Fife. Agitated beyond expression, quicker and quicker hestrode up and down the precincts marked for his watch, the increasingtempest without seeming to assimilate strangely with the storm within. Silence would have irritated, would have chafed those restless smartingsinto very agony, but the wild war of the elements, while they rousedhis young spirit into yet stronger energy, removed its pain. 

"It matters not, " his train of thought continued, "while this brain canthink, this heart can feel, this arm retain its strength, Isabella ofBuchan needs no other guardian but her son. It is as if years had lefttheir impress on my heart, as if I had grown in very truth to man, thinking with man's wisdom, fighting with man's strength. He that hathnever given a father's love, hath never done a father's duty, hath noclaim upon his child; but she, whose untiring devotion, whose faithfullove hath watched over me, guarded, blessed from the first hour of mylife, instilled within me the principles of life on earth andimmortality in heaven--mother! mother! will not thy gentle virtues clingaround thy boy, and save him even from a father's curse? Can I do elsethan devote the life thou gavest, to thee, and render back with mystronger arm, but not less firm soul, the care, protection, love thouhast bestowed on me? Mother, Virgin saint, " he continued aloud, flinginghimself before the shrine to which we have alluded, "hear, oh hear myprayer! Intercede for me above, that strength, prudence, wisdom may begranted me in the accomplishment of my knightly vows; that my mother, myown mother may be the first and dearest object of my heart: life, fame, and honor I dedicate to her. Spare me, bless me but for her; if danger, imprisonment be unavailingly her doom, let not my spirit waver, nor mystrength flag, nor courage nor foresight fail, till she is rescued toliberty and life. "

Wrapt in the deep earnest might of prayer, the boy remained kneeling, with clasped hands, and eyes fixed on the Virgin's sculptured face, hisspirit inwardly communing, long, long after his impassioned vows hadsunk in silence; the thunder yet rolled fearfully, and the bluelightning flashed and played around him with scarce a minute'sintermission, but no emotion save that of a son and warrior tookpossession of his soul. He knew a terrific storm was raging round him, but it drew him not from earthly thoughts and earthly feelings, evenwhile it raised his soul in prayer. Very different was the effect ofthis lonely vigil and awful night on the imaginative spirit of hiscompanion. 

It was not alone the spirit of chivalry which now burned in the nobleheart of Nigel Bruce. He was a poet, and the glowing hues of poesieinvested every emotion of his mind. He loved deeply, devotedly; andlove, pure, faithful, hopeful love, appeared to have increased everyfeeling, whether of grief of joy, in intensity and depth. He felt toodeeply to be free from that peculiar whispering within, known by theworld as presentiment, and as such so often scorned and contemned as themere offspring of weak, superstitious minds, when it is in reality oneof those distinguishing marks of the higher, more ethereal temperamentof genius. 

Perchance it is the lively imagination of such minds, which in the verymidst of joy can so vividly portray and realize pain, or it may be, indeed, the mysterious voice which links gifted man with a higher classof beings to whom futurity is revealed. Be this as it may, even whilethe youthful patriot beheld with, a visioned eye the liberty of hiscountry, and rejoiced in thus beholding, there ever came a dim andsilent shadowing, a whispering voice, that he should indeed behold it, but not from earth. When the devoted brother and loyal subject picturedhis sovereign in very truth a free and honored King, his thronesurrounded by nobles and knights of his own free land, and many others, the enthusiast saw not himself amongst them, and yet he rejoiced in thefaith such things would be. When the young and ardent lover sate by theside of his betrothed, gazing on her sweet face, and drinking in deeplythe gushing tide of joy; when his spirit pictured yet dearer, lovelier, more assured bliss, when Agnes would be in very truth his own, still didthat strange thrilling whisper come, and promise he should indeedexperience such bliss, but not on earth; and yet he loved, aye, andrejoiced, and there came not one shadow on his bright, beautiful face, not one sad echo in the rich, deep tones of his melodious voice tobetray such dim forebodings had found resting in his soul. 

Already excited by his conversation with Agnes, the service in which hefound himself engaged was not such as to tranquillize his spirit, orstill his full heart's quivering throb. His imaginative soul had alreadyflung its halo over the solemn rites which attended his inauguration asa knight. Even to less enthusiastic spirits there was a glow, a glory inthis ceremony which seldom failed to awake the soul, and inspire it withhigh and noble sentiments. It was not therefore strange that theseemotions should in the heart of Nigel Bruce obtain that ascendency, which to sensitive minds must become pain. Had it been a night of calmand holy stillness, he would in all probability have felt its soothingeffect; but as it was, every pulse throbbed and every nerve was strained'neath his strong sense of the sublime. He could not be said to think, although he had struggled long and fiercely to compose his mind forthose devotional exercises he deemed most fitted for the hour. Feelingalone possessed him, overwhelming, indefinable; he deemed it admiration, awe, adoration of Him at whose nod the mighty thunders rolled and thedestructive lightnings flashed, but he could not define it such. He didnot dream of earth, not even the form of Agnes flashed, as was its wont, before him; no, it was of scenes and sounds undreamed of in earth'sphilosophy he thought; and as he gazed on the impenetrable darkness, andthen beheld it dispersed by the repeated lightning, his excited fancyalmost believed that he should see it peopled by the spirits of themighty dead which slept within those walls, and no particle of terrorattended this belief. In the weak superstition of his age, Nigel Brucehad never shared, but firmly and steadfastly he believed, even in hiscalm and unexcited moments, that there was a link between the living andthe dead; that the freed spirits of the one were permitted to holdcommune with the other, not in visible shape, but in those thrillingwhispers which the spirit knows, while yet it would deny them even toitself. It was the very age of superstition; religion itself was clothedin a veil of solemn mystery, which to minds constituted as Nigel's gaveit a deeper, more impressive tone. Its ceremonies, its shrines, itsfictions, all gave fresh zest to the imagination, and filled the heartof its votary with a species of devotion and excitement, which would nowbe considered as mere visionary madness, little in accordance with thetrue spirit of piety or acceptable to the Most High, but which was thenregarded as meritorious; and even as we look back upon the saints andheroes of the past, even now should not be condemned; for, according tothe light bestowed, so is devotion demanded and accepted by the God ofall. 

Nigel Bruce had paused in his hasty walk, and leaning against the pillarround which his armor hung, fixed his eyes for a space on the largeoriel window we have named, whose outline was but faintly discernible, save on the left side, which was dimly illumined by the silver lampburning in the shrine of St. Stephen, close beside which the youthfulwarrior stood. The storm had suddenly sunk into an awful and almostportentous silence; and in that brief interval of stillness and gloom, Nigel felt his blood flow more calmly in his veins, his pulses stilledtheir starting throbs, and the young soldier crossed his arms on hisbreast, and bent his uncovered head upon them in silent yet earnestprayer. 

The deep, solemn chime of the abbey-bell, echoing like a spirit-voicethrough the arched and silent church, roused him, and he looked up. Atthe same moment a strong and awfully brilliant flash of lightning dartedthrough the window on which his eyes were fixed, followed by a mightypeal of thunder, longer and louder than any that had come before. Forabove a minute that blue flash lingered playing, it seemed, on steel, and a cold shuddering thrill crept through the frame of Nigel Bruce, sending the life-blood from his cheek back to his very heart, for eitherfancy had again assumed her sway, and more vividly than before, or hiswild thoughts had found a shape and semblance. Within the arch formed bythe high window stood or seemed to stand a tall and knightly form, cladfrom the gorget to the heel in polished steel; his head was bare, andlong, dark hair shaded a face pale and shadowy indeed, but strikinglyand eminently noble; there was a scarf across his breast, and on itNigel recognized the cognizance of his own line, the crest and motto ofthe Bruce. It could not have been more than a minute that the bluelightning lingered there, yet to his excited spirit it was long enoughto impress indelibly and startlingly every trace of that strange visionupon his heart. The face was turned to his, with a solemn yet sorrowfulearnestness of expression, and the mailed hand raised on high, seemedpointing unto heaven. The flash passed and all was darkness, the moredense and impenetrable, from the vivid light which had preceded it; butNigel stirred not, moved not, his every sense absorbed, not in theweakness of mortal terror, but in one overwhelming sensation of awe, which, while it oppressed the spirit well-nigh to pain, caused it tolong with an almost sickening intensity for a longer and clearer view ofthat which had come and passed with the lightning flash. Again the vividblaze dispersed the gloom, but no shadow met his fixed impassioned gaze. Vision or reality, the form was gone; there was no trace, no sign ofthat which had been. For several successive flashes Nigel remainedgazing on the spot where the mailed form had stood, as if he felt itwould, it must again appear; but as time sped, and he saw but space, thesoul relaxed from its high-wrought mood, the blood, which had seemedstagnant in his veins, rushed back tumultuously through its variedchannels, and Nigel Bruce prostrated himself before the altar, towrestle with his perturbed spirit till it found calm in prayer. 

A right noble and glorious scene did the great hall of the palacepresent the morning which followed this eventful night. The king, surrounded by his highest prelates and nobles, mingling indiscriminatelywith the high-born dames and maidens of his court, all splendidlyattired, occupied the upper part of the hall, the rest of which wascrowded both by his military followers and many of the good citizens ofScone, who flocked in great numbers to behold the august ceremony of theday. Two immense oaken doors at the south side of the hall were flungopen, and through them was discerned the large space forming the palaceyard, prepared as a tilting-ground, where the new-made knights were toprove their skill. The storm had given place to a soft breezy morning, the cool freshness of which appearing peculiarly grateful from theoppressiveness of the night; light downy clouds sailed over the blueexpanse of heaven, tempering without clouding the brilliant rays of thesun. Every face was clothed with smiles, and the loud shouts whichhailed the youthful candidates for knighthood, as they severallyentered, told well the feeling with which the patriots of Scotland wereregarded. 

Some twenty youths received the envied honor at the hand of theirsovereign this day, but our limits forbid a minute scrutiny of thebearing of any, however well deserving, save of the two whose vigilshave already detained us so long. A yet longer and louder shoutproclaimed the appearance of the youngest scion of the house of Bruce, and his companion. The daring patriotism of Isabella of Buchan hadenshrined her in every heart, and so disposed all men towards herchildren, that the name of their traitorous father was forgotten. 

Led by their godfathers, Nigel by his brother-in-law, Sir ChristopherSeaton, and Alan by the Earl of Lennox, their swords, which had beenblessed by the abbot at the altar, slung round their necks, theyadvanced up the hall. There was a glow on the cheek of the young Alan, in which pride and modesty were mingled; his step at first wasunsteady, and his lip was seen to quiver from very bashfulness, as hefirst glanced round the hall and felt that every eye was turned towardshim; but when that glance met his mother's fixed on him, and breathingthat might of love which filled her heart, all boyish tremors fled, thecalm, staid resolve of manhood took the place of the varying glow uponhis cheek, the quivering lip became compressed and firm, and his stepfaltered not again. 

The cheek of Nigel Bruce was pale, but there was firmness in the glanceof his bright eye, and a smile unclouded in its joyance on his lip. Thefrivolous lightness of the courtier, the mad bravado of knight-errantry, which was not uncommon to the times, indeed, were not there. It was thequiet courage of the resolved warrior, the calm of a spirit at peacewith itself, shedding its own high feeling and poetic glory over allaround him. 

On reaching the foot of King Robert's throne, both youths knelt and laidtheir sheathed swords at his feet. Their armor-bearers then approached, and the ceremony of clothing the candidates in steel commenced; thegolden spur was fastened on the left foot of each by his respectivegodfather, while Athol, Hay, and other nobles advanced to do honor tothe youths, by aiding in the ceremony. Nor was it warriors alone. 

"Is this permitted, lady?" demanded the king, smiling, as the Countessof Buchan approached the martial group, and, aided by Lennox, fastenedthe polished cuirass on the form of her son. "Is it permitted for amatron to arm a youthful knight? Is there no maiden to do such inspiringoffice?"

"Yes, when the knight be one as this, my liege, " she answered, in thesame tone; "let a matron arm him, good my liege, " she added, sadly--"leta mother's hand enwrap his boyish limbs in steel, a mother's blessingmark him thine and Scotland's, that those who watch his bearing in thebattle-field may know who sent him there, may thrill his heart withmemories of her who stands alone of her ancestral line, that though hebears the name of Comyn, the blood of Fife flows reddest in his veins. "

"Arm him and welcome, noble lady, " answered the king, and a buzz ofapprobation ran through the hall; "and may thy noble spirit anddauntless loyalty inspire him; we shall not need a trusty follower whilesuch as he are round us. Yet, in very deed, my youthful knight musthave a lady fair for whom he tilts to-day. Come hither, Isoline; thoulookest verily inclined to envy thy sweet friend her office, and nothingloth to have a loyal knight thyself. Come, come, my pretty one, noblushing now. Lennox, guide those tiny hands aright. "

Laughing and blushing, Isoline, the daughter of Lady Campbell, a sisterof the Bruce, a graceful child of some thirteen summers, advanced, nothing loth, to obey her royal uncle's summons, and an arch smile ofreal enjoyment irresistibly stole over the countenance of Alan, dispersing the emotion his mother's words produced. 

"Nay, tremble not, sweet one, " the king continued, in a lower and yetkinder tone, as he turned from the one youth to the other, and observedthat Agnes, overpowered by emotion, had scarcely power to perform herpart, despite the whispered words of encouraging affection Nigelmurmured in her ear. Imaginative to a degree, which, by her quiet, subdued manners, was never suspected, the simple act of those earlyflowers withering in her grasp, fresh as they were from the hand of herbetrothed, had weighed down her spirits as with an indefinable sense ofpain, which she could not combat. The war of the elements, attending asit did the vigil of her lover, had not decreased these feelings, and themorning found her dispirited and shrinking in sensitiveness from thevery scene she had anticipated with joy. 

"It must not be with a trembling hand the betrothed of a Bruce arms herchosen knight, fair Agnes, " continued the king, cheeringly. "She mustinspire him with valor and confidence. Smile, then, gentlest andloveliest; we would have all smiles to-day. "

And she did smile, but it was a smile of tears, gleaming on herbeautiful face as a sunny beam through a glistening spray. One by onethe cuirass and shoulder-pieces, the greaves and gauntlets, the gorgetand brassards, the joints of which were so beautifully burnished thatthey shone as mirrors, and so flexible every limb had its free use, enveloped those manly forms. Their swords once again girt to theirsides, and once more keeling, the king descended from his throne, andalternately dubbed them knight in the name of God, St. Michael, and St. George. 

"Be faithful, brave, and hardy, youthful cavaliers, " he said; "true tothe country which claims ye, to the monarch ye have sworn to serve, tothe knight from whose sword ye have received the honor ye have craved. Remember, 'tis not the tournay nor the tilted field in which ye willgain renown. For your country let your swords be drawn; against her foesreap laurels. Sir Nigel, 'tis thine to retain unsullied the name thoubearest, to let the Bruce be glorified in thee. And thou, Sir Alan, 'tisthine to _earn_ a name--in very truth, to win thy golden spurs; to provewe do no unwise deed, forgetting thy early years, to do honor to thymother's son. "

Lightly and eagerly the new-made knights sprung to their feet, the veryclang of their glittering armor ringing gratefully and rejoicingly intheir ears. Their gallant steeds, barded and richly caparisoned, held bytheir esquires, stood neighing and pawing at the foot of the stepsleading from the oaken doors. 

Without touching the stirrup, both sprung at the same instant in theirsaddles; the helmet, with its long graceful plume, was quickly donned;the lance and shield received; the pennon adorning the iron head of eachlowered a moment in honor to their sovereign, then waved gayly in air, and then each lance was laid in rest; a trumpet sounded, and onwarddarted the fiery youths thrice round the lists, displaying a skill andcourage in horsemanship which was hailed with repeated shouts ofapplause. But on the tournay and the banquet which succeeded theceremony we have described we may not linger, but pass rapidly on to alater period of the same evening. 

Sir Nigel and his beautiful betrothed had withdrawn a while from theglittering scene around them; they had done their part in the gracefuldance, and now they sought the comparative solitude and stillness of theflower-gemmed terrace, on which the ball-room opened, to speakunreservedly the thoughts which had filled each heart; perchance therewere some yet veiled, for the vision of the preceding night, thestrange, incongruous fancies it had engendered in the youthful warrior, a solemn vow had buried deep in his own soul, and not even to Agnes, towhom his heart was wont to be revealed, might such thoughts find words;and she shrunk in timidity from avowing the inquietude of her own simpleheart, and thus it was that each, for the sake of the other, spokehopefully and cheeringly, and gayly, until at length they were butconscious of mutual and devoted love--the darkening mists of the futurelost in the radiance of the present sun. 

A sudden pause in the inspiring music, the quick advance of all thedifferent groups towards one particular spot, had failed perchance tointerrupt the happy converse of the lovers, had not Sir Alan hastilyapproached them, exclaiming, as he did so--

"For the love of heaven! Nigel, forget Agnes for one moment, and comealong with me. A messenger from Pembroke has just arrived, bearing achallenge, or something very like it, to his grace the king; and it maybe we shall win our spurs sooner than we looked for this morning. Thesight of Sir Henry Seymour makes the war trumpet sound in mine ears. Come, for truly there is something astir. "

With Agnes still leaning on his arm, Nigel obeyed the summons of hisimpatient friend, and joined the group around the king. There was aquiet dignity in the attitude and aspect of Robert Bruce, or it might bethe daring patriotism of his enterprise was appreciated by the gallantEnglish knight; certain it was that, though Sir Henry's bearing had beensomewhat haughty, his brow knit, and his head still covered, as hepassed up the hall, by an irresistible impulse he doffed his helmet ashe met the eagle glance of the Bruce, and bowed his head respectfullybefore him, an example instantly followed by his attendants. 

"Sir Henry Seymour is welcome to our court, " said the king, courteously;"welcome, whatever message he may bear. How fares it with the chivalricknight and worthy gentleman, Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke? Yebring us a message from him, 'tis said. Needs it a private hearing, sirknight? if so, we are at your service; yet little is it Aymer de Valencecan say to Scotland's king which Scotland may not hear. "

"Pembroke is well, an please you, and sendeth greeting, " replied theknight. "His message, sent as it is to the Bruce, is well fitted for theears of his followers, therefore may it be spoken here. He sendeth allloving and knightly greeting unto him known until now as Robert Earl ofCarrick, and bids him, an he would proclaim and prove the rights he hathassumed, come forth from the narrow precincts of a palace and town, which ill befit a warrior of such high renown, and give him battle inthe Park of Methven, near at hand. He challenges him to meet him there, with nobles, knights, and yeomen, who proclaiming Robert Bruce theirsovereign, cast down the gauntlet of defiance and rebellion againsttheir rightful king and mine, his grace of England; he challenges thee, sir knight, or earl, or king, whichever name thou bearest, and daresthee to the field. "

"And what if we accept not his daring challenge?" demanded King Robert, sternly, without permitting the expression of his countenance to satisfyin any way the many anxious glances fixed upon it. 

"He will proclaim thee coward knight and traitor slave, " boldly answeredSir Henry. "In camp or in hall, in lady's bower or tented field, he willproclaim thee recreant; one that took upon himself the state and pomp ofroyalty without the spirit to defend and prove it. "

"Had he done so by our predecessor, Baliol, he had done well, " returnedthe king, calmly. "Nobles, and knights, and gentlemen, " he added, thelion spirit of his race kindling in his eye and cheek, "what say ye inaccepting the bold challenge of this courtly earl? Do we not read yourhearts as well as our own? Ye have chafed and fretted that we haveretained ye so long inactive: in very truth your monarch's spirit chafedand fretted too. We will do battle with this knightly foe, and give him, in all chivalric and honorable courtesy, the meeting he desires. "

One startling and energetic shout burst simultaneously from the warriorsaround, forming a wild and thrilling response to their sovereign'swords. In vain they sought to restrain that outbreak of rejoicing, inrespect to the royal presence; they had pined, they had yearned foraction, and Sir Henry was too good a knight himself not to understand tothe full the patriotic fervor and chivalrous spirit from which thatshout had sprung. Proudly and joyfully the Bruce looked on his devotedadherents, and then addressed the English knight. 

"Thou hast our answer, good Sir Henry, " he said; "more thou couldstscarcely need. Commend us to your master, and take heed thou sayest allthat thou hast heard and seen in answer to his challenge. In the Park ofMethven, three days hence, he may expect the King of Scotland and hispatriot troops with him, to do battle unto death. Edward, good brother, thou, Seaton, and the Lord of Douglas, conduct this worthy knight in allhonor from the hall. Thou hast our answer. "

The knight bowed low, but ere he retreated he spoke again. "I am chargedwith yet another matter, an it so please you, " he said, evidentlystudying to avoid all royal titles, although the bearing of the kingrendered his task rather more difficult than he could have imagined; "amatter of small import, truly, yet must it be spoken. 'Tis rumored thatyou have amid your household a child, a boy, whose father was a favoredservant of my gracious liege and yours, King Edward. The Earl ofPembroke, in the name of his sovereign and of the child's father, bidsme demand him of thee, as having, from his tender years andinexperience, no will nor voice in this matter, he having been broughthere by his mother, who, saving your presence, had done better to haveremembered her duty to her husband than encourage rebellion against herking. "

"Keep to the import of thy message, nor give thy tongue such license, sir, " interrupted the Bruce, sternly; and many an eye flashed, and manya hand sought his sword. "Sir Alan of Buchan, stand forth and give thineown answer to this imperative demand; 'tis to thee, methinks, its importwould refer. Thou hast wisdom and experience, if not years enough, toanswer for thyself. 

"Tell Aymer de Valence, would he seek me, he will find me by the side ofmy sovereign King Robert, in Methven Park, three days hence, " boldly andquickly answered the young soldier, stepping forward from his post inthe circle, and fronting the knight. "Tell him I am here of my own freewill, to acknowledge Robert the Bruce as mine and Scotland's king; todefy the tyrant Edward, even to the death; tell him 'tis no child heseeks, but a knight and soldier, who will meet him on the field. "

"It would seem we are under some mistake, young sir, " replied Sir Henry, gazing with unfeigned admiration on the well-knit frame and glowingfeatures of the youthful knight. "I speak of and demand the surrender ofthe son and heir of John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, who was represented tome as a child of some ten or thirteen summers; 'tis with him, not withthee, my business treats. "

"And 'tis the son--I know not how long _heir_--of John Comyn, Earl ofBuchan, who speaks with thee, sir knight. It may well be, my very age, my very existence hath been forgotten by my father, " he added, with afierceness and bitterness little in accordance with his years, "aye, and would have been remembered no more, had not the late events recalledthem; yet 'tis even so--and that thy memory prove not treacherous, therelies my gage. Foully and falsely hast thou spoken of Isabella of Buchan, and her honor is dear to her son as is his own. In Methven Park we _two_shall meet, sir knight, and the child, the puny stripling, who hath ofhis own nor voice nor will, will not fail thee, be thou sure. "

Proudly, almost sternly, the boy fixed his flashing orbs on the Englishknight, and without removing his glance, strode to the side of hismother and drew her arm within his own. There was something in theaccent, in the saddened yet resolute expression of his countenance, which forbade all rejoinder, not from Sir Henry alone, but even from hisown friends. Seymour raised the gage, and with a meaning smile securedit in his helmet; then respectfully saluting the group around him, withdrew, attended as desired by the Bruce. 

"Heed it not, my boy, my own noble boy!" said the Countess of Buchan, inthose low, earnest, musical tones peculiarly her own; for she saw thatthere was a quivering in the lip, a sudden paleness in the cheek of herson, as he gazed up in her lace, when he thought they stood alone, whichdenoted internal emotion yet stronger than that which had inspired hisprevious words. "Their scorn, their contumely, I heed as little as themountain rock the hailstones which fall upon its sides, in vain seekingto penetrate or wound. Nay, I could smile at them in very truth, were itnot that compelled as I am to act alone, to throw aside as worthless andrejected those natural ties I had so joyed to wear, my heart seemsclosed to smiles; but for words as those, or yet harsher scorn, grievenot, my noble boy, they have no power to fret or hurt me. "

"Yet to hear them speak in such tone of thee--thee, whose high soul andnoble courage would shame a score of some who write themselvesmen!--thee, who with all a woman's loving heart, and guileless, unselfish, honorable mind, hath all a warrior's stern resolve, apatriot's noble purpose! Mother, mother, how may thy son brook scorn andfalsity, and foul calumny cast upon thee?" and there was a chokingsuffocation in his throat, filling his eyes perforce with tears; and hadit not been that manhood struggled for dominion, he would have flunghimself upon his mother's breast and wept. 

"As a soldier and a man, my son, " she drew him closer to her as shespoke; "as one who, knowing and feeling the worth of the contemned one, is conscious that the foul tongues of evil men can do no ill, but flingback the shame upon themselves. Arouse thee, my beloved son. Alas! whenI look on thee, on thy bright face, on those graceful limbs, so supplenow in health and life, and feel to what my deed may have devoted thee, my child, my child, I need not slanderous tongues to grieve me!"

"And doth the Countess of Buchan repent that deed?" asked the richsonorous voice of the Bruce, who, unobserved, had heard their converse. "Would she recall that which she hath done?"

"Sire, not so, " she answered; "precious as is my child to this loneheart--inexpressibly dear and precious--yet if the liberty of hiscountry demand me to resign him, the call shall be obeyed. "

"Speak not thus, noble lady, " returned the king, cheerily. "He is but_lent_, Scotland asks no more; and when heaven smiles on this poorcountry, smiles in liberty and peace, trust me, such devotedness willnot have been in vain. Our youthful knight will lay many a wreath oflaurel at his mother's feet, nor will there then be need to guard hername from scorn. See what new zest and spirit have irradiated the browsof our warlike guests; we had scarce deemed more needed than was therebefore, yet the visit of Sir Henry Seymour, bearing as it did achallenge to strife and blood, hath given fresh lightness to every step, new joyousness to every tone. Is not this as it should be?"

"Aye, as it _must_ be, sire, while loyal hearts and patriot spirits formthy court. Nobly and gallantly was the answer given to Pembroke'schallenge. Yet pardon me, sire, was it wise--was it well?"

"Its wisdom, lady, rests with its success in the hands of a higherpower, " answered the king, gravely, yet kindly. "Other than we did wecould not do; rashly and presumptuously we would not have left ourquarters. Not for the mere chase of, mad wish for glory would we haverisked the precious lives of our few devoted friends, but challenged aswe were, the soul of Bruce could not have spoken other than he did; nordo we repent, nay, we rejoice that the stern duty of inaction is over. Thine eye tells me thou canst understand this, lady, therefore we say nomore, save to beseech thee to inspire our consort with the necessity ofthis deed; she trembles for the issue of our daring. See how grave andsad she looks, so lately as she was all smiles. "

The countess did not reply, but hastened to the side of the amiable, butyet too womanly Queen Margaret, and gently, but invisibly sought tosoothe her fears; and she partially succeeded, for the queen ever seemedto feel herself a bolder and firmer character when in the presence andunder the influence of Isabella of Buchan. 

CHAPTER X. 

It was a gallant, though, alas! but too small a force which, richly andbravely accoutred, with banners proudly flying, music sounding, superbchargers caparisoned for war, lances in rest, and spear and bill, swordand battle-axe, marched through the olden gates of Scone in asouth-westward direction, early on the morning of the 25th of June, 1306. Many were the admiring eyes and yearning hearts which followedthem, and if doubt and dread did mingle in the fervid aspirations raisedfor their welfare and success, they were not permitted to gainascendency so long as the cheering tones and happy smiles of every oneof that patriot band lingered on the ear and sight. As yet there werebut few of the nobles and knights with their men. The troops had beencommanded to march leisurely forward, under charge of the esquires andgentlemen, who were mostly lieutenants or cornets to their leaders'respective bands of followers; and, if not overtaken before, to halt ina large meadow to the north of Perth, which lay in their way. 

The knots of citizens, however, who had accompanied the army to thefarthest environs of the town, had not dispersed to their several homesere the quick, noisy clattering of a gallant troop of horse echoed alongthe street, and the king, surrounded by his highest nobles and bravestknights, galloped by, courteously returning the shouts and acclamationsof delight which hailed him on every side. His vizor was purposely leftup, and his noble countenance, beaming with animation and hope, seemedto inspire fresh hope and confidence in all that gazed. A white ostrichplume, secured to his helmet by a rich clasp of pearls and diamonds, fell over his left shoulder till it well-nigh mingled with the flowingmane of his charger, whose coal-black glossy hide was almost concealedbeneath the armor which enveloped him, and the saddle-cloth of crimsonvelvet, whose golden fringe nearly swept the ground. King Robert wasclothed in the same superb suit of polished steel armor, inlaid andcuriously wrought with ingrained silver, in which we saw him at first; acrimson scarf secured his trusty sword to his side, and a short mantleof azure velvet, embroidered with the golden thistle of Scotland, andlined with the richest sable, was secured at his throat by a splendidcollaret of gems. The costly materials of his dress, and, yet more, theeasy and graceful seat upon his charger, his chivalric bearing, and thefrank, noble expression of his countenance, made him, indeed, "lookevery inch a king, " and might well of themselves have inspired andretained the devoted loyalty of his subjects, even had there been lessof chivalry in his daring rising. 

Edward Bruce was close beside his brother. With a figure and appearanceequally martial and equally prepossessing, he wanted the quiet dignity, the self-possession of voice and feature which characterized the king. He had not the mind of Robert, and consequently the uppermost passion ofthe spirit was ever the one marked on his brow. On this morning he wasall animated smiles, for war was alike his vocation and his pastime. 

Thomas and Alexander Bruce were also there, both gallant men andwell-tried warriors, and eager as Edward for close encounter with thefoe. The Earls of Lennox and Athol, although perhaps in their secretsouls they felt that the enterprise was rash, gave no evidence ofreluctance in their noble bearing; indeed, had they been certain ofmarching to their death, they would not have turned from the side ofBruce. The broad banner of Scotland, whose ample folds waved in themorning breeze, had been intrusted to the young heir of Buchan, who, with the other young and new-made knights, eager and zealous to wintheir spurs, had formed a body guard around the banner, swearing todefend it to the last moment of their lives. Nigel Bruce was one ofthese; he rode close beside his brother in arms, and midst that animatedgroup, those eager spirits throbbing for action, no heart beat quickerthan his own. All was animated life, anticipated victory; the veryheavens smiled as if they would shed no shadow on this patriot band. 

It was scarcely two hours after noon when King Robert and his troopsarrived at the post assigned--the park or wood of Methven; and believingthat it was not till the succeeding day to which the challenge ofPembroke referred, he commanded his men to make every preparation for anight encampment. The English troops lay at about a quarter of a miledistant, on the side of a hill, which, as well as tree and furze wouldpermit, commanded a view of the Bruce's movements. There were tentserected, horses picketed, and every appearance of quiet, confirming theScotch in their idea of no engagement taking place till the morrow. 

Aware of the great disparity of numbers, King Robert eagerly andanxiously examined his ground as to the best spot for awaiting theattack of the English. He fixed on a level green about half a milesquare, guarded on two sides by a thick wood of trees, on the third andleft by a deep running rivulet, and open on the fourth, encumbered onlyby short, thick bushes and little knots of thorn, which the kingwelcomed, as impeding the progress and obstructing the evolutions ofPembroke's horse. The bushes which were scattered about on the ground hehad chosen, he desired his men to clear away, and ere the sun neared hissetting, all he wished was accomplished, and his plan of battlearranged. He well remembered the impenetrable phalanx of the unfortunateWallace at the battle of Falkirk, and determined on exposing a steadyfront of spears in the same manner. Not having above thirty horse onwhom he could depend, and well aware they would be but a handful againstPembroke's two hundred, he placed them in the rear as a reserve, in thecentre of which waved the banner of Scotland. The remainder of histroops he determined on arranging in a compact crescent, the bow exposedto the English, the line stretching out against the wood. This was hisintended line of battle, but, either from mistake or purposed treacheryon the part of Pembroke, his plan was frustrated, and in addition to thegreat disparity of numbers he had to struggle with surprise. 

The day had been extremely sultry, and trusting in full confidence tothe honor of his opponent, and willing to give his men all needful rest, the king dismissed them from their ranks to refreshment and repose, leaving but very few to guard, himself retiring with his older officersto a tent prepared for his reception. 

Arm in arm, and deep in converse, Nigel Bruce and Alan of Buchanwandered a little apart from their companions, preferring a hasty mealand the calm beauty of a lovely summer evening, accompanied by arefreshing breeze, to remaining beside the rude but welcome meal, andsharing the festivity which enlivened it. 

"Thinkest thou not, Nigel, his grace trusts but too fully to the honorof these Englishmen?" asked Alan, somewhat abruptly, turning theconversation from the dearer topics of Agnes and her mother, which hadbefore engrossed them. 

"On my faith, if he judge of them by his own true, noble spirit, hejudges them too well. "

"Nay, thou art over-suspicious, friend Alan, " answered Nigel, smiling. "What fearest thou?"

"I like not the absence of all guards, not so much for the safety of ourown camp, but to keep sharp watch on the movements of our friendsyonder. Nigel, there is some movement; they look not as they did an hourago. "

"Impossible, quite impossible, Alan; the English knights are toochivalric, too honorable, to advance on us to-night. If they have made amovement, 'tis but to repose. "

"Nigel, if Pembroke feel inclined to take advantage of our unguardedsituation, he will swear, as many have done before him, that a new daybegan with the twelve-chime bell of this morning, and be upon us ere weare aware; and I say again, there is movement, and warlike movement, too, in yonder army. Are tents deserted, and horses and men collected, for the simple purpose of retiring to rest? Come with me to yon mound, and see if I be not correct in my surmise. "

Startled by Alan's earnest manner, despite his firm reliance onPembroke's honor, Nigel made no further objection, but hastened with himto the eminence he named. It was only too true. Silently and guardedlythe whole English army, extending much further towards Perth than wasvisible to the Scotch, had been formed in battle array, line after linestretching forth its glittering files, in too compact and animated arrayto admit of a doubt as to their intentions. The sun had completely sunk, and dim mists were spreading up higher and higher from the horizon, greatly aiding the treacherous movements of the English. 

"By heavens, 'tis but too true!" burst impetuously from Nigel's lips, indignation expressed in every feature. "Base, treacherous cowards! Hiethee to the king--fly for thy life--give him warning, while I endeavorto form the lines. In vain, utterly in vain!" he muttered, as Alan withthe speed of lightning darted down the slope. "They are formed--fresh, both man and horse--double, aye, more than treble our numbers; they willbe upon us ere the order of battle can be formed, and defeat _now_--"

He would not give utterance to the dispiriting truth which closed thatthought, but springing forward, dashed through fern and brake, andhalted not till he stood in the centre of his companions, who, scatteredin various attitudes on the grass, were giving vent, in snatches of songand joyous laughter, to the glee which filled their souls. 

"Up! up!--the foe!" shouted Nigel, in tones so unlike the silveryaccents which in general characterized him, that his companionsstarted to their feet and grasped their swords, as roused by thesound of trumpet, "Pembroke is false: to arms--to your posts!Fitz-Alan--Douglas--sound an alarm, and, in heaven's name, aid me ingetting the men under arms! Be calm, be steady; display no alarm, noconfusion, and all may yet be well. "

He was obeyed. The quick roll of the drum, the sharp, quick blast of thetrumpet echoed and re-echoed at different sides of the encampment; thecall to arms, in various stentorian tones, rung through the woodlandglades, quickly banishing all other sounds. Every man sprung at oncefrom his posture of repose, and gathered round their respective leaders;startled, confused, yet still in order, still animated, still confident, and yet more exasperated against their foe. 

The appearance of their sovereign, unchanged in his composed and warlikemien, evincing perhaps yet more animation in his darkly flushing cheek, compressed lip, and sparkling eye; his voice still calm, though hiscommands were more than usually hurried; his appearance on every side, forming, arranging, encouraging, almost at the same instant--at onemoment exciting their indignation against the treachery of the foe, atothers appealing to their love for their country, their homes, theirwives, to their sworn loyalty to himself--inspired courage andconfidence at the same instant as he allayed confusion; but despiteevery effort both of leader and men, it needed time to form in thecompact order which the king had planned, and ere it was accomplished, nearer and nearer came the English, increasing their pace to a run asthey approached, and finally charging in full and overwhelming careeragainst the unprepared but gallant Scots. Still there was no waveringamid the Scottish troops; still they stood their ground, and forming, almost as they fought, in closer and firmer order, exposing the mightand unflinching steadiness of desperate men, determined on liberty ordeath, to the greater number and better discipline of their foe. Itmattered not that the fading light of day had given place to the darkershades of night, but dimly illumined by the rising moon--they struggledon, knowing as if by instinct friend from foe. And fearful was it towatch the mighty struggles from figures gleaming as gigantic shadows inthe darkness; now and then came a deep smothered cry or bursting groan, wrung from the throes of death, or the wild, piercing scream from aslaughtered horse, but the tongues of life were silent; the clang ofarmor, the clash of steel, the heavy fall of man and horse, indeed camefitfully and fearfully on the night breeze, and even as the bluespectral flash of summer lightning did the bright swords rise and fallin the thick gloom. 

"Back, back, dishonored knight! back, recreant traitor!" shouted Jamesof Douglas; and his voice was heard above the roar of battle, and thosenear him saw him at the same instant spring from his charger, thrustback Pembroke and other knights who were thronging round him, and withunrivalled skill and swiftness aid a tall and well-known form to riseand spring on the horse he held for him. "Thinkest thou the sacredperson of the King of Scotland is for such as thee? back, I say!" And hedid force him, armed and on horseback as he was, many paces back, andRobert Bruce again galloped over the field, bareheaded indeed, for hishelmet had fallen off in the strife, urging, inciting, leading on yetagain to the charge. And it was in truth as if a superhuman strength andpresence had been granted the patriot king that night, for there wereveteran warriors there, alike English and Scotch, who paused even in thework of strife to gaze and tremble. 

Again was he unhorsed, crushed by numbers--one moment more and he hadfallen into the hands of his foes, and Scotland had lain a slave foreverat the feet of England; but again was relief at hand, and the young Earlof Mar, dashing his horse between the prostrate monarch and histhronging enemies, laid the foremost, who was his own countryman, deadon the field, and remained fighting alone; his single arm dealing deadlyblows on every side at the same moment until Robert had regained hisfeet, and, though wounded and well-nigh exhausted, turned in fury to therescue of his preserver. It was too late; in an agony of spirit no pencan describe, he beheld his faithful and gallant nephew overpowered bynumbers and led off a captive, and he stood by, fighting indeed like alion, dealing death wherever his sword fell, but utterly unable torescue or defend him. Again his men thronged round him, their rallyingpoint, their inspiring hope, their guardian spirit; again he was onhorseback, and still, still that fearful strife continued. Aided by thedarkness, the Bruce in his secret soul yet encouraged one gleam of hope, yet dreamed of partial success, at least of avoiding that almost worsethan death, a total and irremediable defeat. Alas, had the daylightsuddenly illumined that scene, he would have felt, have seen that hopewas void. 

Gallantly, meanwhile, gallantly even as a warrior of a hundred fields, had the young heir of Buchan redeemed his pledge to his sovereign, anddevoted sword and exposed life in his cause. The standard of Scotlandhad never touched the ground. Planting it firmly in the earth, he hadfor a while defended it nobly where he stood, curbing alike the highspirit of his prancing horse and his own intense longing to dash forwardin the thickest of the fight. He saw his companions fall one by one, till he was well-nigh left alone. He heard confused cries, as oftriumph; he beheld above twenty Englishmen dashing towards him, and hefelt a few brief minutes and his precious charge might be waved in scornas a trophy by the victors; the tide of battle had left him for aninstant comparatively alone, and in that instant his plan was formed. 

"Strike hard, and fear not!" he cried to an old retainer, who stirrednot from his side; "divide this heavy staff, and I will yet protect mycharge, and thou and I, Donald, will to King Robert's side; he needs alltrue men about him now. "

Even as he spoke his command was understood and obeyed. One sweep of thestout Highlander's battle-axe severed full four feet of the heavy lanceto which the standard was attached and enabled Alan without anyinconvenience to grasp in his left hand the remainder, from which thefolds still waved: grasping his sword firmly in his right, and givinghis horse the rein, shouting, "Comyn, to the rescue!" he darted towardsthe side where the strife waxed hottest. 

It was a cry which alike startled friends and foes, for that name wasknown to one party as so connected with devotee adherence to Edward, tothe other so synonymous with treachery, that united as it was with "tothe rescue, " some there were who paused to see whence and from whom itcame. The banner of Scotland quickly banished doubt as to which part;that youthful warrior belonged; knights and yeomen alike threwthemselves in his path to obtain possession of so dear a prize. Followedby about ten stalwart men of his clan, the young knight gallantly cuthis way through the greater number of his opponents, but a sudden gleamon the helmet of one of them caused him to halt suddenly. 

"Ha! Sir Henry Seymour, we have met at length!" he shouted. "Thoubearest yet my gage--'tis well. I am here to redeem it. "

"Give up that banner to a follower, then, " returned Sir Henry, courteously, checking his horse in its full career, "for otherwise wemeet at odds. Thou canst not redeem thy gage, and defend thy charge atthe same moment. "

"Give up my charge! Never, so help me heaven! Friend or foe shall claimit but with my life, " returned Alan, proudly. "Come on, sir knight; I amhere to defend the honor thou hast injured--the honor of one dearer thanmy own. "

"Have then thy will, proud boy: thy blood be on thine own head, " repliedSeymour; but ere he spurred on to the charge, he called aloud, "let nonecome between us, none dare to interfere--'tis a quarrel touching nonesave ourselves, " and Alan bowed his head, in courteous recognition ofthe strict observance of the rules of chivalry in his adversary, at thevery moment that he closed with him in deadly strife; and such was warin the age of chivalry, and so strict were its rules, that even with thestandard of Scotland in his hand, the person of the heir of Buchan wassacred to all save to his particular opponent. 

It was a brief yet determined struggle. Their swords crossed andrecrossed with such force and rapidity, that sparks of fire flashed fromthe blades; the aim of both appeared rather to unhorse and disarm thanslay: Seymour, perhaps, from admiration of the boy's extraordinarybravery and daring, and Alan from a feeling of respect for the truechivalry of the English knight. The rush of battle for a minuteunavoidably separated them. About four feet of the banner-staff yetremained uninjured, both in its stout wood and sharp iron head; withunparalleled swiftness, Alan partly furled the banner round the pike, and transferred it to his right hand, then grasping it firmly, andaiming full at Sir Henry's helm, backed his horse several paces to allowof a wider field, gave his steed the spur, and dashed forward quick asthe wind. The manoeuvre succeeded. Completely unprepared for thischange alike in weapon and attack, still dazzled and slightly confusedby the rush which had divided them, Sir Henry scarcely saw the youthfulknight, till he felt his helmet transfixed by the lance, and the blowguided so well and true, that irresistibly it bore him from his horse, and he lay stunned and helpless, but not otherwise hurt, at the mercy ofhis foe. Recovering his weapon, Alan, aware that the great disparity ofnumbers rendered the securing English prisoners but a mere waste oftime, contented himself by waving the standard high in air, and againshouting his war-cry, galloped impetuously on. Wounded he was, but heknew it not; the excitement, the inspiration of the moment was all hefelt. 

"To the king--to the king!" shouted Nigel Bruce, urging his horse to theside of Alan, and ably aiding him to strike down their rapidlyincreasing foes. "Hemmed in on all sides, he will fall beneath theirthirsting swords. To the king--to the king! Yield he never will; andbetter he should not. On, on, for the love of life, of liberty, ofScotland!--on to the king!"

His impassioned words reached even hearts fainting 'neath exhaustion, failing in hope, for they knew they strove in vain; yet did that tone, those words rouse even them, and their flagging limbs grew strong forRobert's sake, and some yet reached the spot to fight and die aroundhim; others--alas! the greater number--fell ere the envied goal wasgained. 

The sight of the royal standard drew, as Alan had hoped, the attentionof some from the king, and gave him a few moments to rally. Again therewas a moment of diversion in favor of the Scotch. The brothers of theBruce and some others of his bravest knights were yet around him, seemingly uninjured, and each and all appeared endowed with the strengthof two. The gigantic form of Edward Bruce, the whelming sweep of hisenormous battle-axe, had cleared a partial space around the king, butstill the foes hemmed in, reinforced even as they fell. About this timethe moon, riding high in the heavens, had banished the mists which hadenveloped her rising, and flung down a clear, silvery radiance over thewhole field, disclosing for the first time to King Robert the exactsituation in which he stood. Any further struggle, and defeat, imprisonment, death, all stared him in the face, and Scotland's libertywas lost, and forever. The agony of this conviction was known to nonesave to the sovereign's own heart, and to that Searcher of all, by whomits every throb was felt. 

The wood behind him was still plunged in deep shadows, and he knew theGrampian Hills, with all their inaccessible paths and mountainfastnesses--known only to the true children of Scotland--could easily bereached, were the pursuit of the English eluded, which he believed couldbe easily accomplished, were they once enabled to retreat into the wood. 

The consummate skill and prudence of the Bruce characterizing him as ageneral, even as his extraordinary daring and exhaustless courage markedthe warrior, enabled him to effect this precarious and delicatemovement, in the very sight of and almost surrounded by foes. Coveringhis troops, or rather the scattered remnant of troops, by exposing hisown person to the enemy, the king was still the first object of attack, the desire of securing his person, or, at least, obtaining possession ofhis head, becoming more and more intense. But it seemed as though aprotecting angel hovered round him: for he had been seen in every partof the field; wherever the struggle had been fiercest, he had been thecentre; twice he had been unhorsed, and bareheaded almost from thecommencement of the strife, yet there he was still, seemingly as firm inhis saddle, as strong in frame, as unscathed in limb, as determined inpurpose, as when he sent back his acceptance of Pembroke's challenge. Douglas, Fitz-Alan, Alexander and Nigel Bruce, and Alan of Buchan, stillbearing the standard, were close around the king, and it was in thistime of precaution, of less inspiriting service, that the young Alanbecame conscious that he was either severely wounded, or that thestrength he had taxed far beyond its natural powers was beginning tofail. Still mechanically he grasped the precious banner, and still hecrossed his sword with every foe that came; but the quick eye of Nigeldiscerned there was a flagging of strength, and he kept close beside himto aid and defend. The desired goal was just attained, the foes weredecreasing in numbers, for they were scattered some distance from eachother, determined on scouring the woods in search of fugitives, thehorses of the king and his immediate followers were urged to quickentheir pace, when an iron-headed quarrel, discharged from an arbalist, struck the royal charger, which, with a shrill cry of death, droppedinstantly, and again was the king unhorsed. The delay occasioned inextricating him from the fallen animal was dangerous in the extreme; thegreater part of his men were at some distance, for the king had orderedthem, as soon as the unfrequented hollows of the wood were reached, todisperse, the better to elude their pursuers. Douglas, Alexander Bruce, and Fitz-Alan had galloped on, unconscious of the accident, and Nigeland Alan were alone near him. A minute sufficed for the latter to springfrom his horse and aid the king to mount, and both entreated, conjuredhim to follow their companions, and leave them to cover his retreat. Awhile he refused, declaring he would abide with them: he would not socowardly desert them. 

"Leave you to death!" he cried; "my friends, my children; no, no! Urgeme no more. If I may not save my country, I may _die_ for her. "

"Thou shalt not, so help me heaven!" answered Nigel, impetuously. "King, friend, brother, there is yet time. Hence, I do beseech thee, hence. Nay, an thou wilt not, I will e'en forget thou art my king, and forcethee from this spot. "

He snatched the reins of his brother's horse, and urging it with his ownto their fullest speed, took the most unfrequented path, and dashingover every obstacle, through brake and briar, and over hedge and ditch, placed him in comparative safety. 

And was Alan deserted? Did his brother in arms, in his anxiety to savethe precious person of his royal brother, forget the tie that boundthem, and leave him to die alone? A sickening sense of inability, ofutter exhaustion, crept over the boy's sinking frame, inability even todrag his limbs towards the wood and conceal himself from his foes. Mechanically he at first stood grasping the now-tattered colors, as ifhis hand were nailed unto the staff, his foot rooted to the ground. There were many mingled cries, sending their shrill echoes on the nightbreeze; there were chargers scouring the plain; bodies of men passingand repassing within twenty yards of the spot where he stood, yet halfhidden by the deep shadow of a large tree, for some minutes he wasunobserved. An armed knight, with about twenty followers, were rushingby; they stopped, they recognized the banner; they saw the bowed anddrooping figure who supported it, they dashed towards him. With a strongeffort Alan roused himself from that lethargy of faintness. Nearer andnearer they came. 

"Yield, or you die!" were the words borne to his ear, shrill, loud, fraught with death, and his spirit sprang up with the sound. He wavedhis sword above his head, and threw himself into a posture of defence;but ere they reached him, there was a sudden and rapid tramp of horse, and the voice of Nigel Bruce shouted--

"Mount, mount! God in heaven be thanked, I am here in time!"

Alan sprung into the saddle; he thought not to inquire how that chargerhad been found, nor knew he till some weeks after that Nigel had exposedhis own person to imminent danger, to secure one of the many steedsflying masterless over the plain. On, on they went, and frequently thehead of Alan drooped from very faintness to his saddle-bow, and Nigelfeared to see him fall exhausted to the earth, but still they pursuedtheir headlong way. Death was behind them, and the lives of all true andloyal Scotsmen were too precious to admit a pause. 

The sun had risen when King Robert gazed round him on the remnant of histroops. It was a wild brake, amid surrounding rocks and mountains wherethey stood; a torrent threw itself headlong from a craggy steep, andmade its way to the glen, tumbling and roaring and dashing over theblack stones that opposed its way. The dark pine, the stunted fir, theweeping birch, and many another mountain tree, marked the naturalfertility of the soil, although its aspect seemed wild and rude. It wasto this spot the king had desired the fugitives to direct their severalways, and now he gazed upon all, all that were spared to him andScotland from that disastrous night. In scattered groups they stood orsate; their swords fallen from their hands, their heads drooping ontheir breasts, with the mien of men whose last hope had been cast on asingle die, and wrecked forever. And when King Robert thought of thefaithful men who, when the sun had set the previous evening, hadgathered round him in such devoted patriotism, such faithful love, andnow beheld the few there were to meet his glance, to give him thesympathy, the hope he needed, scarcely could he summon energy sufficientto speak against hope, to rally the failing spirits of his remainingfollowers. Mar, Athol, Hay, Fraser, he knew were prisoners, and he knew, too, that in their cases that word was but synonymous with death. Lennox, his chosen friend, individually the dearest of all hisfollowers, he too was not there, though none remembered his being taken;Randolph, his nephew, and about half of those gallant youths who not tendays previous had received and welcomed the honor of knighthood, in allthe high hopes and buoyancy of youth and healthful life; more, many morethan half the number of the stout yeomen, who had risen at his call torescue their land from chains--where now were these? Was it wonder thatthe king had sunk upon a stone, and bent his head upon his hands? Butspeedily he rallied; he addressed each man by name; he spoke comfort, hope, not lessening the magnitude of his defeat, but still promisingthem liberty--still promising that yet would their homes be redeemed, their country free; aye, even were he compelled to wander months, nay, years in those mountain paths, with naught about him but the title of aking; still, while he had life, would he struggle on for Scotland; stilldid he feel, despite of blighted hope, of bitter disappointment, that tohim was intrusted the sacred task of her deliverance. Would he, might hesink and relax in his efforts and resign his purpose, because his firstengagement was attended by defeat? had he done so, it was easy to havefound death on the field. Had he listened to the voice of despair, heconfessed, he would not have left that field alive. 

"But I lived for my country, for ye, her children, " he continued, hisvoice becoming impassioned in its fervor; "lived to redeem this night, to suffer on a while, to be your savior still. Will ye then desert me?will ye despond, because of one defeat--yield to despair, when Scotlandyet calls aloud? No, no, it cannot be!" and roused by his earnest, hiseloquent appeal, that devoted band sprung from their drooping posture, and kneeling at his feet, renewed their oaths of allegiance to him; theoath that bound them to seek liberty for Scotland. It was then, as oneby one advanced, the king for the first time missed his brother Nigeland the heir of Buchan; amidst the overwhelming bitterness of thoughtwhich had engrossed him, he had for a brief while forgotten theprecarious situation of Alan, and the determination of Nigel to seek andsave, or die with him; but now the recollection of both rushed upon him, and the flush which his eloquence had summoned faded at once, and thesudden expression of anguish passing over his features roused theattention of all who stood near him. 

"They must have fallen, " he murmured, and for the first time, in achanged and hollow voice. "My brother, my brother, dearest, best! can itbe that, in thy young beauty, thou, too, art taken from me?--and Alan, how can I tell his mother--how face her sorrow for her son?"

Time passed, and there was no sound; the visible anxiety of the kinghushed into yet deeper stillness the voices hushed before. His meaningwas speedily gathered from his broken words, and many mounted the craggyheights to mark if there might not yet be some signs of the missingones. Time seemed to linger on his flight. The intervening rocks andbushes confined all sounds within a very narrow space; but at length afaint unintelligible noise broke on the stillness, it came nearer, nearer still, a moment more and the tread of horses' hoofs echoedamongst the rocks--a shout, a joyful shout proclaimed them friends. Theking sprung to his feet. Another minute Nigel and Alan pressed aroundhim; with the banner still in his hand, Alan knelt and laid it at hissovereign's feet. 

"From thy hand I received it, to thee I restore it, " he said, but hisvoice was scarcely articulate; he bowed his head to press Robert'sextended hand to his lips, and sunk senseless at his feet. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Rumors of the fatal issue of the engagement at Methven speedily reachedScone, laden, of course, with, yet more disastrous tidings than hadfoundation in reality. King Robert, it was said, and all his nobles andknights--nay, his whole army--were cut off to a man; the king, if nottaken prisoner, was left dead on the field, and all Scotland lay againcrushed and enslaved at the feet of Edward. For four-and-twenty hoursdid the fair inhabitants of the palace labor under this belief, well-nigh stunned beneath the accumulation of misfortune. It was curiousto remark the different forms in which affliction appeared in differentcharacters, The queen, in loud sobs and repeated wailing, at one timedeplored her own misery; at others, accused her husband of rashness andmadness. Why had he not taken her advice and remained quiet? Why couldhe not have been contented with the favor of Edward and a proud, fairheritage? What good did he hope to get for himself by assuming the crownof so rude and barren a land as Scotland? Had she not told him he wasbut a summer king, that the winter would soon blight his prospects andnip his budding hopes; and had she not proved herself wiser even than hewas himself? and then she would suddenly break off in these reproachesto declare that, if he were a prisoner, she would go to him; she wouldremain with him to the last; she would prove how much she idolizedhim--her own, her brave, her noble Robert. And vain was every effort onthe part of her sisters-in-law and the Countess of Buchan, and other ofher friends, to mitigate these successive bursts of sorrow. The LadySeaton, of a stronger mind, yet struggled with despondency, yet stroveto hope, to believe all was not as overwhelming as had been described;although, if rumor were indeed true, she had lost a husband and a son, the gallant young Earl of Mar, whom she had trained to all noble deedsand honorable thoughts, for he had been fatherless from infancy. LadyMary could forget her own deep anxieties, her own fearful forebodings, silently and unobservedly to watch, to follow, to tend the Countess ofBuchan, whose marble cheek and lip, and somewhat sterner expression ofcountenance than usual, alone betrayed the anxiety passing within, forwords it found not. She could share with her the task of soothing, ofcheering Agnes, whose young spirit lay crushed beneath this heavy blow. She did not complain, she did not murmur, but evidently struggled toemulate her mother's calmness, for she would bend over her frame andendeavor to continue her embroidery. But those who watched her, markedher frequent shudder, the convulsive sob, the tiny hands pressed closelytogether, and then upon her eyes, as if to still their smarting throbs;and Isoline, who sat in silence on a cushion at her feet, could catchsuch low whispered words as these--

"Nigel, Nigel, could I but know thy fate! Dead, dead!--could I not diewith thee? Imprisoned, have I not a right to follow thee; to tend, tosoothe thee? Any thing, oh, any thing, but this horrible suspense! Alan, my brother, thou too, so young, to die. "

The morning of the second day brought other and less distressing rumors;all had not fallen, all were not taken. There were tales of courage, ofdaring gallantry, of mighty struggles almost past belief; but what werethey, even in that era of chivalry, to the heart sinking underapprehensions, the hopes just springing up amidst the wild chaos ofthoughts to smile a moment, to be crushed 'neath suspense, uncertainty, the next? Still the eager tones of conjecture, the faintest-spokenwhispers of renewed hope, were better than the dead stillness, the heavyhush of despair. 

And the queen's apartments, in which at sunset all her friends hadassembled, presented less decided sounds of mourning and of wail, thanthe previous day. Margaret was indeed still one minute plunged in tearsand sobs, and the next hoping more, believing more than any one aroundher. Agnes had tacitly accompanied her mother and Lady Mary to the royalboudoir, but she had turned in very sickness of heart from all hercompanions, and remained standing in a deep recess formed by the highand narrow casement, alone, save Isoline, who still clung to her side, pale, motionless as the marble statue near her, whose unconscious reposeshe envied. 

"Speak, Isabella, why will you not speak to me?" said the queen, fretfully. "My husband bade me look to thee for strength, for supportunder care and affliction like to this, yet thou keepest aloof from me;thou hast words of comfort, of cheering for all save me. "

"Not so, royal lady, not so, " she answered, as with a faint, scarcelyperceptible smile, she advanced to the side of her royal mistress, andtook her hand in hers. "I have spoken, I have urged, entreated, conjuredthee to droop not; for thy husband's sake, to hope on, despite theterrible rumors abroad. I have besought thee to seek firmness for hissake; but thou didst but tell me, Isabella, Isabella, thou canst notfeel as I do, he is naught to thee but thy king; to me, what is he not?king, hero, husband--all, my only all; and I have desisted, lady, for Ideemed my words offended, my counsel unadvised, and looked on but ascold and foolish. "

"Nay, did I say all this to thee? Isabella, forgive me, for indeed, indeed, I knew it not, " replied Margaret, her previous fretfulnesssubsiding into a softened and less painful burst of weeping. "He is intruth, my all, my heart's dearest, best, and without him, oh! what am I?even a cipher, a reed, useless to myself, to my child, as to all others. I am not like thee, Isabella--would, would I were; I should be moreworthy of my Robert's love, and consequently dearer to his heart. I canbe but a burden to him now. "

"Hush, hush! would he not chide thee for such words, my Margaret?"returned the countess, soothingly, and in a much lower voice, speakingas she would to a younger sister. "Had he not deemed thee worthy, wouldhe have made thee his? oh, no, believe it not; he is too true, toohonorable for such thought. "

"He loved me, because he saw I loved, " whispered the queen, perceivingthat her companions had left her well-nigh alone with the countess, andfollowing, as was her custom, every impulse of her fond butill-regulated heart. "I had not even strength to conceal that--thattruth which any other would have died rather than reveal. He saw it andhis noble spirit was touched; and he has been all, all, aye, more than Icould have dreamed, to me--so loving and so true. "

"Then why fancy thyself a burden, not a joy to him, sweet friend?"demanded Isabella of Buchan, the rich accents of her voice even softerand sweeter than usual, for there was something in the clingingconfidence of the queen it was impossible not to love. 

"I did not, I could not, for he cherished me so fondly till this suddenrising--this time, when his desperate enterprise demands energy andfirmness, even from the humblest female, how much more from the Bruce'swife! and his manner is not changed towards me, nor his love. I know heloves me, cherishes me, as he ever did; but he must pity my weakness, mywant of nerve; when he compares me to himself, he must look on me withalmost contempt. For now it is, now that clearer than ever his characterstands forth in such glorious majesty, such moderation, such a daringyet self-governed spirit, that I feel how utterly unworthy I am of him, how little capable to give that spirit, that mind the reflection it mustdemand; and when my weak fears prevail, my weak fancies speak only ofdanger and defeat, how can he bear with me? Must I not become, if I amnot now, a burden?"

"No, dearest Margaret, " replied the countess, instantly. "The mind thatcan so well _appreciate_ the virtues of her husband will never permitherself, through weakness and want of nerve, to become a burden to him. Thou hast but to struggle with these imaginary terrors, to endeavor toencourage, instead of to dispirit, and he will love and cherish theeeven more than hadst thou never been unnerved. "

"Let him but be restored to me, and I will do all this. I will makemyself more worthy of his love; but, oh, Isabella, while I speak this, perhaps he is lost to me forever; I may never see his face, never hearthat tone of love again!" and a fresh flood of weeping concluded herwords. 

"Nay, but thou wilt--I know thou wilt, " answered the countess, cheeringly. "Trust me, sweet friend, though defeat may attend him awhile, though he may pass through trial and suffering ere the goal begained, Robert Bruce will eventually deliver his country--will be herking, her savior--will raise her in the scale of nations, to a leveleven with the highest, noblest, most deserving. He is not lost to thee;trial will but prove his worth unto his countrymen even more than wouldsuccess. "

"And how knowest thou these things, my Isabella?" demanded Margaret, looking up in her face, with a half-playful, half-sorrowful smile. "Hastthou the gift of prophecy?"

"Prophecy!" repeated the countess, sadly. "Alas! 'tis but the characterof Robert which hath inspired my brighter vision. Had I the gift ofprophecy, my fond heart would not start and quiver thus, when it vainlystrives to know the fate of my only son. I, too, have anxiety, lady, though it find not words. "

"Thou hast, thou hast, indeed; and yet I, weak, selfish as I am, thinkonly of myself. Stay by me, Isabella; oh, do not leave me, I am strongerby thy side. "

It was growing darker and darker, and the hopes that, ere night fell, new and more trustworthy intelligence of the movements of the fugitiveswould be received were becoming fainter and fainter on every heart. Voices were hushed to silence, or spoke only in whispers. Half an hourpassed thus, when the listless suffering on the lovely face of Agnes wasobserved by Isoline to change to an expression of intense attention. 

"Hearest thou no step?" she said, in a low, piercing whisper, and layinga cold and trembling hand on Isoline's arm. "It is, it is his--it isNigel's; he has not fallen--he is spared!" and she started up, a brightflush on her cheek, her hands pressed convulsively on her heart. 

"Nay, Agnes, there is no sound, 'tis but a fancy, " but even while shespoke, a rapid step was heard along the corridor, and a shadow darkenedthe doorway--but was that Nigel? There was no plume, no proud crest onhis helmet; its vizor was still closely barred, and a surcoat of coarseblack stuff was thrown over his armor, without any decoration to displayor betray the rank of the wearer. A faint cry of alarm broke from thequeen and many of her friends, but with one bound Agnes sprang to theintruder, whose arms were open to receive her, and wildly uttering"Nigel!" fainted on his bosom. 

"And didst thou know me even thus, beloved?" he murmured, rapidlyunclasping his helmet and dashing it from him, to imprint repeatedkisses on her cheek. "Wake, Agnes, best beloved, my own sweet love; whathadst thou heard that thou art thus? Oh, wake, smile, speak to me: 'tisthine own Nigel calls. "

And vainly, till that face smiled again on him in consciousness, wouldthe anxious inmates of that room have sought and received intelligence, had he not been followed by Lord Douglas, Fitz-Alan, and others, theirarmor and rank concealed as was Nigel's, who gave the requiredinformation as eagerly as it was desired. 

"Robert--my king, my husband--where is he--why is he not here?"reiterated Margaret, vainly seeking to distinguish his figure amid theothers, obscured as they were by the rapidly-increasing darkness. "Whyis he not with ye--why is he not here?"

"And he is here, Meg; here to chide thy love as less penetrating, lessable to read disguise or concealment than our gentle Agnes there. Nay, weep not, dearest; my hopes are as strong, my purpose as unchanged, mytrust in heaven as fervent as it was when I went forth to battle. Trialand suffering must be mine a while, I have called it on my own head; butstill, oh, still thy Robert shall deliver Scotland--shall cast aside herchains. "

The deep, manly voice of the king acted like magic on the depressedspirits of those around him; and though there was grief, bitter, bittergrief to tell, though many a heart's last lingering hopes were crushed'neath that fell certainty, which they thought to have pictured duringthe hours of suspense, and deemed themselves strengthened to endure, yetstill 'twas a grief that found vent in tears--grief that admitted ofsoothing, of sympathy--grief time might heal, not the harrowing agony ofgrief half told--hopes rising to be crushed. 

Still did the Countess of Buchan cling to the massive arm of the chairwhich Margaret had left, utterly powerless, wholly incapacitated fromasking the question on which her very life seemed to depend. Not eventhe insensibility of her Agnes had had the power to rouse her from thestupor of anxiety which had spread over her, sharpening every facultyand feeling indeed, but rooting her to the spot. Her boy, her Alan, hewas not amongst those warriors; she heard not the beloved accents of hisvoice; she saw not his boyish form--darkness could not deceive her. Disguise would not prevent him, were he amongst his companions, fromseeking her embrace. One word would end that anguish, would speak theworst, end it--had he fallen!

The king looked round the group anxiously and inquiringly. 

"The Countess of Buchan?" he said; "where is our noble friend? shesurely hath a voice to welcome her king, even though he return to herdefeated. "

"Sire, I am here, " she said, but with difficulty; and Robert, as if heunderstood it, could read all she was enduring, hastened towards her, and took both her cold hands in his. 

"I give thee joy, " he said, in accents that reassured her on theinstant. "Nobly, gallantly, hath thy patriot boy proved himself thy son;well and faithfully hath he won his spurs, and raised the honor of hismother's olden line. He bade me greet thee with all loving duty, and sayhe did but regret his wounds that they prevented his attending me, andthrowing himself at his mother's feet. "

"He is wounded, then, my liege?" Robert felt her hands tremble in hishold. 

"It were cruel to deceive thee, lady--desperately but not dangerouslywounded. On the honor of a true knight, there is naught to alarm, thoughsomething, perchance, to regret; for he pines and grieves that it may beyet a while ere he recover sufficient strength to don his armor. It isnot loss of blood, but far more exhaustion, from the superhumanexertions that he made. Edward and Alexander are with him; the one afaithful guard, in himself a host, the other no unskilful leech: trustme, noble lady, there is naught to fear. "

He spoke, evidently to give her time to recover the sudden revulsion offeeling which his penetrating eye discovered had nearly overpowered her, and he succeeded; ere he ceased, that quivering of frame and lip hadpassed, and Isabella of Buchan again stood calm and firm, enabled toinquire all particulars of her child, and then join in the council heldas to the best plan to be adopted with regard to the safety of the queenand her companions. 

In Scone, it was evident, they could not remain, for already the townsand villages around, which had all declared for the Bruce, were hurryingin the greatest terror to humble themselves before Pembroke, and entreathis interference in their favor with his sovereign. There was littlehope, even if Scone remained faithful to his interests, that she wouldbe enabled to defend herself from the attacks of the English; and itwould be equally certain, that if the wife of Bruce, and the wives anddaughters of so many of his loyal followers remained within her walls, to obtain possession of their persons would become Pembroke's firstobject. It remained to decide whether they would accompany theirsovereign to his mountain fastnesses and expose themselves to all theprivations and hardships which would inevitably attend a wanderinglife, or that they should depart under a safe escort to Norway, whosemonarch was friendly to the interests of Scotland. This latter schemethe king very strongly advised, representing in vivid colors the miserythey might have to endure if they adhered to him; the continual dangerof their falling into the hands of Edward, and even could they eludethis, how was it possible their delicate frames, accustomed as they wereto luxury and repose, could sustain the rude fare, the roofless homes, the continued wandering amid the crags and floods and deserts of themountains. He spoke eloquently and feelingly, and there was a briefsilence when he concluded. Margaret had thrown her arms round herhusband, and buried her face on his bosom; her child clung to herfather's knee, and laid her soft cheek caressingly by his. Isabella ofBuchan, standing a little aloof, remained silent indeed, but no one whogazed on her could doubt her determination or believe she wavered. Agneswas standing in the same recess she had formerly occupied, but howdifferent was the expression of her features. The arm of Nigel wastwined round her, his head bent down to hers in deep and earnestcommune; he was pleading against his own will and feelings it seemed, and though he strove to answer every argument, to persuade her it wasfar better she should seek safety in a foreign land, her determinationmore firmly expressed than could have been supposed from her yieldingdisposition, to abide with him, in weal or in woe, to share hiswanderings, his home, be it roofless on the mountain, or within palacewalls; that she was a Highland girl, accustomed to mountain paths andwoody glens, nerved to hardship and toil--this determination, we say, contrary as it was to his eloquent pleadings, certainly afforded Nigelno pain, and might his beaming features be taken as reply, it wasfraught with unmingled pleasure. In a much shorter time than we havetaken to describe this, however, the queen had raised her head, andlooking up in her husband's face with an expression of devotedness, which gave her countenance a charm it had never had before, ferventlyexclaimed--

"Robert, come woe or weal, I will abide with thee; her husband's side isthe best protection for a wife; and if wandering and suffering be hisportion, who will soothe and cheer as the wife of his love? My spirit isbut cowardly, my will but weak; but by thee I may gain the strengthwhich in foreign lands could never be my own. Imaginary terrors, fanciedhorrors would be worse, oh, how much worse than reality! and when we metagain I should be still less worthy of thy love. No, Robert, no! urge menot, plead to me no more. My friends may do as they will, but Margaretabides with thee. "

"And who is there will pause, will hesitate, when their queen hathspoken thus?" continued the Countess of Buchan in a tone that toMargaret's ear whispered approval and encouragement. "Surely, there isnone here whose love for their country is so weak, their loyalty totheir sovereign of such little worth, that at the first defeat, thefirst disappointment, they would fly over seas for safety, andcontentedly leave the graves of their fathers, the hearths of theirancestors, the homes of their childhood to be desecrated by the chainsof a foreign tyrant, by the footsteps of his hirelings? Oh, do not letus waver! Let us prove that though the arm of woman is weaker than thatof man, her spirit is as firm, her heart as true; and that privation, and suffering, and hardship encountered amid the mountains of our land, the natural fastnesses of Scotland, in company with our rightful king, our husbands, our children--all, all, aye, death itself, were preferableto exile and separation. 'Tis woman's part to gild, to bless, and make ahome, and still, still we may do this, though our ancestral homes be inthe hands of Edward. Scotland has still her sheltering breast for allher children; and shall we desert her now?"

"No, no, no!" echoed from every side, enthusiasm kindling with herwords. "Better privation and danger in Scotland, than safety and comfortelsewhere. "

Nor was this the mere decision of the moment, founded on its enthusiasm. The next morning found them equally firm, equally determined; even theweak and timid Margaret rose in that hour of trial superior to herself, and preparations were rapidly made for their departure. Nor were theprelates of Scotland, who had remained at Scone during the king'sengagement, backward in encouraging and blessing their decision. Hisduties prevented the Abbot of Scone accompanying them; but it was withdeep regret he remained behind, not from any fear of the English, for awarrior spirit lurked beneath those episcopal robes, but from his deepreverence for the enterprise, and love for the person of King Robert. Heacceded to the necessity of remaining in his abbey with the bettergrace, as he fondly hoped to preserve the citizens in the good faith andloyalty they had so nobly demonstrated. The Archbishop of St. Andrew'sand the Bishop of Glasgow determined on following their sovereign to thedeath; and the spirit of Robert, wounded as it had been, felt healed andsoothed, and inspired afresh, as the consciousness of his power oversome true and faithful hearts, of every grade and rank of either sex, became yet more strongly proved in this hour of depression. He ceased tospeak of seeking refuge for his fair companions in another land, theirdetermination to abide with him, and their husbands and sons, was tooheartfelt, too unwavering, to allow of a hope to change it; and he wellknew that their presence, instead of increasing the cares and anxietiesof his followers, would rather lessen, them, by shedding a spirit ofchivalry even over the weary wanderings he knew must be their portionfor a while, by gilding with the light of happier days the hours ofdarkness that might surround them. 

CHAPTER XII. 

The queen and her companions were conveyed in detachments from thepalace and town of Scone, the Bruce believing, with justice, they wouldthus attract less notice, and be better able to reach the mountains insafety. The Countess of Buchan, her friend Lady Mary, Agnes, andIsoline, attended by Sir Nigel, were the first to depart, for though shespoke it not, deep anxiety was on the mother's heart for the fate of herboy. They mostly left Scone at different hours of the night; and thesecond day from the king's arrival, the palace was untenanted, all signsof the gallant court, which for a brief space had shed such lustre, suchrays of hope on the old town, were gone, and sorrowfully anddispiritedly the burghers and citizens went about their severaloccupations, for their hearts yet throbbed in loyalty and patriotism, though hope they deemed was wholly at an end. Still they burned withindignation at every intelligence of new desertions to Edward, andthough the power of Pembroke compelled them to bend unwillingly to theyoke, it was as a bow too tightly strung, which would snap rather thanuse its strength in the cause of Edward. 

A few weeks' good nursing from his mother and sister, attended as it wasby the kindness and warm friendship of the sovereign he adored, and theconstant care of Nigel, speedily restored the heir of Buchan, if notentirely to his usual strength, at least with sufficient to enable himto accompany the royal wanderers wherever they pitched their tent, andby degrees join in the adventurous excursions of his young companions tosupply them with provender, for on success in hunting entirely dependedtheir subsistence. 

It was in itself a strange romance, the life they led. Frequently theblue sky was their only covering, the purple heath their only bed; norwould the king fare better than his followers. Eagerly, indeed, theyoung men ever exerted themselves to form tents or booths of brushwood, branches of trees, curiously and tastefully interwoven with the wildflowers that so luxuriantly adorned the rocks, for the accommodation ofthe faithful companions who preferred this precarious existence withthem, to comfort, safety, and luxury in a foreign land. Nature, indeed, lavishly supplied them with beautiful materials, and where the will wasgood, exertion proved but a new enjoyment. Couches and cushions of thesoftest moss formed alike seats and places of repose; by degrees almosta village of these primitive dwellings would start into being, in thecentre of some wild rocks, which formed natural barriers around them, watered, perhaps, by some pleasant brook rippling and gushing by inwild, yet soothing music, gemmed by its varied flowers. 

Here would be the rendezvous for some few weeks; here would Margaret andher companions rest a while from their fatiguing wanderings; and couldthey have thought but of the present, they would have been completelyhappy. Here would their faithful knights return laden with the spoils ofthe chase, or with some gay tale of danger dared, encountered, andconquered; here would the song send its full tone amid the respondingechoes. The harp and muse of Nigel gave a refinement and delicacy tothese meetings, marking them, indeed, the days of chivalry and poetry. Even Edward Bruce, the stern, harsh, dark, passioned warrior, even hefelt the magic of the hour, and now that the courage of Nigel had beenproved, gave willing ear, and would be among the first to bid him wakehis harp, and soothe the troubled visions of the hour; and Robert, whosaw so much of his own soul reflected in his young brother, mingled asit was with yet more impassioned fervor, more beautiful, more endearingqualities, for Nigel had needed not trial to purify his soul, and markhim out a patriot. Robert, in very truth, loved him, and often wouldshare with him his midnight couch, his nightly watchings, that he mightconfide to that young heart the despondency, the hopelessness, that tonone other might be spoken, none other might suspect--the secret fearthat his crime would be visited on his unhappy country, and he forbiddento secure her freedom even by the sacrifice of his life. 

"If it be so, it must be so; then be thou her savior, her deliverer, myNigel, " he would often urge; "droop not because I may have departed;struggle on, do as thy soul prompts, and success will, nay, must attendthee; for thou art pure and spotless, and well deserving of all theglory, the blessedness, that will attend the sovereign of our countryfreed from chains; thou art, in truth, deserving of all this, but I--"

"Peace, peace, my brother!" would be Nigel's answer; "thou, only thoushalt deliver our country, shall be her free, her patriot king! Have wenot often marked the glorious sun struggling with the black masses ofclouds which surround and obscure his rising, struggling, and in vain, to penetrate their murky folds, and deluge the world with light, shininga brief moment, and then immersed in darkness, until, as he nears thewestern horizon, the heaviest clouds flee before him, the spotless azurespreadeth its beautiful expanse, the brilliant rays dart on every side, warming and cheering the whole earth with reviving beams, and finallysinking to his rest in a flood of splendor, more dazzling, more imposingthan ever attends his departure when his dawn hath been one of joy. Suchis thy career, my brother; such will be thy glorious fate. Oh, droop noteven to me--to thyself! Hope on, strive on, and thou shalt succeed!"

"Would I had thy hopeful spirit, my Nigel, an it pictured and believedthings as these!" mournfully would the Bruce reply, and clasp the youngwarrior to his heart; but it was only Nigel's ear that heard thesewhispers of despondency, only Nigel's eye which could penetrate theinmost folds of that royal heart. Not even to his wife--his Margaret, whose faithfulness in these hours of adversity had drawn her yet closerto her husband--did he breathe aught save encouragement and hope; and tohis followers he was the same as he had been from the first, resolute, unwavering; triumphing over every obstacle; cheering the faint-hearted;encouraging the desponding; smiling with his young followers, ever onthe alert to provide amusement for them, to approve, guide, instruct;gallantly and kindly to smooth the path for his female companions, joining in every accommodation for them, even giving his manual laborwith the lowest of his followers, if his aid would lessen fatigue, ormore quickly enhance comfort. And often and often in the littleencampment we have described, when night fell, and warrior and damewould assemble, in various picturesque groups, on the grassy mound, theking, seated in the midst of them, would read aloud, and divert even themost wearied frame and careworn mind by the stirring scenes andchivalric feelings his MSS. Recorded. The talent of decipheringmanuscripts, indeed of reading any thing, was one seldom attained oreven sought for in the age of which we treat; the sword and spear werealike the recreation and the business of the nobles. Reading and writingwere in general confined to monks, and the other clergy; but Robert, even as his brother Nigel, possessed both these accomplishments, although to the former their value never seemed so fully known as in hiswanderings. His readings were diversified by rude narratives or tales, which he demanded in return from his companions, and many a hearty laughwould resound from the woodland glades, at the characteristic humor withwhich these demands were complied with: the dance, too, would diversifythese meetings. A night of repose might perhaps succeed, to be disturbedat its close by a cause for alarm, and those pleasant resting-placesmust be abandoned, the happy party be divided, and scattered far andwide, to encounter fatigue, danger, perchance even death, ere they metagain. 

Yet still they drooped not, murmured not. No voice was ever heard towish the king's advice had been taken, and they had sought refuge inNorway. Not even Margaret breathed one sigh, dropped one tear, in herhusband's presence, although many were the times that she would havesunk from exhaustion, had not Isabella of Buchan been near as herguardian angel to revive, encourage, infuse a portion of her own spiritin the weaker heart, which so confidingly clung to her. The youngestand most timid maiden, the oldest and most ailing man, still maintainedthe same patriotic spirit and resolute devotion which had upheld them atfirst. "The Bruce and Scotland" were the words imprinted on their souls, endowed with a power to awake the sinking heart, and rouse the faintingframe. 

To Agnes and Nigel, it was shrewdly suspected, these wanderings in thecentre of magnificent nature, their hearts open to each other, revellingin the scenes around them, were seasons of unalloyed enjoyment, happiness more perfect than the state and restraint of a court. Precarious, indeed, it was, but even in moments of danger they were notparted; for Nigel was ever the escort of the Countess of Buchan, anddanger by his side lost half its terror to Agnes. He left her side butto return to it covered with laurels, unharmed, uninjured, even in themidst of foes; and so frequently did this occur, that the fond, confiding spirit of the young Agnes folded itself around the belief thathe bore a charmed life; that evil and death could not injure one sofaultless and beloved. Their love grew stronger with each passing week;for nature, beautiful nature, is surely the field of that interchange ofthought, for that silent commune of soul so dear to those that love. Thesimplest flower, the gushing brooks, the frowning hills, the varied huesattending the rising and the setting of the sun, all were turned topoetry when the lips of Nigel spoke to the ears of love. The mind ofAgnes expanded before these rich communings. She was so young, soguileless, her character moulded itself on his. She learned yet more tocomprehend, to appreciate the nobility of his soul, to cling yet closerto him, as the consciousness of the rich treasure she possessed in hislove became more and more unfolded to her view. The natural fearfulnessof her disposition gave way, and the firmness, the enthusiasm ofpurpose, took possession of her heart, secretly and silently, indeed;for to all, save to herself, she was the same gentle, timid, clinginggirl that she had ever been. 

So passed the summer months; but as winter approached, and the prospectsof the king remained as apparently hopeless and gloomy as they were onhis first taking refuge in the mountains, it was soon pretty evidentthat some other plan must be resorted to; for strong as the resolutionmight be, the delicate frames of his female companions, alreadysuffering from the privations to which they had been exposed, could notsustain the intense cold and heavy snows peculiar to the mountainregion. Gallantly as the king had borne himself in every encounter withthe English and Anglo-Scots, sustaining with unexampled heroism repeateddefeats and blighted hopes, driven from one mountainous district by thefierce opposition of its inhabitants, from another by a cessation ofsupplies, till famine absolutely threatened, closely followed by itsgrim attendant, disease, all his efforts to collect and inspire hiscountrymen with his own spirit, his own hope, were utterly and entirelyfruitless, for his enemies appeared to increase around him, the autumnfound him as far, if not further, from the successful termination of hisdesires than he had been at first. 

All Scotland lay at the feet of his foe. John of Lorn, maternallyrelated to the slain Red Comyn, had collected his forces to the numberof a thousand, and effectually blockaded his progress through thedistrict of Breadalbane, to which he had retreated from a superior bodyof English, driving him to a narrow pass in the mountains, where theBruce's cavalry had no power to be of service; and had it not been forthe king's extraordinary exertions in guarding the rear, and therechecking the desperate fury of the assailants, and interrupting theirheadlong pursuit of the fugitives, by a strength, activity, andprudence, that in these days would seem incredible, the patriots musthave been cut off to a man. Here it was that the family of Lorn obtainedpossession of that brooch of Bruce, which even to this day is preservedas a relic, and lauded as a triumph, proving how nearly their redoubtedenemy had fallen into their hands. Similar struggles had marked hisprogress through the mountains ever since the defeat of Methven; butvain was every effort of his foes to obtain possession of his person, destroy his energy, and thus frustrate his purpose. Perth, Inverness, Argyle, and Aberdeen had alternately been the scene of his wanderings. The middle of autumn found him with about a hundred followers, amongstwhom were the Countess of Buchan and her son, amid the mountains whichdivide Kincardine from the southwest boundary of Aberdeen. The remainderof his officers and men, divided into small bands, each with some oftheir female companions under their especial charge, were scattered overthe different districts, as better adapted to concealment and rest. 

It was that part of the year when day gives place to night so suddenly, that the sober calm of twilight even appears denied to us. The streamsrushed by, turbid and swollen from the heavy autumnal rains. A rude windhad robbed most of the trees of their foliage; the sere and witheredleaves, indeed, yet remained on the boughs, beautiful even in, theirdecay, but the slightest breath would carry them away from theirresting-places, and the mountain passes were incumbered, and oftenslippery from the fallen leaves. The mountains looked frowning and bare, the pine and fir bent and rocked in their craggy cradles, and the windmoaned through their dark branches sadly and painfully. The sun had, indeed, shone fitfully through the day, but still the scene was one ofmelancholy desolation, and the heart of the Countess of Buchan, bold andfirm in general, could not successfully resist the influence of Nature'ssadness. She sat comparatively alone; a covering had, indeed, beenthrown over some thick poles, which interwove with brushwood, and with aseat and couch of heather, which was still in flower, formed a rudetent, and was destined for her repose; but until night's dark mantle wasfully unfurled, she had preferred the natural seat of a jutting crag, sheltered from the wind by an overhanging rock and some spreading firs. Her companions were scattered in different directions in search of food, as was their wont. Some ten or fifteen men had been left with her, andthey were dispersed about the mountain collecting firewood, and a supplyof heath and moss for the night encampment; within hail, indeed, butscarcely within sight, for the space where the countess sate commandedlittle more than protruding crags and stunted trees, and mountainslifting their dark, bare brows to the starless sky. 

It was not fear which had usurped dominion in the Lady Isabella's heart, it was that heavy, sluggish, indefinable weight which sometimes clogsthe spirit we know not wherefore, until some event following quick uponit forces us, even against our will, to believe it the overhangingshadow of the future which had darkened the present. She was sad, verysad, yet she could not, as was ever her custom, bring that sadness tojudgment, and impartially examining and determining its cause, remove itif possible, or banish it resolutely from her thoughts. 

An impulse indefinable, yet impossible to be resisted, had caused her tointrust her Agnes to the care of Lady Mary and Nigel, and compelled herto follow her son, who had been the chosen companion of the king. Rigidly, sternly, she had questioned her own heart as to the motives ofthis decision. It was nothing new her accompanying her son, for she hadinvariably done so; but it was something unusual her being separatedfrom the queen, and though her heart told her that her motives were soupright, so pure, they could have borne the sternest scrutiny, there wasnaught which the most rigid mentor could condemn, yet a feeling thatevil would come of this was amongst the many others which weighed on herheart. She could not tell wherefore, yet she wished it had beenotherwise, wished the honor of being selected as the king's companionhad fallen on other than her son, for separate herself from him shecould not. One cause of this despondency might have been traced to thenatural sinking of the spirit when it finds itself alone, with time forits own fancies, after a long period of exertion, and that mentalexcitement which, unseen to all outward observers, preys upon itself. Memory had awakened dreams and visions she had long looked upon as dead;it did but picture brightly, beautifully, joyously what might have been, and disturbed the tranquil sadness which was usual to her now; disturbit as with phantasmagoria dancing on the brain, yet it was a strugglehard and fierce to banish them again. As one sweet fancy sunk anotherrose, even as gleams of moonlight on the waves which rise and fall withevery breeze. Fancy and reason strove for dominion, but the latterconquered. What could be now the past, save as a vision of the night;the present, a stern reality with all its duties--duties not alone toothers, but to herself. These were the things on which her thoughts mustdwell; these must banish all which might have been and they did; andIsabella of Buchan came through that fiery ordeal unscathed, uninjuredin her self-esteem, conscious that not in one thought did she wrong herhusband, in not one dream did she wrong the gentle heart of the queenwhich so clung to her; in not the wildest flight of fancy did she lookon Robert as aught save as the deliverer of his country, the king of alltrue Scottish men. 

She rose up from that weakness of suffering, strengthened in her resolveto use every energy in the queen's service in supporting, encouraging, endeavoring so to work on her appreciation of her husband's character, as to render her yet more worthy of his love. She had ever sought toremain beside the queen, ever contrived they should be of the sameparty; that her mind was ever on the stretch, on the excitement, couldnot be denied, but she knew not how great its extent till the call forexertion was comparatively over, and she found herself, she scarcelyunderstood how, the only female companion of her sovereign, thesituation she had most dreaded, most determined to avoid. While engagedin the performance of her arduous task, the schooling her own heart anddevoting herself to Robert's wife, virtue seemed to have had its ownreward, for a new spirit had entwined her whole being--excitement, internal as it was, had given a glow to thought and action; but in herpresent solitude the reaction of spirit fell upon her as a dull, sluggish weight of lead. She had suffered, too, from both privation andfatigue, and she was aware her strength was failing, and this perhapswas another cause of her depression; but be that as it may, darknessclosed round her unobserved, and when startled by some sudden sound, sheraised her head from her hands, she could scarcely discern one objectfrom another in the density of gloom. "Surely night has come suddenlyupon us, " she said, half aloud; "it is strange they have not yetreturned, " and rising, she was about seeking the tent prepared for her, when a rude grasp was laid on her arm, and a harsh, unknown voiceuttered, in suppressed accents--

"Not so fast, fair mistress, not so fast! My way does not lie in thatdirection, and, with your leave, my way is yours. "

"How, man! fellow, detain me at your peril!" answered the countess, sternly, permitting no trace of terror to falter in her voice, althougha drawn sword gleamed by her side, and a gigantic form fully armed hadgrasped her arm. "Unhand me, or I will summon those that will forcethee. I am not alone, and bethink thee, insult to me will pass not withimpunity. "

The man laughed scornfully. "Boldly answered, fair one, " he said; "of atruth thou art a brave one. I grieve such an office should descend uponme as the detention of so stout a heart; yet even so. In King Edward'sname, you are my prisoner. "

"Your prisoner, and wherefore?" demanded the countess believing thatcalmness would be a better protection than any symptoms of fear. "Youare mistaken, good friend, I knew not Edward warred with women. "

"Prove my mistake, fair mistress, and I will crave your pardon, " repliedthe man, "We have certain intelligence that a party of Scottish rebels, their quondam king perhaps among them, are hidden in these mountains. Give us trusty news of their movements, show us their track, and Edwardwill hold you in high favor, and grant liberty and rich presents inexcuse of his servant's too great vigilance. Hearest thou, what is thetrack of these rebels--what their movements?"

"Thou art a sorry fool, Murdock, " retorted another voice, ere thecountess could reply, and hastily glancing around, she beheld herselfsurrounded by armed men; "a sorry fool, an thou wastest the preciousdarkness thus. Is not one rank rebel sufficient, think you, to satisfyour lord? he will get intelligence enough out of her, be sure. Isabellaof Buchan is not fool enough to hold parley with such as we, rely on't. "

A suppressed exclamation of exultation answered the utterance of thatname, and without further parley the arms of the countess were stronglypinioned, and with the quickness of thought the man who had first spokenraised her in his arms, and bore her through the thickest brushwood andwildest crags in quite the contrary direction to the encampment; theirmovements accelerated by the fact that, ere her arms were confined, thecountess, with admirable presence of mind, had raised to her lips asilver whistle attached to her girdle, and blown a shrill, distinctblast. A moment sufficed to rudely tear it from her hand, and hurry heroff as we have said; and when that call was answered, which it was assoon as the men scattered on the mountain sufficiently recognized thesound, they flung down their tools and sprung to the side whence itcame, but there was no sign, no trace of her they sought; they scouredwith lighted torches every mossy path or craggy slope, but in vain;places of concealment were too numerous, the darkness too intense, savejust the space illumined by the torch, to permit success. The tramplingof horses announced the return of the king and his companions, ere theirsearch was concluded; his bugle summoned the stragglers, and speedilythe loss of the countess was ascertained, their fruitless searchnarrated, and anxiety and alarm spread over the minds of all. The agonyof the youthful Alan surpassed description, even the efforts of hissovereign failed to calm him. Nor was the Bruce himself much lessagitated. 

"She did wrong, she did wrong, " he said, "to leave herself so longunguarded; yet who was there to commit this outrage? There is sometreachery here, which we must sift; we must not leave our noblecountrywoman in the hands of these marauders. Trust me, Alan, we shallrecover her yet. "

But the night promised ill for the fulfilment of this trust. Many hourspassed in an utterly fruitless search, and about one hour beforemidnight a thick fog increased the dense gloom, and even prevented allassistance from the torches, for not ten yards before them wasdistinguishable. Dispirited and disappointed, the king and hiscompanions threw themselves around the watchfires, in gloomy meditation, starting at the smallest sound, and determined to renew their searchwith the first gleam of dawn; the hurried pace of Alan, as he strode upand down, for he could not rest, alone disturbing the stillness allaround. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

It was already two hours after midnight when a hurried tread, distinctfrom Alan's restless pacing, disturbed the watchers, and occasioned manyto raise themselves on their elbows and listen. 

It came nearer and nearer, and very soon a young lad, recognized as SirAlan's page, was discerned, springing from crag to crag in breathlesshaste, and finally threw himself at his sovereign's feet. 

"It is not too late--up, up, and save her!" were the only words he hadpower to gasp, panting painfully for the breath of which speed haddeprived him. His hair and dress were heavy with the damp occasioned bythe fog, and his whole appearance denoting no common agitation. 

"Where?" "How?" "What knowest thou?" "Speak out. " "What ailest thee, boy?" were the eager words uttered at once by all, and the king andothers sprung to their feet, while Alan laid a heavy hand on the boy'sshoulder, and glared on him in silence; the lad's glance fell beneathhis, and he sobbed forth--

"Mercy, mercy! my thoughtlessness has done this, yet I guessed not, dreamed not this ill would follow. But oh, do not wait for my tale now;up, up, and save her ere it be too late!"

"And how may we trust thee now, an this is the effect of formertreachery?" demanded Robert, with a sternness that seemed to awe theterrified boy into composure. 

"I am not treacherous, sire. No, no! I would have exposed my throat toyour grace's sword rather than do a traitor's deed: trust me, oh, trustme, and follow without delay!"

"Speak first, and clearly, " answered Alan, fiercely; "even for mymother's sake the sacred person of the King of Scotland shall not berisked by a craven's word. Speak, an thou wouldst bid me trustthee--speak, I charge thee. "

"He is right--he is right; let him explain this mystery ere we follow, "echoed round; and thus urged, the boy's tale was hurriedly told. 

It was simply this. Some days previous, when wandering alone about therocks, he had met a woodman, whom he recognized as one of the retainersof Buchan, and, as such, believed him as loyal and faithful to KingRobert's interest as himself and others in the countess's train. The manhad artfully evaded all young Malcolm's expression of astonishment andinquiries as to why Donald MacAlpine, whom he well knew to be one of thestoutest and most sturdy men-at-arms which the clan possessed, shouldhave taken to so peaceful an employment as cutting wood, and skilfullydrew from the boy much information concerning the movements of the partyto whom he belonged. Malcolm freely spoke of Sir Alan and the Countessof Buchan, dilating with no little pleasure on his young master havingreceived knighthood at the hand of his king, and all the honors anddelights which accompanied it. Aware, however, of the dangers whichenvironed the Bruce, he spoke of him more cautiously, and the moreDonald sought to discover if the king were near at hand, the morecarefully did Malcolm conceal that he was, telling the woodman if hewished to know all particulars, he had better turn his sickle into aspear, his cap into a helmet, and strike a good blow for Scotland andKing Robert. This the man refused to do, alleging he loved his ownsturdy person and independent freedom too well to run his neck into sucha noose; that King Robert might do very well for a while, but eventuallyhe must fall into King Edward's hands. Malcolm angrily denied this, andthey parted, not the best friends imaginable. On reviewing all that hadpassed, the boy reproached himself incessantly for having said too much, and was continually tormented by an indefinable fear that some evilwould follow. This fear kept him by the side of the countess, insteadof, as was his wont, following Sir Alan to the chase. The increasingdarkness had concealed her from him, but he was the first to distinguishher whistle. He had reached the spot time enough to recognize thesupposed woodman in the second speaker, and to feel with painfulacuteness his boyish thoughtlessness had brought this evil on amistress, to serve whom he would willingly have laid down his life. Resistance he knew, on his part, was utterly useless, and therefore hedetermined to follow their track, and thus bring accurate intelligenceto the king. The minds of the men preoccupied by the thought of theirdistinguished prisoner, and the thickening gloom, aided his resolution. Happening to have a quantity of thick flax in his pocket, the boy, withadmirable foresight, fastened it to different shrubs and stones as hepassed, and thus secured his safe return; a precaution very necessary, as from the windings and declivities, and in parts well-nigh impregnablehollows, into which he followed the men, his return in time would havebeen utterly frustrated. 

The gathering mist had occasioned a halt, and a consultation as towhether they could reach the encampment to which they belonged, orwhether it would not be better to halt till dawn. They had decided infavor of the latter, fearing, did they continue marching, they mightlose their track, and perhaps fall in with the foe. He had waited, hesaid, till he saw them making such evident preparations for a halt ofsome hours, that he felt certain they would not remove till daylight. Itwas a difficult and precarious path, he said, yet he was quite sure hecould lead fifteen or twenty men easily to the spot, and, taken bysurprise, nothing would prevent the recovery of the countess: less thantwo hours would take them there. 

This tale was told in less time than we have taken to transcribe it, andnot twenty minutes after Malcolm's first appearance, the king and SirAlan, with fifteen tried followers, departed on their expedition. Therehad been some attempt to dissuade the king from venturing his own personwhere further treachery might yet lurk, but the attempt was vain. 

"She has perilled her life for me, " was his sole answer, "and were thereany real peril, mine would be hazarded for her; but there is none--'tisbut a child's work we are about to do, not even glory enough to call forenvy. "

The fog had sufficiently cleared to permit of their distinguishing theroute marked out by Malcolm, but not enough to betray their advance, even had there been scouts set to watch the pass. Not a word passedbetween them. Rapidly, stealthily they advanced, and about three in themorning stood within sight of their foes, though still unseenthemselves. There was little appearance of caution: two large fires hadbeen kindled, round one of which ten or twelve men were stretched theirfull length, still armed indeed, and their hands clasping theirunsheathed swords, but their senses fast locked in slumber. Near theother, her arms and feet pinioned, Alan, with a heart beating almostaudibly with indignation, recognized his mother. Two men, armed withclubs, walked up and down beside her, and seven others were grouped invarious attitudes at her feet, most of them fast asleep. It was evidentthat they had no idea of surprise, and that their only fear wasassociated with the escape of their prisoner. 

"They are little more than man to man, " said the Bruce; "therefore isthere no need for further surprise than will attend the blast of yourbugle, Sir Alan. Sound the reveillé, and on to the rescue. "

He was obeyed, and the slumberers, with suppressed oaths, started totheir feet, glancing around them a brief minute in inquiringastonishment as to whence the sound came. It was speedily explained: manafter man sprang through the thicket, and rushed upon the foes, severalof whom, gathering themselves around their prisoner, seemed determinedthat her liberty should not be attained with her life, more than oncecausing the swords of the Bruce's followers to turn aside in their rapiddescent, less they should injure her they sought to save. Like a younglion Alan fought, ably seconded by the king, whose gigantic effortsclearing his path, at length enabled himself and Alan to stand uninjuredbeside the countess, and thus obtain possession of her person, and guardher from the injury to which her captors voluntarily exposed her. Therewas at first no attempt at flight, although the Bruce's men carried allbefore them; the men fell where they stood, till only five remained, and these, after a moment's hesitation, turned and fled. A shrill cryfrom Malcolm had turned the king's and Alan's attention in anotherdirection, and it was well they did so. Determined on foiling theefforts of his foes, Donald MacAlpine, who was supposed to be among thefallen, had stealthily approached the spot where the countess, overcomewith excessive faintness, still reclined, then noiselessly rising, hissword was descending on her unguarded head, when Alan, aroused byMalcolm's voice, turned upon him and dashed his weapon from his grasp, at the same minute that the Bruce's sword pierced the traitor's heart:he sprung in the air with a loud yell of agony, and fell, nearlycrushing the countess with his weight. 

It was the voice of Alan which aroused that fainting heart. It was inthe bosom of her son those tearful eyes were hid, after one startled andbewildered gaze on the countenance of her sovereign, who had beenleaning over her in unfeigned anxiety. A thicket of thorn, mingled withcrags, divided her from the unseemly signs of the late affray; butthough there was naught to renew alarm, it was with a cold shudder shehad clung to her son, as if even her firm, bold spirit had given way. Gently, cheeringly the king addressed her, and she evidently struggledto regain composure; but her powers of body were evidently soprostrated, that her friends felt rest of some kind she must have, ereshe could regain sufficient strength to accompany them on theirwanderings. She had received three or four wounds in the mêlée, whichthough slight, the loss of blood that had followed materially increasedher weakness, and the king anxiously summoned his friends around him todeliberate on the best measures to pursue. 

Amongst them were two of Sir Alan's retainers, old and faithful Scottishmen, coeval with his grandfather, the late Earl of Buchan. Devoted aliketo the countess, the king, and their country, they eagerly listened toall that was passing, declaring that rather than leave the Lady Isabellain a situation of such danger as the present, they would take it byturns to carry her in their arms to the encampment. The king listenedwith a benevolent smile. 

"Is there no hut or house, or hunting-lodge to which we could conveyyour lady, " he asked, "where she might find quieter shelter and greaterrest than hitherto? An ye knew of such, it would be the wiser plan toseek it at break of day. "

A hunting-lodge, belonging to the Earls of Buchan, there was, or oughtto be, the old men said, near the head of the Tay, just at the entranceof Athol Forest. It had not been used since their old master's days; hehad been very partial to it when a boy, and was continually there; ithad most likely fallen into decay from disuse, as they believed thepresent earl did not even know of its existence, but that was all thebetter, as it would be a still more safe and secure retreat for thecountess, and they were sure, when once out of the hollows andintricacies of their present halting-place, they could easily discoverthe path to it. 

And how long did they think it would be, the king inquired, before theirlady could be taken to it? the sooner, they must perceive as well ashimself, the better for her comfort. He was relieved when they declaredthat two days, or at the very utmost three, would bring them there, if, as the old men earnestly entreated he would, they retraced their stepsto the encampment as soon as daylight was sufficiently strong for themclearly to distinguish their path. This was unanimously resolved on, andthe few intervening hours were spent by the countess in calm repose. 

Conscious that filial affection watched over her, the sleep of thecountess tranquillized her sufficiently to commence the return to theencampment with less painful evidences of exhaustion. A rude litterwaited for her, in which she could recline when the pass allowed itssafe passage, and which could be easily borne by the bearers when theintricacies of the path prevented all egress save by pedestrianism. Ithad been hurriedly made by her devoted adherents, and soothed andgratified, her usual energy seemed for the moment to return. By nineo'clock forenoon all traces of the Bruce and his party had departed fromthe glen, the last gleam of their armor was lost in the winding path, and then it was that a man, who had lain concealed in a thicket from themoment of the affray, hearing all that had passed, unseen himself, nowslowly, cautiously raised himself on his knees, gazed carefully roundhim, then with a quicker but as silent motion sprung to his feet, andraised his hands in an action of triumph. 

"_He is_ amongst them, then, " he muttered, "the traitor Bruce himself. This is well. The countess, her son, find the would-be king--ha! ha! Myfortune's made!" and he bounded away in quite a contrary direction tothat taken by the Bruce. 

The old retainers of Buchan were correct in their surmises. The eveningof the second day succeeding the event we have narrated brought them tothe hunting-lodge. It was indeed very old, and parts had fallen almostto ruins, but there were still three or four rooms remaining, whosecompact walls and well-closed roofs rendered them a warm and welcomerefuge for the Countess of Buchan, whose strenuous exertions the twopreceding days had ended, as was expected, by exhaustion more painfuland overpowering than before. 

The exertions of her friends--for the Bruce and his followers with oneconsent had permitted their wanderings to be guided by the oldmen--speedily rendered the apartments habitable. Large fires were soonblazing on the spacious hearths, and ere night fell, all appearance ofdamp and discomfort had vanished. The frugal supper was that night ajovial meal; the very look of a cheerful blaze beneath a walled roof wasreviving to the wanderers; the jest passed round, the wine-cup sparkledto the health of the countess, and many a fervent aspiration echoedround for the speedy restoration of her strength; for truly she was thebeloved, the venerated of all, alike from her sovereign to his lowestfollower. 

"Trust my experience, my young knight, " had been the Bruce's address toAlan ere they parted for the night. "A few days' complete repose willquite restore your valued parent and my most honored friend. Thishunting-lodge shall be our place of rendezvous for a time, till she issufficiently restored to accompany us southward. You are satisfied, areyou not, with the diligence of our scouts?"

"Perfectly, your highness, " was Alan's reply; for well-tried andintelligent men had been sent in every direction to discover, ifpossible, to what party of the enemy the captors of the Lady Isabellabelonged, and to note well the movements and appearance, not only of anymartial force, but of the country people themselves. They had executedtheir mission as well as the intricate passes and concealed hollows ofthe mountains permitted, and brought back the welcome intelligence, thatfor miles round the country was perfectly clear, and to all appearancepeaceful. The hunting-lodge, too, was so completely hidden by dark woodsof pine and overhanging crags, that even had there been foes prowlingabout the mountains, they might pass within twenty yards of its vicinityand yet fail to discover it. The very path leading to the bottom of thehollow in which it stood was concealed at the entrance by thick shrubsand an arch of rock, which had either fallen naturally into that shape, or been formed by the architects of the lodge. It seemed barely possiblethat the retreat could be discovered, except by the basest treachery, and therefore the king and Sir Alan felt perfectly at rest regarding thesafety of the countess, even though they could only leave with her aguard of some twenty or thirty men. 

So much was she refreshed the following morning, that the hopes of herson brightened, and with that filial devotion so peculiarly hischaracteristic, he easily obtained leave of absence from his sovereign, to remain by the couch of his mother for at least that day, instead ofaccompanying him, as was his wont, in the expeditions of the day. Thecountess combated this decision, but in vain. Alan was resolved. He wasconvinced, he said, her former capture, and all its ill consequences, would not have taken place had he been by her side; and even were shenot now exposed to such indignity, she would be lonely and sad withouthim, and stay, in consequence, he would. The king and his officersapproved of the youth's resolution, and reluctantly Isabella yielded. 

About two hours before noon the Bruce and his companions departed, desiring Sir Alan not to expect their return till near midnight, as theyintended penetrating a part of the country which had not yet beenexplored; they might be a few hours sooner, but they scarcely expectedit. It was afterwards remembered that a peculiar expression of sadnessoverclouded the countenance of the countess, as for a moment she fixedher speaking eyes on the king's face when he cheerfully bade herfarewell, and said, in a low emphatic voice--

"Farewell, sire! It may be the hour of meeting is longer deferred thanwe either of us now believe. Fain would I beseech your grace to grant meone boon, make me but one promise ere you depart. "

"Any boon, any promise that our faithful friend and subject can demand, is granted ere 'tis asked, " answered the king, without a moment's pause, though startled alike at the expression of her features and the sadnessof her voice. "Gladly would we give any pledge that could in any waybespeak our warm sense of thy true merit, lady, therefore speak, andfear not. "

"'Tis simply this, sire, " she said, and her voice was still mournful, despite her every effort to prevent its being so. "Should unforeseenevil befall me, captivity, danger of death, or aught undreamed of now, give me your royal word as a knight and king, that you will not perilyour sacred person, and with it the weal and liberty of our unhappycountry, for my sake, but leave me to my fate; 'tis a strange andfanciful boon, yet, gracious sovereign, refuse it not. I mean nottreachery such as we have encountered, where your grace's noblegallantry rescued me with little peril to yourself. No; I mean other andgreater danger; where I well know that rather than leave me exposed tothe wrath of my husband and Edward of England, you would risk your ownprecious life, and with it the liberty of Scotland. Grant me this boon, my liege, and perchance this heavy weight upon my spirit will pass andleave me free. "

"Nay, 'tis such a strange and unknightly promise, lady, how may I pledgemy word to its fulfilment?" answered Robert, gravely and sadly. "You bidme pledge mine honor to a deed that will stain my name with aneverlasting infamy, that even the liberty of Scotland will not washaway. How may I do this thing? You press me sorely, lady. Even for thee, good and faithful as thou art, how may I hurt my knightly fame?"

"Sire, thou wilt not, " she returned, still more entreatingly; "thybrilliant fame, thy noble name, will never--can never, receive a stain. I do but ask a promise whose fulfilment may never be demanded. I do butbid thee remember thou art not only a knight, a noble, a king, but oneby whom the preservation, the independence of our country can alone beachieved--one on whose safety and freedom depends the welfare of anation, the unchained glory of her sons. Were death thy portion, Scotland lies a slave forever at the feet of England, and therefore isit I do beseech thee, King of Scotland, make me this pledge. I know thynoble spirit well, and I know thy too chivalric honor would blind theeto a sense of danger, to a sense of country, duty, glory, of all savethe rescue of one who, though she be faithful to thee and to hercountry, is but as a drop of water in the ocean, compared to otherclaims. My liege, thy word is already in part pledged, " she continued, more proudly. "Any pledge or promise I might demand is granted ere it isasked, your highness deigned to say; thou canst not retract it now. "

"And wherefore shouldst thou, royal brother?" cheeringly interruptedAlexander Bruce. "The Lady Isahella asks not unreasonably; she does butsuggest _what may be_, although that may be is, as we all know, next toimpossible, particularly now when nature has fortified this pleasantlodge even as would a garrison of some hundred men. Come, be not sochurlish in thy favors, good my liege; give her the pledge she demands, and be sure its fulfilment will never be required. "

"Could I but think so, " he replied, still gravely. "Lady, I do entreatthee, tell me wherefore thou demandest this strange boon; fearest thouevil--dreamest thou aught of danger hovering near? If so, as there is aGod in heaven, I will not go forth to-day!"

"Pardon me, gracious sovereign, " answered Isabella, evasively; "I askit, because since the late adventure there has been a weight upon myspirit as if I, impotent, of little consequence as I am, yet even Imight be the means of hurling down evil on thy head, and through thee onScotland; and, therefore, until thy promise to the effect I havespecified is given, I cannot, I will not rest--even though, as LordAlexander justly believes, its fulfilment will never be required. Evilhere, my liege, trust me, cannot be; therefore go forth in confidence. Ifear not to await your return, e'en should I linger here alone. Grantbut my boon. "

"Nay, an it must be, lady, I promise all thou demandest, " answeredBruce, more cheerfully, for her words reassured him; "but, by minehonor, thou hast asked neither well nor kindly. Remember, my pledge ispassed but for real danger, and that only for Scotland's sake, not formine own; and now farewell, lady. I trust, ere we meet again, thesedepressing fancies will have left thee. "

"They have well-nigh departed now, my liege; 'twas simply for thee andScotland these heavy bodings oppressed me. My son, " she added, after abrief pause, "I would your highness could prevail on him to accompanyyou to-day. Wherefore should he stay with me?"

"Wherefore not rather, lady?" replied the king, smiling. "I may notleave thee to thine own thoughts to weave fresh boons like to the last. No, no! our young knight must guard thee till we meet again, " and withthese words he departed. They did not, however, deter the countess fromresuming her persuasions to Alan to accompany his sovereign, but withoutsuccess. Isabella of Buchan had, however, in this instance departed fromher usual strict adherence to the truth, she did not feel so secure thatno evil would befall her in the absence of the Bruce, as she hadendeavored to make him believe. 

Some words she had caught during her brief captivity caused her, shescarcely knew why, to believe that the Earl of Buchan himself was in theneighborhood; nay, that the very party which had captured her weremembers of the army under his command. She had gathered, too, that itwas a very much larger force than the king's, and therefore it was thatshe had made no objection to Robert's wish that she should rest some fewdays in the hunting-lodge. She knew that, however her failing strengthmight detain and harass their movements, Bruce and his followers wouldnever consent to leave her, unless, as in the present case, under acomparatively comfortable roof and well-concealed shelter; and she knew, too, that however she might struggle to accompany them in theirwanderings, the struggle in her present exhausted state would be utterlyin vain, and lingering for her might expose her sovereign to a renewalof the ills with which he had already striven so nobly, and perchance toyet more irreparable misfortune. The information of the scouts hadpartially reassured her, at least to the fact that no immediate dangerwas to be apprehended, and for a while she indulged the hope that safetymight be found in this hidden spot until the peril passed. She had fullconfidence in the fidelity of the old retainers who had guided them tothe spot, and sought to feel satisfied that its vicinity was unknown tothe earl, her husband; but, whether from the restlessness of a slightdegree of fever, or from that nervous state of mind attendant onworn-out strength, ere the Bruce departed the same foreboding came onher again, and all her desire was the absence of her sovereign and hisfollowers, to have some hold upon his almost too exalted sense ofchivalry, which would prevent any rash act of daring on his part; andthis, as we have seen, she obtained. 

Could she but have prevailed on her son to accompany them, she wouldcalmly and resignedly have awaited her fate, whatever it might be; butthe horror of beholding him a prisoner in the hands of his father--thatfather perhaps so enraged at the boy's daring opposition to his will andpolitical opinions, that he would give him up at once to the wrath ofEdward--was a picture of anguish from which her mind revolted in suchintense suffering, she could not rest. She strove with the fancy; shesought to rouse every energy, to feel secure in her presentresting-place. But who can resist the influence of feelings such asthese? What mother's heart cannot enter into the emotions of Isabella ofBuchan, as she gazed on her noble boy, improved as he was in manlinessand beauty, and with the dread anticipation of evil, believing onlyabsence could protect him; that perchance the very love which kept himby her side would expose him to danger, imprisonment, and death? She didnot speak her fears, but Alan vainly sought to soothe that unwontedrestlessness. She had endeavored to secure the Bruce's safety by the aidof Malcolm, the young page, by whose instrumentality she had been bothcaptured and released. Taking advantage of Sir Alan's absence, she hadcalled the boy to her side, and made him promise that, at the firstmanifest sign of danger, he would make his escape, which, by his extremeagility and address, would easily be achieved, seek the king, and givehim exact information of the numbers, strength, and situation of thefoes, reminding him, at the same time, of his solemn pledge. She madehim promise the profoundest secrecy, and adjured him at all hazards tosave the king. 

The boy, affected by the solemnity of her manner, promised faithfully toobserve her minutest sign, and on the re-entrance of Sir Alan departed, to marvel wherefore his lady should so have spoken, and examine thelocalities around, as to the best means of concealment and escape. 

The hours waned, and night fell, as is usual in October, some five hoursafter noon, the gloom perhaps greatly increased by the deep shades inwhich their place of concealment lay. Sir Alan roused the fire to acheerful blaze, and lighting a torch of pine-wood, placed it in an ironbracket projecting from the wall, and amused himself by polishing hisarms, and talking in that joyous tone his mother so loved, on everysubject that his affection fancied might interest and amuse her. He waswholly unarmed, except his sword, which, secured to his waist by acrimson sash, he never laid aside; and fair and graceful to his mother'seye did he look in his simple doublet of Lincoln-green, cut and slashedwith ruby velvet, his dark curls clustering round his bare throat, andhis bright face beaming in all the animation of youth and health, spiritualized by the deeper feelings of his soul; and she, too, wasstill beautiful, though her frame was slighter, her features moreattenuated than when we first beheld her. He had insisted on herreclining on the couch, and drawn from her otherwise painful thoughts byhis animated sallies, smiles circled her pale lip, and her sorrows werea while forgotten. 

An hour, perhaps rather more, elapsed, and found the mother and sonstill as we have described, There had been no sound without, but aboutthat period many heavy footsteps might have been distinguished, cautiously, it seemed, advancing. Alan started up and listened; theimpatient neigh of a charger was heard, and then voices suppressed, yet, as he fancied, familiar. 

"King Robert returned already!" he exclaimed; "they must have had anunusually successful chase. I must e'en seek them and inquire. "

"Alan! my child!" He started at the voice, it was so unlike hismother's. She had risen and flung her arm around him with a pressure soconvulsive, he looked at her with terror. There was no time to answer; asudden noise usurped the place of the previous stillness--a struggle--aheavy fall; the door was flung rudely open, and an armed man stood uponthe threshold, his vizor up, but even had it not been, the heart of thecountess too truly told her she gazed upon her husband!

CHAPTER XIV. 

A brief pause followed the entrance of this unexpected visitor. Standingupon the threshold, his dark brow knit, his eyes fixed on his prisoners, the Earl of Buchan stood a few minutes immovable. Alan saw but amail-clad warrior, more fierce and brutal in appearance than thegenerality of their foes, and felt, with all that heart-sinkingdespondency natural to youth, that they were betrayed, that resistancewas in vain, for heavier and louder grew the tramp of horse and man, andthe narrow passage, discernible through the open door, was filled withsteel-clad forms, their drawn swords glancing in the torchlight, theirdark brows gleaming in ill-concealed triumph. Alan was still a boy inyears, despite his experience as a warrior, and in the first agony ofthis discovery, the first dream of chains and captivity, when his youngspirit revelled in the thought of freedom, and joyed as a bird in thefresh air of mount and stream, weaving bright hopes, not exile orwandering could remove, his impulse had been to dash his useless swordin anguish to the earth, and weep; but the sight of his mother checkedthat internal weakness. He felt her convulsive clasp; he beheld theexpression on her features, --how unlike their wont--terror, suffering, whose _entire_ cause he vainly endeavored to define, and he rousedhimself for her. And she, did she see more than her son? She _knew_ thatface, and as she gazed, she felt hope had departed; she beheld naughtbut a long, endless vista of anguish; yet she felt not for herself, shethought but of her child. And the earl, can we define his exultingmood?--it was the malice, the triumph of a fiend. 

"Who and what art thou?" demanded Alan, fiercely, laying his right handon his sword, and with the left firmly clasping his mother's waist. "What bold knight and honorable chevalier art thou, thus seeking bystealth the retreat of a wanderer, and overpowering by numbers andtreachery men, who on the field thou and such as thou had never dared tomeet?"

The earl laughed; that bitter, biting laugh of contempt and triumph sodifficult to bear. 

"Thou hast a worthy tongue, my pretty springald, " said he; "canst thouuse thy sword as bravely? Who and what am I? ask of the lady thou hastso caressingly encircled with thine arm, perchance she can give theeinformation. "

Alan started, a cold thrill passed through his frame, as the real causeof his mother's terror flashed on his mind; her lips, parched andquivering, parted as to speak, but there was no sound. 

"Mother, " he said, "mother, speak to thy son. Why, why art thou thus?it is not the dread of imprisonment, of death. No, no; they have noterrors for such as thee. Who is this man?"

Engrossed in his own agitation, Alan had not heard the mutteredexclamation which burst from Buchan's lips with his first words, forgreat was the earl's surprise as he looked on his son; the impression hewas still a child had remained on his mind despite all reports to thecontrary, but no softer feeling obtained dominion. 

"Who and what am I?" he continued, after a brief pause. "Wouldst thouknow, Alan of Buchan? Even a faithful knight, soldier, and subject ofhis Royal Highness Edward, king of England and Scotland, andconsequently thy foe; the insulted and dishonored husband of the womanthou callest mother, and consequently thy father, young man. Ha! have Ispoken home? Thy sword, thy sword; acknowledge thy disloyalty to thyfather and king, and for thee all may yet be well. "

"Never!" answered Alan, proudly, the earl's concluding words rousing thespirit which the knowledge of beholding his father and the emotion ofhis mother seemed to have crushed. "Never, Lord of Buchan! for father Icannot call thee. Thou mayest force me to resign my sword, thou mayestbring me to the block, but acknowledge allegiance to a foreign tyrant, who hath no claims on Scotland or her sons, save those of hate anddetestation, that thou canst never do, even if thy sword be pointed atmy heart. "

"Boy!" burst from the earl's lips, in accents of irrepressible rage, buthe checked himself; "thou hast learned a goodly lesson of disobedienceand daring, of a truth, and I should tender grateful thanks to thy mostworthy, most efficient and virtuous teacher, " he added, in his ownbitterly sarcastic tone. "The Lady Isabella deems, perchance, she hasdone her duty to her husband in placing a crown on the head of hishereditary and hated foe, and leading his son in the same path ofrebellion and disloyalty, and giving his service to the murderer of hiskinsman. "

"Earl of Buchan, I have done my duty alike to my country and my son, "replied the countess, her high spirit roused by the taunts of herhusband. "According to the dictates of my conscience, mine honor as aScottish woman, the mother of a Scottish warrior, I have done my duty, and neither imprisonment, nor torture, nor death will bid me retractthose principles, or waver in my acknowledgment of Scotland and herking. Pardon me, my lord; but there is no rebellion in resisting theinfringement of a tyrant, no disloyalty in raising the standard againstEdward, for there is no treason when there is no lawful authority; andby what right is Edward of England king of Scotland? Lord of Buchan, Ihave done my duty. As my father taught _me_ I have taught my child!"

"Regarding, of course, madam, all which that child's father would havetaught him, particularly that most Christian virtue returning good forevil, as in the fact of revenging the death of a kinsman with the giftof a crown. Oh! thou hast done well, most intrinsically well. "

"I own no relationship with a traitor, " burst impetuously from Alan. "Sir John Comyn was honored in his death, for the sword of the Bruce wastoo worthy a weapon for the black heart of a traitor. Lord of Buchan, weare in thy power, it is enough. Hadst thou wished thy son to imbibe thypeculiar principles, to forget his country and her lights, it had beenbetter perchance hadst thou remembered thou hadst a child--a son. Hadthe duty of a father been performed, perchance I had not now forgottenmine as a son! As it is, we stand as strangers and as foes. Against theein truth I will not raise my sword; but further, we are severed andforever!" He crossed his arms proudly on his bosom, and returned thedark, scowling glance of his father with a flashing eye, and a mien asfirm and nobler than his own. 

"It is well, young man; I thank you for my freedom, " returned the earl, between his teeth. "As my son, I might stand between thee and Edward'swrath; as a stranger and my foe, why, whatever his sentence be--the axeand block without doubt--let it work, it will move me little. "

"Heed not his rash words, in mercy, heed them not!" exclaimed thecountess, her voice of agony contrasting strangely with its former proudreserve. "Neglected, forgotten him as thou hast, yet, Lord of Buchan, heis still thy son. Oh, in mercy, expose him not to the deadly wrath ofEdward! thou canst save him, thou canst give him freedom. It is I--I whoam the attainted traitor, not my child. Give me up to Edward, and hewill heed not, ask not for thy son. It is I who have offended him andthee, not my child. Art thou not a Scottish noble, descendant of ahouse as purely loyal and devoted to their country as mine own--art thounot indeed this man, and yet hath Edward, the deadly foe of thy race, thy land, thy countrymen, more exalted claims than thine own blood? No, no, it cannot be! thou wilt relent, thou wilt have mercy; let him be butfree, and do with me even what thou wilt!"

"Free! go free!" repeated the earl, with a hoarse laugh, ere Alan couldinterfere. "Let him go free, forsooth, when he tells me he is my foe, and will go hence and join my bitterest enemies the moment he is free. Go free! and who art thou who askest this boon? Hast thou such claimsupon me, that for thy pleasure I should give freedom to thy son?"

"My lord, my lord, 'tis for thine own sake, for his, thy child as wellas mine, I do beseech, implore thy mercy? draw not the curse of heavenon thy heart by exposing him to death. Thou wilt know and feel him asindeed thy child when he lies bleeding before thee, when thine own handhath forged the death-bolt, and then, then it will be too late; thouwilt yearn for his voice in vain. Oh! is it not sufficient triumph tohave in thy power the wife who hath dared thy authority, who hath joinedthe patriot band, and so drawn down on her the vengeance of Edward? Theprice of a traitor is set upon her head. My lord, my lord, is not onevictim enough--will not my capture insure thee reward and honor in thecourt of Edward? Then do with me what thou wilt--chains, torture, death;but my child, my brave boy--oh, if thou hast one spark of mercy in thyheart, let him go!"

"Mother, " hoarsely murmured Alan, as he strove to raise her from hersuppliant posture, "mother, this shall not be! look upon that face andknow thou pleadest in vain. I will not accept my freedom at such aprice; thy knee, thy supplications unto a heart of stone, for me! No, no; mother, dear mother, we will die together!"

"Thou shalt not, thou shalt not, my beloved, my beautiful! thy deathwill be on my head, though it come from a father's hand. I will plead, Iwill be heard! My lord, my lord, " she continued, wrought to a pitch ofagonized feeling, no heart save that to which she pleaded could haveheard unmoved, "I ask but his freedom, the freedom of a boy, achild--and of whom do I ask it?--of his father, his own father! Speak tome, answer me; thou canst not be so lost to the voice, the feelings ofnature. For the sake of the mother who loved, the father who blessed_thee_, whose blessing hallowed our union and smiled on our infant boy, have mercy on me, on thyself--let him, oh, let him be free!"

"Mercy on thee, thou false and perjured woman!" the earl burst forth, the cold sarcastic expression with which he had at first listened to herimpassioned entreaties giving way to the fearful index of ungovernedrage; "on thee, thou false traitress, not alone to thy husband'sprinciples but to his honor! Do I not know thee, minion--do I not knowthe motives of thy conduct in leaving thy husband's castle for the courtof Bruce? Patriotism, forsooth--patriotism, ha! the patriotism that hadvent in giving and receiving love from him; it was so easy to do homageto him in public as thy king. Oh, most rare and immaculate specimen offemale loyalty and virtue, I know thee well!"

"Man!" answered the countess, springing from her knee, and standingbefore him with a mien and countenance of such majestic dignity, thatfor a brief moment it awed even him, and her bewildered son gazed at herwith emotions of awe, struggling with surprise. 

"Ha! faithless minion, thou bravest it well, " continued Buchan, determined on evincing no faltering in his purpose, "but thou bravest itin vain; dishonored thou art, and hast been, aye, from the time thyminion Robert visited thee in Buchan Tower, and lingered with thee themonths he had disappeared from Edward's court. Would Isabella of Buchanhave rendered homage to any other bold usurper, save her minion Robert?Would the murder of a Comyn have passed unavenged by her had themurderer been other than her gallant Bruce? Would Isabella of Buchan behere, the only female in the Bruce's train--for I know that he is withthee--were loyalty and patriotism her only motive? Woman, I know thee! Iknow that thou didst love him, ere that false hand and falser heart weregiven to me; thy lips spoke perfidy when they vowed allegiance at thealtar; and shall I have mercy on thy son, for such as thee? Mercy! ha, have I silenced thy eloquence now?"

"Silenced, false, blasphemous villain!" vociferated Alan, every otherfeeling lost in the whirlwind of passion, and springing on the earl, with his drawn sword. "'Tis thou who art the false and faithless--thouwho art lost to every feeling of honor and of truth. Thy words are falseas hell, from whence they spring!"

"Alan, by the love thou bearest me, I charge thee put up thy sword--itis thy father!" exclaimed, the countess, commandingly, and speaking thelast word in a tone that thrilled to the boy's heart. He checked himselfin his full career; he snapped his drawn sword in twain, he cast itpassionately from him, and uttering, convulsively, "Oh God, oh God, myfather!" flung himself in agony on the ground. With arms folded and thesmile of a demon on his lip the earl had awaited his attack, but therewas disappointment within, for his foul charge had failed in itsintended effect. Prouder, colder, more commandingly erect had become themein of the countess as he spoke, till she even appeared to increase instature; her flashing eyes had never moved from his face, till his fellbeneath them; her lip had curled, his cheek had flushed: powerful indeedbecame the contrast between the accused and the accuser. 

"Arise, my son, " she said, "arise and look upon thy mother; her broweven as her heart is unstained with shame; she fears not to meet theglance of her child. Look up, my boy; I speak these words to _thee_, notto that bold, bad man, who hath dared unite the name of a daughter ofFife with shame. He hath no word either of exculpation, denial, orassent from me. But to thee, my child, my young, my innocent child, thee, whose ear, when removed from me, they may strive to poison withfalse tales, woven with such skill that hadst thou not thy mother'sword, should win thee to belief--to thee I say, look on me, Alan--isthis a brow of guilt?"

"No, no, no, I will not look on thee, my mother! I need not to gaze onthee to know the horrid falsity of the charge, " answered Alan, flinginghis arms passionately around his mother. "Did I never see thee more, never list that voice again, and did all the fiends of hell come aroundme with their lies, I would not hear, much less believe such charge. No, no! oh God, 'tis my father, speaks it! Father--and my hand is powerlessto avenge. "

"I need not vengeance, my beloved; grieve not, weep not that thy hand ischained, and may not defend thy mother's stainless name; I need it not. My heart is known unto my God, my innocence to thee; his blessing restwith thee, my beautiful, and give thee strength for all thou mayestendure. "

She bent down to kiss his brow, which was damp with the dew of intenseanguish. He started up, he gave one long look on her calm and nobleface, and then he flung himself in her arms, and sobbed like a child onher bosom. It was a fearful moment for that woman heart; had she beenalone with her child, both nerve and spirit must have given way, butfortunately, perhaps, for the preservation of her fortitude, the Earl ofBuchan was still the witness of that scene, triumphing in the sufferingshe had caused. The countess did indeed fold her boy convulsively to herbreast, but she did not bend her head on his, as Nature prompted; it wasstill erect; her mien majestic still, and but a slight quivering in herbeautiful lip betrayed emotion. 

"Be firm; be thy noble self, " she said. "Forget not thou art a knightand soldier amid the patriots of Scotland. And now a while, farewell. "

She extricated herself with some difficulty from his embrace; she pausednot to gaze again upon the posture of overwhelming despondency in whichhe had sunk, but with a step quick and firm advanced to the door. 

"Whither goest thou, madam?" demanded the earl fiercely. "Bold as thouart, it is well to know thou art a prisoner, accused of high treasonagainst King Edward. "

"I need not your lordship's voice to give me such information, " sheanswered, proudly. "Methinks these armed followers are all-sufficientevidence. Guard me, aye, confine me with fetters an thou wilt, but inthy presence thou canst not force me to abide. "

"Bid a last farewell to thy son, then, proud minion, " he replied, withfiendish malignity; "for an ye part now, it is forever. Ye see him notagain. "

"Then be it so, " she rejoined; "we shall meet where falsehood andmalignant hate can never harm us more, " and with a gesture of dignity, more irritating to the earl than the fiercest demonstration of passion, she passed the threshold. A sign from Buchan surrounded her with guards, and by them she was conducted to a smaller apartment, which was firstcarefully examined as to any concealed means of escape, and then she wasleft alone, a strong guard stationed at the door. 

The first few minutes after the disappearance of the countess werepassed by her husband in rapidly striding up and down the room, by herson, in the same posture of mute and motionless anguish in which she hadleft him. There is no need to define that suffering, his peculiarsituation is all-sufficient to explain it. Hurriedly securing the doorfrom all intruders, the earl at length approached his son. 

"Wouldst thou be free?" he said, abruptly. "Methinks thou art youngenough still to love liberty better than chains, and perchance death. Speak, I tell thee; wouldst thou be free?"

"Free!" answered Alan, raising his head, with flashing eye and burningcheek; "would I be free? Ask of the chained lion, the caged bird, andthey will tell thee the greenwood and forest glade are better, dearer, even though the chain were gemmed, the prison gilded. Would I be free?Thou knowest that I would. "

"Swear, then, that thou wilt quit Scotland, and vow fealty to Edward;that never more will thy sword be raised save against the contemned andhated Bruce. Be faithful but to me and to King Edward, and thou shalt befree. "

"Never!" answered Alan, proudly. "Earl of Buchan, I accept no conditionswith my freedom; I will not be free, if only on this base condition. Turn recreant and traitor to my country and my king! resign the preciousprivilege of _dying_, if I may not _live_, for Scotland--I tell thee, never! Urge me no more. "

"Nay, thou art but a boy, a foolish boy, " continued the earl, strugglingto speak persuadingly, "incapable of judging that which is right andbest. I tell thee, I will give thee not freedom alone, but honor, station, wealth; I will acknowledge thee as my well-beloved son andheir; I will forget all that is past; nay, not e'en thy will or actionswill I restrain; I will bind thee by no vow; thou shalt take no partwith Edward; I will interfere not with thy peculiar politics; e'en whatthou wilt thou shalt do, aye, and have--and all this but on onecondition, so slight and simple that thou art worse than fool an thourefusest. "

"Speak on, " muttered Alan, without raising his head. "I hear. "

"Give me but information of the movements of him thou callest king, "replied Buchan, in a low yet emphatically distinct voice; "give me but ahint as to where we may meet him in combat--in all honorable andknightly combat, thou knowest that I mean--give me but information suchas this, and thou art free, unshackled, in condition as in limb. "

"In other words, _betray him, _" replied Alan, starting up. "Purchase myfreedom with the price of his! mine, of nothing worth, aye, less thannothing, redeemed by his! Oh, shame, shame on thee, my lord! Well mayestthou offer me freedom of action as in will on such condition. Of littleheed to Edward were the resistance of all Scotland, were Robert in hispower. Honor, station, wealth!--oh, knowest thou the human heart solittle as to believe these can exist with black treachery and fellremorse? Once and forever, I tell thee thine offers are in vain. Weredeath in one scale, and free, unshackled liberty in the other, and thoubadest me choose between, I would not so stain my soul. Death, deathitself were welcome, aye, worse than death--confinement, chains. I wouldhug them to my heart as precious boons, rather than live and walk theearth a traitor. "

"Beware!" muttered the earl; "tempt me not too far, rash boy. I wouldnot do thee ill; I would have pity on thy erring youth, remembering theevil counsels, the base heart which hath guided thee. "

"Do thou beware!" retorted Alan, fiercely. "Speak not such foul words tome. Father, as I know thou art in blood, there are ties far strongerwhich bind me to my mother--ties, neglect, forgetfulness, indifferenceas thine can never know. Pity, aye, mercy's self, I scorn them, for Ineed them not. "

"Ha! sayest thou so; then I swear thou shalt not have them!" exclaimedthe earl, rage again obtaining the ascendant. "I would have saved thee;I would have given thee freedom, though I needed not the condition thatI offered. Thinkest thou I do not know that the traitor Bruce and hisfollowers will return hither, and fall into the net prepared? thinkestthou I know not he is with thee, aye, that he would not have left hispatriot countess thus slightly guarded, an he hoped not to returnhimself? He cannot escape me--the murder of Sir John Comyn will beavenged. "

"He shall, he will escape thee, proud earl, " undauntedly returned Alan. "The savior of his wretched country will not be forced to bow beforesuch as thee; he will be saved out of the net prepared--harassed, chased, encompassed as he is. I tell thee, Earl of Buchan, he willescape thee yet. "

"Then, by heaven, thy head shall fall for his!" fiercely replied theearl. "If he return not, he has been forewarned, prepared, and I, foolas I was, have thought not of this danger. Look to it, proud boy, if theBruce return not forty-eight hours hence, and thou art still silent, thou diest. "

He held up his clenched hand in a threatening attitude, but Alan neithermoved nor spoke, firmly returning the earl's infuriated gaze till thedoor closed on his father's retreating form. He heard the bolts drawn, the heavy tramp of the guard, and then he threw himself on the couch, and buried his face in his hands. 

CHAPTER XV. 

While these fearful scenes were passing in the hunting-lodge, Malcolm, the young page already mentioned, had contrived to elude the vigilanceof the earl's numerous followers, and reach the brow of the hollow inperfect safety. Endowed with a sense and spirit above his years, andinspired by his devoted attachment to the countess and Sir Alan, the boydid not merely think of his own personal security, and of the simple actof warning the king against the treachery which awaited his return, but, with an eye and mind well practised in intelligent observation, hescanned the numbers, character, and peculiar situation of the foes whichhad so unexpectedly come upon them. Being peculiarly small and light infigure, and completely clothed in a dark green tunic and hose, which wasscarcely discernible from the trees and shrubs around, he stole, in andout every brake and hollow, clambering lightly and noiselessly overcrags, hanging like a broken branch from stunted trees, leaping with theelasticity of a youthful fawn over stream and shrub, and thus obtained atrue and exact idea of the matter he desired. The boy's heart did indeedsink as he felt rescue would be utterly impossible; that in onedirection the English force extended nearly a mile, guarding everyavenue, every hollow in the forest, till it seemed next to impossibleKing Robert could escape, even if forewarned. Wherever he turned hissteps the enemy appeared to lurk, but he wavered not in his purpose. Aware of the direction which the king would take in returning, Malcolmslackened not his speed until some three hours after he had quitted thehollow, and he stood before his sovereign well-nigh too exhausted forthe utterance of his tale. 

The first impulse of the king and his true-hearted followers was to dareall danger, and rescue the countess and her brave son at the expense oftheir lives; but Malcolm, flinging himself at the feet of Robert, adjured him, in the name of the countess, to remember and act upon thevow he had so solemnly pledged at parting. He earnestly and emphaticallyrepeated the last injunctions of his lady, her deep anguish that theking, the savior of Scotland, should hazard all for her and herchild--better they should die than Robert; but these entreaties were butanguish to the noble spirit who heard, aye, and felt their truth, thoughabide by them he could not. Again and again he questioned andcross-questioned as to their numbers and their strength, but Malcolmnever wavered from his first account; clearly and concisely he gaveevery required information, and with bleeding hearts that little band ofpatriots felt they dared not hope to rescue and to conquer. Yet tacitlyto assent to necessity, to retreat without one blow, to leave theirfaithful companions to death, without one stroke for vengeance at least, if not for relief, this should not be. 

"We will see with our own eyes, hear with our own ears, at least, myfriends, " King Robert said. "Is there one among ye would retreat, from, the narrative of a child, true as it may be? Remember the pass inArgyle; if necessary, your sovereign can protect your retreat now asthen, and we shall at least feel we have struggled to rescue, strivenfor the mastery, even if it be in vain. Were my death, aye, the death ofScotland the forfeit, I could not so stain my knightly fame by suchretreat. Let but the morning dawn, and we will ourselves mark thestrength of our foes. "

There was not one dissenting voice, rash as his determination mightappear. The extraordinary skill and courage of their sovereign, displayed in so many instances during their perilous wanderings, weretoo fresh in their memories to permit of one doubt, one fear, even hadhe led them on to certain death. To throw themselves from their tiredchargers, to give them food, to lie down themselves for a brief reposeon the turf, that they might be strengthened and cheered for the work ofthe morning, all this did not occupy much time; and if their slumberswere brief and troubled, it did not prevent their rising with, alacrityat the first peep of day to polish their arms, look to the sharpening oftheir swords and spears, share the rude huntsman's meal, and mount andride with the first signal of their king. 

But bold and brave as were these true-hearted men, successful as, comparatively speaking, they were in the numberless skirmishes whichtook place that day, darkness overtook them, with increase of gloryindeed, but no nearer the accomplishment of their object than they hadbeen in the morning. 

With bitter sorrow King Robert had perceived the full confirmation ofthe page's words. The early close of the night attendant on the autumnseason was also unfavorable to his views; the events of the day hadfully convinced him that many an ambush was set in his path, that hispersonal safety was wholly incompatible with a night attack, andtherefore he was compelled to remain on the defensive in one spot, whichwas fortunately barricaded and concealed by Nature, during the many longand weary hours forming an October night. Yet still the following daybeheld him struggling on, in the face alike of disappointment, defeat, and danger the most imminent; still seeking the same object, stillhoping against hope, and retreating only because the welfare of hiscountry, of her unfortunate children, depended upon him; bands more andmore numerous pressed upon him, coming from every side, that scarcelywas one skilfully eluded ere he had to struggle against another. Nothingbut the most consummate skill, the most patient courage, and coolestaddress could have extricated him from the fearful dangers whichencompassed him. Again did his followers believe he bore a charmed life, for not only did he deal destruction, unhurt himself, but after threedays almost incessant fighting and fatigue, he had brought them to aplace of safety, with but the loss of five-and-twenty men. 

But though painfully conscious that further efforts for the rescue ofhis friends were completely useless, King Robert could not restsatisfied without some more accurate knowledge of their fate, and aftersome hurried yet anxious consultation. Sir James Douglas, with thatdaring which so marked his simplest action, declared that at all riskshe would seek some tidings that would end their anxiety. In the disguiseof a peasant he would be secure from all discovery, he said; and he hadnot the slightest fear as to the success of the adventure. Five othersstarted up as he spoke entreating permission to take the same disguiseand accompany him. It was granted; King Robert advising them, however, to adopt a diversity of costume, and keep each one apart as theyapproached inhabited districts, as their numbers might excite suspicion, even though the actual disguise was complete. With arms concealedbeneath their various disguises, they departed that same evening, engaging to meet the king at the base of Ben-Cruchan, some miles moresouth than their present trysting. It was an anxious parting, and yetmore when they were actually gone; for the high spirit and vein of humorwhich characterized the young Lord Douglas had power to cheer hisfriends even in the most painful moments. King Robert, indeed, exertedhimself, but this last stroke had been a heavy one; knowing so well thecharacter of Edward, he trembled both for the countess and her nobleson, perhaps less for the latter than the former, for he hoped andbelieved the Earl of Buchan, if indeed he were their captor, would atleast have some mercy on his son, but for the countess he knew thatthere was no hope. The character, the sentiments of the earl had beennoticed by the Bruce when both were at the court of Edward, and he feltand knew that any excuse to rid him of a wife whose virtues wereobnoxious to him would be acted on with joy. And here, perhaps, it maybe well to say a few words as to the real nature of King Robert'ssentiments towards Isabella of Buchan, as from the anxiety her detentionoccasioned they may be so easily misunderstood. 

We have performed our task but ill if our readers have imagined aughtbut the most purely noble, most chivalric sentiments actuated the heartof the king. Whatever might have been the nature of those sentiments inearlier days, since his marriage with the daughter of the Earl of Marthey had never entered his soul. 

He had always believed the Lady Isabella's union with Lord John Comynwas one of choice, not of necessity, nor did his visit to her after thebattle of Falkirk recall any former feeling. His mind had been under theheavy pressure of that self-reproach which the impressive words ofWallace had first awakened; the wretched state of his country, thetyranny of Edward, occupied the mind of the man in which the emotions ofthe boy had merged. He was, too, a husband and a father; and he was, ashis fond wife so trustingly believed, too nobly honorable to entertainone thought to her dishonor. He looked on Isabella of Buchan as oneindeed demanding his utmost esteem and gratitude, his most faithfulfriendship, and he secretly vowed that she should have it; but theseemotions took not their coloring from the past, they were excited simplyby her high-minded devotion to the cause of her country, her unshrinkingpatriotism, her noble qualities, alike as a mother, subject, friend. Hefelt but as one noble spirit ever feels for a kindred essence, heightened perhaps by the dissimilarity of sex, but aught of love, evenin its faintest shadow, aught of dishonorable feelings towards her orhis own wife never entered his wildest dream. It was the recollection ofher unwavering loyalty, of the supporting kindness she had ever shownhis queen, which occasioned his bitter sorrow at her detention by thefoe; it was the dread that the cruel wrath of Edward would indeedcondemn her to death for the active part she had taken in hiscoronation; the conviction, so agonizing to a mind like his, that he hadno power to rescue and avenge; the fearful foreboding that thus wouldall his faithful friends fall from him--this, only this, would be thereward of all who served and loved him; and even while still, withundaunted firmness, cheering the spirits of his adherents, speaking hopeto them, his own inward soul was tortured with doubts as to the wisdomof his resistance, lingering regrets for the fate of those of hisfriends already lost to him, and painful fears for the final doom ofthose who yet remained. 

It was in such moments of despondency that remorse, too, ever gaineddominion, and heightened his inward struggles. Robert's hand was notframed for blood; his whole soul revolted from the bitter remembrance ofthat fatal act of passion which had stained his first rising. He wouldhave given worlds, if he had had them, to have recalled that deed. Busyfancy represented a hundred ways of punishing treachery other than thatwhich his fury had adopted; and this remembrance ever increased theanguish with which he regarded the fate of his friends. His lot wasindeed as yet one of unexampled suffering, borne by heroism as great asunequalled but the lustre of the latter too frequently dazzles the mind, and prevents the full meed of glory being obtained. His heroism is knownto all, his sufferings to but a few; but perhaps it was the latter yetmore than the former which gave to Scotland the glory and honor sheacquired in his reign. Heroism is scarce separable from ambition, but tomere ambition, the voice of suffering is seldom heard. Heroism dazzlesthe crowd, suffering purifies the man. If Robert the Bruce wereambitious, the passion in him assumed a nobler and better form; yet wecan scarcely call that ambition which sought but the delivery ofScotland from chains, but the regaining an ancient heritage, and soughtno more. It was patriotism hallowed by suffering, purified by adversity;patriotism the noblest, purest which ever entered the heart of man. 

King Robert and his handful of followers not only reached theirtrysting-place themselves, but were joined by the queen, and many of herfemale companions and their attendant warriors, ere Lord James ofDouglas returned; three of his companions had straggled in, one by one, with various accounts, but none so satisfactory as the king desired, andhe believed with justice, that Douglas lingered to bring, if notsatisfactory (for that, alas! could not be) yet accurate intelligence. If aught could have comforted Agnes in these moments of agonizedsuspense, it would have been not alone the redoubled affection of herNigel, but the soothing kindness, the love and sympathy of a father, which was lavished on her by King Robert; nay, each of those rudewarriors softened in address and tone, as they looked on and spoke tothat fair, fragile being, whom they feared now stood alone. She did notweep when other eyes than those of Nigel, or the Lady Campbell, or thegentle Isoline were on her, but that deadly pallor, that quivering lip, and heavy eye spoke all that she endured. 

A large cavern, divided by Nature into many compartments, was now thetemporary shelter of the king and his friends. It was situated at thebase of Ben-Cruchan, which, though at the entrance of the territories ofLorn, was now comparatively secure, the foe imagining the Bruce stillamidst the mountains of Aberdeenshire. 

The evening meal was spread; a huge fire blazing in the stony cavityremoved all appearance of damp or discomfort, and shed a warm, ruddylight on the groups within. It was a rude home for the King of Scotlandand his court, yet neither murmuring nor despondency was marked on thebold brows of the warriors, or the gentler and paler features of theirfaithful companions; their frames, indeed, showed the effect ofwandering and anxiety; many an eye which had been bright was sunken, many a blooming cheek was paled; but the lip yet smiled, the voice hadyet its gleesome tones to soothe and cheer their warrior friends; theeager wish to prepare the couch and dress the simple meal, to performthose many little offices of love and kindness so peculiarly a woman's, and engaged in with a zest, a skill which was intuitive, for there hadbeen a time, and one not far distant, when those high-born femaleslittle dreamed such household deeds would be their occupation. 

Brightly and beautifully shone forth conjugal and filial love in thosewandering hours; the wife, the child, the sister bound themselves yetcloser to the warrior husband, father, brother, which claimed them his. Yet sweet, most sweet as were those acts of love, there were anxious andloving hearts which felt that soon, too soon, they must part from them, they must persuade those gentle ones to accede to a temporaryseparation--they could not, they would not expose them to the snows andkilling frosts of a Scottish winter. 

Anxiety, deep anxiety was on the heart of King Robert, becoming morepainful with each glance he fixed on Agnes, who was sitting apart withNigel, her aching head resting on his shoulder, but he strove to returnthe caresses of his daughter, to repay with fond smiles the exertions ofhis wife. Sir Niel Campbell (who, after many painful trials, hadrejoined the king) and others strove to disperse the silently gatheringgloom by jest and song, till the cavern walls re-echoed with theirsoldier mirth. Harshly and mournfully it fell on the ear and heart ofthe maiden of Buchan, but she would not have it stilled. 

"No, no; do thou speak to me, Nigel, and I shall only list to thee. Whyshould the noble efforts of these brave men--for I know even to themmirth is now an effort--be chilled and checked, because my sick heartbeats not in unison? Oh, when will Lord James return?"

Nigel sought to soothe, to speak hope, but though his words fell likebalm on the bleeding heart he held to his, it was the rich melody oftheir voice, not the matter of their meaning. 

The hour of rest was fast approaching, when the well-known signal washeard without, and the young Lord Douglas, with his two companions, werehastily and eagerly admitted within the cave. Their looks denoted greatfatigue, and the eager eyes which scanned their countenances read littleto hope, yet much, much, alas! to fear. 

"Thou hast so far succeeded as to obtain the intelligence we need, " wasthe king's instant greeting, as he released his favorite young followerfrom his embrace; "that I can read, but further, I fear me, thou hastlittle to communicate which we shall love to hear. "

"My tidings are ill indeed, your highness; aggravated and mostundreamed-of ill. But, perchance, " and the young man hesitated, for hiseye caught the pallid face of Agnes, who had irresistibly drawn closerto the circle about the king, and fixed her eyes on him with anexpression almost wild in its agony, "perchance they had better firstmeet your grace's private ear. "

"No, no!" reiterated Agnes, springing forward, and clinging convulsivelyto his arm. "It is only me thou fearest, I know; I know thou wouldstspare me, but do not, do not. I can bear all, every thing, save thishorrible suspense; speak out, let me but know all, and then I can teachmy soul to bear it. Oh, do not hesitate, do not pause; in mercy, tellme--oh, tell me all!"

Thus adjured, but feeling most painfully the suffering his tale wouldproduce, Douglas struggled with his own emotion, and repeated all theinformation he had obtained. Guardedly as he spoke, evidently as heendeavored to prepare the mind of Agnes, and thus soften its woe, histale was yet such as to harrow up the hearts of all his hearers, howmuch more the frail and gentle being to whom it more immediatelyrelated; yet she stood calm, pale, indeed, and quivering, but with adesperate effort conquering the weakness of her nature, and bearing thatdeep woe as the daughter of her mother, the betrothed of Nigel Bruce. 

The young lord's information was simply this. On nearing thehunting-lodge, which was his first object, he found it very nearlydeserted, but a few stragglers, amounting perhaps to fifty in number ofthe followers of Buchan, remaining behind, with orders to follow theirmaster to Dunkeld without delay. Mingling with these as a countryman ofthe more northern counties, eager to obtain every species ofintelligence respecting the movements of the English and the huntedBruce, whom he pretended to condemn and vilify after the fashion of theAnglo-Scots, and feeling perfectly secure not only in the disguise hehad assumed, but in the peculiar accent and intonation of thenorth-country peasant, which he could assume at pleasure, he madehimself a welcome guest, and with scarcely any trouble received much ofthe information he desired. He was told of the first capture and rescueof the Countess of Buchan; that it was through one of the men left fordead on the scene of the skirmish the earl had received such exactinformation concerning the movements and intended destination of theBruce; that immediately on receiving this intelligence he had gatheredall his force, amounting to five hundred men, and dividing them intodifferent bands, sent skilful guides with each, and was thus enabled tosurround the lodge, and command five different avenues of the forest, without interruption or discovery. He learned, too, that a stormyinterview had taken place between the earl, his wife, and son, theparticulars of which, however, had not transpired; that the earl's ragehad been terrific when he found the night passed, and the Bruce had notfallen into the snare laid for him; and he had sworn a fearful oath, that if the countess would not betray him into his power, her son shoulddie; that both mother and son had stood this awful trial withoutshrinking; that no word either to betray their king or implore life andmercy had been wrung from them. Incensed beyond all measure, Buchan hadsent on the countess with a numerous guard, his men believed, either toDunkeld or Perth, in both of which towns there was a strong garrison ofEnglish, and lingered yet another day and night in the hope of draggingsome intelligence from the lips of Alan, or persuading him into actingthe spy upon the actions and movements of the Bruce. He succeeded inneither; and the men continued to state, with shuddering horror, whicheven their rude natures could not suppress, that they believed the sonhad actually fallen a victim to his father's rage--that he had actuallybeen murdered. Numerous reports to that effect had been circulated onall sides, and though they had watched narrowly, they had seen nothingto contradict it. The body of the unfortunate boy had been cast into adeep well, heaps of rubbish flung over it, and the well built up. Thisthey knew as a positive certainty, for they had seen it. 

Douglas heard this tale with an intensity of horror, of loathing, whichat first deprived him almost of every other feeling; but when he couldwithdraw himself from the horrible idea, a species of disbelief tookpossession of him. It was impossible such utter depravity, such fearfulinsensibility to the claims of nature could exist in the breast of anyman; it was a tale forged to inflict fresh agony on the mother's heart, and he determined on discovering, if possible, the truth. He pretendedentirely to disbelieve it; declared it was not possible; that the earlhad practised on their credulity, and would laugh at them afterwards;and contrived so well, that three or four declared he should beconvinced with his own eyes, and set about pulling down the slightbrickwork which covered the well. This was what Douglas wanted, and heeagerly lent them a helping hand. 

A body there was indeed, in form and in clothing so exactly that of theunhappy Alan, that, even though the face was so marred it could not berecognized, the young earl could doubt no longer; the young, the brave, the beautiful, and true, had fallen a victim to his own patriot loyalty, and by a father's hand. The deep suffering this certainly occasioned wasregarded by his companions as sulkiness for having been proved wrong inhis judgment; they jeered and laughed at him accordingly, and harshly asthese sounds reverberated in his heart, they were welcome, as enablinghim still more easily to continue his disguise. 

He accompanied them to Dunkeld, and found the earl had proceeded withhis wife as prisoner to the castle of Stirling, there to deliver herover to the Earl of Hereford, through whom to be sent on to Edward. Determined on seeing her, if possible, Douglas resolved on daring thedanger, and venturing even to the very stronghold of his foes. Thehorror which this unnatural act of the earl had excited in the minds ofhis men, he found had extended even over those in Dunkeld, and throughthem he learned that, directly on reaching the town, the earl had soughtthe countess, brutally communicated the death of her son, and placed inher hands the raven curls as all which remained of him, some of whichwere dabbled in blood; that she had remained apparently unmoved while inhis presence, but the moment he left her had sunk into a succession ofthe most fearful fainting fits, in one of which she had been removed toStirling. 

Withdrawing himself from his companions, under pretence of returning tohis home in the north, having, he said, loitered too long, Douglasconcealed himself for some days in the abbey of Scone, the holy inmatesof which still retained their loyalty and patriotism, notwithstandingtheir revered abbot, unable to remain longer inactive, had donned thewarrior's dress, and departed to join and fight with his king. Assumingthe cowl and robes of one of the lay brothers, and removing the red wigand beard he had adopted with his former costume, the young lord tookthe staff in his hand, and with difficulty bringing his hasty pace to alevel with the sober step and grave demeanor of a reverend monk, reachedStirling just as the cavalcade, with the litter intended for the captivecountess, had assembled before the castle gate. Agitated almost beyondthe power of control, Douglas made his way through the gathering crowds, and stood unquestioned close beside the litter. He did not wait long. Respectfully supported by the Earl of Hereford himself, the Countess ofBuchan, with a firm, unfaltering step, approached the litter. The hoodwas thrown back, and Douglas could read the effects of withering agonyon the marble stillness of those beautiful features, though to all elsethey spoke but firm and calm resolve; there was not a vestige of coloron cheek or lip or brow; and though her figure was as commanding, asmajestic as heretofore, there was a fearful attenuation about it, speaking volumes to Lord James's heart. Hereford placed her in thelitter, and with a respectful salutation turned away to give somenecessary orders to his men. Bold in his disguise, Douglas bent over thecountess, and spoke in a low, feigned voice those words of comfort andof peace suited to his assumed character; but feigned as it was, thecountess recognized him on that instant; a convulsive shudder passedthrough her every limb, contracting her features with very agony. 

"My child--my Alan!" she whispered, harrowing his very soul beneath thatvoice's thrilling woe. "Douglas, hast thou heard?--yes, yes; I can readit in thine awe-struck face. This, this is all I have left of him, " andshe partly drew from her bosom the clustering ringlets he recognized atonce; "yet, wherefore should I mourn him: he is happy. Bid his memory behonored among ye; and oh, tell the sovereign for whom he fell, better adeath like this than treachery and shame. "

She had paused as fearing observation, but perceiving the attention ofall more fixed on the glittering cavalcade than on herself, she placedone of those glossy curls in the young earl's hand, and continued--

"Give this to my poor Agnes, with her mother's blessing, and bid hertake comfort, bid her not weep and mourn for me. A prison, even death ispreferable now to life, for she is cared for. I trust her to Sir Nigel'slove; I know that he will tend her as a brother till a happier hourmakes her all his own. Commend me to my sovereign, and tell him, might Ichoose my path again, despite its anguish, 'twould be that which I havetrod. And now farewell, young lord, I bless thee for this meeting. "

"Dominus vobiscum mea filia, et vale, " responded the supposed monk, in aloud voice, for he had only time to assure the countess by a look ofdeep sympathy of his willingness to execute her simplest wish, and hidethe ringlet in his bosom, ere Hereford turned towards him, with a gazeof stern inquiry. Ably concealing alike his emotion and the expressionof his countenance, Douglas evaded discovery, and even obtainedpermission to follow the litter to the environs of the town. He did so, but the countess addressed him not again; and it was with aheart-sinking despondency he had turned to the mountains, when thecavalcade disappeared from his view. He retained his monkish garb tillhe entered the mountain district, where he fell in with his twocompanions, and they proceeded, as we have seen, to the quarters oftheir king. 

A pause of horror followed his narrative, told more forcibly and brieflyby the lips of Douglas than through the cooler medium of the historian'spen. Stunned, overwhelmed, as if incapable of movement or speech, thoughsense remained, Agnes stood insensible, even to the voice of Nigel, whose soothing accents strove to whisper peace; but when Douglas placedin her cold hand the raven curls she knew so well, when tenderly yetearnestly he repeated her mother's words, the poor girl repeatedlypressed the hair to her parched lips, and laid it in her bosom; and thenperceiving the sad and anxious face of her beloved, she passed her handhurriedly over her brow, and burying her head on his breast, sense waspreserved by an agony of tears. 

It was long, long ere this aggravated wretchedness was calmed, thoughthe love of many, the devotion of one were ever round her to strengthenand console. Sympathy, the most heartfelt, reigned in every bosom. Ofthe many misfortunes which had befallen this patriot band, this seemed, if not really the severest, more fraught with horror than any which hadcome before; the youth, the gallant bearing, the endearing qualities ofthe heir of Buchan stood forth with vivid clearness in the memories ofall, and there were times when they felt it could not be, it was toofearful; and then again, the too certain evidence of the fact, witnessedas it had been by one of such tried truth as James of Douglas, broughtconviction too clearly home, and the sternest warrior, who would havefaced his own captivity and death unmoved, felt no shame in the dimnesswhich gathered in his eye for the fearful fate of the murdered boy. 

In King Robert's breast these emotions obtained yet more powerfuldominion; again did remorse distract him, and there were moments ofdarkness, when his spirit questioned the justice of the Creator. Why wasnot his crime visited on his own head? Why did the guiltless andunstained fall thus around him, and he remain unharmed? and it neededall the eloquence of Nigel, the pious reasonings of the Abbot of Scone, to convince him that, dark and inscrutable as the decrees of Omnipotencesometimes seemed, in his case they were as clear as the wisdom fromwhich they sprung. By chastisement he was purified; he was not yet fitto receive the reward of the righteous waiting on death. Destined to bethe savior of his unhappy country, the remorse which bowed down hisnaturally haughty spirit was more acceptable in the sight of his God, more beneficial to his own soul, than the one act of devotednessincluded in a brave man's death. Robert struggled with his despondency, with his soul's deep grief, known as it was but to himself, hisconfessor, and his young brother; he felt its encouragement wouldunnerve him for his destined task. Other imperative matters now pressedround him, and by presenting fresh and increased danger, roused hisenergies once more to their wonted action. 

The winter had set in with unexampled severity, overwhelming snow-stormsfilled up the rude paths of the mountains, till egress and ingressappeared impossible. The Earl of Athol himself, who had been theinseparable companion of the Bruce in all his wanderings, now spoke ofretiring, and passing the winter within stone walls, urging hissovereign with earnest eloquence to take refuge in Ireland till thespring, when they would reassemble under arms, and perhaps take thetyrant Edward once more by surprise. 

Bruce knew the veteran nobleman too well to attribute this advice to anymotive save deep interest in his safety. He saw, too, that it wasutterly impossible for them to remain as they then were, without seriousevils alike to his female and male companions; the common soldiers, steady and firm as they still continued in loyalty, yet were continuallydispersing, promising to reassemble in the spring, but declaring that itwas useless to think of struggling against the English, when the veryelements were at war against them. With a sad foreboding, Robert saw, and communicated to his devoted wife the necessity of their separation. He felt that it was right and best, and therefore he resisted all hertearful entreaties still to linger by his side; her child was suffering, for her tender years could not bear up against the cold and the want ofproper nourishment, and yet even that claim seemed less to the mother'sheart than the vision of her husband enduring increase of hardshipalone. Her acquiescence was indeed at length obtained, but dimmed bymany very bitter tears. 

A hasty consultation with his few remaining friends speedily decided theBruce's plans. The castle of Kildrummie, a strong fortress situated atthe head of the Don, in Aberdeenshire, yet remained to him, and thither, under the escort of his brother Nigel and three hundred men, the kingdetermined to send his wife and child, and the other ladies of hiscourt. Himself, his three brothers, Edward, Alexander, and Thomas, Douglas, Sir Niel Campbell, and his remaining two hundred followers, resolved on cautiously making their way southward across Loch Lomond, and proceed thence to the coast of Ireland, there to await the spring. In pursuance of this plan, Sir Niel Campbell was dispatched withoutdelay to conciliate Angus, Lord of the Isles, to whom Cantire thenbelonged. Knowing he was unfriendly to his near neighbors, the Lords ofLorn, the king trusted he should find in him a powerful ally. To appealyet more strongly to the chivalric hospitality which characterized thechieftain, Sir Niel consented that his wife and daughter Isoline shouldaccompany him. Lady Campbell had too lately undergone the grief andanxiety attendant on the supposed loss of her husband to consent toanother parting. Even the king, her brother, sought not to dissuade her;but all persuasions to induce Agnes to accompany them were vain; bitteras the pang of separation was to her already aching heart--for LadyCampbell and Isoline were both most dear to her--she steadily resolvedto remain with the queen and her attendants, and thus share the fate ofher betrothed. 

"Did not my mother commend me to thy care? Did she not bid thee tend meas a brother until happier hours, and shall I seek other guardianshipthan thine, my Nigel?" were her whispered words, and Nigel could notanswer them. So pure, so unselfish was her love, that though he felt hishappiness would have departed with her presence, could he have commandedwords he would have implored her to seek the hospitality of the Lord ofthe Isles as a securer home than Kildrummie. Those forebodings alreadyalluded to had returned with darker weight from the hour his separationfrom his brother was resolved on. He evinced no sign of his inwardthoughts, he uttered no word of dissent, for the trust reposed in him byhis sovereign was indeed as precious as it was honorable; but there wasa mournful expression on his beautiful countenance--when unobserved, itwould rest upon his brother--that Agnes could not define, although itfilled her spirit with incomprehensible alarm, and urged her yet more toabide by his side. 

The dreaded day arrived at length, and agonized was indeed that parting. Cheerfully the king looked, and hopefully he spoke, but it had no powerto calm the whelming tide of sorrow in which his wife clung to hisembrace. Again and again she returned to that faithful heart which boreso fondly, so forbearingly, with all her faults and weaknesses; andMargory, although she could not comprehend the extent of sorrowexperienced by her mother, wept bitterly at her side. Nor were they theonly sufferers. Some indeed were fortunate enough to have relatives amidthe band which accompanied them to Kildrummie, but by far the greaternumber clung to the necks of brothers, fathers, husbands, whose faithfuland loving companions they had been so long--clung to them and wept, asif a long dim vista of sorrow and separation stretched before them. Danger, indeed, was around them, and the very fact of their being thuscompelled to divide, appeared to heighten the perils, and tacitlyacknowledge them as too great to be endured. 

With pain and difficulty the iron-souled warriors at length torethemselves from the embrace of those they held most dear. The knightsand their followers had closed round the litters, and commenced theirmarch. No clarion sent its shrill blast on the mountain echoes, noinspiring drum reverberated through the glens--all was mournfully still;as the rudest soldier revered the grief he beheld, and shrunk fromdisturbing it by a sound. 

King Robert stood alone, on the spot where Sir Christopher Seaton hadborne from him his wife and child. His eyes still watched their litter;his thoughts still lingered with them alone; full of affection, anxiety, sadness, they were engrossed, but not defined. He was aroused by thesudden appearance of his younger brother, who, bareheaded, threw himselfat his feet, and, in a voice strangely husky, murmured--

"My sovereign, my brother, bless me, oh, bless me, ere we part!"

"My blessing--the blessing of one they deem accursed; and to thee, good, noble, stainless as thou art! Nigel, Nigel, do not mock me thus, "answered the king, bitterness struggling with the deepest melancholy, ashe laid his hand, which strangely trembled, on the young man's loweredhead. "Alas! bring I not evil and misery and death on all who love me?What, what may my blessing bring to thee?"

"Joy, bright joy in the hour of mirth and comfort; oh, untold-of comfortin the time of sorrow, imprisonment, death! My brother, my brother, oh, refuse it not; thou knowest not, thou canst not know how Nigel lovesthee!"

Robert gazed at him till every thought, every feeling was lost in thesudden sensation of dread lest ill should come to him; it had overtakenone as fair in promise, as beloved, and yet younger; and oh, if deathselected the best, the loveliest, the dearest, would it next fall onhim? The thought was such absolute agony, that the previous sufferingof that hour was lost before it. 

"Bless thee--oh, may God in heaven bless thee, my brave, my nobleNigel!" he exclaimed, with a burst of emotion, perfectly appalling inone generally so controlled, and raising him, he strained himconvulsively to his heart. "Yet why should we part?" he added, after along pause; "why did I fix on thee for this office--are there notothers? Nigel, Nigel, say but the word, and thou shalt rest with me:danger, privation, exile we have borne, and may still share together. Why should I send thee from me, dearest, most beloved of all who call mebrother?"

"Why?" answered Nigel, raising his glistening eyes from his brother'sshoulder, "why, dear Robert? because thine eye could read my heart andtrust it; because thou knewest I would watch over those who bear thyname, who are dear to thee, even as thy noble self. Oh, do not repentthee of thy choice; 'tis hard to bear alone danger, so long encounteredhand in hand, yet as thou hast decided let it be. Thy words have soothedmy yearning heart, which craved to list thy voice once more; and nowthen, my noble liege and brother, farewell. Think on thy Nigel's words;even when misery is round thee thou shalt, thou shalt be blessed. Thinkon them, my Robert, and then when joy and liberty and conquest crownthee, oh, forget not Nigel. "

He threw his arms around him, imprinted a fervent kiss on his cheek, andwas out of sight ere the king by sign or word could arrest his progress. One hasty bound forward Robert indeed made, but a dimness stole over hissight, and for one brief minute he sunk down on the grass, and when helifted his head again, there were burning tears upon his cheek. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The hardships and dangers attendant on King Robert's progress southward, mingled as they were with the very spirit of romance, are so well knownto every reader of Scottish history that they must be excluded from ourpages, although a tale of chivalry would seem the very place for theirinsertion. 

The life of no hero, no sovereign, no general, presents us with aparallel to the lone and dreary passage of Loch Lomond. We hear of anancient and a modern Hannibal crossing the snowy Alps, but it was at thehead of triumphant armies; it was carrying war and victory into anenemy's land, and there was glory in the danger--the glory and pride ofsuccessful ambition. But there was greater and truer heroism in thespirit which struggled on when the broad, deep waters of Loch Lomond laybetween them and comparative safety; when 'mid falling snow and howlingwinds he cheered his drooping and exhausted followers by reading aloud aspirit-stirring romance, to which they listened enwrapt and charmed, little imagining their own situation was one of far greater peril, ofmore exciting romance than any which the volume so vividly described. Aleaky boat, which scarcely allowed three men to cross in safety, wastheir only means of conveyance, and a day and night passed ere the twohundred followers of the Bruce assembled on the opposite side. Thecheerful blast of his bugle, which sounded to form them in bands beforehim on the beach, was answered by one whose unexpected appearanceoccasioned such joy to the heart of the king, that the exertions both ofbody and mind of the last few hours were forgotten. It was the Earl ofLennox, who since the fatal battle of Methven had been numbered amongstthe dead, and lamented by his royal master with grief as deep as the joywas exceeding which greeted him again. Mutual was the tale of sufferingeach had to relate, few and faint the hopes and prospects tocommunicate, but so many were the friends the patriots had lost, thatthe reappearance of the venerable nobleman infused a new and brighterspirit amid the almost despairing men. 

That the Earl of Lennox had found a kind and hospitable home in thedominions of the Lord of the Isles, and received welcome and favor fromthe chieftain himself, was justly a subject of rejoicing to the fugitiveking. Guided by him, the intricacies of their path were smoothed, andthey reached their destination in a much shorter time than wouldotherwise have been the case. Sir Niel Campbell had performed hismission well, and kindness and truth so long unknown, now eagerlyopened their hearths and hearts to the patriot king. Scorning alike theScottish and English authority, Angus, Lord of the Isles, had formed anindependent sovereignty, and now felt pride in receiving in histerritories the only sovereign he had felt inclination to revere. Thedaring heroism, the unshaken spirit of the Bruce, were akin to his ownwild, and reckless courage, and had there been no actual claim and rightin Robert's pretensions to the crown, Angus would still have declaredthat he, and he alone, was the sovereign worthy to assume it. All, then, of state and dignity which he could assemble round him were proffered tothe king, and had there been less generosity, less chivalric honor inhis character King Robert might have passed the winter months incomparative security and comfort. 

Angus indeed spoke daringly and slightly of the English force, and hadhis inmost soul been read, would have joyed had they ventured to attackhim, that he might show his skill and bravery in resisting and defendingagainst their united force the sovereign who had confided in hisgallantry and honor; but Robert knew better than the rude chieftain thedevastating warfare which characterized Edward's efforts at subjection, and his whole soul shrunk from exposing Angus and his true-heartedfollowers to the utter ruin which, if he were once known to be amongstthem, would inevitably ensue. At once to secure his personalconcealment, and yet to withdraw from Cantire without in any wayoffending the high spirit of the island chieftain, Bruce resolved onmaking the little island of Rathlin the winter refuge of himself and histwo hundred followers. 

Inhabited by the MacDonalds, who were of course subject to their generalchief, though divided from him by the channel, Bruce was still under thegenerous protection of his friend, and therefore Angus could bringforward no objection to the proposal, save the miserable poverty, themany discomforts of the barren islet, and entreat with all his naturaleloquence that King Robert would still remain in the peninsula. Thearguments of the king, however, prevailed. A small fleet, better mannedthan built, was instantly made ready for his service, and Angus himselfconveyed the king in his own galley to his destined residence. Theaspect of the island, the savage appearance and manner of itsinhabitants were indeed such as to strike despondingly and painfully onthe hearts of any less inured to suffering than King Robert and hisdevoted adherents. To them it was welcome, for they justly felt the eyeof Edward could scarcely reach them there. It was a painful alternativeto warrior spirits such as theirs that the safety of their countrydepended on their inaction and concealment; yet as their king, theirpatriot king, was still amongst them, there was much, much to hope andcherish still. That their gentler friends and relatives were, they hopedand believed, in a place of safety, was a matter of rejoicing, thoughneither entreaty nor command could persuade the Lady Campbell and herdaughter Isoline to accept the proffered hospitality of the islandchieftain. It was nothing to them that they were the only females 'midthat warrior train, that many hardships were around them still. NeitherSir Kiel nor the king could resist their pleadings, and ere the sun ofspring had shed its influence on the heart of man as well as thehardened earth, there were many who mourned that a separation had takenplace, who wished that fatigue and anxiety had still been met together. 

Many weeks before King Robert retreated to the island of Rathlin, SirNigel Bruce had conducted his precious charge in safety to the castle ofKildrummie, whose feeble garrison gladly flung open their gates toreceive them. 

It was a strong fortress situated on a circular mount, overhanging theriver Don, which at that point ever rushed darkly and stormily along;the mount, though not steep, was full two miles in circumference, frombase to brow occupied by the castle, which was erected in that massiveyet irregular form peculiar to the architecture of the middle ages. Adeep, broad moat or fosse, constantly supplied by the river, defendedthe castle wall, which ran round the mound, irregularly indeed, forthere were indentations and sharp angles, occasioned by the unevenground, each of which was guarded by a strong turret or tower, risingfrom the wall. The wall itself was some four-and-twenty feet in height, and nine in thickness, consequently the spaces between the turrets onthe top of the wall formed broad level platforms, which in case of asiege were generally kept strongly guarded. Facing the east, andcommanding a view of the river and adjacent country, stood the barbacangate and drawbridge, which latter was further defended by strong oakendoors and an iron portcullis, forming the great gate of the castlewall, and the principal entrance into the fortress. Two towers ofimmense strength, united by a narrow, dimly-lighted passage, guardedthis gate, and on these depended the grate or portcullis, which waslowered or raised by internal machinery. Within the castle wall was theouter ballium or court, containing some small, low-roofed dwellings, theresidence of many feudal retainers of the baron. A rude church or chapelwas also within this court, holding a communication with the keep orprincipal part of the castle by means of a passage in the third wall, which divided the ballium from the inner court. In very large castlesthere were in general a second fosse, wall, gate, and towers guardingthe keep, and thus making a complete division between it and theballium; but the original owners of Kildrummie, less rich and powerfulsuzerains than their equals in South Britain, were probably contentedwith merely a stout wall to divide their own sovereign residence fromtheir more plebeian followers. The keep itself, constructed like allother similar buildings of the age, was a massive tower, covering but asmall square, and four or five stories high. There were attempts atluxury in the chambers within, but to modern taste the Norman luxury waslittle better than rudeness; and certainly though the cushions were softand richly embroidered, the arras in some of the apartments splendidspecimens of needlework, and the beautifully carved and often inlaidoaken walls of others, gave evidence of both taste and talent, yet thedim light seemed to shed a gloom and heaviness over the whole range ofrooms and passages, which no skill of workmanship or richness ofmaterial could remove. The windows were invariably small, and very longand narrow, and set in walls of such huge thickness, that the sun hadbarely power even in his summer splendor, to penetrate the dusky panes. In this keep was the great hall of audience, and for the banquet, at theupper end of which the dais was invariably found, and dark and loathsomedungeons formed its basement. 

The roof of Kildrummie keep was flatter than the generality of Normancastles, its four angles being surmounted more by the appearance thanthe reality of turrets; but one rose from the centre, round, and piercedby loopholes, turreted at the top, and commanding an extensive view ofthe adjoining country: from this tower the banner of the baron alwayswaved, and its non-appearance excited some indignation in the breast ofNigel Bruce, for his warrior spirit had no sympathy with that timorousexcuse, that did it wave at such a time it might excite the attention ofthe English, whereas did it elevate no symbol of defiance its garrisonmight pass unquestioned. 

"Up with the banner of Scotland and the Bruce!" were the first commandsof Sir Nigel, as he stood within the ballium, surrounded by his chargeand followers. "Shall we, pledged as we are to our country and king, even seem to stand neutral and conceal our colors, as ashamed of them?Shall this be?"

He was answered by a simultaneous rush towards the keep, and at his wordthe folds of the broad banner waved exultingly from the tower, itsappearance hailed by a loud shout from those beneath, and by a brightand momentary gleam of sunshine flashing through the heavy clouds. 

"Ha! see ye, my friends, even heaven smiles on us, " exclaimed the youngknight triumphantly, and smiling cheerily on his fair friends, as withgay words and graceful action he marshalled them into the keep. It waswhile doing so, that Agnes marked the figure of an old yetmajestic-looking man, whose eyes, still bright and flashing, though hiswhite hair denoted extreme old age, were fixed immovably on the face andform of Nigel. It was a peculiar glance, strained, eager, and yetmournful, holding her attention so fascinated that she paused in heronward way, and pointed him out to Nigel. 

"I know him not, love, " he said, in, answer to her inquiry. "I shoulddeem him minstrel by his garb, or seer, or both perchance, as issometimes the case, conjoined. I will speak with him when my presentgrateful task is done. "

But it was the next morning ere he had the opportunity of doing so, formuch devolved on the young seneschal. He had to visit the outworks, thestores, the offices, to give multitudinous orders, and receive variousintelligences, to review the present garrison and his own followers, andassign to each his post; and though ably aided by Sir Christopher Seatonand other of his officers, all this occupied much time. The outworks hefound in excellent condition; the barbacan, of massive stone, seemedwell enabled to resist attack, should it be made; the machinery of thedrawbridge was in good order, and enabled to be drawn up or let down ata moment's warning. The stores and granaries, which were contained inthe towers on the castle wall, were very amply provided, though Nigel, taking advantage of the present peaceful temper of the country, dispatched trusty messengers without delay for further supplies. Thatthis fortress, almost the only one remaining to his brother, wouldremain unmolested, Nigel did not for one moment believe, but he did hopethat, in case of a siege, if amply provided with stores, it might holdout till the intense cold of the season and climate would turn thebesiegers from their purpose; at all events, the advancing winter wouldbe more favorable to the besieged than the besiegers, and though thegarrison was comparatively small, the place itself was of such greatstrength as to guarantee the indulgence of his hopes. That the originalgarrison were too timorous and wavering for him to place much dependenceon them he readily perceived, but he trusted much to the beneficialinfluence which his own steady, true-hearted followers might be enabledto infuse. 

Nigel was young, brave, and animated by every feeling which inspirescourage and hope in the buoyant heart of youth. The gloom which hadoppressed him in parting with his brother, and indeed had partiallyclouded his spirit during their rapid journey, vanished before theduties and responsibilities which thronged round him, now that he felthimself the guard and seneschal of the castle intrusted to his charge;now that new duties devolved on him, duties particularly dear to a youngand gallant spirit like his own; duties, too, that bound him closer andcloser with the gentle being in whose welfare and happiness his own wereshrined. It was with a bright smile, then, and animated brow he joinedhis Agnes early the following morning, in a stroll through a small woodyinclosure dignified by the name of garden, which occupied part of theinner court. The old minstrel who had so attracted the attention ofAgnes was there before them. He stood against a projecting buttress, hisarms folded, his eyes fixed, it seemed on vacancy, and evidently notaware he was approached till Nigel spoke. 

"Good morrow, father. I thought we had been the earliest to greet thisfresh and frosty air, save those on guard, yet you are before us. Nay, wherefore doff thy cap, good father? The air is somewhat too frosty forthy silvered head. "

"I cannot doff it to a nobler, gentle youth, " answered the old man, courteously, "save to my sovereign's self; and as his representative, Ipay willing homage to his brother. "

"Ha! dost thou know me, father? And was it because I am King Robert'sbrother thine eyes so rested on me yester morn, mournfully, methought, as if the joy with which I hailed the gleam of sunshine smiling on ourbanner had little echo in thy breast?"

"Not that, not that, " answered the old man, tremulous; "I scarceremarked it, for my thoughts were in that future which is sometimesgiven me to read. I saw thee, noble youth, but 'twas not here. Dimvisions come across my waking hours; it is not well to note them, " andhe turned away as if he might not meet those eager eyes. 

"Not here! yet I was at his side, good father, " and Agnes laid her fairhand on the old man's arm. 

"Thou wert, thou wert, my child. Beautiful, beautiful!" he halfwhispered, as he laid his hand dreamily on those golden curls, andlooked on her face; "yet hath sorrow touched thee, maiden. Thy morn oflife hath been o'erclouded; its shadow lingers yet. "

"Too truly speakest thou, father, " replied Nigel, drawing Agnes closerto his heart, for tears were starting in her eyes; "yet will not lovesoon chase that sorrow? Thou who canst penetrate the future, seer of theBruce's line, tell me, shall she not be mine?"

The old man looked on them both, and then his eyes became fixed onvacancy; long and painfully once or twice he passed his hand across hishigh, pale brow. 

"Vain, vain, " he said, sadly; "but one vision comes to mine achingsight, and there she seems thine own. She is thine own--but I know nothow that will be. Ask me no more; the dream is passing. 'Tis a sad andfearful gift. Others may triumph in the power, but for me 'tis sad, 'tisvery sad. "

"Sad! nay, is it not joy, the anticipating joy, " answered Nigel, withanimation, "to look on a beloved one, and mark, amid the clouds ofdistance, glory, and honor, and love entwining on, his path? to lookthrough shades of present sorrow, and discern the sunbeam afar off--isthere not joy in this?"

"Aye, gentle youth; but now, oh, now is there aught in Scotland towhisper these bright things? There was rejoicing, find glory, andtriumph around the patriot Wallace. Scotland sprung from her sluggishsleep, and gave back her echo to his inspiring call. I looked upon thehero's beaming brow, I met the sparkle of his brilliant eye, I bowedbefore the native majesty of his god-like form, but there was no joyfor me. Dark masses of clouds closed round the present sunshine; thepresent fled like a mist before them, and they oped, and then--there wasstill Wallace; but oh! how did I see him? the scaffold, the cord, themocking crowds, the steel-clad guards--all, all, even as he fell. Mychildren! my children! was there joy in this?"

There was a thrilling pathos in the old man's voice that touched thevery heart of his listeners. Agnes clung closer to the arm of herbetrothed, and looked up tearfully in his face; his cheek was very pale, and his lip slightly quivered. There was evidently a desire to speak, toutter some inquiry, but he looked on that sweet face upturned to his, and the unspoken words died in an inarticulate murmur on his lips. 

"My brother, " he said, at length, and with some difficulty, though itwas evident from the expression of his countenance this was not thequestion he had meant to ask, "my noble brother, will thy gloriousstruggles, thy persevering valor, end in this? No, no, it cannot be. Prophet and seer, hast thou e'er gazed on him--him, the hope, the joy, the glory of the line of Bruce? Hast thou gazed on him, and was there nojoy there?"

"Yes!" answered the old man, starting from his posture of despondency, and raising his hands with animated fervor, while his cheek flushed, andhis eyes, fixed on distance, sparkled with all the fire of youth. "Yes!I have gazed upon that face, and in present and in future it is gloriousstill. Thick mists have risen round him, well-nigh concealing him withintheir murky folds, but still, still as a star penetrating through cloud, and mist, and space, till it sees its own bright semblance in the oceandepths, so has that brow, circled by its diadem of freedom, gleamed backupon mine aching sight, and I have seen and known there is joy for Bruceand Scotland yet!"

"Then is there joy for all true Scottish men, good father, and so willwe chase all sadness from our brows and hearts, " replied Nigel, lightly. "Come, tell us of the past, and not the future, while we stroll; thouhast traditions, hast thou not, to while away an hour?"

"Nay, my young lord, " replied the seer, "hast thou not enough in thepresent, embodied as it is in this fair maiden's dreaming eye and lovingheart? The minstrel's harp and ancient lore are for the evening hour, not for a time and companion such as this, " and with an audible blessinghe turned away, leaving them to their stroll together. 

It was not, however, without an effort Nigel could take advantage of hisabsence, and make good use of moments so blissful to hearts that love. There was something in the old man's mournful tone and glance when itrested upon him, that answered strangely and sadly to the spirit-voicebreathing in his own bold breast. It seemed to touch that chordindefinably, yet felt by the vibration of every nerve which followed. Heroused himself, however, and ere they joined the morning meal, there wasa brighter smile on the lip and heart of Agnes than had rested there formany a long day. 

For a few weeks there was peace both within and without the castle ofKildrummie. The relief, the shelter which its walls afforded to thewearied and exhausted wanderers was at first felt and enjoyed alone. Many of the frailer sex were far too exhausted and disabled by a varietyof sufferings, to be sensible of any thing but that greater comfortsthan had been theirs for many painful months were now possessed; butwhen their strength became partially restored, when these comfortsbecame sufficiently familiar to admit of other thoughts, the queen'sfortitude began to waver. It was not the mere impulse of the momentwhich caused her to urge her accompanying her husband, on the plea ofbecoming more and more unworthy of his love if separated from him. Margaret of Mar was not born for a heroine; more especially to act onsuch a stormy stage as Scotland. Full of kindly feeling, of affection, confidence, gentleness, one that would have drooped and died had herdoom been to pass through life unloved, her yielding mind took its toneand coloring from those with whom she most intimately associated; notindeed from the rude and evil, for from those she intuitively shrunk. Beneath her husband's influence, cradled in his love, her spiritreceived and cherished the _reflection_ of his strength; of itself, shetoo truly felt it had none; and consequently when that beloved one wasfar away, the reflection passed from her mind even as the gleam of hisarmor from the mirror on which it glanced, and Margaret was weak andtimorous again. She had thought, and hoped, and prayed, her unfeignedadmiration of Isabella of Buchan, her meek and beautiful appreciation ofthose qualities and candid acknowledgment that such was the charactermost adapted to her warrior husband, would bring more steadiness andcourage to her own woman breast. Alas! the fearful fate which hadovertaken the heroic countess came with such a shock to the weaker soulof Margaret, that if she had obtained any increase of courage, it was atonce annihilated, and the desponding fancy entered her mind that if evilreached one so noble, so steadfast in thought and in action, how mightshe hope to escape; and now, when weakened and depressed alike by bodilyand mental suffering, such fancies obtained so much possession of herthat she became more and more restless. The exertions of Sir Nigel andhis companions, even of her own friends, failed in rousing or infusingstrength. Sometimes it was vague conjectures as to the fate of herhusband, the dread that he had fallen into the hands of his foes--acatastrophe which not only herself but many stronger minds imaginedcould scarcely be avoided. She would dwell on these fancies tillsuspense became intolerable; and then, if these were partially calmed, came personal fears: the belief that if attacked the castle could notmuster force enough for defence; suspicions of treachery in thegarrison, and other symptoms of the wavering nature of her mind, tillSir Nigel felt too truly that if danger did come she would not stay tomeet it. Her wishes ever turned to the sanctuary of St. Duthac in thedomains of the Earl of Ross, believing the sanctity of the place wouldbe more effectual protection than the strongest castle and bravestforce. In vain Sir Nigel remonstrated, nay, assured her that thefidelity of the Lord of Ross was impugned; that he doubted hisflattering overtures; that he was known to be in correspondence withEngland. But he spoke in vain--the queen persisted in trusting him; thathe had ever been a friend of her father and brother the Earls of Mar, and he would be faithful to her interests now. Her opinion weighed withmany of the ladies of her court, even amongst those who were notaffected with her fears. At such times Agnes never spoke, but there wasa calm, quiet determination in her expression that convinced the LadySeaton, who alone had leisure to observe her, that her resolution wasalready taken and unalterable. 

All that could be done to calm, the queen's perturbed spirits by way ofamusement Sir Nigel did; but his task was not an easy one, and the rumorwhich about this time reached him that the Earls of Hereford andLancaster, with a very large force, were rapidly advancing towardsAberdeenshire, did not lessen its difficulties. He sought to keep theinformation as long as possible from all his female charge, although theappearance of many terrified villagers flying from their homes to theprotection of the castle hardly enabled him to do so, and confirmedwithout doubt the truth of what he had heard. Nigel felt the moment ofperil was approaching, and he nerved both mind and frame to meet it. Theweak terrors of the queen and some of her train increased with everyrumor, and, despite every persuasion of Sir Nigel, Seaton, and otherbrave and well-tried warriors, she rested not till a negotiation wasentered into with the Earl of Ross to grant them a safe conduct throughhis lands, and permission to enter the sanctuary of St. Duthac. 

Perplexed with many sad thoughts, Nigel Bruce was one day slowlytraversing a long gallery leading to some uninhabited chambers in thewest wing of the building; it was of different architecture, and ruder, heavier aspect than the remainder of the castle. Tradition said thatthose rooms had been the original building inhabited by an ancestor ofthe line of Bruce, and the remainder had been gradually added to them;that some dark deed of blood had been there committed, and consequentlythey were generally kept locked, none of the vassals in the castlechoosing to run the risk of meeting the spirits which they declaredabode there. We have before said that Nigel was not superstitious, though his mind being of a cast which, adopting and embodying the ideal, he was likely to be supposed such. The particulars of the tradition hehad never heard, and consequently it was always with a smile ofdisbelief he listened to the oft-repeated injunction not to walk at duskin the western turret. This warning came across him now, but his mindwas far otherwise engrossed, too much so indeed for him even to givemore than a casual glance to the rude portraits which hung on eitherside the gallery. 

He mistrusted the Earl of Ross, and there came a fear upon his noblespirit that, in permitting the departure of the queen and herattendants, he might be liable to the censure of his sovereign, that hewas failing in his trust; yet how was he to act, how put a restraintupon his charge? Had he indeed believed that the defence of the castlewould be successful, that he should be enabled to force the besiegersto raise the siege, he might perhaps have felt justified in restrainingthe queen--but he did not feel this. He had observed there were manydiscontented and seditious spirits in the castle, not indeed in thethree hundred of his immediate followers; but what were they compared tothe immense force now pouring over the country, and whose goal he knewwas Kildrummie? The increase of inmates also, from the number of smallvillages which had emptied their inhabitants into his walls till he wascompelled to prevent further ingress, must inevitably diminish hisstores, and when once blockaded, to replenish them would be impossible. No personal fears, no weakness of purpose entered the high soul of NigelBruce amid these painful cogitations. He well knew no shade of dishonor_could_ fall on him; he thought not one moment of his own fate, althoughif the castle were taken he knew death awaited him, either by thebesieger's sword or the hangman's cord, for he would make no condition;he thought only that this was well-nigh the last castle in his brother'skeeping, which, if lost, would in the present depressed state of hisaffairs be indeed a fatal blow, and a still greater triumph to England. 

These thoughts naturally engrossed his mind to the exclusion of allimaginative whisperings, and therefore was it that he drew back the boltof a door which closed the passage, without any of those peculiarfeelings that at a less anxious time might have possessed him; for soulsless gifted than that of Nigel Bruce can seldom enter a spot hallowed bytradition without the electric thrill which so strangely unites thepresent with the past. 

It was a chamber of moderate dimensions to which the oaken door admittedhim, hung with coarse and faded tapestry, which, disturbed by the wind, disclosed an opening into another passage, through which he pursued hisway. In the apartment on which the dark and narrow passage ended, however, his steps were irresistibly arrested. It was panelled withblack-oak, of which the floor also was composed, giving the whole anaspect calculated to infect the most thoughtless spirit with gloom. Twohigh and very narrow windows, the small panes of which were quiteincrusted with dust, were the only conductors of light, with theexception of a loophole--for it could scarcely be dignified by the nameof casement--on the western side. Through this loophole the red lightof a declining winter sun sent its rays, which were caught and stayed onwhat seemed at the distance an antique picture-frame. Wondering toperceive a picture out of its place in the gallery, Nigel hastilyadvanced towards it, pausing, however, on his way to examine, with somesurprise, one of the planks in the floor, which, instead of thebeautiful black polish which age had rather heightened than marred inthe rest, was rough and white, with all the appearance of having beenhewn and scraped by some sharp instrument. 

It is curious to mark how trifling a thing will sometimes connect, arrange, and render clear as day to the mind all that has before beenvague, imperfect, and indistinct. It is like the touch of lightning onan electric chain, link after link starts up till we see the illuminedwhole. We have said Nigel had never heard the particulars of thetradition; but he looked on that misshapen plank, and in an instant atale of blood and terror weaved itself in his mind; in that room thedeed, whatever it was, had been done, and from that plank the sanguineevidence of murder had been with difficulty erased. A cold shudderingpassed over him, and he turned instinctively away, and strode hastily toexamine the frame which had attracted him. It did contain a picture--weshould rather say a portrait--for it comprised but one figure, thehalf-length of a youthful warrior, clad in steel, save thebeautifully-formed head, which was covered only by his own luxuriantraven curls. In a better light it could not have been placed, particularly in the evening; the rays, condensed and softened, seemed togather up their power into one focus, and throw such an almostsupernatural glow on the half face, give such an extraordinaryappearance of life to the whole figure, that a casual visitant to thatchamber might well fancy it was no picture but reality on which hegazed. But no such emotion was at work in the bosom of Nigel Bruce, though his first glance upon that face occasioned an almost convulsivestart, and then a gaze of such intense, such almost fearful interest, that he stood as if fascinated by some overpowering spell. His features, worked with internal emotions, flushed and paled alternately. It was noweak-minded terror which bound him there, no mood in which a step orsound could chill and startle, for so wrapt was he in his own strangedreams that he heard not a slow and measured step approach him; he didnot even start when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and the melodiousvoice of the seer caused him to turn slowly around. 

"The warnings thou hast heard have no power on thee, young lord, " hesaid, slightly smiling, "or I should not see thee here at this houralone. Yet thou wert strangely wrapt. "

"Knowest thou aught of _him_, good father?" answered Nigel, in a voicethat to his own ears sounded hoarse and unnatural, and turning hisglance once again to the portrait. "My thoughts are busy with that faceand yon tale-telling plank; there are wild, feverish, incongruous dreamswithin me, and I would have them solved. Thou of all others art bestfitted to the task, for amid the records of the past, where thou hastloved to linger, thou hast surely found the tradition of this tower. Ishame not to confess there is in my heart a deep yearning to learn thetruth. Wherefore, when thy harp and song have so pleasantly whiled theevening hours, did not this tale find voice, good father?"

"Alas! my son, 'tis too fraught with horror, too sad for gentle ears. Afew stern, rugged words will best repeat it. I love not to linger on thetheme; listen then now, and it shall be told thee. "

"In the reign of Malcolm the Second, the districts now called Aberdeenand Forfar were possessed, and had been so, so tradition saith, sinceKenneth MacAlpine, by the Lords of Brus or Bris, a family originallyfrom the North. They were largely and nobly connected, particularly withNorway and Gaul. It is generally supposed the first possessions inScotland held in fief by the line of Bruce can be traced back only tothe time of David I. , in the person of Robert de Bruce, an Anglo-Normanbaron, whose father came over to England with the Conqueror. The causeof this supposition my tale will presently explain. 

"Haco Brus or Bris was the Lord of Aberdeen in the reign of Malcolm theSecond. He spent many years abroad; indeed, was supposed to have marriedand settled there, when, to the surprise of his vassals, he suddenlyreturned unmarried, and soon after uniting himself with a beautiful andaccomplished girl, nearly related to the blood-royal of Scotland, settled quietly in this tower, which was the stronghold of hispossessions. Years passed; the only child of the baron, a son, born inthe first year of his marriage, grew up in strength and beauty, the idolnot only of his mother, but of his father, a man stern and cold inseeming, even morose, but with passions fearful alike in their influenceand extent. Your eye glances to that pictured face, he was not thebaron's son of whom I speak. The affections, nay, the very passions ofthe baron were centered in this boy. It is supposed pride and ambitionwere their origin, for he looked, through his near connection with thesovereign, for further aggrandizement for himself. There were some whodeclared ambition was not the master-passion, that a deeper, sterner, fiercer emotion dwelt within. Whether they spoke thus from the sequel, Iknow not, but that sequel proved their truth. 

"There was a gathering of all the knightly and noble in King Malcolm'scourt, not perchance for trials at arms resembling the tournays of thepresent day, but very similar in their motive and bearing, though ruderand more dangerous. Tho wreath of glory and victory was ever given bythe gentle hand of beauty. Bright eyes and lovely forms presided at thesports even as now, and the king and his highest nobles joined in therevels. 

"The wife of the Baron of Brus and his son, now a fine boy of thirteen, were of course amongst the royal guests. Though matron grace anddignified demeanor had taken the place of the blushing charms of earlygirlhood, the Lady Helen Brus was still very beautiful, and as the nieceof the king and wife of such a distinguished baron, commanded andreceived universal homage. Among the combatants was a youthful knight, of an exterior and bearing so much more polished and graceful than thesons of the soil or their more northern visitors, that he was instantlyrecognized as coming from Gaul, then as now the most polished kingdom ofthe south. Delighted with his bravery, his modesty, and most chivalricbearing, the king treated him with most distinguished honor, invited himto his palace, spoke with him as friend with friend on the kingdoms ofNormandy and France, to the former of which he was subject. There was amystery, too, about the young knight, which heightened the interest heexcited; he bore no device on his shield, no cognizance whatever to markhis name and birth and his countenance, beautiful as it was, often whenin repose expressed sadness and care unusual to his years, for he wasstill very young, though in reply to the king's solicitations that hewould choose one of Scotland's fairest maidens (her dower should beprincely), and make the Scottish court his home, he had smilingly avowedthat he was already a husband and father. 

"The notice of the king, of course, inspired the nobles with similarfeelings of hospitality. Attention and kindness were lavished on thestranger from all, and nothing was talked of but the nameless knight. The Lord of Brus, who had been absent on a mission to a distant courtduring the continuance of the martial games, was on his return presentedby the king himself to the young warrior. It is said that both were somuch moved by this meeting, that all present were mystified still more. The baron, with that deep subtlety for which he was remarkable, recovered himself the first, and accounted for his emotion to thesatisfaction of his hearers, though not apparently to that of thestranger, who, though his cheek was blanched, still kept his brightsearching eyes upon him, till the baron's quailed 'neath his gaze. Thehundred tongues of rumor chose to speak of relationship, that there wasa likeness between them, yet I know not how that could be. There is noimpress of the fiendish passion at work in the baron's soul on thosebright, beautiful features. "

"Ha! Is it of him you speak?" involuntarily escaped from Nigel, as theold man for a moment paused; "of him? Methought yon portrait was of anancestor of Bruce, or wherefore is it here?"

"Be patient, good my son. My narrative wanders, for my lips shrink fromits tale. That the baron and the knight met, not in warlike joust but inpeaceful converse, and at the request of the latter, is known, but onwhat passed in that interview even tradition is silent, it can only beimagined by the sequel; they appeared, however, less reserved than atfirst. The baron treated him with the same distinction as hisfellow-nobles, and the stranger's manner towards him was even morerespectful than the mere difference of age appeared to demand. Importantbusiness with the Lord of Brus was alleged as the cause of his acceptingthat nobleman's invitation to the tower of Kildrummie, in preference toothers earlier given and more eagerly enforced. They departed together, the knight accompanied but by two of his followers, and the baronleaving the greater number of his in attendance on his wife and child, who, for some frivolous reason, he left with the court. It was a strangething for him to do, men said, as he had never before been known to losesight of his boy even for a day. For some days all seemed peace andhospitality within the tower. The stranger was too noble himself, andtoo kindly disposed towards all his fellow-creatures, to suspect aughtof treachery, or he might have remarked the retainers of the baron werechanged; that ruder forms and darker visages than at first weregathering around him. How the baron might have intended to make use ofthem--almost all robbers and murderers by trade--cannot be known, thoughit may be suspected. In this room the last interview between them tookplace, and here, on this silent witness of the deed, the hand of thefather was bathed in the blood of the son!"

"God in heaven!" burst from Nigel's parched lips, as he sprang up. "Theson--how could that be? how known?"

"Fearfully, most fearfully!" shudderingly answered the old man; "throughthe dying ravings of the maniac Lord of Brus himself. Had not heaven, inits all-seeing justice, thus revealed it, the crime would ever haveremained concealed. His bandit hirelings were at hand to remove andbury, many fathoms deep in moat and earth, all traces of the deed. Oneof the unfortunate knight's followers was supposed to have shared thefate of his master, and to the other, who escaped almost miraculously, you owe the preservation of your royal line. 

"But there was one witness of the deed neither time nor the most cunningart could efface. The blood lay in a pool on the oaken floor, and thevoice of tradition whispers that day after day it was supernaturallyrenewed; that vain were the efforts to absorb it, it ever seemed moistand red; and that to remove the plank and re-floor the apartment wasattempted again and again in vain. However this may be, it is evidentthat _erasing it_ was attended with extreme difficulty; that the bloodhad penetrated well-nigh through the immense thickness of the wood. "

Nigel stooped down over the crumbling fragment; years, aye, centurieshad rolled away, yet there it still stood, arrested it seemed even inits decay, not permitted to crumble into dust, but to remain aneverlasting monument of crime and its retribution. After a brief pauseNigel resumed his seat, and pushing the hair from his brow, which wasdamp with some untold emotion, signed to the old man to proceed. 

"That the stranger warrior returned not to Malcolm's court, and hadfailed in his promises to various friends, was a matter ofdisappointment, and for a time, of conjecture to the king and his court. That his followers, in obedience, it was said, to their master's signet, set off instantly to join him either in England or Normandy, for both ofwhich places they had received directions, satisfied the greater number. If others suspected foul play, it was speedily hushed up; for the baronwas too powerful, too closely related to the throne, and justice thentoo weak in Scotland to permit accusation or hope for conviction. Timepassed, and the only change observable in the baron was, that he becamemore gloomy, more abstracted, wrapt up, as it were, in one darkremembrance, one all-engrossing thought. Towards his wife he waschanged--harsh, cold, bitterly sarcastic; as if her caresses had turnedto gall. Her gentle spirit sunk beneath the withering blight, and he washeard to laugh, the mocking laugh of a fiend, as he followed her to thegrave; her child, indeed, he still idolized, but it was a fearfulaffection, and a just heaven permitted not its continuance. The child, to whom many had looked as likely to ascend the Scottish throne, fromthe failure of all direct heirs, the beautiful and innocent child of amost guilty father, faded like a lovely flower before him, so softly, sogradually, that there came no suspicion of death till the cold hand wason his heart, and he lay lifeless before him who had plunged his soul indeadliest crime through that child to aggrandize himself. Then was itthat remorse, torturing before, took the form of partial madness, andthere was not one who had power to restrain, or guide, or soothe. 

"Then it was the fearful tale was told, freezing the blood, not so muchwith the wild madness of the tone, but that the words were toocollected, too stamped with truth, to admit of aught like doubt. Thecouch of the baron was, at his own command, placed here, where we nowstand, covering the spot where his first-born fell, and that portrait, obtained from Normandy, hung where it now is, ever in his sight. Thedark tale which those wild ravings revealed was simply this:

"He had married, as was suspected, during his wanderings, but soon tiredof the yoke, more particularly as his wife possessed a spirit proud andhaughty as his own, and all efforts to mould her to his will wereuseless, he plunged anew into his reckless career. He had never lovedhis wife, marrying her simply because it suited his convenience, andbrought him increase of wealth and station; and her ill-disguisedabhorrence of many of his actions, her beautiful adherence to virtue, however tempted, occasioned all former feelings to concentrate in hatredthe most deadly. More than one attempt to rid himself of her by poisonshe had discovered and frustrated, and at last removed herself and herchild, under a feigned name, to Normandy, and ably eluded all pursuitand inquiry. 

"The baron's search continued some time, in the hope of silencing herforever, as he feared she might prove a dangerous enemy, but failing inhis wishes, he travelled some time over different countries, returned atlength to Scotland, and acted as we have seen. The young knight had beeninformed of his birthright by his mother, at her death, which took placetwo years before he made his appearance in Scotland; that she hadconcealed from him the fearful character of his father, being unable socompletely to divest herself of all feeling towards the father of herchild, as to make him an object of aversion to his son. She had longtold him his real name, and urged him to demand from his father anacknowledgment of his being heir to the proud barony of the Bruce. Hislikeness to herself was so strong, that she knew it must carryconviction to his father; but to make his identity still more certain, she furnished him with certain jewels and papers, none but herself couldproduce. She had done this in the presence of two faithful witnesses, the father and brother of her son's betrothed bride, high lords ofNormandy, the former of which made it a condition annexed to his consentto the marriage, that as soon as possible afterwards he should urge andclaim his rights. Sir Walter, of course, willingly complied; they weremarried by the name of Brus, and their child so baptized. A war, whichretained Sir Walter in arms with his sovereign, prevented his seekingScotland till his boy was a year old, and then for his sake, far morethan for his own, the young father determined on asserting hisbirthright, his child should not be nameless, as he had been; but tospare his unknown parent all public mortification, he joined the martialgames without any cognizance or bearing on his shield. 

"Terrible were the ravings in which the baron alluded to the interviewhe had had with his murdered child; the angelic mildness and generosityof the youthful warrior; that, amid all his firmness never to departfrom his claim--as it was not alone himself but his child he wouldirreparably injure--he never wavered in his respectful deference to hisparent. He quitted the court in the belief that the baron soughtKildrummie to collect the necessary papers for substantiating his claim;but ere he died, it appeared his eyes were opened. The fierce passionsof the baron had been too long restrained in the last interview; theyburst even his politic control, and he had flung the papers receivedfrom, the hand of his too-confiding son on the blazing hearth, and withdreadful oaths swore that if he would not instantly retract his claim, and bind himself by the most sacred promise never to breathe the foultale again, death should be its silent keeper. He would not bring hisown head low, and avow that he had dishonored a scion of theblood-royal. 

"Appalled far more at the dark, fiendish passions he beheld than thethreat held out to himself, Sir Walter stood silent a while, and thenmildly demanded to be heard; that if so much public mortification to hisparent would attend the pursuance of his claims at the present time, hewould consent to forego them, on condition of his father's solemnlypromising on his deathbed to reveal the truth, and do him tardy justicethen, but forego them altogether he would not, were his life theforfeit. The calm firmness of his tone, it is supposed, lashed hisfather into greater madness, and thus the dark deed was done. 

"That the baron several times endeavored to possess himself of theinfant child of Sir Walter, also came to light in his dying moments;that he had determined to exterminate root and branch, fearful he shouldstill possess some clue to his birth; he had frantically avowed, but inhis last hour, he would have given all his amassed treasure, hisgreatness, his power, but for one little moment of assurance that hisgrandson lived. He left him all his possessions, his lordship, his name, but as there were none came forth to claim, they of necessity passed tothe crown. "

"But the child, the son of Sir Walter--if from him our line descends, hemust have lived to manhood--why did not he demand his rights?"

"He lived, aye, and had a goodly progeny; but the fearful tale of hisfather's fate related to him again and again by the faithful Edric, whohad fled from his master's murdered corse to watch over the safety ofthat master's child, and warn all who had the charge of him of the fiendin human shape who would probably seek the boy's life as he had hisfather's, caused him to shun the idea of his Scottish possessions with aloathing horror which he could not conquer; they were associated withthe loss of both his parents, for his father's murder killed his devotedmother. He was contented to feel himself Norman in possessions as wellas in name. He received lands and honors from the Dukes of Normandy, andat the advanced age of seventy and five, accompanied Duke William toEngland. The third generation from him obtained anew Scottishpossessions, and gradually Kildrummie and its feudal tenures returned toits original lords; but the tower had been altered and enlarged, andexcept the tradition of these chambers, the fearful fate of the secondof the line has faded from the minds of his descendants, unless casuallyor supernaturally recalled. "

"Ha! supernaturally, sayest thou?" interrupted Nigel, in a tone sopeculiar it almost startled his companion. "Are there those who assertthey have seen his semblance--good, gifted, beautiful as thou hastdescribed him? why not at once deem him the guardian spirit of ourhouse?"

"And there are those who deem him so, young lord, " answered the seer. "It is said that until the Lords of Bruce again obtained possession ofthese lands, in the visions of the night the form of the murderedwarrior, clad as in yon portrait, save with the addition of a scarfacross his breast bearing the crest and cognizance of the Bruce, appeared once in his lifetime to each lineal descendant. Suchvisitations are said to have ceased, and he is now only seen by thosedestined like himself to an early and bloody death, cut off in the primeof manhood, nobleness, and joy. "

"And where--sleeping or waking?" demanded the young nobleman, in a low, deep tone, laying his hand on the minstrel's arm, and looking fixedly onhis now strangely agitated face. 

"Sleeping or waking? it hath been both, " he answered, and his voicefaltered. "If it be in the front of the war, amid the press, the crush, the glory of the battle, he hath come, circled with bright forms andbrighter dreams, to the sleeping warrior on the eve of his last fight;if"--and his voice grew lower and huskier yet--"if by the red hand ofthe foe, by the captive's chain and headsman's axe, as the nobleWallace, there have been those who say--I vouch not for its truth--hehath been seen in the vigils of the night on the eve of knighthood, whenthe young, aspiring warrior hath watched and prayed beside his arms. Boy! boy! why dost thou look upon me thus?"

"Because thine eye hath read my doom, " he said, in a firm, sweet tone;"and if there be aught of truth in thy tale, thou knowest, feelest Ihave seen him. God of mercy, the captive's chain, the headsman's axe!Yet 'tis Thy will, and for my country--let it come. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

"Thou art idle, maiden; wherefore not gather thy robes and other geartogether, as thy companions? Knowest thou not in twenty-four hours weshall be, heaven willing, safely sheltered under the holy wing of St. Duthac?" was Queen Margaret's address to Agnes, about a week after theconversation we have recorded. There were many signs of confusion andtokens of removal in her scanty train, but the maiden of Buchan stoodapart, offering assistance when needed, but making no arrangements forherself. 

"I seek not such holy keeping, may it please you, madam, " she replied. "I do not quit this castle. "

"How!" exclaimed Margaret. "Art thou mad?"

"In what, royal madam?"

"Or hath love blinded thee, girl? Knowest thou not Hereford andLancaster are advancing as rapidly as their iron-clad force permits, andin less than seven days the castle must be besieged in form?"

"I know it, madam. "

"And thou wilt brave it, maiden?--dare a danger that may be avoided? Isthy life of so little worth, or if not thy life, thy liberty?"

"When a life is wrapt up in one--when there is none on earth save thatone to whom that life is of any worth, wherefore should I seek safetysave by his side? Royal madam, I am not mad nor blind; but desolate asI am, --nay, were I not 'twould be the same--I covet to share Sir Nigel'sfate; the blow that strikes him shall lay me at his side, be it inprison or in death. My safety is with him; and were the danger ten timesas great as that which threatens now, I'd share it with him still. "

"Nay, thou art but a loving fool, Agnes. Be advised, seek safety in thesanctuary; peril cannot reach us there. "

"Save by the treachery of the dark-browed earl who grants that shelter. Nay, pardon me, madam; thou lovest not to list that theme, believing himas honorable and faithful as thyself. God grant he prove so! If, " sheadded, with a faint smile, "if it be such mad folly to cling to abeloved one in danger as in joy, in adversity as in triumph, forgive me, royal lady, but thy maidens have learned that tale of thee. "

"And would to God I could teach them thus again!" exclaimed the queen, tears coursing down her cheeks. "Oh, Agnes, Agnes, were Robert here, notdeath itself should part us. For my child's sake, for his, I go hencefor safety. Could my resting, nay, my death benefit him, Agnes, I wouldmeet it, weak as thou deemest me. "

"Nay, nay, I doubt it not, my queen, " answered Agnes, soothingly, "It isbest thou shouldst find some place of repose till this struggle be past. If it end in victory, it will be joy to hail thee once again within itswalls; if otherwise, better thy safety should be cared for. "

"But for thee, my child, is it not unmaidenly for thee to linger here?"

"It would be, royal madam, " and a bright vivid flush glowed on her palecheeks, "but for the protection of the Lady Seaton, who will not leaveher husband. "

"I may not blame her, after mine own words, " said the queen, sorrowfully; "yet she is one I could have wished beside me. Ha! thattrumpet. Merciful heaven! is it the foe?" and trembling with alarm, shedispatched attendant after attendant to know the cause. 

The English force was known to be so near that many a warrior-heart beatquicker at any unusual blast, and it was not marvel the queen's terrorsshould very often affect her attendants. Agnes alone, amid the maidentrain, ever retained a calm self-possession; strange in one who, tillthe last eventful year, had seemed such a very child. Her mothertrembled lest the turmoils and confusion of her country should everapproach her or those she loved; how might she, timid, nay; oftenfearful, weak, and yielding, as the flower on the heath, how might sheencounter storm, and grief, and care? Had her mother's eye been on hernow, and could have followed her in yet deeper trials, that motherscarce had known her child. 

She it was whose coolness enabled her easily to recognize and explainthe trumpet's blast. It was an officer with an escort from the Lord ofRoss, informing the queen that, from late intelligence respecting themovements of the English, he deemed it better they should not defertheir departure from the castle another night. 

On the receipt of this message all was increased hurry and confusion inthe apartments of the queen. The advice was to be followed on theinstant, and ere sunset the litters and mules, and other accommodationfor the travellers, waited their pleasure in the outer court. 

It was with a mien of princely dignity, a countenance grave andthoughtful, with which the youthful seneschal attended the travellers tothe great gate of the castle. In after years the expression of hisfeatures flashed again and again upon those who looked upon him them. Calmly he bade his sister-in-law farewell, and bade her, should she bethe first to see his brother, tell him that it was at her own free willand pleasure she thus departed; that neither advice nor persuasion onhis part had been used; she had of her own will released him from hissacred charge; and if ill came of it, to free his memory from blame. 

"Trust me, Nigel; oh, surely you may trust me! You will not part from mein anger at my wilfulness?" entreated Margaret, as clinging to his arm, she retained him a few minutes ere he placed her in the litter. 

"In anger, my sweet sister, nay, thou wrongest me!" he said, a brightsmile dispersing a moment the pensive cast of his features. "In sorrow, perchance, for I love not him to whose care thou hast committed thyself;yet if ill await this castle, and thou wert with me, 'twould enhance itsbitterness. No, tis better thou shouldst go; though I would it were notto the Lord of Ross. "

"And wherefore?" demanded the deep stern voice of the officer besidehim. 

"Because I doubt him, Archibald Macfarlane, " sternly replied the youngnobleman, fixing his flashing eyes upon him; "and thou mayst so informhim an thou wilt. An I do him wrong, let him deliver the Queen ofScotland and her attendants in safety to King Robert, in the forthcomingspring, and Nigel Bruce will crave forgiveness for the wrong that hehath done him; nay, let his conduct give my doubts the lie, and I willeven thank him, sir. "

Turning on his heel, he conducted the queen to her litter, and bade agraceful farewell to all her fair companions, bidding good angels speedthem on their way. The heavy gates were thrown back, the portcullisraised and the drawbridge lowered, and amid a parting cheer from themen-at-arms drawn up in the court in military homage to their queen, thecavalcade departed, attended only by the men of Ross, for the number ofthe garrison was too limited to admit of their attendance anywhere, savewithin and on the walls. 

With folded arms and an anxious brow, Sir Nigel stood beside the gate, marking the progress of the train; a gentle voice aroused him. Itplayfully said, "Come to the highest turret, Nigel, there thou wilttrace their path as long as light remains. " He started, for Agnes was athis side. He drew her arm within his own, briefly gave the command toclose the gate and make all secure, and turned with her in the directionof the keep. 

"Have I done right, " he said, as, when they had reached a more retiredpath, he folded his arm caressingly around her, and drew her closer tohim, "to list thy pleadings, dearest, to grant thy boon? oh, if _they_go to safety, why did I listen to thee and permit thee to remain?"

"Nay, there is equal safety within these walls, Nigel. Be assured, thineAgnes hath neither regret nor doubt when thou art by her side, " sheanswered, still playfully. "I love not the sanctuaries they go to seek;the stout hearts and trusty blades of warriors like thee and thine, myNigel, are better and truer safeguards. "

"Alas! Agnes, I fear me not in cases such as these. I am not wont to bedesponding, but from the small number of true men which garrison thiscastle, I care not to acknowledge I had loved better to meet my foe onopen ground. Here I can scarce know friend from foe; traitors may bearound me, nay, in my very confidence, and I know it not. "

"Art thou not infected with Queen Margaret's suspicions, Nigel? Whyponder on such uneasy dreams?"

"Because, my best love, I am a better adept in the perusal of men'scountenances and manners than many, and there are signs of loweringdiscontent and gloomy cowardice, arguing ill for unity of measures, onwhich our safety greatly rests. Yet my fancies may be wrong, and at allhazards my duty shall be done. The issue is in the hands of a higherpower; we cannot do wrong in committing ourselves to Him, for thouknowest He giveth not the battle to the strong, and right and justice wehave on Scotland's side. "

Agnes looked on his face, and she saw, though he spoke cheerfully, histhoughts echoed not his words. She would not express her own anxiety, but led him gently to explain to her his plan of defence, and prepareher for all she might have to encounter. 

Five days passed, and all within and without the walls remained thesame; the sixth was the Sabbath, and the greater part of the officersand garrison were assembled in the chapel, where divine service wasregularly read by the Abbot of Scone, whom we should perhaps before havementioned as having, at the king's especial request, accompanied thequeen and her attendants to Kildrummie. It was a solemn yet stirringsight, that little edifice, filled as it was with steel-clad warriorsand rude and dusky forms, now bending in one prayer before their God. The proud, the lowly, the faithless, and the true, the honorable and thebase, the warrior, whose whole soul burned and throbbed but for hiscountry and his king, the coward, whose only thought was how he couldobtain life for himself and save the dread of war by the surrender ofthe castle--one and all knelt there, the workings of those diversehearts known but to Him before whom they bent. Strangely and mournfullydid that little group of delicate females gleam forth amidst the darkerand harsher forms around, as a knot of fragile flowers blooming alone, and unsheltered amidst some rude old forest trees, safe in their ownlowliness from the approaching tempest, but liable to be overwhelmed inthe fall of their companions, whom yet they would not leave. As calmlyas in his own abbey the venerable abbot read the holy service, andadministered the rites of religion to all who sought. It was in the deepsilence of individual prayer which preceded the chanting of theconclusion of the service that a shrill, peculiar blast of a trumpet washeard. On the instant it was recognized as the bugle of the warderstationed on the centre turret of the keep, as the blast which told thefoe was at length in sight. Once, twice, thrice it sounded, at irregularintervals, even as Nigel had commanded; the notes were caught up by thewarders on the walls, and repeated again and again. A sudden cry of "Thefoe!" broke from the soldiers scattered round, and again all wassilence. There had been a movement, almost a confusion in some parts ofthe church, but the officers and those who had followed them from themountains neither looted up nor stirred. The imperative gesture of theabbot commanded and retained order and silence, the service proceeded;there might have been some faltering in the tones of the choir, but theswelling notes of the organ concealed the deficiency. 

The eye of Agnes voluntarily sought her betrothed. His head was stillbent down in earnest prayer, but she had not looked long before she sawhim raise it, and lift up his clasped hands in the evident passionatefervor of his prayer. So beautiful, so gloriously beautiful was thatcountenance thus breathing prayer, so little seemed that soul of earth, that tears started to the eyes of Agnes, and the paleness of strongemotion over-spread the cheek, aye, and the quivering lip, which the warand death-speaking trumpet had had no power to disturb. 

"Let me abide by him, merciful Father, in weal or in woe; oh, part usnot!" she prayed again and yet again, and the bright smile which nowencircled his lips--for he had caught her glance--seemed an answer toher prayer. 

It was a beautiful, though perhaps to many of the inmates of Kildrummiea terrible sight, which from the roof of the turret now presented itselfto their view. The English force lay before them, presenting many asolid phalanx of steel, many a glancing wood of spears. Nor were theseall; the various engines used in sieges at this time, battering-rams, and others, whose technical names are unfortunately lost to us, but usedto fling stones of immense weight to an almost incredible distance;arbalists, and the incomparable archer, who carried as many lives asarrows in his belt; wagons, heavily laden, with all things necessaryfor a close and numerous encampment--all these could be plainlydistinguished in rapid advance towards the castle, marking their paththrough the country by the smoke of the hamlets they had burned. Manyand eager voices resounded in various parts of the castle; numbers hadthronged to the tower, with their own eyes to mark the approach of theenemy, and to report all they had seen to their companions below, triumphantly or despondingly, according to the temper of their minds. Sir Nigel Bruce and Sir Christopher Seaton, with others of the superiorofficers, stood a little apart, conversing eagerly and animatedly, andfinally separating, with an eager grasp of the hand, to perform theduties intrusted to each. 

"Ha! Christine, and thou, fair maiden, " exclaimed Sir Christopher, gayly, as on turning he encountered his wife and Agnes arm-in-arm. "Bymine honor, this is bravely done; ye will not wait in your tiring-bowertill your knights seek ye, but come for information yourselves. Well, 'tis a goodly company, is't not? as gallant a show as ever mustered, bymy troth. Those English warriors tacitly do us honor, and proclaim ourworth by the numbers of gallant men they bring against us. We shallreturn the compliment some day, and pay them similar homage. "

His wife smiled at his jest, and even felt reassured, for it was not thejest of a mind ill at ease, it was the same bluff, soldier spirit shehad always loved. 

"And, Nigel, what thinkest thou?"

"Think, dearest?" he said, answering far more the appealing look ofAgnes than her words; "think? that we shall do well, aye, nobly well;they muster not half the force they led me to expect. The very sight ofthem has braced me with new spirit, and put to ignominious flight thedoubts and dreams I told thee had tormented me. "

Movement and bustle now pervaded every part of the castle, but all wasconducted with an order and military skill that spoke well for theofficers to whom it was intrusted. The walls were manned; pickaxes andlevers, for the purposes of hurling down stones on the besiegers, collected and arranged on the walls; arms polished, and so arranged thatthe hand might grasp them at a minute's warning, were brought from thearmory to every court and tower; the granaries and storehouses werevisited, and placed under trustworthy guards. A band of picked men, under an experienced officer, threw themselves into the barbacan, determined to defend it to the last. Sir Nigel and Sir Christophervisited every part of the outworks, displaying the most unceasing care, encouraged the doubting, roused the timid, and cheered and inspired theboldest with new confidence, new hope; but one feeling appeared topredominate--liberty and Scotland seemed the watchword of one and all. 

Onward, like a mighty river, rolled the English force; nearer andnearer, till the middle of the second day saw them encamped within aquarter of a mile from the palisades and outworks raised on either sideof the barbacan. Obtaining easy possession of the river--for Sir Nigel, aware of the great disparity of numbers, had not even attempted itsdefence--they formed three distinct bodies round the walls, thestrongest and noblest setting down before the barbacan, as the principalpoint of attack. Numerous as they had appeared in the distance, wellprovided with all that could forward their success, it was not tillcloser seen all their strength could be discovered; but there was nochange in the hopes and gallant feelings of the Scottish officers andtheir men-at-arms, though, could hearts have been read, the timidity, the doubts, the anxious wishes to make favorable peace with the Englishhad in some of the original garrison alarmingly increased. 

Before, however, any recourse was made to arms, an English herald, properly supported, demanded and obtained admission within the gates, ona mission from the Earls of Hereford and Lancaster, to Sir ChristopherSeaton, Sir Nigel Bruce, and others of command. They were summoned todeliver up the castle and themselves to their liege lord and sovereign, King Edward; to submit to his mercy, and grace should be shown to them, and safe conduct granted to all those who, taking refuge within thewalls and adopting a position of defence, proclaimed themselves rebelsand abettors of rebellion; that they should have freedom to return totheir homes uninjured, not only in their persons but in theirbelongings; and this should be on the instant the gates were thrownopen, and the banner of England had taken the place of that of Scotlandnow floating from their keep. 

"Tell thy master, thou smooth-tongued knave, " burst angrily from thelips of Sir Christopher Seaton, as he half rose from his seat andclenched his mailed hand at the speaker, and then hastily checkinghimself, added, in a lower tone, "Answer him, Nigel; thou hast eloquenceat thy command, I have none, save at my sword's point, and my temper issomewhat too hot to list such words, courteous though they may be. "

"Tell your master, sir herald, " continued Nigel, rising as his colleagueflung himself back on his seat, and though his voice was sternly calm, his manner was still courteous, "tell them they may spare themselves thetrouble, and their followers the danger, of all further negotiation. Weare Scottish men and Scottish subjects, and consequently to all theoffers of England we are as if we heard not. Neither rebels nor abettorsof rebels, we neither acknowledge the necessity of submitting ourselvesto a tyrant's mercy, nor desire the advantage of his offered grace. Return, sir herald; we scorn the conditions proposed. We are here forScotland and for Scotland's king, and for them we know both how to liveand how to die. "

His words were echoed by all around him, and there was a sharp clang ofsteel, as if each man half drew his eager sword, which spoke yet truerthan mere words. Dark brows and features stern were bent upon the heraldas he left their presence, and animated council followed his departure. 

No new movement followed the return of the herald. For some days nodecisive operation was observable in the English force; and when theydid attack the outworks, it was as if more to pass the time than withany serious intent. It was a period of fearful suspense to the besieged. Their storehouses were scarcely sufficiently provided to hold out forany great length of time, and they almost imagined that to reduce themto extremities by famine was the intention of the besiegers. Thegreatest danger, if encountered hand to hand in the _mêlée_, waswelcome, but the very idea of a slow, lingering fate, with the enemybefore them, mocking their misery, was terrible to the bravest. A daringsally into the very thickest of the enemy's camp, headed by Nigel andhis own immediate followers, carrying all before them, and when bynumbers compelled to retreat, bearing both booty and prisoners withthem, roused the English from their confident supposition that thebesieged would soon be obliged to capitulate, and urged them intoaction. The ire of the haughty English blazed up at what seemed suchdaring insolence in their petty foe. Decisive measures were resorted toon the instant, and increased bustle appeared to pervade both besiegersand besieged. 

"Pity thou art already a knight, Nigel!" bluffly exclaimed Seaton, springing into his saddle by torchlight the following morning, as with agallant band he was about dashing over the drawbridge, to second thedefenders of the barbacan and palisades. "How shall we reward thee, myboy? Thou hast brought the foe to bay. Hark! they are there before me, "and he spurred on to the very centre of the _mêlée_. 

Sir Nigel was not long after him. The enemy was driven back with fearfulloss. Scaling-ladders were thrown down; the archers on the walls, betteraccustomed to their ground, marking their foes by the torches theycarried, but concealed themselves by the darkness, dealt destructionwith as unerring hand as their more famous English brethren. Shouts andcries rose on either side; the English bore back before the sweepingstroke of Nigel Bruce as before the scythe of death. For the brief spaceof an hour the strife lasted, and still victory was on the side of theScots--glorious victory, purchased with scarce the loss of ten men. TheEnglish fled back to their camp, leaving many wounded and dead on thefield, and some prisoners in the hands of the Scots. Ineffectual effortswere made to harass the Scots, as with a daring coolness seldomequalled, they repaired the outworks, and planted fresh palisades tosupply those which had fallen in the strife, in the very face of theEnglish, many of them coolly detaching the arrows which, shot at toogreat distance, could not penetrate the thick lining of their buffcoats, and scornfully flinging them back. Several sharp skirmishes tookplace that day, both under the walls and at a little distance from them;but in all the Scots were victorious, and when night fell all was joyand triumph in the castle; shame, confusion, and fury in the Englishcamp. 

For several days this continued. If at any time the English, bysuperiority of numbers, were victorious, they were sure to be taken bysurprise by an impetuous sally from the besieged, and beaten back withloss, and so sudden and concealed were the movements of Nigel andSeaton, that though the besiegers lay closer and closer round thecastle, the moment of their setting forth on their daring expeditionscould never be discovered. 

"Said I not we should do well, right well, sweet Agnes, " exclaimedNigel, one night, on his return from an unusually successful sally, "andare not my words true? Hast thou looked forth on the field to-day, andseen how gloriously it went? Oh, to resign this castle to my brother'shands unscathed, even as he intrusted it; to hold it for him, threatenedas it is!"

He smiled gayly as he spoke, for the consciousness of power was uponhim--power to _will_ and _do_, to win and to retain--that most blessedconsciousness, whether it bless a hero's breast or poet's soul, amaiden's heart or scholar's dream, this checkered world can know. 

"I did look forth, my Nigel, for I could not rest; yet ask me not totell thee how the battle went, " she added, with a faint flush, as shelooked up in his noble face, beaming as it was with every feeling dearto the heart that loved, "for I traced but the course of one charger, saw but the waving of one plume. "

"And thou didst not fear the besiegers' arrows, my beloved? Didst standin the shelter I contrived? Thou must not risk danger, dearest; betternot list the urgings of thy noble spirit than be aught exposed. "

"There was no danger, Nigel, at least there seemed none, " she said. "Ifelt no fear, for I looked on thee. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Had the gallant defenders of Kildrummie Castle been conscious that theat first dilatory and then uncertain measures of their foes originatedin the fact that the Earls of Hereford and Lancaster were not themselvesyet on the field, and that they had with them a vast addition to theirforces, they would not perhaps have rested so securely on the hopeswhich their unexpected success very naturally engendered. Attack on oneside they knew they could resist; their only dread had been that, fromthe numbers of the English, the angle towers, each of which covered apostern, might be attacked at once, and thus discover the real weaknessof their forces. The obstinate struggle for the barbacan, the strongestpoint of the castle, had been welcomed with joy by the Scotch, for therethey could overlook every movement of the besiegers. Some wonder it didcause that such renowned knights as the earls were known to be, shouldnot endeavor to throw them off their guard by a division of attack; butthis wonder could not take from the triumph of success. 

It was from no want of observation the absence of the two earls remainedundiscovered by the besieged. Engaged on a secret expedition, whoseobject will be seen in the sequel, they had commanded the messagedemanding surrender to be given in their names, their pavilions to bepitched in sight of the castle as if they were already there, theirbanners to wave above them, esquires and pages to be in attendance, andtheir war-cries to be shouted, as was the custom when they led on inperson. The numerous knights, clothed in bright armor from head to heelever traversing the field, assisted the illusion, and the Scotch neveronce suspected the truth. 

Imagining a very brief struggle would deliver the castle into theirhands, even if its garrison were mad enough to refuse compliance withKing Edward's terms, the earls had not hurried themselves on theirexpedition, and a fortnight after the siege had begun, were reposingthemselves very cavalierly in the stronghold of an Anglo-Scottish baron, some thirty miles southward of the scene of action. 

It was the hour of supper, a rude repast of venison, interspersed withhorn and silver flagons filled with the strong liquors of the day, andserved up in a rude hall, of which the low round arches in the roof, themassive walls without buttresses, and windows running small outside, butspreading as to become much larger within, all denoted the Saxonarchitecture unsoftened by any of the Norman improvements. 

The earls and their host, with some attendant knights, sat as usualround the dais or raised part of the hall, their table distinguished itmay be by some gold as well as silver vessels, and a greater variety ofliquor, particularly hypocras and claret of the day, the one formed ofwine and honey, the other of wine and spices; by the sinnel and wastelcakes, but certainly not by the superior refinement of the more solidfood. The huge silver saltcellar alone divided the table of the baronfrom that of his dependants, yet the distinction of sitting above andbelow the salt was as great as the division between the master andservant of the present day; the jest, the loud laugh seasoned theviands placed before them, and the hearty draught from the welcomeflagon. Nor was the baron's own table much quieter; remarks on the stateof the country, speculations as to the hiding-place of King Robert, andwhen they should receive tidings of the surrender of Kildrummie, formedtopics of conversation alternately with discussions on the excellence ofthe wines, the flavor of the venison, the difference between English andScottish cookery, and such like matters, important in the days of ourancestors as in our own. 

"You have ridden long enough to-day, good my lords, to make a heartycharge on your suppers; a long journey and a tough battle, commend me tothem for helps to the appetite, " said the Scottish baron, joyouslyinviting them by his own example to eat on and spare not. 

"Commend me to the latter, an ye will, " answered Hereford, on whose browa cloud of something like distaste had spread; "but by mine honor, Ilove not the business of the last week. I have brought it to a close, however, and praise the saints for it. "

"Bah! thou art over-squeamish, Hereford. Edward would give us the secondbest jewel in his chaplet for the rich prize we have sent him, " resumedLancaster. 

"Reserving the first, of course, for the traitor Bruce himself, "interposed their host. "Ah! such a captive were in truth worth anearldom. "

"Then, by my troth, the traitor's wife is worth a barony, " returnedLancaster, laughing; "and her fair bevy of attendants, amongst whom arethe wives, daughters, and sisters of many a rebel, thinkest thou not weshall be high in Edward's favor for them, too? I tell thee we might havefought many a good fight, and not have done him such good service. "

"It may be, it may be, " answered Hereford, impatiently, "had it been atthe sword's point, had they been prisoners by force of arms, I wouldhave joyed too, and felt it was good service; but such rank treachery, decoyed, entrapped by that foul prince of lies, the Lord of Ross--faugh!I could have rammed his treachery back into his throat. "

"And done the king, perchance, good service too, " rejoined Lancaster, still excessively amused, "for I have no faith in a traitor, however hemay serve us a while; yet thou art not over-wise, good friend, to letsuch trifles chafe thee thus. Trust me, Edward will think more of thecaptives than the capture. "

"There was a time he would not, " answered the earl, mournfully; "a time, when Edward would have held it foul scorn to war with women, and worsethan scorn to obtain their persons by treachery, as now. "

"Aye, but he has changed, and we must change too, would we please him, "said the baron; "such notions might have done in former days, but theyare too high-flown for the present time, my good lord. I marvel theyshould have lingered so long with thee. "

A frown gathered on Hereford's broad and noble brow, but remembering theforbearance due to his host, he checked an angry reply. "The king _has_changed, " he said, "darkly and painfully changed; ambition has warpedthe noblest, knightliest heart which ever beat for chivalry. "

"Hush, ere thou speakest treason, Sir Earl; give me not the pain ofdraining another flagon of this sparkling hypocras to gain strength forthine arrest, good friend, " exclaimed Lancaster, laying the flat of hissword on the earl's shoulder. 

Hereford half smiled. "Thou art too happy in thy light-hearted mirth forme to say aught that would so disturb it, " he said; "yet I say, and willsay again, would to heaven, I had been before the gates of Kildrummie, and left to thee all the honor and glory, an thou wilt, of thiscapture. "

"Honor and glory, thou bitter piece of satire!" rejoined Lancaster, holding up a large golden flagon, to hide his face from the earl. "Unhappy me, were this all the glory I could win. I will wipe away thestain, if stain there be, at Kildrummie, an it be not surrendered ere wereach it. "

"The stain is with the base traitor Ross, not with thee or me, " answeredHereford; "'tis that I abhor the nature of such expeditions, that Iloathe, aye, loathe communication with such as he, and that--if it canbe--that worse traitor Buchan, that makes me rejoice I have naughtbefore me now but as fair a field as a siege may be. Would to God, thisdevastating and most cruel war were over, I do say! on a fair field itmay be borne, but not to war with women and children, as has been myfate. "

"Aye, by the way, this is not the first fair prize thou hast sent toEdward; the Countess of Buchan was a rare jewel for our covetingmonarch--somewhat more than possession, there was room for vengeancethere. Bore she her captivity more queenly than the sobbing and weepingMargaret?"

The question was reiterated by most of the knights around the dais, butHereford evidently shrunk from the inquiry. 

"Speak not of it, I charge ye, " he said. "There is no room for jestingon grief as hers; majestic and glorious she was, but if the reportedtale be true, her every thought, her every feeling was, as I even thenimagined, swallowed up in one tearless and stern but all-engrossinganguish. "

"The reported tale! meanest thou the fate of her son?" asked one of theknights. 

"If it be true!" resumed another; "believest thou, my lord, there isaught of hope to prove it false?"

"More likely to be true than false, " added Lancaster; "I can believe anything of that dark scowling villain Buchan--even the murder of hischild. "

"I believe it _not_, " answered Hereford; "bad as that man is, hard inheart as in temper, he has too much policy to act thus, even if he hadno feelings of nature rising to prevent it. No, no; I would wager theruby brooch in my helmet that boy lives, and his father will make use ofhim to forward his own interests yet. "

"But why then forge this tale?" demanded their host; "how may that servehis purpose?"

"Easily enough, with regard to the vengeance we all know he vowed towreak on his unhappy wife. What deeper misery could he inflict upon herthan the belief her boy was murdered? and as for its effect on Edward, trust a Comyn to make his own way clear. "

"But what do with the boy meanwhile?"

"Keep him under lock and key; chained up, may be, as a dog in a kennel, till he has broken his high spirit, and moulds him to the tool hewills, " answered Hereford, "or at least till his mother is out of hispath. "

"Ha! thinkest thou the king will demand such sweeping vengeance? Hesurely will not sentence a woman to death. "

"Had I thought so, had I only dreamed so, " replied Hereford, with almoststartling sternness, "as there is a God above us, I would have riskedthe charge of treason and refused to give her up! But no, my lords, no;changed as Edward is, he would not, he dared not use his power thus. Imeant but imprisonment, when I said out of the boy's path--more he willnot do; but even such I love not. Bold as it was to crown the rebelBruce, the deed sprung from a noble heart, and noble deeds should meetwith noble judgment. "

A bugle sounded twice or thrice sharply without, and occasioning somebustle at the lower part of the ball, interrupted for a brief space theconverse of the lords. A few minutes after, the seneschal, attended bytwo or three higher servants, returned, marshalling in due form twoyoung men in the garb of esquires, followed by some fifteen or twentymen-at-arms. 

"Ha! Fitz-Ernest and Hugo; well met, and ye bring us good tidings fromKildrummie, " exclaimed both the English earls at once, as cap in handthe esquires slowly walked up the hall, and did obeisance to theirmasters. 

"Yet your steps are somewhat laggard, as they bring us news of victory. By my troth, were it not utterly impossible, I could deem ye had beenworsted in the strife, " continued the impatient Lancaster, while thecooler and more sagacious Hereford scanned the countenances of theesquires in silence. "Yet and ye come not to tell of victory, why haveye come at all?"

"To beseech your lordship's speedy return, to the camp, " repliedFitz-Ernest, after a moment's hesitation, his cheek still flushed fromhis master's words. "There is division of purpose and action in thecamp, and an ye not return and head the attack your noble selves, I fearme there is little hope of victory. "

"Peace, fool! is there such skill and wisdom needed? Division in purposeand action! Quarrelling, methinks, had better be turned against theenemy than against yourselves. Hugo, do thou speak; in plain terms, wherefore come ye?"

"In plain terms, then, good my lord, as yet we have had the worst ofit, " answered the esquire, bluntly. "The Scotch fight like very devils, attacking us instead of waiting for our attack, penetrating into thevery centre of our camp, one knows not how or whence, bearing offprisoners and booty in our very teeth. "

"Prisoners--booty--worsted! Thou durst not tell me so!" exclaimedLancaster, furiously, as he started up and half drew his sword. 

"Peace, peace, I pray thee, good friend, peace, " continued Hereford, laying his hand on Lancaster's shoulder, with a force which compelledhim to resume his seat. "Let us at least hear and understand theirmission. Speak out, Hugo, and briefly--what has befallen?"

In a few straightforward words his esquire gave all the informationwhich was needed, interrupted only now and then by a brief interrogationfrom Hereford, and some impatient starts and muttering from hiscolleague. The success of the Scots, described in a former page, hadcontinued, despite the action of the mangonels and other engines whichthe massive walls appeared to hold in defiance. So watchful and skilfulwere the besieged, that the greatest havoc had been made amongst the menemployed in working the engines, and not yet had even the palisades andbarbacan been successfully stormed. 

"Have they tried any weaker point?" Hereford asked, and the answer was, that it was on this very matter division had spread amongst the knights, some insisting on carrying the barbacan as the most important point, andothers advising and declaring their only hope of success lay in adivided attack on two of the weaker sides at once. 

"The fools, the sorry fools!" burst again from Lancaster. "They deserveto be worsted for their inordinate pride and folly; all wanted to lead, and none would follow. Give you good e'en, my lord, " he added, turninghastily to his host; "I'll to the courtyard and muster forth my men. Fitz-Ernest, thou shalt speak on as we go, " and drawing his furredmantle around him, he strode rapidly yet haughtily from the hall. Hereford only waited to learn all from Hugo, to hold a briefconsultation with some of his attendant knights, and he too, despite theentreaties of his host to tarry with him at least till morning, left thebanquet to don his armor. 

"Silence and speed carry all before them, my good lord, " he said, courteously. "In such a case, though I fear no eventual evil, they mustnot be neglected. I would change the mode of attack on these Scotch, erethey are even aware their foes are reinforced. "

"Eventual evil, of a truth, there need not be, my lord, " interposed hisesquire, "even should no force of arms prevail. I have heard there aresome within the walls who need but a golden bribe to do the work forus. "

"Peace!" said the nobleman, sternly. "I loathe the very wordbetray--spoken or intended. Shame, shame on thee to speak it, and yetmore shame to imagine it needed! Art thou of Norman birth, and deemest ahandful of Scotch like these will bid us raise the siege and tamelydepart?--yet better so than gained by treachery. "

Hugo and the Scottish baron alike shrunk back from the reproving look ofHereford, and both silently followed him to the courtyard. Already itwas a scene of bustling animation: trumpets were sounding and drumsrolling; torches flashing through the darkness on the mailed coats ofthe knights and on gleaming weapons; and the heavy tramp of near twohundred horse, hastily accoutred and led from the stable, mingled withthe hoarse winds of winter, howling tempestuously around. The reservewhich Hereford had retained to guard the prisoners so treacherouslydelivered over to him, was composed of the noblest amidst his army, almost all mounted chevaliers; and, therefore, though he might not addmuch actual force to the besiegers, the military skill and experiencewhich that little troop included argued ill for the besieged. Some ofthe heaviest engines he had kept back also, particularly a tower somefour or five stories high, so constructed that it could be rolled to thewalls, and its inmates ascend unscathed by the weapons of theirdefenders. Not imagining it would be needed, he had not sent it on withthe main body, but now he commanded twelve of the strongest horses to beyoked to it, and on went the unwieldy engine, rumbling and staggering onits ill-formed wheels. Lancaster, whose impatience no advice could evercontrol, dashed on with the first troop, leaving his cooler comrade tolook to the yoking of the engines and the marshalling the men, and withhis own immediate attendants bringing up the rear, a task for whichHereford's self-command as well fitted him as his daring gallantry tohead the foremost charge. 

"Ye will have a rough journey, my good lord; yet an ye deem it best, farewell and heaven speed ye, " was the parting greeting of the baron, ashe stood beside the impatient charger of the earl. 

"The rougher the better, " was that nobleman's reply; "the noise of thewind will conceal our movements better than a calmer night. Farewell, and thanks--a soldier's thanks, my lord, poor yet honest--for thy rightnoble welcome. "

He bent his head courteously, set spurs to his steed, and dashed overthe drawbridge as the last of his men disappeared through the outergate. The Scottish nobleman looked after him with many mingled feelings. 

"As noble a warrior as ever breathed, " he muttered; "it were honor toserve under him, yet an he wants me not I will not join him. I love notthe Bruce, yet uncalled, unneeded, I will not raise sword against mycountrymen, " and with slow, and equal steps he returned to the hall. 

Hereford was correct in his surmises. The pitchy darkness of a winternight would scarcely have sufficed to hide the movements attendant onthe sudden arrival of a large body of men in the English camp, had notthe hoarse artillery of the wind, moaning, sweeping, and then rushingo'er the hills with a crashing sound like thunder, completely smotheredevery other sound, and if at intervals of quiet unusual sounds didattract the ears of those eager watchers on the Scottish walls, theutter impossibility of kindling torches or fires in either campfrustrated every effort of discovery. Hoarser and wilder grew thewhirlwind with the waning hours, till even the steel-clad men-at-armsstationed on the walls moved before it, and were compelled to crouchdown till its violence had passed. Favored by the elements, Herefordproceeded to execute his measures, heedless alike of the joyful surprisehis sudden appearance occasioned, and of the tale of division anddiscord which Hugo and Fitz-Ernest had reported as destroying the unityof the camp. Briefly and sternly refusing audience to each who pressedforward, eager to exculpate himself at the expense of his companions, hedesired his esquire to proclaim a general amnesty to all who allowedthemselves to have been in error, and would henceforth implicitly obeyhis commands; he returned to his pavilion, with the Earl of Lancaster, summoning around him the veterans of the army, and a brief consultationwas held. They informed him the greatest mischief had been occasioned bythe injuries done to the engines, which had been brought to play againstthe walls. Stones of immense weight had been hurled upon them, materially injuring their works, and attended with such fatal slaughterto the men who worked them, that even the bravest shrunk back appalled;that the advice of the senior officers had been to hold back until theseengines were repaired, merely keeping strict guard against unexpectedsallies on the part of the Scotch, as this would not only give them timeto recruit their strength, but in all probability throw the besieged offtheir guard. Not above half of the army, however, agreed with thiscounsel; the younger and less wary spurned it as cowardice and folly, and rushing on to the attack, ill-formed and ill-conducted, had everbeen beaten back with immense loss; defeat, however, instead of teachingprudence, lashed them into greater fury, which sometimes turned uponeach other. 

Hereford listened calmly, yet with deep attention, now and then indeedturning his expressive eyes towards his colleague, as if entreating himto observe that the mischief which had befallen them proceeded greatlyfrom impetuosity and imprudence, and beseeching his forbearance. Nor wasLancaster regardless of this silent appeal; conscious of his equalitywith Hereford in bravery and nobleness, he disdained not to acknowledgehis inferiority to him in that greater coolness, which in a siege is somuch needed, and grasping his hand with generous fervor, bade him speak, advise, command, and he would find no one in the camp more ready to becounselled and to obey than Lancaster. To tear down those rebel colorsand raise those of England in their stead, was all he asked. 

"And fear not that task shall be other than thine own, my gallantfriend, " was Hereford's instant reply, his features kindling atLancaster's words more than they had done yet; and then again quicklyresuming his calm unimpassioned exterior, he inquired if the mangonelsand other engines were again fit for use. There were several that couldinstantly be put in action was the reply. Had the numbers of fightingmen within the castle been ascertained? They had, a veteran answered, from a prisoner, who had appeared so willing to give information, thathis captors imagined there were very many malcontents within the walls. Of stalwart fighting men there were scarcely more than three hundred;others there were, of whose number was the prisoner, who fought becausetheir companions' swords would else have been at their throats, but thatthey would be glad enough to be made prisoners, to escape the horrors ofthe siege. 

"I am sorry for it, " was the earl's sole rejoinder, "there will be lessglory in the conquest. "

"And this Sir Nigel Bruce, whoe'er he be, hath to combat againstfearful odds, " remarked Lancaster; "and these Scotch-men, by my troth, seem touched by the hoof of the arch-deceiver--treachery from the earlto the peasant. Hast noticed how this scion of the Bruce bearshimself?--right gallantly, 'tis said. "

"As a very devil, my lord, " impetuously answered a knight; "in the wallsor out of them, there's no standing before him. He sweeps down his foes, line after line, as cards blown before the wind; he is at the head ofevery charge, the last of each retreat. But yesternight there were thosewho marked him covering the retreat of his men absolutely alone; hissword struck down two at every sweep, till his passage was cleared; hedarted on--the drawbridge trembled in its grooves--for he had given thecommand to raise it, despite his own danger--his charger, mad ashimself, sprang forward, and like a lightning flash, both disappearedwithin the portcullis as the bridge uprose. "

"Gallantly done!" exclaimed Lancaster, who had listened to this recitalalmost breathlessly. "By St. George, a foe worthy to meet and strugglewith! But who is he--what is he?"

"Knowest thou not?" said Hereford, surprised; "the brother, youngestbrother I have heard, of this same daring Earl of Carrick who has sotroubled our sovereign. "

"Nigel, the brother of Robert! What, the scribe, the poet, the dreamerof Edward's court? a poor youth, with naught but his beauty to recommendhim. By all good angels, this metamorphosis soundeth strangely! art sure'tis the same, the very same?"

"I have heard so, " was Hereford's quiet reply, and continuing his moreimportant queries with the veterans around, while Lancaster, his gayerspirit roused by this account of Nigel, demanded every minute particularconcerning him, that he might seek him hand to hand. 

"Steel armor inlaid with silver--blue scarf across his breast, embroidered with his cognizance in gold--blue plume, which no Englishsword hath ever soiled--humph! that's reserved for me--charger white asthe snow on the ground--sits his steed as man and horse were one. Well, gloriously well, there will be no lack of glory here!" he said, joyously, as one by one he slowly enumerated the symbols by which hemight recognize his foe. So expeditiously had Hereford conducted hiswell-arranged plans, that when his council was over, it still wanted twohours to dawn, and these Hereford commanded the men who had accompaniedhim to pass in repose. 

But he himself partook not of this repose, passing the remainder of thedarkness in carefully reviewing the forces which were still fresh andprepared for the onset, in examining the nature of the engines, andfinally, still aided by the noise of the howling winds, marshalled themin formidable array in very front of the barbacan, the heavy mist thrownonward by the blasts effectually concealing their near approach. ToLancaster the command of this party was intrusted; Hereford reserving tohimself the desirable yet delicate task of surveying the ground, confident that the attack on the barbacan would demand the wholestrength and attention of the besieged, and thus effectually cover hismovements. 

His plan succeeded. A fearful shout, seconded by a tremendous dischargeof huge stones, some of which rattled against the massive walls in vain, others flying across the moat and crushing some of the men on the innerwall, were the first terrific sounds which unexpectedly greeted thearoused attention of the Scotch. The armor of their foes flashingthrough the mist, the furious charge of the knights up to the very gatesof the barbacan, seemingly in sterner and more compact array than oflate had been their wont, the immense body which followed them, appearing in that dim light more numerous than reality, struck amomentary chill on the Scottish garrison; but the unwonted emotion wasspeedily dissipated by the instant and unhesitating sally of SirChristopher Seaton and his brave companions. The impetuosity of theircharge, the suddenness of their appearance, despite their greatdisparity of numbers, caused the English a moment to bear back, and keptthem in full play until Nigel and his men-at-arms, rushing over thelowered drawbridge, joined in the strife. A brief, very brief intervalof fighting convinced both the Scottish leaders that a master-spirit nowheaded their foes; that they were struggling at infinitely greater oddsthan before; that unity of purpose, greater sagacity, and military skillwere now at work against them, they scarce knew wherefore, for theyrecognized the same war-cry, the same banners; there were the samegallant show of knights, for in the desperate _mêlée_ it was scarcelypossible to distinguish the noble form of Lancaster from his fellows, although marking the azure plume, which even then waved high above allothers, though round it the work of death ever waxed hottest; theefforts of the English earl were all bent to meet its gallant wearerhand to hand, but the press of war still held them apart, though bothseemed in every part of the field. It was a desperate struggle man toman; the clash of swords became one strange continuous mass of sound, instead of the fearful distinctness which had marked their work before. Shouts and cries mingled fearfully with the sharper clang, the heavyfall of man and horse, the creaking of the engines, the wild shrieks ofthe victims within the walls mangled by the stones, or from thesurvivors who witnessed their fall--all formed a din as terrific tohear, as dreadful to behold. With even more than their wonted braverythe Scotch fought, but with less success. The charge of the English wasno longer the impetuous fury of a few hot-headed young men, more eagerto _despite_ their cooler advisers, than gain any permanent good forthemselves. Now, as one man fell another stepped forward in his place, and though the slaughter might have been equal, nay, greater on the sideof the besiegers than the besieged, by one it was scarcely felt, by theother the death of each man was even as the loss of a host. Still, stillthey struggled on, the English obtaining possession of the palisades, though the immense strength of the barbacan itself, defended as it wasby the strenuous efforts of the Scotch, still resisted all attack:bravely, nobly, the besieged retreated within their walls, pellmelltheir foes dashed after them, and terrific was the combat on thedrawbridge, which groaned and creaked beneath the heavy tramp of man andhorse. Many, wrestling in the fierceness of mortal strife, fell togetherin the moat, and encumbered with heavy armor, sunk in each other's arms, in the grim clasp of death. 

Then it was Lancaster met hand to hand the gallant foe he sought, covering the retreat of his men, who were bearing Sir ChristopherSeaton, desperately wounded, to the castle. Sir Nigel stood well-nighalone on the bridge; his bright armor, his foaming charger bore evidentmarks of the fray, but still he rode his steed firmly and unbent, hisplume yet waved untouched by the foeman's sword. Nearer and nearerpressed forward the English earl, signing to his men to secure withoutwounding his gallant foe; round him they closely gathered, but Nigelevinced no sign either of trepidation or anger, fearlessly, gallantly, he returned the earl's impetuous charge, backing his steed slowly as hedid so, and keeping his full front to his foe. On, on pressed Lancaster, even to the postern; a bound, a shout, and scarcely was he aware thathis sword had ceased to cross with Nigel's, before he was startled bythe heavy fall of the portcullis, effectually dividing them, and utterlyfrustrating further pursuit. A cry of rage, of disappointment broke fromthe English, as they were compelled to turn and rejoin their friends. 

The strife still continued within and without the barbacan, and endedwithout much advantage on either side. The palisades and outwardbarriers had indeed fallen into the hands of the English, which was thefirst serious loss yet sustained by the besieged; from the barbacan theyhad gallantly and successfully driven their foe, but that triflingsuccess was so counterbalanced by the serious loss of life amid thegarrison which it included, that both Nigel and Sir Christopher felt thenext attack must deliver it into the hands of the besiegers. Their lossof men was in reality scarcely a third of the number which had fallenamong the English, yet to them that loss was of infinitely moreconsequence than to the foe. Bitter and painful emotions filled thenoble spirit of Nigel, as he gazed on the diminished number of his men, and met the ill-suppressed groans and lamentations of those who had, atthe first alarm of the English, sought shelter and protection in thecastle; their ill-suppressed entreaties that he would struggle no longeragainst such odds grated harshly and ominously on his ear; but sternlyhe turned from them to the men-at-arms, and in their steadfast braveryand joyous acclamations found some degree of hope. 

Yet ere the day closed the besieged felt too truly their dreams oftriumph, of final success, little short of a miracle would realize. Their fancy that some new and mightier spirit of generalship was at workwithin the English camp was confirmed. Two distinct bodies were observedat work on the eastern and southern sides of the mount, the oneevidently employed in turning aside the bed of the river, which on thatside flowed instead of the moat beneath the wall, the other inendeavoring to fill up the moat by a causeway, so as to admit of aneasy access to the outer wall. The progress they had made in their workthe first day, while the attention of the Scotch had been confined tothe attack on the barbacan, was all-sufficient evidence of their intent;and with bitter sorrow Sir Nigel and his brother-in-law felt that theironly means of any efficient defence lay in resigning the long-contestedbarbacan to the besiegers. An important point it certainly was, butstill to retain it the walls overlooking the more silent efforts of theEnglish must be left comparatively unguarded, and they might obtain analmost uninterrupted and scarce-contested passage within the walls, while the whole strength and attention of the besieged were employed, ashad already been the case, on a point that they had scarce a hopeeventually to retain. With deep and bitter sorrow the alternative wasproposed and carried in a hurried council of war, and so well actedupon, that, despite the extreme watchfulness of the English, men, treasure, arms, and artillery, all that the strong towers contained, were conveyed at dead of night over the drawbridge into the castle, andthe following morning, Lancaster, in utter astonishment, took possessionof the deserted fort. 

Perhaps to both parties this resolution was alike a disappointment andrestraint. The English felt there was no glory in their prize, they hadnot obtained possession through their own prowess and skill; and nowthat the siege had become so much closer, and this point ofcommunication was entirely stopped, the hand-to-hand combat, theglorious _mélée_, the press of war, which to both parties had been anexcitement, and little more than warlike recreation, had of courseentirely ceased, but Hereford heeded not the disappointment of his men;his plans were progressing as he had desired, even though his workmenwere greatly harassed by the continued discharge of arrows and immensestones from the walls. 

The desertion of the barbacan was an all-convincing proof of the verysmall number of the garrison; and though the immense thickness andsolidity of the walls bespoke time, patience, and control, the Englishearl never wavered from his purpose, and by his firmness, his personalgallantry, his readily-bestowed approbation on all who demanded it, hecontrived to keep his more impatient followers steadily to their task;while Nigel, to prevent the spirits of his men from sinking, wouldfrequently lead them forth at night, and by a sudden attack annoy andoften cut off many of the men stationed within the barbacan. Thedrawbridge was the precarious ground of many a midnight strife, till thedaring gallantry of Nigel Bruce became the theme of every tongue; agallantry equalled only by the consummate skill which he displayed, inretreating within his entrenchments frequently without the loss of asingle man either as killed or wounded. Often would Sir ChristopherSeaton, whose wounds still bound him a most unwilling prisoner to hiscouch, entreat him to avoid such rash exposures of his life, but Nigelonly answered him with a smile and an assurance he bore a charmed life, which the sword of the foe could not touch. 

The siege had now lasted six weeks, and the position of both partiescontinued much as we have seen, save that the bed of the river had nowbegun to appear, promising a free passage to the English on the easternside, and on the south a broad causeway had stretched itself over themoat, on which the towers for defending the ascent of the walls, mangonels and other engines, were already safely bestowed, and allpromised fair to the besiegers, whose numerous forces scarcely appearedto have suffered any diminution, although in reality some hundreds hadfallen; while on the side of the besieged, although the walls were stillmost gallantly manned, and the first efforts of the English to scale thewalls had been rendered ineffectual by huge stones hurled down uponthem, still a look of greater care was observable on the brows of bothofficers and men; and provisions had now begun to be doled out by weightand measure, for though the granaries still possessed stores sufficientfor some weeks longer, the apparent determination of the English topermit no relaxation in their close attack, demanded increase of cautionon the part of the besieged. 

About this time an event occurred, which, though comparatively triflingin itself, when the lives of so many were concerned, was fraught ineffect with fatal consequences to all the inmates of Kildrummie. Theconversation of the next chapter, however, will better explain it, andto it we refer our readers. 

CHAPTER XIX

In a circular apartment of the lower floor in Kildrummie keep, its stonefloor but ill covered with rushes, and the walls hung with the darkestand rudest arras, Sir Christopher Seaton reclined on a rough couch, inearnest converse with his brother-in-law, Nigel. Lady Seaton was alsowithin the chamber, at some little distance from the knights, engaged inpreparing lint and healing ointments, with the aid of an attendant, forthe wounded, and ready at the first call to rise and attend them, as shehad done unremittingly during the continuance of the siege. Thecountenances of both warriors were slightly changed from the last timewe beheld them. The severity of his wounds had shed a cast almost of ageon the noble features of Seaton, but care and deep regret had mingledwith that pallor; and perhaps on the face of Nigel, which three shortweeks before had beamed forth such radiant hope, the change was morepainful. He had escaped with but slight flesh wounds, but disappointmentand anxiety were now vividly impressed on his features; the smooth browwould unconsciously wrinkle in deep and unexpressed thought; the lip, towhich love, joy, and hope alone had once seemed natural, now oftencompressed, and his eye flashed, till his whole countenance seemedstern, not with the sternness of a tyrannical, changed and chafingmood--no, 'twas the sternness most fearful to behold in youth, ofthought, deep, bitter, whelming thought; and sterner even than it hadbeen yet was the expression on his features as he spoke this day withSeaton. 

"He must die, " were the words which broke a long and anxious pause, andfell in deep yet emphatic tones from the lips of Seaton; "yes, die!Perchance the example may best arrest the spreading contagion oftreachery around us. "

"I know not, I fear not; yet as thou sayest he must die, " replied Nigel, speaking as in deep thought; "would that the noble enemy, who thusscorned to benefit by the offered treason, had done on him the work ofdeath himself. I love not the necessity nor the deed. "

"Yet it must be, Nigel. Is there aught else save death, the death of atraitor, which can sufficiently chastise a crime like this? Well was itthe knave craved speech of Hereford himself. I marvel whether themajesty of England had resisted a like temptation. "

"Seaton, he would not, " answered the young man. "I knew him, aye, studied him in his own court, and though I doubt not there was a timewhen chivalry was strongest in the breast of Edward, it was beforeambition's fatal poison had corroded his heart. Now he would deem allthings honorable in the art of war, aye, even the delivery of a castlethrough the treachery of a knave. "

"And he hath more in yon host to think with him than with the nobleHereford, " resumed Sir Christopher; "yet this is but idle parley, andconcerneth but little our present task. In what temper do our menreceive the tidings of this foul treason?"

"Our own brave fellows call aloud for vengeance on the traitor; nay, hadI not rescued him from their hands, they would have torn him limb fromlimb in their rage. But there are others, Seaton--alas! the morenumerous body now--and they speak not, but with moody brows and gloomymutterings prowl up and down the courts. "

"Aye, the coward hearts, " answered Seaton, "their good wishes went withhim, and but low-breathed curses follow our efforts for their freedom. Yes, it must be, if it be but as a warning unto others. See to it, Nigel; an hour before the set of sun he dies. "

A brief pause followed his words, whose low sternness of tone betrayedfar more than the syllables themselves. Both warriors remained a whileplunged in moody thought, which Seaton was the first to break. 

"And how went the last attack and defence?" he asked; "they told me, bravely. "

"Aye, so bravely, that could we but reinforce our fighting men, aided aswe are by impenetrable walls, we might dream still of conquest; theyhave gained little as yet, despite their nearer approach. Hand to handwe have indeed struggled on the walls, and hurled back our foremost foesin their own intrenchments. Our huge fragments of rocks have dealtdestruction on one of their towers, crushing all who manned it beneaththe ruins. "

"And I lie here when such brave work is going on beside me, even as abedridden monk or coward layman, when my whole soul is in the fight, "said the knight, bitterly, and half springing from his couch. "When willthese open wounds--to the foul fiend with them and those who gavethem!--when will they let me mount and ride again as best befits awarrior? Better slain at once than lie here a burden, not a help--takingfrom those whose gallant efforts need it more the food we may not havefor long. I will not thus be chained; I'll to the action, be my life theforfeit!"

He sprung up, and for a moment stood upon his feet, but with a low groanof pain instantly fell back, the dew of weakness gathering on his brow. Lady Seaton was at his side on the instant to bathe his temples and hishands, yet without one reproachful word, for she knew the anguish it wasto his brave heart to lie thus disabled, when every loyal hand wasneeded for his country. 

"Nigel, I would that I might join thee. Remember, 'tis no mean game weplay; we hold not out as marauding chieftains against a lawful king; westruggle not in defence of petty rights, of doubtful privileges. 'Tisfor Scotland, for King Robert still we strive. Did this castle hold out, aye, compel the foe to raise the siege, much, much would be done forScotland. Others would do as we have done; many, whose strongholds restin English hands, would rise and expel the foe. Had we butreinforcements of men and stores, all might still be well. "

"Aye, " answered Nigel, bitterly, "but with all Scotland crushed 'neathEnglish chains, her king and his bold patriots fugitives and exiles, ourselves the only Scottish force in arms, the only Scottish castlewhich resists the tyrant, how may this be, whence may come increase offorce, of store? Seaton Seaton, thine are bright dreams--would that theywere real. "

"Wouldst thou then give up at once, and strive no more? It cannot be. "

"Never!" answered his companion, passionately. "Ere English feet shallcross these courts and English colors wave above these towers, the bloodof the defenders must flow beneath their steps. They gain not a yard ofearth save at the bright sword's point; not a rood of grass unstained byScottish blood. Give up! not till my arm can wield no sword, my voice nomore shout 'Forward for the Bruce!'"

"Then we will hope on, dream on, Nigel, and despair not, " repliedSeaton, in the same earnest tone. "We know not yet what may be, and, improbable as it seems now, succors may yet arrive. How long doth lastthe truce?"

"For eighteen hours, two of which have passed. "

"Didst thou demand it?"

"No, " replied Nigel. "It was proffered by the earl, as needed for astrict examination of the traitor Evan Roy, and accepted in the spiritwith which it was offered. "

"Thou didst well; and the foul traitor--where hast thou lodged him?"

"In the western turret, strongly guarded. I would not seek thy counseluntil I had examined and knew the truth. "

"And thine own judgment?"

"Was as thine. It is an ill necessity, yet it must be. "

"Didst pronounce his sentence?"

Nigel answered in the affirmative. 

"And how was it received?"

"In the same sullen silence on the part of the criminal as he had borneduring his examination. Methought a low murmur of discontent escapedfrom some within the hall, but it was drowned in the shout ofapprobation from the men-at-arms, and the execrations they lavished onthe traitor as they bore him away, so I heeded it not. "

"But thou wilt heed it, " said a sweet voice beside him, and Agnes, whohad just entered the chamber, laid her hand on his arm and lookedbeseechingly in his face. "Dearest Nigel, I come a pleader. "

"And for whom, my beloved?" he asked, his countenance changing into itsown soft beautiful expression as he gazed on her, "What can mine Agnesask that Nigel may not grant?"

"Nay, I am no pleader for myself, " she said; "I come on the part of awretched wife and aged mother, beseeching the gift of life. "

"And for a traitor, Agnes?"

"I think of him but as a husband and son, dearest Nigel, " she said, moretimidly, for his voice was stern. "They tell me he is condemned todeath, and his wretched wife and mother besought my influence with thee;and indeed it needed little entreaty, for when death is so busy aroundus, when in this fearful war we see the best and bravest of our friendsfall victims every day, oh, I would beseech you to spare life when itmay be. Dearest, dearest Nigel, have mercy on this wretched man; traitoras he is, oh, do not take his life--do not let thy lips sentence him todeath. Wilt thou not be merciful?"

"If the death of one man will preserve the lives of many, how may thatone be spared?" said Sir Nigel, folding the sweet pleader closer to him, though his features spoke no relaxation of his purpose. "Sweet Agnes, donot ask this, give me not the bitter pain of refusing aught to thee. Thou knowest not all the mischief and misery which pardon to a traitorsuch as this will do; thou listenest only to thy kind heart and the sadpleadings of those who love this man. Now listen to me, beloved, andjudge thyself. Did I believe a pardon would bring back the traitor to asense of duty, to a consciousness of his great crime--did I believegiving life to him would deter others from the same guilt, I shouldscarce wait even for thy sweet pleading to give him both liberty andlife; but I know him better than thou, mine Agnes. He is one of thosedark, discontented, rebellious spirits, that never rest in stirring upothers to be like them; who would employ even the life I gave him to myown destruction, and that of the brave and faithful soldiers with me. "

"But send him hence, dearest Nigel, " still entreated Agnes. "Give himlife, but send him from the castle; will not this remove the danger ofhis influence with others?"

"And give him field and scope to betray us yet again, sweet one. It wereindeed scorning the honorable counsel of Hereford to act thus; for trustme, Agnes, there are not many amid our foes would resist temptation ashe hath done. "

"Yet would not keeping him close prisoner serve thee as well as death, Nigel? Bethink thee, would it not spare the ill of taking life?"

"Dearest, no, " he answered. "There are many, alas! too many within thesewalls who need an example of terror to keep them to their duty. Theywill see that treachery avails not with the noble Hereford, and that, discovered by me, it hath no escape from death. If this man be, as Iimagine, in league with other contentious spirits--for he could scarcehope to betray the castle into the hands of the English without some aidwithin--his fate may strike such terror into other traitor hearts thattheir designs will be abandoned. Trust me, dearest, I do not do thisdeed of justice without deep regret; I grieve for the necessity even asthe deed, and yet it must be; and bitter as it is to refuse thee aught, indeed I cannot grant thy boon. "

"Yet hear me once more, Nigel. Simple and ignorant as I am, I cannotanswer such arguments as thine; yet may it not be that this deed ofjustice, even while it strikes terror, may also excite the desire forrevenge, and situated as we are were it not better to avoid all suchbitterness, such heart-burnings amongst the people?"

"We must brave it, dearest, " answered Nigel, firmly, "The direct line ofjustice and of duty may not be turned aside for such fears as these. "

"Nor do I think they have foundation, " continued Sir Christopher Seaton. "Thou hast pleaded well and kindly, gentle maiden, yet gladly as wewould do aught to pleasure thee, this that thou hast asked, alas! mustnot be. The crime itself demands punishment, and even could we pardonthat, duty to our country, our king, ourselves, calls loudly for hisdeath, lest his foul treachery should spread. "

The eyes of the maiden filled with tears. 

"Then my last hope is over, " she said, sadly. "I looked to thyinfluence, Sir Christopher, to plead for me, even if mine ownsupplications should fail; and thou judgest even as Nigel, not as myheart could wish. "

"We judge as men and soldiers, gentle maiden; as men who, charged with amost solemn responsibility, dare listen to naught save the voice ofjustice, however loudly mercy pleads. "

"And didst thou think, mine Agnes, if thy pleading was of no avail, theentreaty of others could move me?" whispered Nigel, in a voice which, though tender, was reproachful. "Dearest and best, oh, thou knowest notthe pang it is to refuse thee even this, and to feel my words havefilled those eyes with tears. Say thou wilt not deem me cruel, abidingby justice when there is room for mercy?"

"I know thee better than to judge thee thus, " answered Agnes, tearfully;"the voice of duty must have spoken loudly to urge thee to thisdecision, and I may not dispute it; yet would that death could beaverted. There was madness in that woman's eyes, " and she shuddered asshe spoke. 

"Of whom speakest thou, love?" Nigel asked, and Seaton looked thequestion. 

"Of his wife, " she replied. "She came to me distracted, and used suchdreadful words, menaces and threats they seemed; but his mother, morecomposed, assured me they meant nothing, they were but the ravings ofdistress, and yet I fear to look on her again without his pardon. "

"And thou shalt not, my beloved; these are not scenes and words for suchas thee. Rest here with Christine and good Sir Christopher; to tend andcheer a wounded knight is a fitter task for thee, sweet one, than thusto plead a traitor's cause. "

Pressing his lips upon her brow as he spoke, he placed her gently on asettle by Sir Christopher; then crossing the apartment, he paused amoment to whisper to Lady Seaton. 

"Look to her, my dear sister; she has been terrified, though she wouldconceal it. Let her not leave thee till this fatal duty isaccomplished. "

Lady Seaton assured him of her compliance, and he left the apartment. 

He had scarcely quitted the postern before he himself encountered JeanRoy, a woman who, even in her mildest moments, evinced very littleappearance of sanity, and who now, from her furious and distractinggestures, seemed wrought up to no ordinary pitch of madness. She kepthovering round him, uttering menaces and entreaties in one and the samebreath, declaring one moment that her husband was no traitor, and hadonly done what every true-hearted Scotsman ought to do, if he would savehimself and those he loved from destruction; the next, piteouslyacknowledging his crime, and wildly beseeching mercy. For a while Nigelendeavored, calmly and soothingly, to reason with her, but it was of noavail: louder and fiercer became her curses and imprecations; beseechingheaven to hurl down all its maledictions upon him and the woman heloved, and refuse him mercy when he most needed it. Perceiving herviolence becoming more and more outrageous, Nigel placed her in chargeof two of his men-at-arms, desiring them to treat her kindly, but not tolose sight of her, and keep her as far as possible from the scene aboutto be enacted. She was dragged away, struggling furiously, and Nigelfelt his heart sink heavier within him. It was not that he wavered inhis opinion, that he believed, situated as he was, it was better tospare the traitor's life than excite to a flame the already aroused andangered populace. He thought indeed terror might do much; but whether itwas the entreating words of Agnes, or the state of the unhappy Jean, there had come upon him a dim sense of impending ill; an impression thatthe act of justice about to be performed would bring matters to acrisis, and the ruin of the garrison be consummated, ere he was aware ithad begun. The shadow of the future appeared to have enfolded him, butstill he wavered not. The hours sped: his preparations were completed, and at the time appointed by Seaton, with as much of awful solemnity ascircumstances would admit, the soul of the traitor was launched intoeternity. Men, women, and children had gathered round the temporaryscaffold; every one within the castle, save the maimed and wounded, thronged to that centre court, and cheers and shouts, and groans andcurses, mingled strangely on the air. 

Clad in complete steel, but bareheaded, Sir Nigel Bruce had witnessedthe act of justice his voice had pronounced, and, after a brief pause, he stood forward on the scaffold, and in a deep, rich voice addressedthe multitude ere they separated. Eloquently, forcibly, he spoke of theguilt, the foul guilt of treachery, now when Scotland demanded all mento join together hand and heart as one--now when the foe was at theirgates; when, if united, they might yet bid defiance to the tyrant, who, if they were defeated, would hold them slaves. He addressed them asScottish men and freemen, as soldiers, husbands, and fathers, aschildren of the brave, who welcomed death with joy, rather than life inslavery and degradation; and when his words elicited a shout ofexultation and applause from the greater number, he turned his eye onthe group of malcontents, and sternly and terribly bade them beware of afate similar to that which they had just witnessed; for the gallant Earlof Hereford, he said, would deal with all Scottish traitors as with EvanRoy, and once known as traitors within the castle walls, he need notspeak their doom, for they had witnessed it; and then changing his tone, frankly and beseechingly he conjured them to awake from the dull, sluggish sleep of indifference and fear, to put forth their energies asmen, as warriors; their country, their king, their families, called onthem, and would they not hear? He bade them arise, awake to their duty, and all that had been should never be recalled. He spoke with a briefyet mighty eloquence that seemed to carry conviction with it. Many astern face and darkened brow relaxed, and there was hope in many apatriot breast as that group dispersed, and all was once more martialbustle on the walls. 

"Well and wisely hast thou spoken, my son, " said the aged Abbot ofScone, who had attended the criminal's last moments, and now, withNigel, sought the keep. "Thy words have moved those rebellious spirits, have calmed the rising tempest even as oil flung on the troubled waves;thine eloquence was even as an angel voice 'mid muttering fiends. Yetthou art still sad, still anxious. My son, this should not be. "

"It _must_ be, father, " answered the young man. "I have looked beyondthat oily surface and see naught save darker storms and fiercertempests; those spirits need somewhat more than a mere voice. Father, reproach me not as mistrusting the gracious heaven in whose keeping lieour earthly fates. I know the battle is not to the strong, 'tis with theunited, the faithful, and those men are neither. My words have stirredthem for the moment, as a pebble flung 'mid the troubled waters--a fewbrief instants and all trace is passed, we see naught but the blackenedwave. But speak not of these things; my trust is higher than earth, andlet man work his will. "

Another week passed, and the fierce struggle continued, alternatingsuccess, one day with the besiegers, the next with the besieged. Thescene of action was now principally on the walls--a fearful field, forthere was no retreat--and often the combatants, entwined in a deadlystruggle, fell together into the moat. Still there were no signs ofwavering on either side, still did the massive walls give no sign ofyielding to the tremendous and continued discharge of heavy stones, thatagainst battlements less strongly constructed must long ere this havedealt destruction and inevitable mischief to the besieged. One tower, commanding the causeway across the moat and its adjoining platform onthe wall, had indeed been taken by the English, and was to them adecided advantage, but still their further progress even to the nexttower was lingering and dubious, and it appeared evident to both partiesthat, from the utter impossibility of the Scotch obtaining supplies ofprovision and men, success must finally attend the English; they wouldsucceed more by the effects of famine than by their swords. 

It was, as we have said, seven days after the execution of the traitorRoy. A truce for twelve hours had been concluded with the English, atthe request of Sir Nigel Bruce, and safe conduct granted by the Earl ofHereford to those men, women, and children of the adjoining villages whochose even at this hour to leave the castle, but few, a very few tookadvantage of this permission, and these were mostly the widows andchildren of those who had fallen in the siege; a fact which caused somesurprise, as the officers and men-at-arms imagined it would have beeneagerly seized upon by all those contentious spirits who had appeared sodesirous of a league with England. A quiet smile slightly curled thelips of Nigel as this information was reported to him--a smile as of amind prepared for and not surprised at what he heard; but when leftalone, the smile was gone, he folded his arms on his breast, his headwas slightly bent forward, but had there been any present to haveremarked him, they would have seen his features move and work with theintensity of internal emotion. Some mighty struggle he was enduring;something there was passing at his very heart, for when recalled fromthat trance by the heavy bell of the adjoining church chiming the hourof five, and he looked up, there were large drops of moisture on hisbrow, and his beautiful eye seemed for the moment strained andblood-shot. He paced the chamber slowly and pensively till there was nooutward mark of agitation, and then he sought for Agnes. 

She was alone in an upper chamber of the keep, looking out from thenarrow casement on a scene of hill and vale, and water, which, thoughstill wintry from the total absence of leaf and flower, was yet calm andbeautiful in the declining sun, and undisturbed by the fearful scenesand sounds which met the glance and ear on every other side, seemed evenas a paradise of peace. It had been one of those mild, soft days ofFebruary, still more rare in Scotland than in England, and on the heartand sinking frame of Agnes its influence had fallen, till, almostunconsciously, she wept. The step of Nigel caused her hastily to dashthese tears aside, and as he stood by her and silently folded his armaround her, she looked up in his face with a smile. He sought to returnit, but the sight of such emotion, trifling as it was, caused his heartto sink with indescribable fear; his lip quivered, as utterly to preventthe words he sought to speak, and as he clasped her to his bosom andbent his head on hers, a low yet instantly suppressed moan burst fromhim. 

"Nigel, dearest Nigel, what has chanced? Oh, speak to me!" sheexclaimed, clasping his hand in both hers, and gazing wildly in hisface. "Thou art wounded or ill, or wearied unto death. Oh, let me undothis heavy armor, dearest; seek but a brief interval of rest. Speak tome, I know thou art not well. "

"It is but folly, my beloved, a momentary pang that weakness caused. Indeed, thy fears are causeless; I am well, quite well, " he answered, struggling with himself, and subduing with an effort his emotion. "Mineown Agnes, thou wilt not doubt me; look not upon me so tearfully, 'tispassed, 'tis over now. "

"And thou wilt not tell me that which caused it, Nigel? Hast thou aughtof suffering which thou fearest to tell thine Agnes? Oh! do not fear it;weak, childlike as I am, my soul will find strength for it. "

"And thou shalt know all, all in a brief while, " he said, her sweetpleading voice rendering the task of calmness more difficult. "Yet tellme first thy thoughts, my love. Methought thy gaze was on yon peacefullandscape as I entered, and yet thine eyes were dimmed with tears. "

"And yet I know not wherefore, " she replied, "save the yearnings forpeace were stronger, deeper than they should be, and I pictured a cotwhere love might dwell in yon calm valley, and wished that this fiercestrife was o'er. "

"'Tis in truth no scene for thee, mine own. I know, I feel thou pinestfor freedom, for the fresh, pure, stainless air of the mountain, thevalley's holy calm; thine ear is sick with the fell sounds that burstupon it; thine eye must turn in loathing from this fierce strife. Agnes, mine own Agnes, is it not so? would it not be happiness, aye, heaven'sown bliss, to seek some peaceful home far, far away from this?"

He spoke hurriedly and more passionately than was his wont, but Agnesonly answered--

"With thee, Nigel, it were bliss indeed. "

"With me, " he said; "and couldst thou not be happy were I not at thyside? Listen to me, beloved, " and his voice became as solemnly earnestas it had previously been hurried. "I sought thee, armed I thought withfortitude sufficient for the task; sought thee, to beseech, implore theeto seek safety and peace for a brief while apart from me, till thesefearful scenes are passed. Start not, and oh, do not look upon me thus. I know all that strength of nerve, of soul, which bids thee care not forthe dangers round thee. I know that where I am thy loving spirit feelsno fear; but oh, Agnes, for my sake, if not for thine own, consent tofly ere it be too late; consent to seek safety far from this fataltower. Let me not feel that on thee, on thee, far dearer than my life, destruction, and misery, and suffering in a thousand fearful shapes mayfall. Let me but feel thee safe, far from this terrible scene, and then, come what will, it can have no pang. "

"And thee, " murmured the startled girl, on whose ear the words of Nigelhad fallen as with scarce half their meaning, "thee, wouldst thou bid meleave thee, to strive on, suffer on, and oh, merciful heaven! perchancefall _alone_? Nigel, Nigel, how may this be? are we not one, only one, and how may I dwell in safety without thee--how mayest thou sufferwithout me?"

"Dearest and best!" he answered, passionately, "oh, that we were indeedone; that the voice of heaven had bound us one, long, long ere this! andyet--no, no, 'tis better thus, " and again he struggled with emotion, andspoke calmly. "Agnes, beloved, precious as thou art in these hours ofanxiety, dear, dearer than ever, in thy clinging, changeless love, yettempt me not selfishly to retain thee by my side, when liberty, andlife, and joy await thee beyond these fated walls. Thy path is secured;all that can assist, can accelerate thy flight waits but thy approval. The dress of a minstrel boy is procured, and will completely conceal andguard thee through the English camp. Our faithful friend, the minstrelseer, will be thy guide, and lead thee to a home of peace and safety, until my brother's happier fortune dawns; he will guard and love theefor thine own and for my sake. Speak to me, beloved; thou knowest thisgood old man, and I so trust him that I have no fear for thee. Oh, donot pause, and ere this truce be over let me, let me feel that thou artsafe and free, and may in time be happy. "

"In time, " she repeated slowly, as if to herself, and then, rousingherself from that stupor of emotion, looked up with a countenance onwhich a sudden glow had spread. "And why hast thou so suddenly resolvedon this?" she asked, calmly; "why shouldst thou fear for me more nowthan hitherto, dearest Nigel? Hath not the danger always been the same, and yet thou ne'er hast breathed of parting? are not thy hopes thesame--what hath chanced unknown to me, that thou speakest and lookestthus? tell me, ere thou urgest more. "

"I will tell thee what I fear, my love, " he answered, reassured by herfirmness; "much that is seen not, guessed not by my comrades. They weresatisfied that my appeal had had its effect, and the execution of EvanRoy was attended with no disturbance, no ill will amongst those supposedto be of his party--nay, that terror did its work, and all ideas oftreachery which might have been before encouraged were dismissed. I, too, believed this, Agnes, for a while; but a few brief hours weresufficient to prove the utter fallacy of the dream. Some secretconspiracy is, I am convinced, carrying on within these very walls. Iknow and feel this, and yet so cautious, so secret are their movements, whatever they may be, that I cannot guard against them. There are, asthou knowest, fewer true fighting men amongst us than any other class, and these are needed to man the walls and guard against the foe without;they may not be spared to watch as spies their comrades--nay, I dare noteven breathe such thoughts, lest their bold hearts should faint andfail, and they too demand surrender ere evil come upon us from within. What will be that evil I know not, and therefore cannot guard againstit. I dare not employ these men upon the walls, I dare not bring themout against the foe, for so bitterly do I mistrust them, I should feareven then they would betray us. I only know that evil awaits us, andtherefore, my beloved, I do beseech thee, tarry not till it be upon us;depart while thy path is free. "

"Yet if they sought safety and peace, if they tire of this warfare, " shereplied, disregarding his last words, "wherefore not depart to-day, whenegress was permitted; bethink thee, dearest Nigel, is not this proof thyfears are ill founded, and that no further ill hangs over us than thatwhich threatens from without?"

"Alas! no, " he said, "it but confirms my suspicions; I obtained thissafe conduct expressly to nullify or confirm them. Had they departed asI wished, all would have been well; but they linger, and I can feeltheir plans are maturing, and therefore they will not depart. Oh, Agnes, " he continued, bitterly, "my very soul is crushed beneath thisweight of unexpressed anxiety and care. Had I but to contend with ourEnglish foe, but to fight a good and honorable fight, to struggle on, conscious that to the last gasp the brave inmates of this fortress wouldfollow me, and Edward would find naught on which to wreak his vengeancebut the dead bodies of his foes, my task were easy as 'twere glorious;but to be conscious of secret brooding evil each morn that rises, eachnight that falls, to dread what yet I know not, to see, perchance, mybrave fellows whelmed, chained, through a base treachery impossible toguard against--oh! Agnes, 'tis this I fear. "

"Yet have they not seemed more willing, more active in their assignedtasks since the execution of their comrade, " continued Agnes, with all awoman's gentle artifice, still seeking to impart hope, even when shefelt that none remained; "may it not be that, in reality, they repentthem of former traitorous designs, and remain behind to aid thee to thelast? Thou sayest that palpable proof of this brooding evil thou canstnot find, then do not heed its voice. Let no fear of me, of my safety, add its pang; mine own Nigel, indeed I fear them not. "

"I know that all I urge will naught avail with thee, beloved, " heanswered, somewhat less agitated. "I know thy gentle love is all toodeep, too pure, too strong, to share my fears for thee, and oh, I blessthee, bless thee for the sweet solace of that faithful love! yet, yet, Imay not listen to thy wishes. All that thou sayest is but confirmationof the brooding evil; they are active, willing, but to hide their darkdesigns. Yet even were there not this evil to dread, no dream oftreachery, still, still, I would send thee hence, sweet one. Famine andblood, and chains, and death--oh, no, no! thou must not stay for these. "

"And whither wouldst thou send me, Nigel, and for what?" she asked, still calmly, though her quivering lip denoted that self-possession wasfast failing. "Why?"

"Whither? to safety, freedom, peace, my best beloved!" he answered, fervently; "for what? that happier, brighter days may beam for thee, that thou mayest live to bless and be a blessing; dearest, best, clingnot to a withered stem, thou mayest be happy yet. "

"And wilt thou join me, if I seek this home of safety, Nigel?" she laidher hand on his arm, and fixed her eyes unflinchingly upon his face. Hecould not meet that glance, a cold shudder passed over his frame ere hecould reply. 

"Mine own Agnes, " and even then he paused, for his quivering lip couldnot give utterance to his thoughts, and a minute rolled in that deepstillness, and still those anxious eyes moved not from his face. Atlength voice returned, and it was sad yet deeply solemn, "Our lives restnot in our own hands, " he said; "and who when they part may look to meetagain? Beloved, if life be spared, canst doubt that I will join thee?yet, situated as I am, governor of a castle about to fall, a patriot, and a Bruce, brother to the noble spirit who wears our country's crown, and has dared to fling down defiance to a tyrant, Agnes, mine own Agnes, how may I dream of life? I would send thee hence ere that fatal momentcome; I would spare thee this deep woe. I would bid thee live, beloved, live till years had shed sweet peace upon thy heart, and thou wert happyonce again. "

There was a moment's pause; the features of Agnes had become convulsedwith agony as Nigel spoke, and her hands had closed with fearfulpressure on his arm, but his last words, spoken in his own rich, thrilling voice, called back the stagnant blood. 

"No, no; I will not leave thee!" she sobbed forth, as from the suddenfailing of strength in every limb she sunk kneeling at his feet. "Nigel, Nigel, I will not leave thee; in life or in death I will abide by thee. Force me not from thee; seek not to tempt me by the tale of safety, freedom, peace; thou knowest not the depth, the might of woman's love, if thou thinkest things like these can weigh aught with her, even ifchains and death stood frowningly beside. I will not leave thee; whomhave I beside thee, for whom else wouldst thou call on me to live?Alone, alone, utterly alone, save _thee_! Wilt thou bid me hence, andleave thee to meet thy fate alone--thee, to whom my mother gaveme--thee, without whom my very life is naught? Nigel, oh, despise me notfor these wild words, unmaidenly as they sound; oh, let me speak them, or my heart will break!"

"Despise thee for these blessed words!" Nigel answered, passionately, ashe raised her from the ground, and clasped her to his heart. "Oh, thouknowest not the bliss they give; yet, yet would I speak of parting, implore thee still to leave me, aye, though in that parting my veryheart-strings snap. Agnes, how may I bear to see thee in the power ofthe foe, perchance insulted, persecuted, tortured with the ribaldadmiration of the rude crowd, and feel I have no power to save thee, noclaim to bind thee to my side. What are the mere chains of love in suchan hour, abiding by me, as thou mightst, till our last hope is over, andEnglish colors wave above this fortress--then, dearest, oh, must we not, shall we not be rudely parted?"

"No, no! Who shall dare to part us?" she said, as she clung sobbing tohis breast. "Who shall dare to do this thing, and say I may not tendthee, follow thee, even until death?"

"Who? our captors, dearest. Thinkest thou they will heed thy tenderlove, thine anguish? will they have hearts for aught save for thyloveliness, sweet one? Think, think of terrors like to this, and oh, still wilt thou refuse to fly?"

"But thy sister, the Lady Seaton, Nigel, doth she not stay, doth she notbrave these perils?" asked Agnes, shuddering at her lover's words, yetclinging to him still. "If she escapes such evil, why, oh, why may notI?"

"She is Seaton's wife, sweet one, bound to him by the voice of heaven, by the holiest of ties; the noble knights who head our foes will protecther in all honorable keeping; but for thee, Agnes, even if the ills Idread be as naught, there is yet one I have dared not name, lest itshould pain thee, yet one that is most probable as 'tis most fearful;thou canst not hide thy name, and as a daughter of Buchan, oh, will theynot give thee to a father's keeping?"

"The murderer of my brother--my mother's jailer! Oh, Nigel, Nigel, tolook on him were more than death!" she wildly exclaimed. "Yet, yet onceknown as Agnes of Buchan, this will, this must be; but leave thee now, leave thee to a tyrant's doom, if indeed, indeed thou fallest in hishands--leave thee, when faithful love and woman's tenderness are morethan ever needed--leave thee for a fear like this, no, no, I will not. Nigel, I will rest with thee. Speak not, answer not; give us one shortmoment, and then--oh, all the ills may be averted by one brief word--andI, oh, can I speak it?" She paused in fearful agitation, and every limbshook as if she must have fallen; the blood rushed up to cheek, andbrow, and neck, as, fixing her beautiful eyes on Nigel's face, she said, in a low yet thrilling voice, "Let the voice of heaven hallow the vowswe have so often spoken, Nigel. Give me a right, a sacred right to bearthy name, to be thine own, at the altar's foot, by the holy abbot'sblessing. Let us pledge our troth, and then let what will come, no mancan part us. I am thine, only thine!"

Without waiting for a reply, she buried her face in his bosom, and Nigelcould feel her heart throb as if 'twould burst its bounds, her framequiver as if the torrent of blood, checked and stayed to give strengthfor the effort, now rushed back with such overwhelming force through itsvaried channels as to threaten life itself. 

"Agnes, my own noble, self-devoted love! oh, how may I answer thee?" hecried, tears of strong emotion coursing down his cheek--tears, and thewarrior felt no shame. "How have I been deserving of love like this--howmay I repay it? how bless thee for such words? Mine own, mine own! thiswould indeed guard thee from the most dreaded ills; yet how may I linkthat self-devoted heart to one whose thread of life is well-nigh spun?how may I make thee mine, when a few brief weeks of misery and horrormust part us, and on earth, forever?"

"No, no; thou knowest not all a wife may do, my Nigel, " she said, as sheraised her head from his bosom, and faintly smiled, though her framestill shook; "how she may plead even with a tyrant, and find mercy; orif this fail, how she may open iron gates and break through bonds, tillfreedom may be found. Oh, no, we shall not wed to part, beloved; butlive and yet be happy, doubt it not; and then, oh, then forget the wordsthat joined us, made us one, had birth from other lips than thine;--thouwilt forget, forgive this, Nigel?"

"Forget--forgive! that to thy pure, unselfish soul I owe the bliss whiche'en at this hour I feel, " he answered, passionately kissing thebeautiful brow upturned to his; "forget words that have proved--had Ineeded proof--how purely, nobly, faithfully I am beloved; how utterly, how wholly thou hast forgotten all of self for me! No, no! were thywords proved true, might I indeed live blessed with thee the lifeallotted man, each year, each month I would recall this hour, and blessthee for its love. But oh, it may not be!" and his voice so suddenlylost its impassioned fervor, that the breast of Agnes filled with newalarm. "Dearest, best! thou must not dream of life, of happiness withme. I may not mock thee with such blessed, but, alas! delusive hopes; mydoom hath gone forth, revealed when I knew it not, confirmed by thatvisioned seer but few short weeks ago. Agnes, my noble Agnes, whereforeshouldst thou wed with death? I know that I must die!"

The solemn earnestness of his words chased the still lingering glow fromthe lips and cheek of the maiden, and a cold shiver passed through herframe, but still she clung to him, and said--

"It matters not; my maiden love, my maiden troth is pledged to thee--inlife or in death I am thine alone. I will not leave thee, " she said, firmly and calmly. "Nigel, if it be indeed as thou sayest, thataffliction, and--and all thou hast spoken, must befall thee, the moreneed is there for the sustaining and the soothing comfort of a woman'slove. Fear not for me, weak as I may have seemed, there is yet a spiritin me worthy of thy love. I will not unman thee for all thou mayestencounter. No, even if I follow thee to--to death, it shall be as aBruce's wife. Ask not how I will contrive to abide by thee undiscovered, when, if it must be, the foe is triumphant; it will take time, and wehave none to lose. Thou hast promised to forget all I have urged, all, save my love for thee; then, oh, fear me not, doubt me not, thine Agneswill not fail thee!"

Nigel gazed at her almost with surprise; she was no longer the gentletimid being who but a few minutes since had clung weeping to his bosomas a child. She was indeed very pale, and on her features was thestillness of marble; but she stood erect and unfaltering in her innocentloveliness, sustained by that mighty spirit which dwelt within. Anemotion of deep reverence took possession of that warrior heart, andunable to resist the impulse, he bent his knee before her. 

"Then let it be so, " he said, solemnly, but oh, how fervently. "I willnot torture mine own heart and thine by conjuring thee to fly; and now, here, at thy feet, Agnes, noble, generous being, let me swear solemnly, sacredly swear, that should life be preserved to me longer than I nowdream of, should I indeed be spared to lavish on thee all a husband'slove and care, never, never shalt thou have cause to regret this day! tomourn thy faithful love was shown as it hath been--to weep the hourthat, in the midst of danger, and darkness, and woe, hath joined ourearthly fates, and made us one. And now, " he continued, rising andfolding her once more in his arms, "wilt thou meet me at the altar erethe truce concludes? 'tis but a brief while, a very brief while, mylove; yet if it can be, I know thou wilt not shrink. "

"I will not, " she answered. "The hour thou namest I will meet thee. LadySeaton, " she added, slightly faltering, and the vivid blush rose to hertemples, "I would see her, speak with her; yet--"

"She shall come to thee, mine own, prepared to love and hail theesister, as she hath long done. She will not blame thee dearest; sheloves, hath loved too faithfully herself. Fear not, I will leave naughtfor thee to tell that can bid that cheek glow as it doth now. She, too, will bless thee for thy love. "

He imprinted a fervent kiss on her cheek, and hastily left her. Agnesremained standing as he had left her for several minutes, her handstightly clasped, her whole soul speaking in her beautiful features, andthen she sunk on her knees before a rudely-carved image of the Virginand child, and prayed long and fervently. She did not weep, her spirithad been too painfully excited for such relief, but so wrapt was she indevotion, she knew not that Lady Seaton, with a countenance beaming inadmiration and love, stood beside her, till she spoke. 

"Rouse thee, my gentle one, " she said, tenderly, as she twined her armcaressingly around her; "I may not let thee linger longer even here, fortime passes only too quickly, and I shall have but little time to attiremy beautiful bride for the altar. Nigel hath been telling such a tale ofwoman's love, that my good lord hath vowed, despite his weakness and hiswounds, none else shall lead thee to the altar, and give thee to mybrother, save himself. I knew that not even Nigel's influence would bidthee leave us, dearest, " she continued, as Agnes hid her face in herbosom, "but I dreamed not such a spirit dwelt within this childlikeheart, sweet one; thy lot must surely be for joy!"

CHAPTER XX. 

It was something past the hour of nine, when Agnes, leaning on the armof Sir Christopher Seaton, and followed by Lady Seaton and two younggirls, their attendants, entered the church, and walked, with anunfaltering step and firm though modest mien, up to the altar, besidewhich Nigel already stood. She was robed entirely in white, without thesmallest ornament save the emerald clasp which secured, and thebeautiful pearl embroidery which adorned her girdle. Her mantle was ofwhite silk, its little hood thrown back, disclosing a rich lining of thewhite fox fur. Lady Seaton had simply arranged her hair in its ownbeautiful curls, and not a flower or gem peeped through them; a silverbodkin secured the veil, which was just sufficiently transparent topermit her betrothed to look upon her features, and feel that, pale andstill as they were, they evinced no change in her generous purpose. He, too, was pale, for he felt those rites yet more impressively holy thanhe had deemed them, even when his dreams had pictured them peculiarlyand solemnly holy; for he looked not to a continuance of life andhappiness, he felt not that ceremony set its seal upon joy, and boundit, as far as mortality might hope, forever on their hearts. He wasconscious only of the deep unutterable fulness of that gentle being'slove, of the bright, beautiful lustre with which it shone upon his path. The emotion of his young and ardent breast was perhaps almost too holy, too condensed, to be termed joy; but it was one so powerful, so blessed, that all of earth and earthly care was lost before it. The fears anddoubts which he had so lately felt, for the time completely faded fromhis memory. That there were foes without and yet darker foes within hemight have known perhaps, but at that moment they did not occupy afleeting thought. He had changed his dress for one of richness suited tohis rank, and though at the advice of his friends he still retained thebreastplate and some other parts of his armor, his doublet of azurevelvet, cut and slashed with white satin, and his long, flowing mantlelined with sable, and so richly decorated with silver stars that itscolor could scarcely be distinguished, removed all appearance of amartial costume, and well became the graceful figure they adorned; twoof the oldest knights and four other officers, all gayly attired as thehurry of the moment would permit, had at his own request attended him tothe altar. 

Much surprise this sudden intention had indeed caused, but it was anexcitement, a change from the dull routine of the siege, andconsequently welcomed with joy, many indeed believing Sir Nigel hadrequested the truce for the purpose. Sir Christopher, too, though paleand gaunt, and compelled to use the support of a cane in walking, wasobserved to look upon his youthful charge with all his former hilarityof mien, chastened by a kindly tenderness, which seemed indeed that ofthe father whom he personated; and Lady Seaton had donned a richer garbthan was her wont, and stood encouragingly beside the bride. Abouttwenty men-at-arms, their armor and weapons hastily burnished, that nounseemly soil should mar the peaceful nature of the ceremony byrecalling thoughts of war, were ranged on either side. The church waslighted, dimly in the nave and aisles, but softly and somewhat with aholy radiance where the youthful couple knelt, from the large waxentapers burning in their silver stands upon the altar. 

The Abbot of Scone was at his post, attended by the domestic chaplain ofKildrummie; there was a strange mixture of admiration and anxiety on theold man's face, but Agnes saw it not; she saw nothing save him at whoseside she knelt. 

Nigel, even in the agitation of mind in which he had quitted Agnes--anagitation scarcely conquered in hastily informing his sister and herhusband of all that had passed between them, and imploring theircountenance and aid--yet made it his first care strictly to make theround of the walls, to notice all that might be passing within thecourts, and see that the men-at-arms were at their posts. In consequenceof the truce, for the conclusion of which it still wanted some littletime, there were fewer men on the walls than usual, their commandershaving desired them to take advantage of this brief cessation ofhostilities and seek refreshment and rest. A trumpet was to sound at thehour of ten, half an hour before the truce concluded, to summon themagain to their posts. The men most acute in penetration, most firm andsteady in purpose, Nigel selected as sentries along the walls; the postof each being one of the round towers we have mentioned, the remainingspaces were consequently clear. Night had already fallen, and anxiouslyobserving the movements on the walls; endeavoring to discover whetherthe various little groups of men and women in the ballium meant anything more than usual, Sir Nigel did not notice various piles or stacksof straw and wood which were raised against the wall in many parts wherethe shadows lay darkest, and some also against the other granaries whichwere contained in low, wooden buildings projecting from the wall. Neither he nor his friends, nor even the men-at-arms, noticed them, orif they did, imagined them in the darkness to be but the stones andother weights generally collected there, and used to supply the engineson the wails. 

With the exception of the sentries and the men employed by Nigel, allthe garrison had assembled in the hall of the keep for their eveningmeal, the recollection of whose frugality they determined to banish bythe jest and song; there were in consequence none about the courts, andtherefore that dark forms were continually hovering about beneath thedeep shadows of the walls, increasing the size of the stacks, remainedwholly undiscovered. 

Agnes had entered the church by a covered passage, which united the keepto its inner wall, and thence by a gallery through the wall itself, dimly lighted by loopholes, to the edifice, whose southern side wasformed by this same wall. It was therefore, though in reality situatedwithin the ballium or outer court, nearer by many hundred yards to thedwelling of the baron than to the castle walls, its granaries, towers, etc. This outward ballium indeed was a very large space, giving theappearance of a closely-built village or town, from the number of lowwooden and thatched-roofed dwellings, which on either side of the largeopen space before the great gate were congregated together. This accountmay, we fear at such a moment, seem somewhat out of place, but events inthe sequel compel us to be thus particular. A space about half a milesquare surrounded the church, and this position, when visited, by SirNigel at nine o'clock, was quiet and deserted; indeed there was verymuch less confusion and other evidences of disquiet within the dwellingsthan was now usual, and this circumstance perhaps heightened the calmwhich, as we have said, had settled on Sir Nigel's mind. 

There was silence within that little sacred edifice, the silence ofemotion; for not one could gaze upon that young fair girl, could thinkof that devoted spirit, which at such a time preferred to unite her fatewith a beloved one than seek safety and freedom in flight, without beingconscious of a strange swelling of the heart and unwonted moisture inthe eye; and there was that in the expression of the beautiful featuresof Nigel Bruce none could remark unmoved. He was so young, so gifted, sostrangely uniting the gift of the sage, the poet, with the gloriousachievements of the most perfect knight, that he had bound himself aliketo every heart, however varied their dispositions, however oppositetheir tastes; and there was not one, from the holy Abbot of Scone to thelowest and rudest of the men-at-arms, who would not willingly, aye, joyfully have laid down life for his, have gladly accepted chains togive him freedom. 

The deep, sonorous voice of the abbot audibly faltered as he commencedthe sacred service, and looked on the fair beings kneeling, in thebeauty and freshness of their youth, before him. Accustomed, however, tocontrol every human emotion, he speedily recovered himself, anduninterruptedly the ceremony continued. Modestly, yet with a voice thatnever faltered, Agnes made the required responses; and so deep was thestillness that reigned around not a word was lost, but, sweetly andclearly as a silver clarion, it sunk on every ear and thrilled to everyheart; to his who knelt beside her, as if each tone revealed yet morethe devoted love which led her there. Towards the conclusion of theservice, and just as every one within the church knelt in generalprayer, a faint, yet suffocating odor, borne on what appeared a lightmist, was distinguished, and occasioned some slight surprise; by thegroup around the altar, however, it was unnoticed; and the men-at-arms, on looking towards the narrow windows and perceiving nothing but theintense darkness of the night, hushed the rising exclamation, andcontinued in devotion. Two of the knights, too, were observed to glancesomewhat uneasily around, still nothing was perceivable but the lightwreaths of vapor penetrating through the northern aisle, and dissolvingere long the arches of the roof. Almost unconsciously they listened, andbecame aware of some sounds in the distance, but so faint andindefinable as to permit them to rest in the belief that it must be themen-at-arms hurrying from the keep to the walls, although they werecertain the trumpet had not yet sounded. Determined not to heed suchvague sounds, they looked again to the altar. The abbot had laid atrembling hand on either low-bent head, and was emphatically pronouncinghis blessing on their vows, calling on heaven in its mercy to bless andkeep them, and spare them to each other for a long and happy life; or ifit must be that a union commenced in danger should end in sorrow, tokeep them still, and fit them for a union in eternity. His words werefew but earnest, and for the first time the lip of Agnes was observed toquiver--they were ONE. Agnes was clasped to the heart of herhusband; she heard him call her his own--his wife--that man should neverpart them more. The voice of congratulation woke around her, but ereeither could gaze around to look their thanks, or clasp the eagerlyproffered hand, a cry of alarm, of horror, ran though the building. Ared, lurid light, impossible to be mistaken, illumined every window, asfrom a fearful conflagration without; darkness had fled before it. Onall sides it was light--light the most horrible, the most awful, thoughperchance the most fascinating the eye can behold; fearful shouts andcries, and the rush of many feet, mingled with the now easilydistinguished roar of the devouring element, burst confusedly on theear. A minute sufficed to fling open the door of the church for knightsand men-at-arms to rush forth in one indiscriminate mass. SirChristopher would have followed them, utterly regardless of hisinability, had not his wife clung to him imploringly, and effectuallyrestrained him. The abbot, grasping the silver crosier by his side, witha swift, yet still majestic stride, made his way through the church, andvanished by the widely opened door. Agnes and Sir Nigel stoodcomparatively alone; not a cry, not a word passed her lips; everyfeature was wrapped in one absorbing look upon her husband. He hadclasped his hands convulsively together, his brow was knit, his lipcompressed, his eye fixed and rigid, though it gazed on vacancy. 

"It hath fallen, it hath fallen!" he muttered. "Fool, fool that I wasnever to dream of this! Friends, followers, all I hold most dear, swallowed up in this fell swoop! God of mercy, how may it be born! Andthou, thou, " he added, in increased agony, roused from that stupor bythe wild shouts of "Sir Nigel, Sir Nigel! where is he? why does he tarryin such an hour?" that rung shrilly on the air. "Agnes, mine own, it isnot too late even now to fly. Ha! son of Dermid, in good tune thou arthere; save her, in mercy save her! I know not when, or how, or where wemay meet again; I may not tarry here. " He clasped her in his arms, imprinted an impassioned kiss on her now death-like cheek, placed her atonce in the arms of the seer (who, robed as a minstrel, had stoodconcealed behind a projecting pillar during the ceremony, and nowapproached), and darted wildly from the church. What a scene met hisgaze! All the buildings within the ballium, with the sole exception ofthe church, were in one vivid blaze of fire; the old dry wood and thatchof which they were composed, kindling with a mere spark. The wind blewthe flames in the direction of the principal wall, which was alreadyignited from the heaps of combustibles that had been raised within forthe purpose; although it was likely that, from its extreme thickness andstrength, the fire had there done but partial evil, had not theconflagration within the court spread faster and nearer every moment, and from the blazing rafters and large masses of thatch caught by thewind and hurled on the very wall, done greater and more irreparablemischief than the combustibles themselves. Up, up, seeming to the veryheavens, the lurid flames ascended, blazing and roaring, and lightingthe whole scene as with the glare of day. Fantastic wreaths of red firedanced in the air against the pitchy blackness of the heavens, risingand falling in such graceful, yet terrible shapes, that the very eyefelt riveted in admiration, while the heart quailed with horror. Backwards and forwards gleamed the forms of men in the dusky glare; andoaths and cries, and the clang of swords, and the shrieks of women, terrified by the destruction they had not a little assisted toignite--the sudden rush of horses bursting from their stables, andflying here and there, scared by the unusual sight and horridsounds--the hissing streams of water which, thrown from huge buckets onthe flames, seemed but to excite them to greater fury instead oflessening their devouring way--the crackling of straw and wood, as ofthe roar of a hundred furnaces--these were the varied sounds and sightsthat burst upon the eye and ear of Nigel, as, richly attired as he was, his drawn sword in his hand, his fair hair thrown back from hisuncovered brow and head, he stood in the very centre of the scene. Oneglance sufficed to perceive that the rage of the men-at-arms was turnedon their treacherous countrymen; that the work of war raged eventhen--the swords of Scotsmen were raised against each other. Even womenfell in that fierce slaughter, for the demon of revenge was at work, andsought but blood. In vain the holy abbot, heedless that one sudden gustand his flowing garments must inevitably catch fire, uplifted hiscrosier, and called on them to forbear. In vain the officers rushedamidst the infuriated men, bidding them keep their weapons and theirlives for the foe, who in such a moment would assuredly be upon them; invain they commanded, exhorted, implored; but on a sudden, the voice ofSir Nigel Bruce was heard above the tumult, loud, stern, commanding. Hisform was seen hurrying from group to group, turning back with his ownsword the weapons of his men, giving life even to those who had wroughtthis woe; and there was a sudden hush, a sudden pause. 

"Peace, peace!" he cried. "Would ye all share the madness of these men?They have hurled down destruction, let them reap it; let them live tothrive and fatten in their chains; let them feel the yoke they pine for. For us, my friends and fellow-soldiers, let us not meet our gloriousfate with the blood of Scotsmen on our swords. We have striven for ourcountry; we have striven gloriously, faithfully, and now we have but todie for her. Ha! do I speak in vain? Again--back, coward! wouldst thouslay a woman?" and, with a sudden bound, he stood beside one of thesoldiers, who was in the act of plunging his dagger in the breast of akneeling and struggling female. One moment sufficed to wrench the daggerfrom his grasp, and release the woman from his hold. 

"It is ill done, your lordship; it is the fiend, the arch-fiend that hasplanned it all, " loudly exclaimed the man. "She has been heard to mutterthreats of vengeance, and blood and fire against thee, and all belongingto thee. Let her not go free, my lord; thou mayest repent it still. "

"Repent giving a woman life?--bah! Thou art a fool, though a faithfulone, " answered Sir Nigel; but even he started as he recognized thefeatures of Jean Roy. She gave him no time to restrain her, however;for, sliding from his hold, she bounded several paces from him, singing, as she did so, "Repent, ye shall repent! Where is thy buxom bride? JeanRoy will see to her safety. A bonny courtship ye shall have!" Tossing upher arms wildly, she vanished as she spoke; seeming in that light invery truth more like a fiend than woman. A chill sunk on the heart ofNigel, but, "No, no, " he said, internally, as again he sought the spotwhere confusion and horror waxed thickest; "Dermid will care for Agnes, and guard her. I will not think of that mad woman's words. " Yet even ashe rushed onwards, giving directions, commands, lending his aid to everyeffort made for extinguishing the fire, a prayer for his wife wasuttered in his heart. 

The fire continued its rapid progress, buttress after buttress, towerafter tower caught on the walls, causing the conflagration to continue, even when, by the most strenuous efforts, it had been partiallyextinguished amongst the dwellings of the court. The wind blowing fromthe north fortunately preserved the keep, inner wall, and even thechurch, uninjured, save that the scorched and blackened sides of thelatter gave evidence of the close vicinity of the flames, and hownarrowly it had escaped. With saddened hearts, the noble defenders ofScotland's last remaining bulwark, beheld their impregnable wall, thescene of such dauntless valor, such unconquered struggles, against whichthe whole force of their mighty foes had been of no avail--that wallcrumbling into dust and ashes in their very sight, opening a broadpassage to the English foe. Yet still there was no evidence that toyield were preferable than to die; still, though well-nigh exhaustedwith their herculean efforts to quench the flames, there was nocessation, no pause, although the very height of the wall preventedsuccess, for they had not the facilities afforded by the engines of thepresent day. Sir Nigel, his knights, nay, the venerable abbot himself, seconded every effort of the men. It seemed as if little more could addto the horror of the scene, and yet the shouts of "The granaries, thegranaries--merciful heaven, all is consumed!" came with such appallingconsciousness on every ear, that for a brief while, the stoutest armhung powerless, the firmest spirit quailed. Famine stood suddenly beforethem as a gaunt, terrific spectre, whose cold hand it seemed had graspedtheir very hearts. Nobles and men, knights and soldiers, alike stoodparalyzed, gazing at each other with a blank, dim, unutterable despair. The shrill blast of many trumpets, the roll of heavy drums, broke thatdeep stillness. "The foe! the foe!" was echoed round, fiercely, yetrejoicingly. "They are upon us--they brave the flames--well done! Nowfirm and steady; to your arms--stand close. Sound trumpets--thedefiance, the Bruce and Scotland!" and sharply and clearly, as if butjust arrayed for battle, as if naught had chanced to bend those gallantspirits to the earth, the Scottish clarions sent back their answeringblast, and the men gathered in compact array around their gallantleader. 

"My horse--my horse!" shouted Nigel Bruce, as he sprung from rank torank of the little phalanx, urging, commanding, entreating them to makeone last stand, and fall as befitted Scottish patriots. The keep andinner ballium was still their own as a place of retreat, however short aperiod it might remain so. A brave defence, a glorious death would stilldo much for Scotland. 

Shouts, cheers, blessings on his name awoke in answer, as unfalteringly, as bravely as those of the advancing foes. Prancing, neighing, rearing, the superb charger was at length brought to the dauntless leader. 

"Not thus, my lord; in heaven's name, do not mount thus, unarmed, bareheaded as thou art!" exclaimed several voices, and two or three ofhis esquires crowded round him. "Retire but for a brief space within thechurch. "

"And turn my back upon my foes, Hubert; not for worlds! No, no; bring methe greaves, gauntlets, and helmet here, if thou wilt, and an they giveme time, I will arm me in their very teeth. Haste ye, my friends, if yewill have it so; for myself these garments would serve me well enough;"but ere he ceased to speak they had flown to obey, and returned ere adozen more of the English had made their way across the crumbling wall. Coolly, composedly, Nigel threw aside his mantle and doublet, andpermitted his esquires to assist in arming him, speaking at the sametime in a tone so utterly unconcerned, that ere their task was finished, his coolness had extended unto them. He had allowed some few of theEnglish to make an unmolested way; his own men were drawn up in closelines against the inner wall, so deep in shadow that they were at firstunobserved by the English. He could perceive by the still, clear lightof the flames, troop after troop of the besiegers were marching forwardin the direction both of the causeway and the river; several wereplunging in the moat, sword in hand, and attack threatened on everyside. He waited no longer; springing on his charger, with a movement sosudden and unexpected, the helmet fell from his esquire's hand, andwaving his sword above his undefended head, he shouted aloud hiswar-cry, and dashed on, followed by his men, to the spot where a largebody of his foes already stood. 

Desperately they struggled, most gallantly they fought; man after man ofthe English fell before them. On, on they struggled; a path seemedcleared before them; the English were bearing back, despite theircontinued reinforcements from the troops, that so thronged the causewayit appeared but one mass of men. But other shouts rent the air. Thebesiegers now poured in on every side; wherever that gallant body turnedthey were met by English. On, on they came, fresh from some hours ofrepose, buoyed up by the certainty of conquest; unnumbered swords andspears, and coats of mail, gleaming in that lurid light; on came thefiery steeds, urged by the spur and rein, till through the very flamesthey bore their masters; on through the waters of the moat, up thescorching ruins, and with a sound as of thunder, clearing with a singlebound all obstacles into the very court. It was a fearful sight; thatlittle patriot band, hemmed in on every side, yet struggling to thelast, clearing a free passage through men and horse, and glancing swordsand closing multitudes, nearing the church, slowly, yet surely, formingin yet closer order as they advanced; there, there they stood, as asingle bark amid the troubled waves, cleaving them asunder, but to closeagain in fatal fury on her track. 

In vain, amid that furious strife, did the Earl of Lancaster seek outthe azure plume and golden helmet that marked the foe he still desiredto meet; there was indeed a face, beautiful and glorious even in thatmoment, ever in the very thickest of the fight, alike the front, thecentre, the rear-guard of his men; there was indeed that stately form, sitting his noble charger as if horse and man were one; and thatunhelmed brow, that beautifully formed head, with its long curlsstreaming in the night wind, which towered unharmed, unbent, above hisfoes; and where that was, the last hope of his country had gathered. Theopen door of the church was gained, and there the Scottish patriots madea stand, defended in their rear by the building. A brief and desperatestruggle partially cleared their foes, and ere those in the rear couldpress forward, the besieged had disappeared, and the heavy doors wereclosed. The sudden pause of astonishment amidst the assailants wasspeedily dispelled by the heavy blows of axes and hatchets, the suddenshout "To the wall! to the wall!" while several ran to plantscaling-ladders and mount the inner barrier, left unhappily unguardedfrom the diminished numbers of the Scotch; there, however, theirprogress was impeded, for the space which that wall inclosed beingscarce half the size of the ballium, and the barrier itself uninjured, they were repulsed with loss from within. The church-doors meanwhile hadgiven way, and permitted ingress to the assailants, but the door leadingto the passage through the inner wall, and by which in reality theScotch had effected their retreat, was carefully closed and barredwithin, and had so completely the same appearance as the wall of thechurch in which it stood, that the English gazed round them fairlypuzzled and amazed. 

This movement, however, on the part of the besieged occasioned a briefcessation of hostilities on both sides. The flames had subsided, excepthere and there, where the passing wind fanned the red-hot embers anewinto life, and caused a flickering radiance to pass athwart the pitchydarkness of the night, and over the bustling scene on either side theruins. 

There was no moon, and Hereford imagined the hours of darkness might bebetter employed in active measures for resuming the attack by dawn thancontinuing it then. Much, very much had been gained: a very briefstruggle more he knew must now decide it, and he hoped, though againsthis better judgment, that the garrison, would surrender without furtherloss of blood. Terms he could not propose, none at least that couldprevail on the brave commanders to give up with life, and so great wasthe admiration Nigel's conduct had occasioned, that this true son ofchivalry ardently wished he would eventually fall in combat rather thanbe consigned to the fearful fate which he knew would be inflicted on himby the commands of Edward. Commands to the troops without were forwardedby trusty esquires; the wounded conveyed to the camp, and their placessupplied by fresh forces, who, with the joyous sound of trumpet anddrum, marched over by torchlight into the ballium, so long the covetedobject of their attack. 

Sir Nigel meanwhile had desired his exhausted men to lie down in theirarms, ready to start up at the faintest appearance of renewedhostility, and utterly worn out, they most willingly obeyed. But theyoung knight himself neither shared nor sought for that repose; he stoodagainst a buttress on the walls, leaning on a tall spear, and gazing atonce upon his wearied followers, and keeping a strict watch on themovements of his foes. A tall form, clothed in complete armor, suddenlystood beside him; he started. 

"Seaton!" he said; "thou here, and in armor?"

"Aye, " answered the knight, his voice from very weakness sounding hollowin his helmet. "Aye, to make one last stand, and, if it may be, die as Ihave lived for Scotland. I have strength to strike one last blow, forlast it will be--all is lost!"

A low groan broke from Nigel's lips, but he made no further answer thanthe utterance of one word--"Agnes!"

"Is safe, I trust, " rejoined the knight. "The son of Dermid, in whosearms I last saw her, knoweth many a secret path and hidden passage, andcan make his way wherever his will may lead. "

"How! thinkest thou he will preserve her, save her even now from thefoe?"

"Aye, perchance conceal her till the castle be dismantled. But what dothey now? See, a herald and white flag, " he added, abruptly, as by thelight of several torches a trumpeter, banner-bearer, herald, and fivemen-at-arms were discerned approaching the walls. 

"What would ye? Halt, and answer, " demanded Sir Nigel, recalled on theinstant to his sterner duties, and advancing, spear in hand, to theutmost verge of the wall. 

"We demand speech of Sir Nigel Bruce and Sir Christopher Seaton, governors of this castle, " was the brief reply. 

"Speak on, then, we are before ye, ready to list your say. What wouldyour lords?"

"Give ye not admittance within the wall?" inquired the herald; "'tissomewhat strange parleying without. "

"No!" answered Nigel, briefly and sternly; "speak on, and quickly. Wedoubt not the honor of the noble Earl of Hereford--it hath been toogloriously proved; but we are here to list your mission. What would ye?"

"That ye surrender this fortress by to-morrow's dawn, and strive nolonger with the destiny against you. Ye have neither men nor stores, andin all good and chivalric feeling, the noble Earls of Hereford andLancaster call on ye to surrender without further loss of blood. "

"And if we do this?" demanded Nigel. 

"They promise all honorable treatment and lenient captivity to theleaders of the rebels, until the pleasure of his grace the king beknown; protection to all females; liberty to those whose rank demandsnot their detention; and for the common soldiers, on the delivery oftheir arms and upper garments, and their taking a solemn oath thatwithin seven days they will leave Scotland never to return, liberty andlife shall be mercifully extended unto one and all. "

"And if we do _not_ this?"

"Your blood be upon your own rebellious heads! Sacking and pillage musttake their course. "

"Ye have heard, " were the sole words that passed the lips of Nigel, turning to his men, who, roused by the first sound of the trumpet, hadstarted from their slumbers, and falling in a semicircle round him andSir Christopher, listened with intense eagerness to the herald's words. "Ye have heard. Speak, then--your answer; yours shall be ours. "

"Death! death! death!" was the universally reiterated shout. "We willstruggle to the death. Our king and country shall not say we desertedthem because we feared to die; or surrendered on terms of shame asthese! No; let the foe come on! we will die, if we may not live, stillpatriots of Scotland! King Robert will avenge us! God save the Bruce!"

Again, and yet again they bade God bless him; and startlingly andthrillingly was the united voice of that desperate, devoted band borneon the wings of night to the very furthest tents of their foes. CalmlySir Nigel turned again to the herald. 

"Thou hast Scotland's answer, " he said; "'tis in such men as these herglorious spirit lives! they will fall not unavenged. Commend us to yourmasters; we await them with the dawn, " and, turning on his heel, hereassumed the posture of thought as if he had never been aroused. 

The dawn uprose, the attack was renewed with increased vigor, anddefended with the same calm, determined spirit which had been evershown; the patriots fell where they fought, leaving fearful traces oftheir desperate courage in the numbers of English that surrounded each. It was now before the principal entrance to the keep they made theirfinal stand, and horrible was the loss of life, fierce and deadly thestrife, ere that entrance was forced, and the shrieks of women andchildren within proclaimed the triumph of the foe. Then came a shout, loud ringing, joyous, echoed and re-echoed by the blast of the trumpetsboth within and without, and the proud banner of Scotland was hurledcontemptuously to the earth, and the flag of England floated in itsplace. Many a dying eye, unclosed by those sudden sounds, looked on thatemblem of defeat and moved not in life again; others sprung up to theirfeet with wild shrieks of defiance, and fell back, powerless, in death. 

Sir Christopher Seaton, whose exhausted frame could barely sustain theweight of his armor, had been taken in the first charge, fightingbravely, but falling from exhaustion to the earth. And where wasNigel?--hemmed in on all sides, yet seemingly unwounded, unconqueredstill, his face indeed was deadly pale, and there were moments when hisstrokes flagged as from an utter failing of strength; but if, onobserving this, his foes pressed closer, strength appeared to return, and still, still he struggled on. He sought for death; he felt that hedared his destiny, but death shunned him; he strove with his destiny invain. Not thus might he fall, the young, the generous, the gifted. Onfoot, his armor hacked and stained with blood, not yet had the word"yield" been shouted in his ear. 

"Back, back! leave me this glorious prize!" shouted Lancaster, spurringon his charger through the crowd, and leaping from him the instant heneared the spot where Nigel stood. "Take heed of my gallant horse, Ineed him not--I shall not need him now. Ha! bareheaded too; well, soshall it be with me--hand to hand, foot to foot. Turn, noble Nigel, weare well-nigh equals now, and none shall come between us. " He hastilyunclasped his helmet, threw it from his brow, and stood in the attitudeof defence. 

One moment Sir Nigel paused; his closing foes had fallen from him at thewords of their leader; he hesitated one brief instant as to whetherindeed he should struggle more, or deliver up his sword to the generousearl, when the shout of triumph from the topmost turret, proclaiming theraising of the banner, fell upon his ear, and nerved him to the onset. 

"Noble and generous!" he exclaimed, as their swords crossed. "Might Ichoose my fate, I would fall by thy knightly sword. "

As stupefied with wonder at the skill, the extraordinary velocity andpower of the combatants, the men-at-arms stood round, without making onemovement to leave the spot; and fearful indeed was that deadly strife;equal they seemed in stature, in the use of their weapons, in everymystery of the sword; the eye ached with the rapid flashing of theblades, the ear tired of the sharp, unwavering clash, but still theyquailed not, moved not from the spot where the combat had commenced. 

How long this fearful struggle would have continued, or who wouldfinally be victor, was undecided still, when suddenly the wild mockinglaugh of madness sounded in the very ear of Nigel, and a voice shoutedaloud, "Fight on, my bonny lord; see, see, how I care for your winsomebride, " and the maniac form of Jean Roy rushed by through the thickestranks of the men, swift, swift as the lightning track. A veil of silvertissue floated from her shoulder, and she seemed to be bearing somethingin her arms, but what, the rapidity of her way precluded all discovery. The fierce soldiers shrunk away from her, as if appalled by her gaunt, spectral look, or too much scared by her sudden appearance to attemptdetaining her. The eye of Nigel involuntarily turned from his foe tofollow her; he recognized the veil, and fancy did the rest. He saw hernear a part of the wall which was tottering beneath the engines of theEnglish; there was a wild shriek in other tones than hers, the wallfell, burying the maniac in its ruins. A mist came over the senses ofthe young knight, strength suddenly fled his arm, he stepped back as torecover himself, but slipped and fell, the violence of the fall dashinghis sword many yards in air. "I yield me true prisoner, rescue or norescue, " he said, in a tone so startling in its agony that the rudestheart beside him shrunk within itself appalled, and for a minuteLancaster checked the words upon his lips. 

"Nay, nay, yield not in such tone, my gallant foe!" he said, with eagercourtesy, and with his own hand aiding him to rise. "Would that I werethe majesty of England, I should deem myself debased did I hold suchgallantry in durance. Of a truth, thou hast robbed me of my conquest, fair sir, for it was no skill of mine which brought thee to the ground. I may thank that shrieking mad woman, perchance, for the preservationof my laurels. "

"I give you thanks for your courtesy, my lord, " replied Sir Nigel, striving to recover himself; "but I pray you pardon me, if I beseech youlet that falling mass be cleared at once, and note if that unhappy womanbreathes. Methought, " he added, in stronger agitation, "she carriedsomething in her arms. "

"She did, " answered many voices; "some child or girl, who wasstruggling, though the head was muffled up as if to prevent all sounds. "

"See to it, and bring us news of what you find, " said Lancaster, hastily, for the same ghastly expression passed over the countenance ofhis prisoner as had startled him at first. "Thou art not well, my goodlord?" he continued kindly. 

"Nay, I am well, my lord; but I will go with you, " replied the youngknight, slowly, as if collecting strength ere he could speak. "I amwearied with the turmoil of the last twelve hours' fighting against fireand sword at once; I would fain see the noble Hereford, and with hispermission rest me a brief while. "

Lancaster made no further comment, and the two knights, who but a fewminutes before had been engaged in deadly strife, now made their waytogether through the heaps of the dying and the dead, through many agroup of rude soldiery, who scowled on Nigel with no friendly eye, forthey only recognized him as the destroyer of hundreds of theircountrymen, not the chivalric champion who had won the enthusiasticadmiration of their leaders, and soon found themselves in thecastle-hall, in the presence of the Earl of Hereford, who was surroundedby his noblest officers, Sir Christopher and Lady Seaton, and some fewother Scottish prisoners, most of whom were badly wounded. He advancedto meet Sir Nigel, courteously, though gravely. 

"It grieves me, " he said, "to receive as a prisoner a knight of suchhigh renown and such chivalric bearing as Sir Nigel Bruce; I would hehad kept those rare qualities for the sovereign to whom they werenaturally due, and who would have known how to have appreciated andhonor them, rather than shed such lustre on so weak a cause. "

"Does your lordship regard the freedom of an oppressed country so weaka cause?" replied Nigel, the hot blood mounting to his cheek; "therising in defence of a rightful king, in lieu of slavishly adhering toone, who, though so powerful, all good men, aye, even all goodEnglishmen, must look on, in his claims to Scotland, as an ambitioususurper. My lord, my lord, the spirit of Hereford spoke not in thosewords; but I forgive them, for I have much for which to proffer thanksunto the noble Hereford, much, that his knightly soul scorned treacheryand gave us a fair field. Durance is but a melancholy prospect, yet anit must be I would not nobler captors. "

"Nor would I forfeit the esteem in which you hold me, gallant sir, "replied the earl, "and therefore do I pray you, command my services inaught that can pleasure you, and an it interfere not with my duty to mysovereign, I shall be proud to give them. Speak, I pray you. "

"Nay, I can ask naught which the Earl of Hereford hath not granted ofhimself, " said Sir Nigel. "I would beseech you to extend protection toall the females of this unhappy castle; to part not my sister from herlord, for, as you see, his wounds and weakness call for woman's care; togrant the leech's aid to those who need it; and if there be some unhappymen of my faithful troop remaining, I would beseech you show mercy untothem, and let them go free--they can work no further ill to Edward; theycan fight no more for Scotland, for she lieth chained; they have no headand therefore no means of resistance--I beseech you give them freedomunshackled by conditions. "

"It shall be, it shall be, " replied Hereford, hastily, and evidentlymoved; "but for thyself, young sir, thyself, can we do naught for thee?"

"Nothing, " answered the young man, calmly. "I need little more on earth, for neither my youth, my birth, nor what it pleaseth thee to term mygallantry, will save me from the sweeping axe of Edward. I would beseechthee to let my death atone for all, and redeem my noble friends; but Iask it not, for I know in this thou hast no power; and yet, though I asknothing now, " he added, after a brief pause, and in a lower voice, as tobe heard only by Hereford, "ere we march to England I may have a boon tocrave--protection, liberty for a beloved one, whose fate as yet I knownot. " He spoke almost inarticulately, for again it seemed the horridwords and maniac laugh of Jean Roy resounded in his ears. There wasthat in the look and manner of the English earl inviting confidence: amoment the tortured young man longed to pour all into his ear, toconjure him to find Agnes, and give her to his arms; the next herefrained, for her words, "Ask not how I will contrive to abide by theeundiscovered by the foe, " suddenly flashed on his memory, with theconviction that if she were indeed still in life, and he acknowledgedher his wife, Hereford would feel himself compelled to keep her underrestraint, as he did Lady Seaton and the wives of other noble Scotsmen. His lip trembled, but fortunately for the preservation of his composure, Hereford's attention was called from him by the eager entrance ofseveral other officers, who all crowded round him, alike incongratulation, and waiting his commands, and perceiving he wasagitated, the earl turned from him with a courteous bow. Eagerly heseized that moment to spring to the side of his sister, to whisper theimpatient inquiry, "Agnes, where is Agnes?" To feel his heart a momentthrob high, and then sink again by her reply, that she had not seen hersince he had placed her in the arms of the seer; that in the fearfulconfusion which followed, she had looked for her in vain, examined allher accustomed haunts, but discovered no traces of her, save the silvertissue veil. There was, however, some hope in that; Jean Roy, misled bythe glittering article, and seeing it perchance in the hands of another, might have been deceived in her prey. Nay, he welcomed the uncertaintyof suspense; there was something so fearful, so horrible in the ideathat his own faithful Agnes was among those blackened and mangledbodies, which Lancaster informed him had been discovered beneath theruins, something so sickening, so revolting, he could not take advantageof the earl's offer to examine them himself, though, Lancaster added, itwould not be of much use, for he challenged their dearest friends torecognize them. He could not believe such was her fate. Dermid had notbeen seen since the fatal conclusion of their marriage; he knew hisfidelity, his interest in both Agnes and himself, and he could not, hewould not believe the maniac had decoyed her from his care. But wherewas she?--where, in such a moment, could he have conveyed her?--whatwould be her final fate?--how would she rejoin him? were questions everthronging on his heart and brain, struggling with doubts, with thehorrible suspicion still clinging to that shriek which had sounded asthe ruins fell. Darker and more forebodingly oppressive grew theseconflicting thoughts, as day after day passed, and still she came not, nor were there any tidings of the seer. 

A very brief interval sufficed for the English earls to conclude theirarrangements at Kildrummie, and prepare to march southward, Berwickbeing the frontier town to which the Scottish prisoners were usuallyconveyed. Their loss had been greater than at any other similar siege;more than a third of their large army had fallen, several others werewounded, and not much above a third remained who were fitted to continuein arms. It was a fearful proof of the desperate valor of the besieged, but both earls felt it would so exasperate their sovereign against theScottish commanders, as to remove the slightest hope of mercy. The ruinswere with some labor cleared away, the remains of the outer walllevelled with the earth, except the tower communicating with thedrawbridge and barbacan, which could be easily repaired. The inner wallHereford likewise commanded to be restored; the keep he turned into ahospital for the wounded, leaving with them a sufficient garrison todefend the castle, in case of renewed incursions of the Scottishpatriots, a case, in the present state of the country, not veryprobable. True to his promise, these men-at-arms who survived, and whosewounds permitted their removal, Hereford set at liberty, not above tenin number; dispirited, heart-broken, he felt indeed there was no need toimpose conditions on them. Those of the traitors who remained, endeavored by cringing humility, to gain the favor of the English; butfinding themselves shunned and despised, for the commonest Englishsoldier was of a nature too noble to bear with aught of treachery, theydispersed over the country, finding little in its miserable condition toimpart enjoyment to the lives they had enacted so base a part topreserve. It may be well to state, ere we entirely leave the subject, that the execution of Evan Roy exciting every evil passion in theiralready rebellious hearts, had determined them to conspire for a signalrevenge, the ravings of Jean Roy and the desperate counsels of hermother-in-law urging them to the catastrophe we have related; the murderof Nigel had been first planned, but dismissed as likely to bediscovered and thwarted, and bring vengeance on their own heads insteadof his. Before the execution of their comrade and head of theconspiracy, they had only been desirous of shunning the horrors of aprolonged siege; but afterwards, revenge became stronger than merepersonal safety, and therefore was it they refused to take advantage ofthe safe conduct demanded by Nigel, and granted, as we have said. 

The Scottish prisoners were removed from the castle a few hours afterits capitulation, and placed in honorable restraint, in separatepavilions. Lancaster, whose romantic admiration for his antagonist hadnot been in the least diminished by Sir Nigel's bearing in captivity andthe lofty tone of the young knight's society and conversation, which hefrequently courted, absolutely made him shrink from heading the forcewhich was to conduct him a prisoner to England, for he well knew thosevery qualities, calling forth every spark of chivalry in his own bosom, would be only so many incitements to Edward for his instant execution. He therefore demanded that the superintending the works of the garrisonand keeping a strict watch upon the movements of the adjoining countryshould devolve on him, and Hereford, as the older and wiser, shouldconduct his prisoners to the border, and report the events of the siegeto his sovereign. His colleague acceded, and the eighth day from thetriumph of the besiegers was fixed on to commence their march. 

It was on the evening of the seventh day that the Earl of Hereford, thenengaged in earnest council with Lancaster, on subjects relating to theirmilitary charge, was informed that an old man and a boy so earnestlyentreated speech with him, that they had even moved the iron heart ofHugo de l'Orme, the earl's esquire, who himself craved audience forthem. 

"They must bear some marvellous charm about them, an they have workedupon thee, De l'Orme, " said his master, smiling. "In good sooth, letthem enter. "

Yet there was nothing very striking in their appearance when they came. The old man indeed was of a tall, almost majestic figure, and it wasonly the snowy whiteness of his hair and flowing beard that betrayed hisage, for his eye was still bright, his form unbent. He was attired as aminstrel, his viol slung across his breast, a garb which obtained forits possessor free entrance alike into camp and castle, hall and bower, to all parties, to all lands, friendly or hostile, as it might be. Hiscompanion was a slight boy, seemingly little more than thirteen orfourteen, with small, exquisitely delicate features; his complexioneither dark or sunburnt; his eyes were bent down, and their long, verydark lashes rested on his cheek, but when raised, their beautiful blueseemed so little in accordance with the brunette skin, that the sunmight be deemed more at fault than Nature; his hair, of the darkestbrown, clustered closely round his throat in short thick curls; his garbwas that of a page, but more rude than the general habiliments of thoseusually petted members of noble establishments, and favored bothHereford and Lancaster's belief that he was either the son or grandsonof his companion. 

"Ye are welcome, fair sirs, " was the elder earl's kindly salutation, when his esquire had retired. "Who and what are ye, and what crave yewith me?"

"We are Scotsmen, an it so please you, noble lords, " replied the oldman; "followers and retainers of the house of Bruce, more particularlyof him so lately fallen into your power. "

"Then, by mine honor, my good friends, ye had done wiser to benefit bythe liberty I promised and gave to those of his followers who escapedthis devastating siege. Wherefore are ye here?"

"In the name of this poor child, to beseech a boon, my noble lord; forme, my calling permitteth my going where I list, unquestioned, unrestrained, and if I ask permission to abide with ye, Scotsman andfollower of the Bruce as I am, I know ye will not say me nay. "

"I would not, an ye besought such a boon, old man, " answered the earl;"yet I would advise thee to tempt not thy fate, for even thy minstrelgarb, an thou braggest of thy service to the Bruce, I cannot promise tobe thy safeguard in Edward's court, whither I give ye notice I wend myway to-morrow's dawn. For this child, what wouldst thou--hath he novoice, no power of his own to speak?"

The aged minstrel looked at his charge, whose eyes were still bent onthe floor; the heaving of his doublet denoted some internal emotion, butere the old man could answer for him, he had made a few hasty stepsforward, and bent his knee before Hereford. 

"'Tis a simple boon I crave, my lord, " he said, in a voice so peculiarlysweet, that it seemed to impart new beauty to his features; "a verysimple boon, yet my lips tremble to ask it, for thou mayest deem it moreweighty than it seemeth to me, and thou alone canst grant it. "

"Speak it, fair child, whate'er it be, " replied the earl, reassuringly, and laying his hand caressingly on the boy's head. "Thou art, methinks, over young to crave a boon we may not grant; too young, although aScotsman, for Hereford to treat thee aught but kindly. What wouldstthou?"

"Permission to tend on my young lord, Sir Nigel Bruce, " answered theboy, more firmly, and for the first time fixing the full gaze of hisbeautiful eyes on the earl's face. "Oh, my lord, what is there in thatsimple boon to bid thee knit thy brow as if it must not be?" he added, more agitated. "The noble Hereford cannot fear a child; or, if hedoubted me, he cannot doubt the honor of his prisoner, an honor pure, unsullied as his own. "

"Thou speakest not as the child thou seemest, " replied Hereford, musingly; "and yet I know not, misery makes sager of us long ere therose of youth hath faded. For this, thy boon, I know not how it may begranted; it is not usual to permit other than English attendants on ourScottish prisoners. Since Sir Niel Campbell's escape through the agencyof his Scottish attendant, it hath been most strictly prohibited. "

"Oh, do not, do not say me nay!" entreated the boy; "I ask but to sharehis imprisonment, to be with him, serve him, tend him. I ask no moreliberty than is granted unto him; the rudest, coarsest fare, a littlestraw, or the bare ground beside his couch. I can do naught to give himfreedom, and if I could, were there an open path before him--did Ibeseech him on my knees to fly--if he hath surrendered, as I have heard, to thee, rescue or no rescue, he would scorn my counsel, and abide thyprisoner still. Oh, no, no! I swear to thee I will do naught that canmake thee regret thou hast granted an orphan's prayer. "

"And who art thou that pleadeth thus?" inquired the earl, moved alike bythe thrilling sweetness of his voice and the earnestness of his manner. "Thou must have some wondrous interest in him to prefer imprisonmentwith him to all the joys which liberty can give. "

"And I have interest, " answered the boy, fervently; "the interest ofgratitude, and faithfulness, and love. An orphan, miserably anorphan--alone upon the wide earth--he hath protected, cherished, aye, and honored me with his confidence and love. He tended me in sorrow, andI would pour back into his noble heart all the love, the devotion hehath excited in mine. Little can I do, alas! naught but love and serve;yet, yet, I know he would not reject even this--he would let me love himstill!"

"Grant the poor boy his boon, " whispered Lancaster, hurriedly; "of atruth he moveth even me. "

"Thine heart is of right true mettle, my child, " said his colleague, even tenderly. "Yet bethink thee all thou must endure if I grant thyboon; not while with me, for there would be a foul blot upon myescutcheon did so noble a knight as Sir Nigel Bruce receive aught saverespect and honor at my hands. But in this business I am but a tool, anagent; when once within the boundaries of Edward's court, Sir Nigel isno longer my prisoner; I must resign him to my sovereign; and then, Idare not give thee hope of gentle treatment either for thyself or him. "

"I will brave it, " answered the boy, calmly; "danger, aye, death in hisservice, were preferable to my personal liberty, with the torture of thethought upon me, that I shrunk from his side when fidelity and love weremost needed. "

"But that very faithfulness, that very love, my child, will make thyfate the harder; the scaffold and the axe, if not the cord, " he added, in a low, stifled tone, "I fear me, will be his doom, despite his youth, his gallantry--all that would make _me_ save him. Thou turnest pale atthe bare mention of such things, how couldst thou bear to witness them?"

"Better than to think of them; to sit me down in idle safety and feelthat he hath gone forth to this horrible doom, and I have done naught tosoothe and tend him on his way, " replied the boy, firmly, though hisvery lip blanched at Hereford's words. "But must these things be? IsEdward so inexorable?"

"Aye, unto all who thwart him now, " said the earl; "there is no hope forany of the race of Bruce. Be advised, then, gentle boy, retain thyfreedom while thou mayest. "

"No, no!" he answered, passionately, "Oh, do not seek to fright me frommy purpose; do not think aught of me, save but to grant my boon, and oh, I will bless thee, pray for thee to my dying hour! thou wilt, I knowthou wilt. "

"I were no father could I refuse thee, my poor child, " he replied, withearnest tenderness. "Alas! I fear me thou hast asked but increase ofmisery, yet be it as thou list. And yet, " he added, after a brief pause, during which the boy had sprung from his knee, with an inarticulate cryof joy, and flung himself into the minstrel's arms, "Sir Nigel hathresolutely refused the attendance of any of his former followers, whowould willingly have attended him to England. Hast thou so muchinfluence, thinkest thou, to change his purpose in thy favor?"

"I know not, " answered the boy, timidly; "yet an it please your noblelordship to permit my pleading mine own cause without witness, I mayprevail, as I have done before. "

"Be it so, then, " replied the earl. "And now, ere we part, I would bidthee remember I have trusted thee; I have granted that to thee, without_condition_, with perfect liberty of action, which to others could onlyhave been granted on their surrendering themselves, rescue or no rescue, even as thy master. I have done this, trusting to that noblefaithfulness, the candor and honesty of youth, which hath breathed forthin all that thou hast said. Let me not repent it. And now, Hugo del'Orme, " he called aloud, but Lancaster himself declared his intentionof conducting the boy to Sir Nigel's tent, and the esquire wasconsequently dismissed; but ere they departed, the boy turned once moreto the aged minstrel. 

"And thou--whither goest thou?" he said, in low yet thrilling tones. "Mymore than father, thou hast seen thy child's earnest wish fulfilled;that for which thou didst conduct me hither is accomplished; yet ere Isay farewell, tell me--oh, tell me, whither goest thou?"

"I know not, " answered the old man, struggling with unexpressed emotion;"yet think not of me, my child, I shall be free, be safe, untouched byaught of personal ill, while young and lovely ones, for whom it would bebliss to die, are crushed and bleeding in their spring; the mountains, and rocks, and woods, yet unstained with blood, call on me to return, and be at rest within their caves. The love I bear to thee and him thouseekest hath yet a louder voice to bid me follow ye. I know not whitherI shall go, yet an my vision telleth that thou needst my aid, I shallnot be far from thee. Farewell, my child; and ye, true-hearted lords, the blessing of an aged man repay ye for the kindly deed this day thatye have done. " He pressed the boy in his arms, reverentially saluted theearls, and passed from the tent as he spoke. 

A few words passed between the warriors, and then Lancaster desired thepage to follow him. In silence they proceeded through the camp, avoidingthe more bustling parts, where the soldiery were evidently busied inpreparing for the morrow's march, and inclining towards the wooded bankof the river. The eye of the Earl of Lancaster had scarcely moved fromthe page during his interview with Hereford, though the boy, engrossedin his own feelings, had failed to remark it. He now glanced rapidly andsearchingly round him, and perceiving the ground perfectly clear, not asoldier visible, he suddenly paused in his hasty stride, and laying hishand heavily on the boy's shoulder, said, in a deep, impressive voice, "I know not who or what thou art, but I love thy master, and know thathe is ill at ease, not from captivity, but from uncertainty as to thefate of one beloved. If it be, as I suspect, in thy power entirely toremove this uneasiness, be cautioned, and whoever thou mayest be, letnot one in this camp, from the noble Earl of Hereford himself to thelowest soldier, suspect thou art other than thou seemest--a faithfulpage. The rage of Edward is deadly, and all who bear the name of Bruce, be it male or female, will suffer from that wrath. Tell this to thylord. I ask not his confidence nor thine, nay, I would refuse it were itoffered--I would know no more than my own thoughts, but I honor him, aye, and from my very heart I honor thee! Hush! not a word in answer; myspeech is rude, but my heart is true; and now a few steps more and weare there, " and without waiting for reply he turned suddenly, and thepage found himself in the very centre of the camp, near the entrance ofa small pavilion, before which two sentinels were stationed, fullyarmed, and pacing up and down their stated posts; the pennon of Herefordfloated from the centre staff, above the drapery, marking the tent andall its appurtenances peculiarly the earl's. The watchword wasexchanged, and the sentinels lowered their arms on recognizing one oftheir leaders. 

"Let this boy have egress and ingress from and to this tent, unquestioned and unmolested, " he said; "he has the Earl of Hereford'spermission, nay, commands, to wait on Sir Nigel Bruce. His businesslieth principally with him; but if he hath need to quit his side, he isto pass free. Report this to your comrades. " The soldiers bowed inrespectful acquiescence. "For thee, young man, this toy will give theefree passage where thou listeth, none shall molest thee; and now, farewell--God speed thee. " He unclasped a ruby brooch, curiously set inantique gold, from his collar, and placed it in the boy's hand. 

"Dost thou not enter?" asked the page, in a voice that quivered, and thelight of the torches falling full on his face disclosed to Lancaster alook of such voiceless gratitude, it haunted him for many a long day. 

"No, " he said, half smiling, and in a lower voice; "hast thou forgottenthy cause was to be pleaded without witness? I have not, if thou hast. Iwill see thy noble master ere he depart, not now; thou wilt, I trust me, take him better comfort than I could. "

He lifted the hangings as he spoke, and the boy passed in, his heartbeating well-nigh to suffocation as he did so. It was in a smallcompartment leading to the principal chamber of the tent he foundhimself at first, and Sir Nigel was not there. With a fleet, yetnoiseless movement, he drew aside the massive curtain, let it fall againbehind him, and stood unperceived in the presence of him he sought. 

The brow of Sir Nigel rested on his hand, his attitude was as one bowedand drooping 'neath despondency; the light of the taper fell full uponhis head, bringing it out in beautiful profile. It was not his capturealone which had made him thus, the boy felt and knew; the complicatedevils which attended his king and country in his imprisonment were yetnot sufficient to crush that spirit to the earth. It was some otheranxiety, some yet nearer woe; there had been many strange rumors afloat, both of Sir Nigel's bridal and the supposed fate of that bride, and theboy, though he knew them false, aye, and that the victim of Jean Roy wasa young attendant of Agnes, who had been collecting together thetrinkets of her mistress, to save them from the pillage which wouldattend the conquest of the English, and had been thus mistaken by themaniac--the boy, we say, though he knew this, had, instead of denyingit, encouraged the report, and therefore was at no loss to discover hismaster's woe. He advanced, knelt down, and in a trembling, husky voice, addressed him. "My lord--Sir Nigel. "

The young knight started, and looked at the intruder, evidently withoutrecognizing him. "What wouldst thou?" he said, in a tone somewhat stern. "Who art thou, thus boldly intruding on my privacy? Begone, I need theenot!"

"The Earl of Hereford hath permitted me to tend thee, follow thee, "answered the page in the same subdued voice. "My gracious lord, do notthou refuse me. "

"Tend me--follow me! whither--to the scaffold? Seek some other master, my good boy. I know thee not, and can serve thee little, and need noearthly aid. An thou seekest noble service, go follow Hereford; he is agenerous and knightly lord. "

"But I am Scotch, my lord, and would rather follow thee to death thanHereford to victory. "

"Poor child, poor child!" repeated Nigel, sadly. "I should know thee, methinks, an thou wouldst follow me so faithfully, and yet I do not. What claim have I upon thy love?"

"Dost thou _not_ know me, Nigel?" The boy spoke in his own peculiarlysweet and most thrilling voice, and raising his head, fixed his fullglance upon the knight. 

A wild cry burst from Nigel's lips, he sprang up, gazed once again, andin another moment the page and knight had sprung into each other's arms;the arms of the former were twined round the warrior's neck, and SirNigel had bent down his lordly head; burning tears and impassionedkisses were mingled on the soft cheek that leaned against his breast. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The ancient town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, associated as it is withScottish and English history from the time these two kingdoms had aname, presented a somewhat different aspect in the year 1307 to that ofthe present day. The key to both countries, it was ever a scene ofstruggle, unless the sister kingdoms chanced to be at peace, an event inthe middle ages of rare occurrence, and whoever was its fortunatepossessor was undeniably considered as the greater power. Since thedeath of Alexander it had been captured no less than three times byEdward in 1296, by Wallace the succeeding year, and recaptured by theEnglish the following spring. To Edward, consequently, it now belonged, and many and fearful had been the sanguinary executions its walls hadbeheld. Its streets had been deluged with noble Scottish blood; itsprisons filled with the nobles of Scotland; even high-minded women, whoby their countenance and faithfulness had given a yet higher tone topatriotism and valor, were said to be there immured. It might have beentermed not alone the key, but the dungeon and grave of Scotland; andmany a noble spirit which had never quailed in the battle's front, shrunk back appalled as it neared those dismal walls. 

In the time of Edward, the fortifications, though merely consisting of adeep moat and wooden palisades, instead of the stone wall stillremaining, inclosed a much larger space than the modern town. Amagnificent castle, with its "mounts, rampiers, and flankers, " itstowers, walls, and courts, crowned an easy ascent overhanging the Tweed, and was at this period peopled by a powerful garrison, filled withimmense stores, both of arms, artillery, and provisions, and manyunhappy prisoners, who from their lonely turrets could look beyond thesilver Tweed on their own beautiful land, their hearts burning with thevain desire to free her from her chains. Both square and round towersguarded the palisades and moat surrounding the town, which presented agoodly collection of churches, hospitals, dwelling-houses, stores, andmonastic buildings; from all of which crowds were continually passingand repassing on their several ways, and forming altogether a motleyassemblage of knights, nobles, men-at-arms, archers, the various ordersof monks, the busy leech from the hospital, the peaceful burgher, thebustling storekeeper, and artisan, noble dames and pretty maidens--allin the picturesque costumes of the day, jostling one another, unconscious of the curious effect they each assisted to produce, andever and anon came the trampling of fiery steeds. It was a rich, thriving, bustling town, always presenting curious scenes of activity, at present apparently under some excitement, which the gay knights andtheir followers tended not a little to increase. 

The popular excitement had, strange to say, been confined for anunusually long time to one subject. Orders had been received from KingEdward for the erection of an extraordinary cage or tower, curiouslyworked in stone and iron, on the very highest turret of the castle, visible to every eye, of a circular form, with pyramidal points, supporting gilded balls, giving it the appearance, when completed, of ahuge coronet or crown. It was barred and cross-barred with iron on allsides, effectually preventing egress from within, but exposing itsinmate, whoever that might be, to every passer-by. The impatient kinghad commanded several of the artisans employed in its erection to bethrown into prison, because it was not completed fast enough to pleasehim; but, despite his wrath and impatience, the work of fashioning theiron, wood, and stone, as he required, occasioned them to proceed butslowly, and it was now, three months after the royal order had beengiven, only just completed, and firmly fixed on the principal turret ofthe castle. Day after day the people flocked to gaze and marvel for whomit could be intended, and when it would be occupied; their thoughts onlyturned from it by the intelligence that the Earl of Hereford, with someScottish prisoners of high rank, was within four-and-twenty hours' marchof the town, and was there to deliver up his captives to the seneschalof the castle, the Earl of Berwick. At the same time rumors were afloat, that the prisoner for whom that cage had been erected was, under astrong guard, advancing from Carlisle, and likely to encounter Herefordat the castle gates. 

The popular excitement increased threefold; the whole town seemed underthe influence of a restless fever, utterly preventing the continuance oftheir usual avocations, or permitting them to rest quiet in theirhouses. Crowds filled the streets, and pressed and fumed to obtainplaces by the great gates and open squares of the castle, through whichboth parties must pass. That wind, rain, and sunshine alternately ruledthe day, was a matter of small importance; nor did it signify thatEnglish soldiers were returning victorious, with Scottish prisoners, being a thing now of most common occurrence. Before the day was over, however, they found anticipation for once had been less marvellous thanreality, and stranger things were seen and heard than they had dreamedof. 

From sunrise till noon they waited and watched, and waxed impatient invain. About that time trumpets and drums were heard from the south, andthere was a general rush towards the bridge, and hearts beat high inexpectancy of they knew not what, as a gallant band of English archersand men-at-arms, headed by some few knights, were discovered slowly andsolemnly advancing from the Carlisle road. Where, and who was theprisoner? A person of some consequence, of dangerous influence it mustbe, else why had the king made such extraordinary provision forconfinement? There were not wanting suggestions and guesses, andwondrous fancies; for as yet there was such a close guard in the centreof the cavalcade, that the very person of the prisoner could not bedistinguished. Nay, there were some who ventured to hint and believe itmight be the excommunicated Earl of Carrick himself. It was most likely, for whom else could the cage, so exactly like a crown, be intended? andthere were many who vaunted the wise policy of Edward, at having hit onsuch an expedient for lowering his rival's pride. Others, indeed, declared the idea was all nonsense; it was not likely he would incursuch expense, king as he was, merely to mortify a traitor he had swornto put to death. The argument waxed loud and warm. Meanwhile thecavalcade had crossed the bridge, been received through the south gate, and in the same slow and solemn pomp proceeded through the town. 

"By all the saints, it is only a woman!" was the information shouted byan eager spectator, who had clambered above the heads of his fellows toobtain the first and most coveted view. His words were echoed in blankamazement. 

"Aye, clothed in white like a penitent, with her black hair streamingall over her shoulders, without any covering on her head at all, andnothing but a thin, torn sandal on her bare feet; and the knights lookblack as thunder, as if they like not the business they are engaged in. "

It was even so. There was an expression on the face of the officersimpossible to be misunderstood; frowningly, darkly, they obeyed theirsovereign's mandate, simply because they dared not disobey; but therewas not one among them who would not rather have sought the most deadlyfront of battle than thus conduct a woman, aye, and a most noble one, unto her prison. The very men, rude, stern, as they mostly were, sharedthis feeling; they guarded her with lowered heads and knitted brows; andif either officer or man-at-arms had to address her, it was with aninvoluntary yet genuine movement and manner of respect that littleaccorded with their present relative position. The crowds looked firstat the cavalcade and marvelled, then at the prisoner, and they did notmarvel more. 

Clad as she was, in white, flowing garments, very similar to those wornby penitents, her head wholly undefended from cold or rain even by aveil; her long, luxuriant, jet-black hair, in which as yet, despite ofcare and woe, no silver thread had mingled, falling round her from hernoble brow, which shone forth from its shade white as snow, anddisplaying that most perfect face, which anguish had only chiselled intopaler, purer marble; it could not rob it of its beauty, that beautywhich is the holy emanation of the soul, _that_ lingered still withpower to awe the rudest heart, to bow the proudest in voluntary respect. 

The sovereign of England had commanded this solemn procession and itsdegrading accompaniments to humble, to crush to dust, the woman who haddared defy his power, but it was himself alone he humbled. As she walkedthere, surrounded by guards, by gazing hundreds, on foot, and butprotected from the flinty ground by a thin sandal, her step was as firmand unfaltering, her attitude, her bearing as dignified, as calmly, imposingly majestic as when, in the midst of Scotland's patriots, shehad placed the crown on the Bruce's head. Edward sought to debase her, but she was not debased; to compel her to regret the part that she hadacted, but she gloried in it still; to acknowledge his power--but in allhe failed. 

Calmly and majestically the Countess of Buchan proceeded on her way, neither looking to the right or left, nor evincing by the slightestvariation of countenance her consciousness of the many hundreds gazingon, or that they annoyed or disturbed her; her spirit was wrapt initself. We should assert falsehood did we say she did not suffer; shedid, but it was a mother's agony heightened by a patriot's grief. Shebelieved her son, who had been in truth the idol of her mourning heart, had indeed fallen. Her Agnes was not amongst the queen's train, of whosecaptivity she had been made aware, though not allowed speech with them. Where was _she_--what would be her fate? She only knew her as a lovely, fragile flower, liable to be crushed under the first storm; and picturedher, rudely severed from Nigel, perchance in the hands of some lawlessspoiler, and heart-broken, dying. Shuddering with anguish, she thoughtnot of her own fate--she thought but of her children, of her country;and if King Robert did enter these visions, it was simply as hersovereign, as one whose patriotism would yet achieve the liberty ofScotland; but there was a dimness even o'er that dream, for the figureof her noble boy was gone, naught but a blank--dull, shapeless--occupiedthat spot in the vision of the future, which once his light had filled. 

The castle-yard was at length gained, and a half and some change in theline of march ensued; the officers and men formed in a compact crescent, leaving the countess, a herald, trumpeters, and some of the highestknights, in front. So intense was the interest of the crowd at thismoment, that they did not heed the rapid advance of a gallant body ofhorse and foot from the north, except to rail at the pressure theyoccasioned in forcing their way through. They gained the castle-yard atlength, and there halted, and fell back in utter astonishment at thescene they witnessed. 

The herald had drawn a parchment from his belt, and made a step forwardas if to speak. The knights, in sullen silence, leant upon theirsheathed swords, without even glancing at their prisoner, who appearedfar the most composed and dignified of all present, and, after a briefpause, words to this effect were distinguished by the crowd. 

"To our loyal and loving subjects of both North and South Britain, Edward, by the grace of God, King of England, Wales, France, andScotland, greeting. Whereas Isabella, born of Fife, and late of Buchan, which latter she hath, by foul dishonor and utter disregard of marriagevows, now forfeited, hath done traitorously and disloyally alike to hersovereign lord the king, and to her gracious lord and husband, John, Earl of Buchan, whom, for his fidelity, we hold in good favor. As shehath not struck by the sword, so she shall not perish by the sword; butfor her lawless conspiracy, she shall be shut up in a stone and ironchamber, circular as the crown she gave, in this proclaiming to bothcountries her everlasting infamy. And this we do in mercy; for, whereasshe deserveth death, we do remit the same, and give her time to repenther of her heinous crime. 

"Given at our palace of Carlisle, this twenty-third day of February, inthe year of our Lord and Saviour, one thousand three hundred and seven. God save the King!"

But the loyal ejaculation was not echoed, nay, the herald himself hadread the proclamation, as if every word had been forced from him, andthe eyes of every knight and soldier had been fixed upon the ground, asif shame rested on them rather than on their prisoner. A dead silencefor a few minutes followed, broken only by some faint cries of "God saveKing Edward, and down with all traitors!" which seemed raised more todrown the groans which involuntarily burst forth, than as the echo ofthe heart. They dared not evince the faintest sign of disapproval, forthey stood on precarious ground; a groan even might be punished by theirirritable king as treachery; but there was one present who cared littlefor this charge. Scarcely had the words passed the herald's lips, beforea young man, whose bare head and lack of all weapons would haveproclaimed him one of the Earl of Hereford's prisoners, had not theattention of all been turned from him by the one engrossing object, nowsnatching a sword from a soldier near him, sprung from his horse, andviolently attacking the herald, exclaimed, in a voice of thunder--

"Liar and slave! thinkest thou there is none near to give the lie to thyfoul slanders--none to defend the fair fame, the stainless honor of thismuch-abused lady? Dastard and coward, fit mouthpiece of a dishonored andblasphemous tyrant! go tell him, his prisoner--aye, Nigel Bruce--thrustsback his foul lies into his very teeth. Ha! coward and slave, wouldstthou shun me?"

A scene of indescribable confusion now ensued. The herald, a man notmuch in love with war, stood cowering and trembling before hisadversary, seeking to cover himself with his weapon, but, from histrembling hold, ineffectually. The stature of the youthful Scotsmanappeared towering, as he stood over him with his uplifted sword, refusing to strike a defenceless man, but holding him with a gripe ofiron; his cheek flushed crimson, his nostrils distended, for his soulwas moved with a mightier, darker passion than had ever stirred itsdepths before. The soldiers of both parties, joined, too, by some fromthe castle--for a party headed by the Earl of Berwick himself hadattended to give countenance to the proclamation--rushed forward, butinvoluntarily fell back, awed for the moment by the mighty spirit of oneman; the knights, roused from their sullen posture, looked much as ifthey would, if they dared, have left the herald to his fate. Herefordand Berwick at the same instant spurred forward their steeds, the oneexclaiming, "Madman, let go your hold--you are tempting your own fate!Nigel, for the love of heaven! for the sake of those that love you, benot so rash!" the other thundering forth, "Cut down the traitor, an hewill not loose his hold. Forward, cowardly knaves! will ye hear yourking insulted, and not revenge it?--forward, I say! fear ye a singleman?"

And numbers, spurred on by his words, dashed forward to obey him, butfearlessly Sir Nigel Bruce retained his hold with his left hand, andwith his right grasped tighter his sword, and stood, with the fierceundaunted port of a lion lashed into fury, gazing on his foes; but erehe had crossed with the foremost weapons, a slight lad burst through thegathering crowd, and with a piercing shriek threw himself at hismaster's feet, and grasping his knees, seemed by his pleading looks, forhis words were inaudible, imploring him to desist from his rashness. Atthe same moment another form pressed through the soldiers, her look, hermien compelling them involuntarily to open their ranks and give herpassage. The sword of Nigel was in the act of falling on a second foe, the first lay at his feet, when his arm was caught in its descent, andIsabella of Buchan stood at his side. 

"Forbear!" she said, in those rich impressive tones that ever forcedobedience. "Nigel Bruce, brother of my sovereign, friend of my son, forbear! strike not one blow for me. Mine honor needs no defence bythose that love me; my country will acquit me; the words of England'smonarch, angered at a woman's defiance of his power, affect me not!Noble Nigel, excite not further wrath against thyself by this vainstruggle for my sake; put up thy sword, ere it is forced from thee. Letgo thy hold; this man is but an instrument, why wreak thy wrath on him?Must I speak, implore in vain? Nay, then, I do command thee!"

And those who gazed on her, as she drew that stately form to its fullheight, as they heard those accents of imperative command, scarcemarvelled that Edward should dread her influence, woman as she was. Despite the increasing wrath on the Earl of Berwick's brow, the menwaited to see the effect of these words. There was still an expressionof ill-controlled passion on Nigel's features. He waited one moment whenshe ceased to speak, then slowly and deliberately shook the herald bythe collar, and hurled him from his hold; snapped his sword in twain, and flinging it from him, folded his arms on his breast, and calmlyuttering, "Pardon me, noble lady, mine honor were impugned had Isuffered that dastardly villain to pass hence unpunished--let Edward actas he lists, it matters little now, " waited with impenetrable resolvethe rage he had provoked. 

"Nigel, Nigel, rash, impetuous boy, what hast thou done?" exclaimed thecountess, losing all mien and accent of command in the terror with whichshe clung round him, as if to protect him from all ill, in the tone andlook of maternal tenderness with which she addressed him. "Why, why mustit be my ill fate to hurl down increase of misery and danger on all whomI love?"

"Speak not so, noble lady, in mercy do not!" he whispered in reply;"keep that undaunted spirit shown but now, I can better bear it thanthis voice of anguish. And thou, " he added, laying his hand on theshoulder of the boy, who still clung to his knees, as if fascinatedthere by speechless terror, and gazed alternately on him and thecountess with eyes glazed almost in madness, "up, up; this is no placefor thee. What can they do with me but slay--let them come on--better, far better than a scaffold!" but the boy moved not, Nigel spoke in vain. 

The fate he dared seemed indeed threatening. Wrought well-nigh tophrensy at this daring insult to his sovereign, in whose acts of crueltyand oppression he could far better sympathize than in his more knightlyqualities, the Earl of Berwick loudly and fiercely called on hissoldiers to advance and cut down the traitor, to bring the heaviestfetters and bear him to the lowest dungeon. The men, roused from theirstupor of amaze, rushed on impetuously to obey him; their naked swordsalready gleamed round Nigel; the Countess of Buchan was torn from hisside, her own especial guards closing darkly around her; but vainly didthey seek to unclasp the convulsive grasp of the boy from Nigel, heneither shrieked nor spake, but he remained in that one posture, rigidas stone. 

"Fiends! monsters! would ye, dare ye touch a boy, a child as this!"shouted Nigel, struggling with herculean strength to free himself fromthe rude grasp of the soldiers, as he beheld the sharp steel pointed atthe breast of the boy, to compel him to unloose his hold. "Villains, cowards! bear back and let me speak with him, " and nerved to madness bythe violence of his emotions, he suddenly wrenched himself away, therapidity of the movement throwing one of the men to the earth, and bentover the boy; again they rushed forward, they closed upon him, they toreaway the lad by force of numbers, and flung him senseless on the earth;they sought to bear away their prisoner, but at that moment Hereford, who had been parleying loudly and wrathfully with Berwick, spurred hischarger in the very midst of them, and compelled them to bear back. 

"Back, back!" he exclaimed, making a path for himself with his drawnsword; "how dare ye thrust yourselves betwixt me and my lawful prisoner, captive of my sword and power? what right have ye to dare detain him?Let go your hold, none but the men whose prowess gained this gallantprize shall guard him till my sovereign's will be known. Back, back, Isay!"

"Traitor!" retorted Berwick, "he is no longer your prisoner. An insultoffered to King Edward, in the loyal citadel of Berwick, in my verypresence, his representative as I stand, shall meet with fitretribution. He hath insulted his sovereign by act and word, and Iattach him of high treason and will enforce my charge. Forward, I say!"

"And I say back!" shouted the Earl of Hereford; "I tell thee, proudearl, he is my prisoner, and mine alone. Thou mayest vaunt thy loyalty, thy representation of majesty, as thou listeth, mine hath been proved atthe good sword's point, and Edward will deem me no traitor because Iprotect a captive, who hath surrendered himself a knight to a knight, rescue or no rescue, from this unseemly violence. I bandy no more wordswith such as thee; back! the first man that dares lay hold on him Ichastise with my sword. "

"Thou shalt repent this!" muttered Berwick, with a suppressed yetterrible oath, but he dared proceed no further. 

A signal from their leader brought up all Hereford's men, who, incompact order and perfect silence, surrounded their prisoner. Sternlythe earl called for a pair of handcuffs, and with his own hands fastenedthem on his captive. "It grieves me, " he said, "to see a brave man thusmanacled, but thine own mad act hath brought it on thyself. And now, myLord of Berwick, an it please thee to proceed, we demand admission tothy citadel in King Edward's name. Bring up the other prisoners. "

Concealing his wrath with difficulty, the Earl of Berwick and hisattendants dashed forward over the drawbridge into the castle at fullspeed, closing the gates and lowering the portcullis after them. After abrief space, the portcullis was again raised, the gates flung wideapart, and the men-at-arms were discerned lining either side, in all dueform and homage to the officers of their sovereign. During the wrathfulwords passing between the two earls, the attention of the crowd had beengiven alternately to them and to the Countess of Buchan, who had utterlyforgotten her own precarious situation in anxiety for Nigel, and in pityfor the unfortunate child, who had been hurled by the soldiers close tothe spot where she stood. 

"Do not leave him there, he will be trampled on, " she said, imploringly, to the officers beside her. "He can do no harm, poor child, Scotchthough he be. A little water, only bring me a little water, and he willspeedily recover. "

All she desired was done, the boy was tenderly raised and brought withinthe circle of her guards, and laid on the ground at her feet. She kneltdown beside him, chafed his cold hands within her own, and moistened hislips and brow with water. After a while his scattered senses returned, he started up in a sitting posture, and gazed in wild inquiry aroundhim, uttering a few inarticulate words, and then saying aloud, "SirNigel, my lord, my--my--master, where is he? oh! let me go to him; whyam I here?"

"Thou shalt go to him, poor boy, as soon as thy strength returns; anthey have let thee follow him from Scotland, surely they will not partye now, " said the countess soothingly, and her voice seemed to rouse thelad into more consciousness. He gazed long in her face, with anexpression which at that time she could not define, but which startledand affected her, and she put her arm round him and kissed his brow. Aconvulsive almost agonized sob broke from the boy's breast, and causedhis slight frame to shake as with an ague, then suddenly he knelt beforeher, and, in accents barely articulate, murmured--

"Bless me, oh bless me!" while another word seemed struggling forutterance, but checked with an effort which caused it to die on his lipsin indistinct murmurs. 

"Bless thee, poor child! from my very heart I do, if the blessing of onesorrowing and afflicted as myself can in aught avail thee. For thyfaithfulness to thy master, I bless thee, for it speaketh well for thee, and that face would bid me love and bless thee for thyself, I know notwherefore. Good angels keep and bless thee, gentle boy, thou hastIsabella's prayers, and may they give thee peace. "

"Pray for me, aye, pray for me, " repeated the boy, in the same murmuredtones. He clasped her hands in both his, he pressed them again and againto his lips, repeated sobs burst from his laboring breast, and then hesprung up, darted away, and stood at Sir Nigel's side, just as the Earlof Hereford had commanded his men to wheel a little to the right, topermit the Countess of Buchan, her guards and officers, free passageover the drawbridge, and first entrance within the fortress. 

The brow of this noble son of chivalry darkened as, sitting motionlesson his tall steed, his gaze rested on the noble woman whom it hadoriginally been his painful charge to deliver over to his sovereign. Hehad not dreamed of a vengeance such as this. He could not have believeda change so dark as this had fallen on the character of a sovereign whomhe still loved, still sought to admire and revere, and his spirit sunk'neath the sorrow this conviction caused. Almost involuntarily, as theprocession slowly proceeded, and the countess passed within three pacesof his horse's head, he bent his lordly brow in silent homage; she sawit and returned it, more effected by the unfeigned commiseration on thatwarrior's face, than at aught which had occurred to shame and humble herthat morning. 

A brief pause took place in the movements of the officers and theirprisoners, when they reached the great hall of the castle. For a briefminute Lady Seaton and the Countess of Buchan had met, had claspedhands, in sad, yet eager greeting. "My child, mine Agnes?" had been bythe latter hurriedly whispered, and the answer, "Safe, I trust, safe, "just permitted to reach her ear, when roughly and fiercely the Earl ofBerwick summoned the Lady of Buchan to proceed to the chamber appointedfor her use. Those simple words had, however, removed a load of anxietyfrom her mind, for they appeared to confirm what she had sometimespermitted herself to hope, that Agnes had shared King Robert's exile, under the care of Lady Campbell; prevailed on to do so, perchance, bythe entreaties of Nigel, who in all probability had deemed that course, though one of hardship, less perilous than remaining with him. She hopedindeed against her better judgment, for though she knew not the depth, the might of her daughter's feelings, she knew it must have been aterrible trial so to part, and she absolutely shuddered when she thoughtof the whelming blow it would be to that young heart when the fate ofher betrothed was ascertained. 

Lady Seaton had spoken as she believed. No communication had beenpermitted between the prisoners on their way to England; indeed, fromSir Christopher's wounded and exhausted state, he had travelled moreleisurely in a litter, always in the rear of the earl's detachment, andoccupied by her close attendance upon him, his wife had scarcely beenaware of the young page ever in attendance on her brother, or deemedhim, if she did observe him, a retainer of Hereford's own. There was somuch of fearful peril and misery hovering over her in her husband'sfate, that it was not much wonder her thoughts lingered there more thanon Agnes, and that she was contented to believe as she had spoken, thatshe at least was safe. 

Night fell on the town of Berwick. Silence and darkness had come on herbrooding wings; the varied excitement of the day was now but a matter ofwondering commune round the many blazing hearths, where the busy crowdsof the morning had now gathered. Night came, with her closing pall, hersoftened memories, her sleeping visions, and sad waking dreams. She hadcome, alike to the mourned and mourner, the conqueror and his captive, the happy and the wretched. She had found the Earl of Berwick pacing upand down his stately chamber, his curtained couch unsought, devisingschemes to lower the haughty pride of the gallant warrior whom he yetfeared. She had looked softly within the room where that warrior lay, and found him, too, sleepless, but not from the same dark dreams. Hegrieved for his sovereign, for the fate of one noble spirit shrined in awoman's form, and restless and fevered, turned again and again withinhis mind how he might save from a yet darker doom the gallant youth hisarms had conquered. And not alone on them did night look down. She senther sweet, reviving influence, on the rays of a bright liquid star, through the narrow casement which gave light to the rude unfurnishedchamber where Sir Nigel Bruce and his attendant lay. They had not tornthat poor faithful child from his side. Hereford's last commands hadbeen that they should not part them, and there they now lay; and sleep, balmy sleep had for them descended on the wings of night, hovering overthat humble pallet of straw, when from the curtained couch of power, thedowny bed of luxury, she fled. There they lay; but it was the boy wholay on the pallet of straw, his head pillowed by the arm of the knight, who sat on a wooden settle at his side. He had watched for a brief spacethose troubled slumbers, but as they grew calmer and calmer, he hadpressed one light kiss on the soft yielding cheek, and then leant hishead on his breast, and he too slept--even in sleep tending one beloved. 

And in the dark, close sleeping-chamber within the prison cage of thenoble Countess of Buchan, night too looked pityingly. Sleep indeed wasnot there; it had come and gone, for in a troubled slumber a dream hadcome of Agnes, and she had woke to think upon her child, and pray forher; and as she prayed, she thought of her promise to the poor boy whohad so strangely moved her. She could not trace how one thought hadsprung from the other, nor why in the darkness his features so suddenlyflashed before her; but so it was. His face seemed to gleam upon herwith the same strange, indefinable expression which, even at the time, had startled her; and then a sudden flash appeared to illumine thatdarkness of bewilderment. She started up from her reclining posture; shepressed both hands on her throbbing eyeballs; a wild, sickening yearningtook possession of her whole soul; and then she felt, in its fullbitterness, she was a chained and guarded prisoner and the deep anguishof her spirit found vent in the convulsive cry--

"Fool, fool that I was--my child! my child!"

CHAPTER XXII. 

Leaving the goodly town of Berwick and its busy citizens, its castle andits prisoners, for a brief space, we must now transport our readers toa pleasant chamber overlooking the Eden, in the castle of Carlisle, nowa royal residence; a fact which, from its numerous noble inmates, itsconcourse of pages, esquires, guards, and various other retainers of aroyal establishment, the constant ingress and egress of richly-attiredcourtiers, the somewhat bustling, yet deferential aspect of the scene, avery cursory glance would have been all-sufficient to prove. 

It had been with a full determination to set all obstacles, even diseaseitself, at defiance, King Edward, some months before, had quittedWinchester, and directed his march towards the North, vowing vengeanceon the rebellious and disaffected Scots, and swearing death alone shouldprevent the complete and terrible extermination of the traitors. He hadproceeded in this spirit to Carlisle, disregarding the threateningviolence of disease, so sustained by the spirit of disappointed ambitionwithin as scarcely to be conscious of an almost prostrating increase ofweakness and exhaustion. He had determined to make a halt of some weeksat Carlisle, to wait the effect of the large armies he had sent forwardto overrun Scotland, and to receive intelligence of the measures theyhad already taken. Here, then, disease, as if enraged that he shouldhave borne up so long, that his spirit had mastered even her, convenedthe whole powers of suffering, and compelled him not alone toacknowledge, but to writhe beneath her sway. His whole frame was shaken;intolerable pains took possession of him, and though the virulence ofthe complaint was at length so far abated as to permit him a shortcontinuance of life, he could never sit his horse again, or even hope tocarry on in his own person his plans for the total reduction ofScotland. But as his frame weakened, as he became the victim of almostcontinual pain, all the darker and fiercer passions of his nature gainedyet more fearful ascendency. The change had been some time gathering, but within the last twelve months its effects were such, that hisnoblest, most devoted knights, blind as their affection for his personrendered them, could scarce recognize in the bloodthirsty, ambitioustyrant they now beheld their gallant, generous, humane, and mostchivalric sovereign, who had won golden opinions from all sorts andconditions of men; who had performed the duties of a son and husband soas to fix the eyes of all Europe on him in admiration; who had swayedthe sceptre of his mighty kingdom with such a powerful and fearlesshand, it had been long since England had acquired such weight in thescale of kingdoms. Wise, moderate, merciful even in strict justice as hehad been, could it be that ambition had wrought such change; thatdisease had banished every feeling from his breast, save this one dark, fiend-like passion, for the furtherance of which, or in revenge of itsdisappointment, noble blood flowed like water--the brave, the good, theyoung, the old, the noble and his follower, alike fell before the axe orthe cord of the executioner? Could it indeed be that Edward, once such aperfect, glorious scion of chivalry, had now shut up his heart againstits every whisper, lest it should interfere with his brooding visions ofrevenge; forgot each feeling, lest he should involuntarily sympathizewith the noble and knightly spirit of the patriots of Scotland, whom hehad sworn to crush? Alas! it was even so; ruthless and tyrannical, thenobles he had once favored, once loved, now became odious to him, fortheir presence made him painfully conscious of the change withinhimself; and he now associated but with spirits dark, fierce, cruel ashis own--men he would once have shunned, have banished from his court, as utterly unworthy of his favor. 

It was, then, in a royally-furnished chamber, pleasantly overlooking theriver Eden and the adjoining country, that about a week after the eventsnarrated in the preceding chapter, King Edward reclined. His couch wassoftly and luxuriously cushioned, and not a little art had been expendedin the endeavor to lighten his sufferings, and enable him to rest atease. The repeated contraction of his countenance, however, betrayed howimpotent was even luxury when brought in contact with disease. Therichly-furred and wadded crimson velvet robe could not conceal theattenuation of his once peculiarly fine and noble form; his great lengthof limb, which had gained him, and handed down to posterity, theinelegant surname of Longshanks, rendered his appearance yet more gauntand meagre; while his features, which once, from the benignity andnobleness of his character, had been eminently handsome, now pale, thin, and pointed, seemed to express but the one passion of his soul--itsgratification of revenge. His expansive brow was now contracted andstern, rendered more so perhaps by the lack of hair about the temples;he wore a black velvet cap, circled coronet-wise with large diamondsfrom which a white feather drooped to his shoulder. There was a slight, scarcely visible, sneer resting on his features that morning, calledforth perhaps by his internal scorn of the noble with whom he haddeigned a secret conference; but the Earl of Buchan had done him goodservice, had ably forwarded his revenge, and he would not thereforelisten to that still voice of scorn. 

"Soh! she is secure, and your desires on that head accomplished, sirearl, " he said, in continuance of some subject they had been discussing. "Thou hast done us good service, and by mine honor, it would seem wehave done your lordship the same. "

"Aye, " muttered the earl, whose dark features had not grown a whit moreamiable since we last beheld him; "aye, we are both avenged. "

"How, sir I darest thou place thyself on a par with me?" angrilyretorted Edward; "thinkest thou the sovereign of England can have aughtin common with such as thee? Isabella of Buchan, or of Fife, an thoulikest that better, is debased, imprisoned, because she hath daredinsult our person, defy our authority, to act treasonably andmischievously, and sow dissension and rebellion amid our Scottishsubjects--for this she is chastised; an it gratify your matrimonialrevenge, I am glad on't; but Edward of England brooks no equality withComyn of Buchan, though it be but equality in revenge. "

Buchan bent his knee, and humbly apologized. 

"Well, well, let it be; thou hast served us too faithfully to bequarrelled with, for perchance unintentional irreverence. The impositionof her child's murder, when he lives and is well, is the coinage ofthine own brain, sir earl, and thou must reconcile it to thine ownconscience. We hold ourselves exempt from all such peculiar mercy, forwe scarce see its wisdom. " There was a slight bitterness in Edward'stone. 

"Wisdom, my sovereign liege, deemest thou there is no wisdom inrevenge?" and the brow of the earl grew dark with passion, as he spoke. "Have I naught to punish, naught to avenge in this foultraitress--naught, that her black treachery has extended to my son, myheir, even to his tender years? I would not have her death; no, let herlive and feed on the belief that her example, her counsels have killedher own child; that had it not been for her, he might have lived, beenprosperous, aye, and happy now. Is there no wisdom in such revenge? andif there be none, save that which my own heart feels, I could give yourgrace another and a better reason for this proceeding. "

"Speak it, in St. George's name, " replied the king; "of a truth thou artof most clear conception in all schemes of vengeance. I might havethought long enough, ere I could have lighted on such as this. Whatmore?"

"Simply, your grace, that by encouraging a little while the report ofhis death, his friends in Scotland will forget that he ever existed, andmake no effort for his rescue; which belief, wild and unfounded as itis, I imagine supports him in his strenuous determination to live anddie a traitor to your highness. I have no hatred to the boy; nay, an hewould let me, could love and be proud of him, now his mother cannotcross my path, and would gladly see him devoted, as myself, to theinterests of your grace. Nor do I despair of this; he is very young, andhis character cannot be entirely formed. He will tire in time of darkand solitary confinement, and gladly accept any conditions I may offer. "

"Gives he any proof as yet of this yielding mood?"

"By mine honor, no, your highness; he is firm and steadfast as the oceanrock. "

"Then wherefore thinkest thou he will change in time?"

"Because as yet, my gracious liege, the foul, treacherous principles ofhis mother have not ceased to work. An entire cessation of intercoursebetween them will show him his mistake at last, and this could never be, did she know he lived. Imprisoned, guarded as she is, she would yet findsome means of communication with him, and all my efforts would be of noavail. Let a year roll by, and I will stake my right hand that Alan ofBuchan becomes as firm a supporter and follower of King Edward as everhis father was. Is the boy more than mortal, and does your grace thinklife, liberty, riches, honors, will not weigh against perpetualimprisonment and daily thoughts of death?"

So spoke the Earl of Buchan, judging, as most men, others by himself, utterly unable to comprehend the high, glorious, self-devoted, patrioticspirit of his noble son. He persevered in his course of fiend-likecruelty, excusing it to his own conscience, if he had any, by thebelief it would end but in his son's good--an end, indeed, he seldomthought of attaining; but there was something in the idea of a son, anheir, and one so prepossessing in appearance as Alan of Buchan, thattouched his pride, the only point on which his flinty heart wasvulnerable. 

"So thou thinkest, sir earl?" resumed the king, who perhaps in his ownsecret soul did not entirely think with him. "Meanwhile the striplingmay laugh thy parental care to scorn, by escaping from iron chains andstone walls, and seeking out the arch rebel Bruce, make up at thesword's point for lost time. Beware, sir earl, an he be taken again thusin arms against us, even thy loyal services will not save his head!"

"I should not even ask your grace's clemency, " replied the earl, hisfeatures assuming a fearful expression as he spoke. "An he thus turnedtraitor again to his father's house, spurning mine and your grace'sfavor, to join the base murderer of his kinsman, he shall be no more tome than others, whose treason hath cost their heads; but I have no fearof this. He cannot escape, guarded as he is, by alike the most ruthlessand the most faithful of my followers; and while there, if all elsefail, I will publish that he lives, but so poison the ears of his rebelScottish friends against him, he will not, dare not join them, and inhis own despite, will be compelled to act as befitting his father's son. Trust me, my liege. To thy royal clemency I owe his life; be it my duty, then, to instil into him other principles than those which actuated himbefore. "

"But your own character, my lord, meanwhile, care ye naught for thestain supposed to rest upon it? Thy plans sound wise, and we thank theefor thy loyalty; but we would not ye burdened your name with a deed notits own, an ye cared for the world's applause. "

"Not a whit, not a whit, your highness; countenanced by your grace'sfavor, absolved in your opinion from the barbarity others charge mewith, I care not for them, I have been too long mine ownconscience-keeper to heed the whispers of the world, " he added, his darkbrows knitting closer as he spoke. 

Edward smiled grimly. "Be it so, then, " he said; "my Lord of Buchan, weunderstand each other. An that boy escapes and rejoins the traitors, andis taken, his head answers for it. An ye succeed in making him loyal asyourself, as eager a pursuer of the murderous traitor, Bruce, we willgive thee the palm for policy and wisdom in our court, ourself notexcepted. And now another question; it was reported Isabella of Buchanjoined the rebel's court with her _two_ children. Who and where is thesecond? we have heard but of one. "

"A puny, spiritless wench, as I have heard, my liege; one little likelyto affect your highness, and not worth the seeking. "

"Nay, an she hath her mother's influence, we differ from thee, sir earl, and would rather see her within the walls of our court than in thetraitor's train. I remember not her name amid those taken with theBruce's wife. Hast inquired aught concerning her?"

"Not I, your grace, " carelessly replied the earl; "of a truth, I hadweightier thoughts than the detention or interest of a simple wench, who, if her mother has taught to forget me as her father, is not worthmy remembering as a child. "

"I give you joy of your most fatherly indifference, sir earl, " answeredthe king, with an ill-suppressed sneer. "It would concern you little ifshe takes unto herself a husband midst your foes; the rebel Robert hathgoodly brothers, and the feud between thy house and theirs may butimpart a double enjoyment to the union. "

The earl started, as if an adder had stung him. "She dare not do thisthing, " he said, fiercely; "she will not--she dare not. A thousandcurses light upon her head even if she dreams it!"

"Nay, waste not thy breath in curses, good my lord, but up an preventthe very possibility of such a thing, an it move thee so deeply. I saynot it is, but some such floating rumor has reached my ears, I canscarce trace how, save through the medium of our numerous prisoners. "

"But how obtain information--where seek her? I pray you pardon me, yourgrace, but there are a thousand furies in the thought!" and scarcelycould the consciousness of the royal presence restrain the rage whichgathered on the swarthy features of the earl from finding vent in words. 

"Nay, nay, my lord, let not your marvellous wisdom and sage indifferencebe so speedily at fault. An she be not in Margaret Bruce's train, thatgoodly dame may give thee some information. Seek her, and may be thouwilt learn more of this wench than thou hast since her birth. In pity tothis sudden interest, we grant thee permission to visit these partnersof treason in their respective convents, and learn what thou canst; anshe be within thy reach, be advised, and find her a husband thyself, thebest find most speedy means of eradicating her mother's counsels. "

Buchan's reply was arrested on his lips by the entrance of the royalchamberlain, announcing that the Earl of Berwick had arrived in allhaste from Berwick, and earnestly besought a few minutes' audience withhis sovereign. 

"Berwick!" repeated Edward, half raising himself in his surprise fromhis reclining posture. "Berwick! what the foul fiend brings him from hispost at such a time? Bid him enter; haste, I charge thee. "

His impatient command was speedily obeyed, The Earl of Berwick was closeon the heels of the chamberlain, and now appeared, his lowly obeisancenot concealing from the quick eye of his master that wrath, black as athunder-cloud, was resting on his brow. 

"How now, " said the king, "what means this unseemly gear, sir earl? thoumust have neither rested spur nor slackened rein, methinks, an thy garbtell truth; and wherefore seekest thou our presence in such fiery haste?Wouldst thou be private? My Lord of Buchan, thou hadst best follow ourcounsel ere thy interest cools. "

"Nay, your grace, bid not yon noble earl depart to grant me hearing; Iwould speak before him, aye, and the whole court, were it needed. 'Tisbut to lay the sword and mantle, with which your highness invested me asgovernor of the citadel of Berwick, at your grace's feet, and beseechyou to accept my resignation of the same. " With well-affected humilitythe Earl of Berwick unclasped his jewelled mantle, and kneeling down, laid it with his sheathed sword at King Edward's feet, remaining on hisknee. 

"Art craven, fool, or traitor?" demanded Edward, when his astonishmentpermitted words. "What means this? Speak out, and instantly; we are notwont to be thus trifled with. My Lord of Berwick, wherefore dost thou dothis?"

"Not because I am a craven, good my liege, " replied the nobleman, stillon his knee, "for had I been so, King Edward's penetration would havediscovered it ere he intrusted me with so great a charge--nor because Iam a witless fool, unconscious of the high honor I thus tamelyresign--and not because I am a traitor, gracious sovereign, for 'tisfrom insult and interruption in the arrest of a blasphemous traitor I amhere. "

"Insult--interruption!" fiercely exclaimed the king, starting up. "Whohas dared--who loves his life so little as to do this? But speak on, speak on, we listen. "

"Pardon me, your highness, I came to tender my resignation, not anaccusation, " resumed the wily earl, cautiously lashing his sovereigninto fury, aware that it was much easier to gain what he wished in suchmoods than as he found him now. "I came but to beseech your highness toresume that which your own royal hands had given me. My authoritytrampled upon, my loyalty insulted, my zeal in your grace's servicederided, my very men compelled, perforce of arms, to disobey me, andthis by one high in your grace's estimation, nay, connected with yourroyal self. Surely, my gracious liege, I do but right in resigning thehigh honor your highness bestowed. I can have little merit to retain it, and such things be. "

"But they shall not be, sir. As there is a God above us, they shall notbe!" exclaimed the king, in towering wrath, and striking his hand on asmall table of crystal near him with such violence as to shiver it topieces. "By heaven and hell! they shall repent this, be it mine own sonwho hath been thus insolent. Speak out, I tell thee, as thou lovest thylife, speak out; drive me not mad by this cautiously-worded tale. Whohath dared trample on authority mine own hand and seal hath given--whois the traitor? Speak out, I charge thee!" and strengthened by his ownpassion, the king sate upright on his couch, clenching his hand till theblood sprung, and fixing his dark, fiery eyes on the earl. It was themood he had tried for, and now artfully and speciously, with manyadditions, he narrated all that had passed the preceding day in thecastle-yard of Berwick. Fiercer and fiercer waxed the wrath of the king. 

"Fling him in the lowest dungeon, load him with the heaviest fettershands can forge!" were the words first distinguished, when passionpermitted articulation. "The villain, the black-faced traitor! it is notenough he hath dared raise arms against me, but he must beard me to thevery teeth, defy me in my very palace, throw scorn upon me, maltreat anofficer of mine own person! Is there no punishment but death for thisfoul insolence! As there is a God in heaven, he shall feel my vengeanceere he reach the scaffold--feel it, aye, till death be but too welcome!"He sunk back, exhausted by his own violence; but not a minute passed ereagain he burst forth. "And Hereford, the traitor Hereford, he dareddefend him! dared assault thee in the pursuance of thy duty, theaudacious insolent! Doth he think, forsooth, his work in Scotland willexempt him from the punishment of insolence, of treason? as an aider andabettor of treachery he shares its guilt, and shall know whom he hathinsulted. Back to thy citadel, my Lord of Berwick, see to the strictincarceration of this foul branch of treachery, aye, and look well aboutye, lest any seditious citizen or soldier hath, by look or word, givenaught of encouragement, or failed in due respect to our proclamation. AnHereford abet the traitor, others may be but too willing to do the like. By heaven, they shall share his fate! Bid Hereford hither on theinstant, say naught of having been beforehand with him; I would list theinsolent's own tale. Rest thee a brief while, my lord, and our greatseal shall insure thee prompt obedience. Bid Sir Edmund Stanley attendus, my Lord of Buchan. I need scarce warn a Comyn to be secret on whathas passed; I would not have the foul insolence cast into our teeth asyet proclaimed. Begone, both of ye; we would be a brief space alone. "

The deadly pallor which had usurped the flush of fury on the monarch'scheek afforded such strong evidence of a sharp renewal of his internalpains, that both noblemen hesitated to obey. The damp of agony stoodupon his forehead a moment in large drops, then absolutely poured downhis cheeks, while his gaunt frame shook with the effort to suppress thegroan which his throes wrung from him. Seizing a cordial near him, Buchan presented it on his knee, but Edward only waved them both away, angrily and impatiently pointing to the door. He loved not the weaknessof an appalling disease to be witnessed by his courtiers. When utterlyincapacitated from either the appearance or functions of the sovereign, he chose to be alone, his pride scarcely brooking even the cares of hisyoung and beautiful wife, or the yet wiser and truer affection of hisdaughters. The effects of this interview will be seen in a futurechapter. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

There was an expression of both sorrow and care on the fine and winningfeatures of the Princess Joan, Countess of Gloucester, as she sat busiedin embroidery in an apartment of Carlisle Castle, often pausing to resther head upon her hand, and glance out of the broad casement near whichshe sat, not in admiration of the placid scene which stretched beyond, but in the mere forgetfulness of uneasy thought. Long the favoritedaughter of King Edward, perchance because her character more resembledthat of her mother, Queen Eleanor, than did either of her sisters, shehad till lately possessed unbounded influence over him. Not only hisaffection but his pride was gratified in her, for he saw much of his ownwisdom, penetration, and high sense of honor reflected upon her, farmore forcibly than in his weak and yielding son. But lately, the changewhich had so painfully darkened the character and actions of her fatherhad extended even to her. Her affection for a long time blinded her tothis painful truth, but by slow degrees it became too evident to bemistaken, and she had wept many bitter tears, less perhaps for herselfthan for her father, whom she had almost idolized. His knightlyqualities, his wisdom, the good he had done his country, all weretreasured up by her and rejoiced in with never-failing delight. Hisreputation, his popularity, were dear to her, even as her noblehusband's. She had not only loved, she had reverenced him as somesuperior being who had come but to do good, to leave behind him throughsucceeding ages an untarnished name, enshrined in such love, Englandwould be long ere she spoke it without tears. And now, alas! she hadoutlived such dreams; her reverence, lingering still, had been impairedby deeds of blood her pride in him crushed; naught but a daughter's loveremaining, which did but more strongly impress upon her heart the fatalchange. And now the last blow was given; he shunned her, scarcely eversummoned her to his presence, permitted the wife of a day to tend him inhis sufferings, rather than the daughter of his former love, onehallowed by the memories of her mother, the beloved and faithful partnerof his youth. 

It was not, however, these thoughts which entirely engrossed her nownot undivided sorrows. Her sister Elizabeth, the Countess of Hereford, had just left her, plunged in the deepest distress, from theextraordinary fact that her husband, summoned seemingly in all amity bythe king, had been arrested by the Lord Marshal of England as an aiderand abettor of treason, and was now in strict confinement within thecastle; not permitted to embrace his wife and children, whom he had notseen since his arrival from Scotland, where he had so gallantly assistedthe cause of Edward, and whence he had but just returned in triumph. Noother cause was assigned saving having given countenance to treason and_lèze majesté_, but that the irritation of the king had prohibited allhope of present pardon;--she, Lady Hereford, though his own daughter, having been refused admission to his presence. Both the Earl andCountess of Gloucester had anxiously striven to comfort the anxiouswife, conquering their own fears to assure her that hers weregroundless; that though from some mysterious cause at present irritated, as they knew too well a trifle made him now, Hereford was too good andloyal a subject for the king to proceed to extremities, whatever mighthave been his fault. Rumors of the confusion at Berwick had indeedreached Carlisle, and it was to have them confirmed or denied, orconnected with some appearance of veracity, the Earl of Gloucester hadquitted the royal sisters, determining to use his influence with hissovereign, even to dare his wrath, for the release of Hereford, whosegood services in Scotland deserved a somewhat different recompense. LadyHereford, too anxious and dispirited to remain long in one place, soondeparted to seek the youthful Margaret of France, her father's beautifulwife, and beseech her influence with him, either for the pardon of herhusband, or at least communication with him. 

It was these sad thoughts which engrossed the Princess Joan, and theylingered too on Hereford's prisoner, the brave, and noble Nigel, forboth to her husband and herself he had been in his boyhood an object notonly of interest but of love. His beauty, his extraordinary talents, hadirresistibly attracted them; and yet scarcely could they now believe theyouthful knight, with whose extraordinary valor not only Scotland butEngland rung, could be that same enthusiast boy. That he had been taken, was now a prisoner in Berwick Castle, on whom sentence of death sooneror later would be passed, brought conviction but too sadly to theirhearts, and made them feel yet more bitterly their influence with Edwardwas of no account. 

"Hast thou succeeded, Gilbert? Oh, say that poor Elizabeth may at leastbe permitted access to her husband, " was the countess's eager salutationto her husband, as he silently approached her. He shook his headsorrowfully. 

"Alas! not even this. Edward is inexorable, possessed by I know not whatspirit of opposition and wrath, furiously angered against Hereford, tothe utter forgetfulness of all his gallant deeds in Scotland. "

"But wherefore? What can have chanced in this brief period to occasionthis? but a few days since he spoke of Hereford as most loyal anddeserving. "

"Aye, that was on the news of Kildrummie's surrender; now forgotten, from anger at a deed which but a few years back he would have been thefirst to have admired. That rash madman, Nigel Bruce, hath not onlytrebly sealed his own fate, but hurled down this mishap on his captor, "and briefly he narrated all he had learned. 

"It was, indeed, a rash action, Gilbert; yet was it altogetherunnatural? Alas, no! the boy had had no spark of chivalry or patriotismabout him, had he stood tamely by; and Gloucester, " she added, withbitter tears, "years back would my father have given cause forthis--would he thus have treated an unhappy woman, thus have addedinsult to misery, for an act which, shown to other than his rival, hewould have honored, aye, not alone the deed, but the doer of it? If we, his own children, feel shamed and indignant at this cruelty, oh, whatmust be the feelings of her countrymen, her friends?"

"Then thou believest not the foul slander attached to the Countess ofBuchan, my Joan?"

"Believe it!" she answered, indignantly; "who that has looked on thatnoble woman's face can give it the smallest credence? No, Gilbert, no. 'Tis published by those base spirits so utterly incapable of honor, knighthood, and patriotism themselves, that they cannot conceive thesequalities in others, particularly in a female breast, and thereforeassign it to motives black as the hearts which thought them; and even ifit were true, is a kingly conqueror inflicting justice for treasonagainst himself, to assign other motives for that justice? Doth he notlower himself--his own cause?"

"Alas, yes!" replied her husband, sorrowfully; "he hath done hischaracter more injury by this last act than any which preceded. Thoughmen might wish less blood were shed, yet still, traitors taken in armsagainst his person justice must condemn; but a woman, a sad and grievingwoman--but do not weep thus, my gentle wife, " he added, tenderly. 

"Can a daughter of Edward do other than weep, my husband? Oh, if I lovedhim not, if my very spirit did not cling round him so closely that thefibres of both seem entwined, and his deeds of wrath, of exactingjustice, fall on me as if I had done them, and overwhelm me with theirshame, their remorse, then indeed I might not weep; but as it is, do notchide me, Gilbert, for weep I must. "

"Thou art too noble-hearted, Joan, " he said, kindly, as he circled herwaist with his arm, "only too noble-hearted for these fearful times. 'Tis but too sad a proof of the change in thy royal father, that heshuns thy presence now even as he once loved it. "

A confusion in the passage and ante-room disturbed their converse, andGloucester turned towards the door to inquire the cause. 

"Tis but a troublesome boy, demanding access to her highness thecountess, my lord, " was the reply. "I have asked his name and business, questions he deigns not, forsooth, to answer, and looks so wild anddistracted, that I scarce think it accords with my duty to afford himadmittance. He is no fit recipient of my lady's bounty, good my lord;trust me, he will but fright her. "

"I have no such fear, my good Baldwin, " said the princess, as, onhearing her name, she came forward to the centre of the chamber; "thouknowest my presence is granted to all who seek it, an this poor childseems so wild, he is the fitter object of my care. They are usingviolence methinks; give him entrance instantly. "

The attendant departed, and returned in a very brief space, followed bya lad, whose torn and muddy garments, haggard features, and dishevelledhair indeed verified the description given. He glanced wildly round hima moment, and then flinging himself at the feet of the princess, claspedher robe and struggled to say something, of which the words "mercy, protection, " were alone audible. 

"Mercy, my poor child! what mercy dost thou crave? Protection I may givethee, but how may I show thee mercy?"

"Grant me but a few moments, lady, let me but speak with thee alone. Ibear a message which I may not deliver to other ears save thine, " saidor rather gasped the boy, for he breathed with difficulty, either fromexhaustion or emotion. 

"Alone!" replied the countess, somewhat surprised. "Leave us, Baldwin, "she added, after a moment's pause. "I am privately engaged for the nexthour, denied to all, save his grace the king. " He withdrew, with arespectful bow. "And now, speak, poor child, what wouldst thou? Nay, Ihear nothing which my husband may not hear, " she said, as the eyes ofher visitor gazed fearfully on the earl, who was looking at him withsurprise. 

"Thy husband, lady--the Earl of Gloucester? oh, it was to him too Icame; the brother-in-arms of my sovereign, one that showed kindnessto--to Sir Nigel in his youth, ye will not, ye will not forsake himnow?"

Few and well-nigh inarticulate as were those broken words, they betrayedmuch which at once excited interest in both the earl and countess, andtold the reason of the lad's earnest entreaty to see them alone. 

"Forsake him!" exclaimed the earl, after carefully examining that thedoor was closed; "would to heaven I could serve him, free him! thatthere was but one slender link to lay hold of, to prove him innocent andgive him life, I would do it, did it put my own head in jeopardy. "

"And is there none, none?" burst wildly from the boy's lips, as hesprung from his knees, and grasped convulsively the earl's arm. "Oh, what has he done that they should slay him? why do they call him guilty?He was not Edward's subject, he owed him no homage, no service, he hasbut fought to free his country, and is there guilt in this? oh, no, no, save him, in mercy save him!"

"Thou knowest not what thou askest, boy, how wholly, utterly impossibleit is to save him. He hath hurled down increase of anger on his own headby his daring insult of King Edward's herald; had there been hope beforethere is none now. "

A piercing cry escaped the boy, and he would have fallen had he not beensupported by the countess; he looked at her pitying face, and againthrew himself at her feet. 

"Canst _thou_ not, wilt _thou_ not save him?" he cried; "art thou notthe daughter of Edward, his favorite, his dearly beloved, and will henot list to thee--will he not hear thy pleadings? Oh, seek him, kneel tohim as I to thee, implore his mercy--life, life, only the gift of life;sentence him to exile, perpetual exile, what he will, only let him live:he is too young, too good, too beautiful to die. Oh! do not look as ifthis could not be. He has told me how you both loved him, not that Ishould seek ye. It is not at his request I come; no, no, no, he spurnslife, if it be granted on conditions. But they have torn me from him, they have borne him to the lowest dungeon, they have loaded him withfetters, put him to the torture. I would have clung to him still, butthey spurned me, trampled on me, cast me forth--to die, if I may notsave him! Wilt thou not have mercy, princess? daughter of Edward, oh, save him, save him!"

It is impossible in the above incoherent words to convey to the readereven a faint idea of the agonized wildness with which they were spoken;the impression of unutterable misery they gave to those who listened tothem, and marked their reflection in the face of the speaker. 

"Fetters--the lowest dungeon--torture, " repeated Gloucester, pacing upand down with disordered steps. "Can these things be? merciful heaven, how low hath England fallen! Boy, boy, can it be thou speakest truth?"

"As there is a God above, it is truth!" he answered, passionately. "Oh, canst thou not save him from this? is there no justice, no mercy?Rise--no, no; wherefore should I rise?" he continued, clingingconvulsively to the knees of the princess, as she soothingly sought toraise him. "I will kneel here till thou hast promised to plead for himwith thy royal father, promised to use thine influence for his life. Oh, canst thou once have loved him and yet hesitate for this?"

"I do not, I would not hesitate, unhappy boy, " replied the princess, tenderly. "God in heaven knows, were there the slenderest chance ofsaving him, I would kneel at my father's feet till pardon was obtained, but angered as he is now it would irritate him yet more. Alas! alas!poor child, they told thee wrong who bade thee come to Joan forinfluence with Edward; I have none now, less than any of his court, " andthe large tears fell from the eyes of the princess on the boy's upturnedface. 

"Then let me plead for him; give me access to Edward. Oh, I will sobeseech, conjure him, he cannot, he will not say me nay. Oh, if hisheart be not of steel, he will have mercy on our wretchedness; he willpardon, he will spare my husband!"

The sob with which that last word was spoken shook that slight frame, till it bowed to the very ground, and the supporting arm of the countessalone preserved her from falling. 

"Thy husband!--Gracious heaven! who and what art thou?" exclaimed theearl, springing towards her, at the same instant that his wife raisedher in her arras, and laid her on a couch beside them, watching with thesoothing tenderness of a sister, till voice and strength returned. 

"Alas! I feared there was more in this deep agony than we might see, "she said; "but I imagined not, dared not imagine aught like this. Poorunhappy sufferer, the saints be praised thou hast come to me! thyhusband's life I may not save, but I can give protection, tenderness tothee--aye weep, weep, there is life, reason in those tears. "

The gentle voice of sympathy, of kindness, had come upon thatovercharged heart, and broke the icy agony which had closed it to therelief of tears. Mind and frame were utterly exhausted, and Agnes buriedher face in the hands of the princess, which she had claspedconvulsively within both hers, and wept, till the wildness of agonyindeed departed, but not the horrible consciousness of the anguish yetto come. Gradually her whole tale was imparted: from the resolution tofollow her betrothed even to England, and cling to him to the last; thefatal conclusion of that rite which had made them one; the anxiety andsuffering which had marked the days spent in effecting a completedisguise, ere she could venture near him and obtain Hereford's consentto her attending him as a page; the risks and hardships which hadattended their journey to Berwick, till even a prison seemed a reliefand rest; and then the sudden change, that a few days previous, the Earlof Berwick had entered Sir Nigel's prison, at the head of five or tenruffians, had loaded him with fetters, conveyed him to the lowest andfilthiest dungeon, and there had administered the torture, she knew notwherefore. Her shriek of agony had betrayed that she had followed them, and she was rudely and forcibly dragged from him, and thrust from thefortress. Her brain had reeled, her senses a brief while forsaken her, and when she recovered, her only distinct thought was to find her way toCarlisle, and there obtain access to the Earl and Countess ofGloucester, of whom her husband had spoken much during their journey toEngland, not with any wish or hope of obtaining mercy through theirinfluence, but simply as the friends of former years; he had spoken ofthem to while away the tedious hours of their journey, and besought her, if she should be parted from him on their arrival at Berwick, to seekthem, and implore their protection till her strength was restored. Ofherself, however, in thus seeking them, she had thought not; the onlyidea, the only thought clearly connected in her mind was to beseechtheir influence with Edward in obtaining her husband's pardon. Miseryand anxiety, in a hundred unlooked-for shapes, had already shown thefallacy of those dreams which in the hour of peril had strengthened her, and caused her to fancy that when once his wife she not only might abideby him, but that she might in some manner obtain his liberation. She didnot, indeed, lament her fate was joined to his--lament! she could notpicture herself other than she was, by her husband's side, but she felt, how bitterly felt, she had no power to avert his fate. Despair was uponher, cold, black, clinging despair, and she clung to the vain dream ofimploring Edward's mercy, feeling at the same moment it was but the_ignis fatui_ to her heart--urging lighting, impelling her on, but tosink in pitchy darkness when approached. 

Gradually and painfully this narrative of anguish was drawn from herlips, often unconnectedly, often incoherently, but the earl and countessheard enough, to fill their hearts alike with pity and respect for thedeep, unselfish love unconsciously revealed. She had told, too, hermaiden name, had conjured them to conceal her from the power of herfather, at whose very name she shuddered; and both those noble heartsshared her anxiety, sympathized in her anguish; and speedily she felt, if there could be comfort in such deep wretchedness, she had told hertale to those ready and willing, and able to bestow it. 

The following day the barons sat in judgment on Sir Nigel Bruce, andGloucester was obliged to join them. It was useless, both he and theprincess felt, to implore the king's mercy till sentence was passed;alas! it was useless at any time, but it must have been a colder andharder heart than the Princess Joan's to look upon the face of Agnes, and yet determine on not even making one effort in his favor. At firstthe unhappy girl besought the earl to permit her accompanying him backto Berwick, to attend her husband on his trial; but on his proving itwould but be uselessly harrowing the feelings of both, for it would notenable her to go back with him to prison, that it would be better forher to remain under the protection of the countess, endeavoring toregain strength for whatever she might have to encounter, either toaccompany him to exile, if grace were indeed granted, or to return toher friends in Scotland, she yielded mournfully, deriving some faintdegree of comfort in the earl's assurance that she should rejoin herhusband as soon as possible, and the countess's promise that if shewished it, she should herself be witness of her interview with Edward. It was indeed poor comfort, but her mind was well-nigh wearied out withsorrow, as if incapable of bearing more, and she acquiesced from veryexhaustion. 

The desire that she herself should conjure the mercy of Edward had beennegatived even to her anxious heart by the assurance of both the earland the princess, that instead of doing good to her husband's cause shewould but sign her own doom, perchance be consigned to the power of herfather, and be compelled to relinquish the poor consolation of beingwith her husband to the last. It was better she should retain thedisguise she had assumed, adopting merely in addition the dress of oneof the princess's own pages, a measure which would save her from allobservation in the palace, and give her admittance to Sir Nigel, perchance, when as his own attendant it would be denied. 

The idea of rejoining her husband would have reconciled Agnes to anything that might have been proposed, and kneeling at the feet of herprotectress, she struggled to speak her willingness and blessing on hergoodness, but her tongue was parched, her lips were mute, and theprincess turned away, for her gentle spirit could not read unmoved thesilent thankfulness of that young and breaking heart. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

It would be useless to linger on the trial of Nigel Bruce, in itself amockery of justice, as were all those which had proceeded, and all thatfollowed it. The native nobility of Scotland were no subjects of theKing of England; they owed him homage, perchance, for lands held inEngland, but on flocking to the standard of the Bruce these had at oncebeen voluntarily forfeited, and they fought but as Scottish mendetermined to throw off the yoke of a tyrant whose arms had overrun aland to which he had no claim. They fought for the freedom of a country, for their own liberty, and therefore were no traitors; but these factsavailed not with the ruthless sovereign, to whom opposition was treason. The mockery of justice proceeded, it gave a deeper impression, a graversolemnity to their execution, and therefore for not one of his prisonerswas the ceremony dispensed with. Sir Christopher Seaton had beenconveyed to the Tower, with his wife, under pretence of there waitingtill his wounds were cured, to abide his trial, and in that awful hourSir Nigel stood alone. Yet he was undaunted, for he feared not deatheven at the hangman's hand; his spirit was at peace, for he was innocentof sin; unbowed, for he was no traitor--he was a patriot warrior still. Pale he was, indeed, ashy pale, but it told a tale of intense bodilyanguish. They had put him to the torture, to force from his lips theplace of his brother's retreat, that being the only pretence on whichthe rage of Edward and the malice of Berwick could rest for theinfliction of their cruelty. They could drag naught from his lips; theycould not crush that exalted soul, or compel it to utter more than afaint, scarcely articulate groan, as proof that he suffered, that thebeautiful frame was well-nigh shattered unto death. And now he stoodupright, unshrinking; and there were hearts amid those peers inwardlygrieving at their fell task, gazing on him with unfeigned admiration;while others gloried that another obstacle to their sovereign's schemesof ambition would be removed, finding, perchance, in his youth, beauty, and noble bearing, from their contrast with themselves, but freshincentives to the doom of death, and determining, even as they sate andscowled on him, to aggravate the bitterness of that doom with all theignominy that cruelty could devise. 

He had listened in stern silence to the indictment, and evinced no signof emotion even when, in the virulence of some witnesses against him, the most degrading epithets were lavished on himself, his family, andfriends. Only once had his eye flashed fire and his cheek burned, andhis right hand unconsciously sought where his weapon should have hung, when his noble brother was termed a ribald assassin, an excommunicatedmurderer; but quickly he checked that natural emotion, and remainedcollected as before. He was silent till the usual question was asked, "If he had any thing to say why sentence of death should not bepronounced upon him?" and then he made a step forward, looked boldly andsternly around him, and spoke, in a rich, musical voice, the followingbrief, though emphatic words:

"Ye ask me if I could say aught why sentence of death should not bepronounced. Nobles of England, in denying the charge of treason withwhich ye have indicted me, I have said enough. Before ye, aye, beforeyour sovereign, I have done nothing to merit death, save that deathwhich a conqueror bestows on his captive, when he deems him too powerfulto live. The death of a traitor I protest against; for to the King ofEngland I am no subject, and in consequence no traitor! I have but donethat which every true and honorable man must justify, and in justifyingrespect. I have sought with my whole heart the liberty of my country, the interest of my lawful sovereign, and will die asserting the honorand justice of my cause, even as I have lived. I plead not for mercy, for were it offered, on condition of doing homage unto Edward, I wouldrefuse it, and choose death; protesting to the last that Robert Bruce, and he alone, is rightful king of Scotland. My lords, in condemning meto death as a captive taken in war, ye may be justified by the law ofbattles, I dispute not the justice of your doom; but an ye sentence meas traitor, I do deny the charge, and say my condemnation is unjust andfoul, and ye are perjured in its utterance. I have said. Now let yourwork proceed. "

He folded his arms on his breast, and awaited in unbroken silence hisdoom. A brief pause had followed his words. The Earl of Gloucester, who, from his rank and near connection with the king, occupied one of theseats of honor at the upper end of the large hall, and had, during thetrial, vainly sought to catch the prisoner's eye, now reclined back onhis seat, his brow resting on his hand, his features completelyconcealed by the dark drapery of his cloak. In that position heremained, not only during the pause, but while the fatal sentence waspronounced. 

"By the laws of your country, and the sentence of your peers, " so itran, "you, Nigel Bruce, by manifold acts of rebellion, disaffection, andraising up arms against your lawful king, Edward, the sovereign ofEngland and Scotland, and all the realms, castles, and lordships theretopertaining, are proved guilty of high treason and _lèse majesté_, andare thereby condemned to be divested of all symbols of nobility andknighthood, which you have disgraced; to be dragged on a hurdle to thecommon gibbet, and there hung by the neck till you are dead; your headto be cut off; your body quartered and exposed at the principal towns asa warning to the disaffected and the traitorous of all ranks in eithernation, and this is to be done at whatsoever time the good pleasure ofour sovereign lord the king may please to appoint. God save King Edward, and so perish all his foes!"

Not a muscle of the prisoner's face had moved during the utterance ofthis awful sentence. He had glanced fearlessly around him to the last, his eye resting on the figure of the Earl of Gloucester with anexpression of pitying commiseration for a moment, as if he felt for him, for his deep regret in his country's shame, infinitely more than forhimself. Proudly erect he held himself, as they led him in solemn pompfrom the great hall of the castle, across the court to the dungeons ofthe condemned, gazing calmly and unflinchingly on the axe, which carriedwith its edge towards him proclaimed him condemned, though his doom wasmore ignominious than the axe bestowed. There was a time when he hadshrunk from the anticipated agony of a degradation so complete asthis--but not now; his spirit was already lifted up above the honors andhumiliations of earth. But one dream of this world remained--one sad, sweet dream clung to his heart, and bound it with silver chains below. Where was that gentle being? He fondly hoped she had sought the friendsof his boyhood, as he had implored her, should they be parted; he stroveto realize comfort in the thought they would protect and save her theagony of a final parting; but he strove in vain. One wild yearningpossessed him, to gaze upon her face, to fold her to his heart once, butonce again: it was the last lingering remnant of mortality; he had notanother thought of life but this, and this grew stronger as its hopeseemed vain. But there was one near to give him comfort, when heexpected it not. 

Wrapped so closely in his dark, shrouding mantle that naught but thedrooping feather of his cap could be distinguished, the Earl ofGloucester drew near the prisoner, and as he paused, ere the gates andbars of the prison entrance could be drawn back, whispered hurriedly yetemphatically--

"A loved one is safe and shall be so. Would to God I could do more!"

Suppressing with extreme difficulty a start of relief and surprise, theyoung nobleman glanced once on Gloucester's face, pressed his handstogether, and answered, in the same tone--

"God in heaven bless thee! I would see her once, only once more, if itcan be without danger to her; it is life's last link, I cannot snapit--parted thus. " They hurried him through the entrance with the lastword lingering on his lips, and before Gloucester could make even a signof reply. 

Early in the evening of the same day, King Edward was reclining on hiscouch, in the chamber we have before described, and, surrounded by somefew of his favorite noblemen, appeared so animated by a new cause ofexcitement as to be almost unconscious of the internal pains which evenat that moment were more than usually intense. His courtiers looked onunconcernedly while, literally shaking with disease and weakness, hecoolly and deliberately traced those letters which gave a base andignominious death to one of the best, the noblest, loveliest spiritsthat ever walked the earth, and signed the doom of misery and madness toanother; and yet no avenging hand stretched forth between him and hisvictim, no pang was on his heart to bid him pause, be merciful, andspare. Oh, what would this earth be were it all in all, and what werelife if ending in the grave? Faith, thou art the crystal key opening tothe spirit the glorious vision of immortality, bidding the trustingheart, when sick and weary of the dark deeds and ruthless spoilers ofthis lovely earth, rest on thy downy wings, and seek for peace andcomfort there. 

"Who waits?" demanded the king, as his pen ceased in its task. 

"Sir Stephen Fitzjohn, my liege, sent by the Earl of Berwick with thewarrant, for which he waits. "

"He need wait no longer then, for it is there. Two hours before noon thetraitor dies; we give him grace till then, that our good subjects ofBerwick may take warning by his fate, and our bird in the cage witnessthe end of the gallant so devoted to her cause. Bid the knight begone, my Lord of Arundel; he hath too long waited our pleasure. Ha! whom havewe here? who craves admittance thus loudly?" he added, observing, as theearl lifted the hangings to depart, some bustle in the ante-room. "Whois it so boldly demanding speech with us?"

"Her Highness the Princess Joan, Countess of Gloucester, please you, myliege, " replied the chamberlain; "she will not take denial. "

"Is it so hard a thing for a daughter to gain admittance to a father, even though he be a sovereign?" interrupted the princess, who, attendedonly by a single page bearing her train, advanced within the chamber, her firm and graceful deportment causing the lords to fall back oneither side, and give her passage, though the expression of theirmonarch's countenance denoted the visit was unwelcome. 

"Humbly and earnestly I do beseech your grace's pardon for thisover-bold intrusion, " she said, bending one knee before him; "but indeedmy business could not be delayed. My liege and father, grant me but afew brief minutes. Oh, for the sake of one that loved us both, thesainted one now gone to heaven, for the memory of whom thou didst oncebless me with fonder love than thou gavest to my sisters, because myfeatures bore her stamp, my king, my father, pardon me and let mespeak!"

"Speak on, " muttered the king, passing his hand over his features, andturning slightly from her, if there were emotion, to conceal it. "Thouhast, in truth, been over-bold, yet as thou art here, speak on. Whatwouldst thou?"

"A boon, a mighty boon, most gracious father; one only thou canst grant, one that in former years thou wouldst have loved me for the asking, andblessed me by fulfilment, " she said, as she continued to kneel; and byher beseeching voice and visible emotion effectually confining theattention of the courtiers, now assembled in a knot at the farther endof the apartment, and preventing their noticing the deportment of thepage who had accompanied her; he was leaning against a marble pillarwhich supported the canopy raised over the king's couch, his head benton his breast, the short, thick curls which fell over his foreheadconcealing his features; his hands, too, crossed on his breast, convulsively clenched the sleeves of his doublet, as if to restrain thetrembling which, had any one been sufficiently near, or even imaginedhim worthy of a distant glance, must have been observable pervading hiswhole frame. 

"A boon, " repeated the king, as the princess paused, almost breathlesswith her own emotion; "a mighty boon! What can the Countess ofGloucester have to ask of me, that it moves her thus? Are we grown soterrible that even our own children tremble ere they speak? What is thismighty boon? we grant not without hearing. "

"'Tis the boon of life, my liege, of life thou canst bestow. Oh, whilein this world thou rulest, viceregent of the King of kings on high, combining like Him justice and mercy, in the government of hiscreatures, oh! like, Him, let mercy predominate over justice; deprivenot of life, in the bloom, the loveliness of youth! Be merciful, myfather, oh, be merciful! forgive as thou wouldst be forgiven--grant methe life I crave!"

Urged on by emotion, the princess had scarcely heard the suppressedinterjection of the king which her first words had occasioned, and shescarcely saw the withering sternness which gathered on his brow. 

"Thou hast in truth learnt oratory, most sapient daughter, " he said, bitterly; "thou pleadest well and flowingly, yet thou hast said not forwhom thou bearest this marvellous interest--it can scarce be for atraitor? Methinks the enemies of Edward should be even such unto hischildren. "

"Yet 'tis for one of these mistaken men I plead, most gracioussovereign, " resumed Joan, intimidated not by his sarcasm. "Oh, myfather, the conqueror's triumph consists not in the number of rebelliousheads that fall before him--not in the blood that overflows his way;magnanimity, mercy, will conquer yet more than his victorious sword. Traitor as he seem, have mercy on Nigel Bruce; oh, give--"

"Mercy on a Bruce! May the thunder of heaven blast me when I show it!"burst furiously from Edward's lips, as he started upon his couch andgazed on his suppliant child with eyes that seemed absolutely to blazein wrath. "Mercy on a branch of that house which has dared defy me, dared to insult my power, trample on my authority, upraised the standardof rebellion, and cost me the lives of thousands of my faithfulsubjects! Mercy on him, the daring traitor, who, even in his chains, hasflung redoubled insult and treason into our very teeth! Mercy--may theGod of heaven deny me all mercy when I show it unto him!"

"Oh, no, no, my father! My father, in mercy speak not such terriblewords!" implored the princess, clinging to his robe. "Call not the wrathof heaven on thy head; think of his youth, the temptations that havebeset him, the difficult task to remain faithful when all other of hishouse turned astray. Mistaken as he hath been, as he is, have mercy. Compel him to prove, to feel, to acknowledge thou art not the tyrant hehath been taught to deem thee; exile, imprisonment, all--any thing, butdeath. Oh, do not turn from me; be thyself, the good, the magnanimousEdward of former days, have mercy on thy foe!"

"I tell thee, never! by every saint in heaven, I tell thee, never!"shouted the king. "I will hear no more; begone, lest I deem my own childpart and parcel of the treasons formed against me. Trouble me not withthese vain prayers. I will not pardon, I have sworn it; begone, andlearn thy station better than to plead for traitors. Thy husband bravedme once; beware, lest in these pleadings I hear _his_ voice again. Itell him and thee that ere to-morrow's noon be passed the soul of NigelBruce shall stand in judgment; not another day, not another hour helives to blast me with the memory of his treason. The warrant hath beensigned, and is on its way to Berwick, to give his body to the hangmanand his soul to Satan--his death is sealed. "

"Oh, no, no, no!" shrieked a voice of sudden anguish, startling all whoheard, and even Edward, by its piteous tones, and the form of a pagesuddenly fell prostrate before the monarch. "Mercy, mercy! for the loveof God, have mercy!" he struggled to articulate, but there was no soundsave a long and piercing shriek, and the boy lay senseless on theground. 

"Ha! by St. George, beardest thou me with traitors in my very palace, before my very eyes?" exclaimed the angry monarch, as his astonishedcourtiers gathered round. "Put him in ward; away with him, I say!"

"Pardon me, your highness, but this is needless, " interposed theprincess, with a calm majesty, that subdued even the irritation of herfather, and undauntedly waving back the courtiers, although perfectlysensible of the imminent danger in which she was placed. "If there beblame, let it be visited on me; this poor child has been ill and weaklyfrom many causes, terrified, almost maddened, by sounds, and sights ofblood. I deemed him perfectly recovered, or he had not attended me here. I pray your grace permit his removal to my apartments. "

The king laid a heavy hand on his daughter's arm as she stood besidehim, and fixed a gaze on her face that would have terrified any lessnoble spirit into a betrayal of the truth; but firm in her ownintegrity, in her own generous purpose, she calmly and inquiringlyreturned his gaze. 

"Go to, thou art a noble wench, though an over-bold and presuming one, "he said, in a much mollified tone, for there was that in the dauntlessbehavior of his daughter which found an echo in his heart even now, deadened as it was to aught of gentle feeling, and he was glad of thisinterruption to entreaties which, resolved not to grant, had lashed himinto fury, while her presence made him feel strangely ashamed. "Do asthou wilt with thine own attendants; but be advised, tempt not thine ownsafety again; thou hast tried us sore with thy ill-advised entreaties, but we forgive thee, on condition they are never again renewed. Speaknot, we charge thee. What ho! Sir Edmund Stanley, " he called aloud, andthe chamberlain appeared at the summons. "Here, let this boy becarefully raised and borne according to the pleasure of his mistress. See, too, that the Countess of Gloucester be conducted with due respectto her apartments. Begone!" he added, sternly, as the eyes of Joan stillseemed to beseech mercy; "I will hear no more--the traitor dies!"

CHAPTER XXV. 

The shades of advancing night had already appeared to have enwrapped theearth some hours, when Nigel Bruce was startled from an uneasy slumberby the creaking sounds of bolts and bars announcing the entrance of someone within the dungeon. The name of his beloved, his devoted Agnes, trembled on his lips, but fearful of betraying her to unfriendly ears, ho checked himself, and started up, exclaiming, "Who comes?" No answerwas vouchsafed, but the dim light of a lamp, placed by the intruder onthe floor, disclosed a figure wrapped from head to foot in the shroudingmantle of the time, not tall, but appearing a stout muscular person, banishing on the instant Nigel's scarcely-formed hope that it was theonly one he longed to see. 

"What wouldst thou?" he said, after a brief pause. "Doth Edward practisemidnight murder? Speak, who art thou?"

"Midnight murder, thou boasting fool; I love thee not well enough tocheat the hangman of his prey, " replied a harsh and grating voice, which, even without the removal of the cloak, would have revealed toNigel's astonished ears the Earl of Buchan. "Ha! I have startledthee--thou didst not know the deadly enemy of thy accursed race!"

"I know thee now, my Lord of Buchan, " replied the young man, calmly;"yet know I not wherefore thou art here, save to triumph over the fallenfortunes of thy foe; if so, scorn on--I care not. A few brief hours, andall of earth and earthly feeling is at rest. "

"To triumph--scorn! I had scarce travelled for petty satisfaction suchas that, when to-morrow sees thee in the hangman's hands, the scorn ofthousands! Hath Buchan no other work with thee, thinkest thou? dost thouaffirm thou knowest naught for which he hath good cause to seek thee?"

"Earl of Buchan, I dare affirm it, " answered Nigel, proudly; "I know ofnaught to call for words or tones as these, save, perchance, that thelove and deep respect in which I hold thine injured countess, myfriendship for thy murdered son, hath widened yet more the breachbetween thy house and mine--it may be so; yet deem not, cruel as thouart, I will deny feelings in which I glory, at thy bidding. An thoucomest to reproach me with these things, rail on, they affect me aslittle as thy scorn. "

"Hadst thou said love for her they call my daughter, thou hadst beennearer the mark, " retorted the earl, fury rapidly gaining possession ofheart and voice; "but thou art too wise, too politic for that. "

"Aye, " retorted Nigel, after a fearful struggle with himself, "aye, thoumayest well add love for Agnes of Buchan, as well as friendship for herbrother. Thinkest thou I would deny it--hide it? little dost thou knowits thrilling, its inspiring power; little canst thou know how I gloryin it, cherish, linger on it still. But wherefore speak thus to thee, thou man of wickedness and blood. I love thy pure and spotless child, rejoice that thou didst so desert, so utterly neglect her, that thoucouldst no more leave a shadow on her innocent heart than a cloud uponher way. I love her, glory in that love, and what is it to thee?"

"What is it to me? that a child of the house of Comyn dare hold communewith a Bruce; that thou hast dared to love a daughter of my house, aye, to retain her by thy side a willing mistress, when all others of her sexforsook thee--what is it to me? Did not to-morrow give thee to atraitor's doom, thy blood should answer thee; but as it is, villain andslave, give her to me--where is her hiding-place? speak, or the tortureshall wring it from thee. "

"Thinkest thou such threats will in aught avail thee?" calmly repliedNigel. "Thou knowest not the Bruce. Agnes is no longer a Comyn, nolonger a subject to thy guardianship. The voice of God, the rites at thealtar's foot, have broken every link, save that which binds her to herhusband. She is mine, before God and man is mine--mine own faithful andlawful wife!"

"Thou liest, false villain!" furiously retorted Buchan. "The churchshall undo these bonds, shall give her back to the father she has thusinsulted. She shall repent, repent with tears of blood, her desertion ofher race. Canst thou protect her in death, thou fool--canst thou stillcherish and save her, thinkest thou, when the hangman hath done hiswork?"

"Aye, even then she will be cherished, loved for Nigel's sake, and forher own; there will be faithful friends around her to protect her fromthee still, tyrant! Thou canst not break the bonds that bind us; thouhast done no father's part. Forsaken and forgotten, thy children owethee no duty, no obedience; thou canst bring forward no plea topersecute thy child. In life and in death she is mine, mine alone; thepower and authority thou hast spurned so long can no longer be assumed;the love, the obedience thou didst never heed, nay, trampled on, hathbeen transferred to one who glories in them both. She is insafety--slay, torture as thou wilt, I tell thee no more. " Fettered, unarmed, firm, undauntedly erect, stood Nigel Bruce, gazing with curlinglip and flashing eyes upon his foe. The foam had gathered on the earl'slip, his hand, clenching his sword, had trembled with passion as Nigelspoke, He sought to suppress that rage, to remember a public executionwould revenge him infinitely more than a blow of his sword, but he hadbeen too long unused to control; lashed into ungovernable fury by thedemeanor of Nigel, even more than by his words, the sword flashed fromits scabbard, was raised, and fell--but not upon his foe, for the Earlof Gloucester suddenly stood between them. 

"Art thou mad, or tired of life, my Lord of Buchan?" he said. "Knowestthou not thou art amenable to the law, an thou thus deprivest justice ofher victim? Shame, shame, my lord; I deemed thee not a midnightmurderer. "

"Darest thou so speak to me?" replied Buchan, fiercely; "by every fiendin hell, thou shalt answer this! Begone, and meddle not with that whichconcerneth thee nothing. "

"It doth concern me, proud earl, " replied Gloucester, standingimmediately before Nigel, whose emotion at observing the page by whom hewas accompanied, though momentary, must otherwise have been observed. "The person of the prisoner is sacred to the laws of his country, themandate of his sovereign; on thy life thou darest not injure him--thouknowest that thou darest not. Do thou begone, ere I summon those who, atthe mere mention of assault on one condemned, will keep thee in wardtill thou canst wreak thy vengeance on naught but clay; begone, I say!"

"I will not, " sullenly answered the earl, unwillingly conscious of thetruth of his words; "I will not, till he hath answered me. Once more, "he added, turning to Nigel with a demoniac scowl, "where is she whomthou hast dared to call thy wife? answer me, or as there is a hellbeneath us, the torture shall wring it from thee!"

"In safety, where thine arm shall never reach her, " haughtily answeredthe young nobleman. "Torture! what wilt thou torture--the senselessclay? Hence--I defy thee! Death will protect me from thy lawless power;death will set his seal upon me ere we meet again. "

The earl muttered a deep and terrible oath, and then he strode away, coming in such violent contact against the slight and almost paralyzedform of Gloucester's page as he stood in the doorway, as nearly to throwhim to the ground. Nigel sprung forward, but was held back with a graspof iron by the Earl of Gloucester, nor did he relinquish his hold tillBuchan had passed through the doorway, till the heavy hinges had firmlyclosed again, and the step of the departing earl had entirely faded indistance. 

"Now, then, we are safe, " he said; "thank heaven!" but his words werescarcely heard, for the page had bounded within the extended arms ofNigel, had clung so closely to his heart, he could feel nothing, seenothing, save that slender form; could hear nothing but those deep, agonized sobs, which are so terrible when unaccompanied by the relief oftears. For a while Nigel could not speak--he could not utter aught ofcomfort, for he felt it not; that moment was the bitterness of death. 

"Torture! did he not speak of torture? will he not come again?" were thewords that at length fell, shudderingly, from the lips of Agnes. "Nigel, Nigel, if it must be, give me up; he cannot inflict aught more of miserynow. "

"Fear not, lady; he dare not, " hastily rejoined Gloucester. "The torturedare not be administered without consent of Edward, and that now cannotbe obtained; he will not have sufficient--" time, he was going to say, but checked himself; for the agonized look of Agnes told him his meaningwas more than sufficiently understood. "Nigel, " he added, laying hishand on the young man's shoulder, "Nigel, my noble, gallant friend--forso I will call thee, though I sat in judgment on thee, aye, and tacitlyacquiesced in thy sentence--shrink not, oh, shrink not now! I saw not aquiver on thy lip, a pallor on thy cheek, nay, nor faltering in thystep, when they read a doom at which I have marked the bravest blench;oh, let not, that noble spirit fail thee now!"

"Gloucester, it shall not!" he said, with suddenly regained firmness, assupporting Agnes with his right arm he convulsively wrung the hand ofhis friend with the other. "It was but the sight of this beloved one, the thought--no matter, it is over. Agnes, my beloved, my own, oh, lookon me; speak, tell me all that hath befallen thee since they tore theefrom me, and filled my soul with darker dread for thee than for myself. To see thee with this noble earl is enough to know how heavy a burden ofgratitude I owe him, which thou, sweetest, must discharge. Yet speak tome, beloved; tell me all, all. "

Emulating his calmness, remembering even at that moment her promise notto unman him in the moment of trial by vain repinings, Agnes compliedwith his request. Her tale was frequently interrupted by those terriblesobs, which seemed to threaten annihilation; but Nigel could gather fromit so much of tenderness and care on the part of the princess, that thedeepest gratitude filled his heart, and spoke in his impassioned words. 

"Tell her, oh, tell her, if the prayers of the dying can in aught availher, the blessedness of heaven shall be hers even upon earth!" heexclaimed, gazing up in the earl's face with eyes that spoke his soul. "Oh, I knew her not, when in former years I did but return her kindnesswith silence and reserve; I saw in her little more than the daughter ofEdward. Tell her, on my knees I beseech her pardon for that wrong; in mylast prayers I shall breathe her name. "

"And wherefore didst thou go with her?" he continued, on Agnes narratingthe scene between the princess and the king. "Alas! my gentle one, hadstthou not endured enough, that thou wouldst harrow up thy soul by hearingthe confirmation of my doom from the tyrant's own ruthless lips--didstdream of pardon? dearest, no, thou couldst not. "

"Nigel, Nigel, I did, even at that moment, though they told me thou wertcondemned, that nothing could save thee; though the princess besought mealmost on her knees to spare myself this useless trial, I would notlisten to her. I would not believe that all was hopeless; I dreamedstill, still of pardon, that Edward would listen to his noble child, would forgive, and I thought, even if she failed, I would so plead hemust have mercy, he would listen to me and grant my prayer. I did dreamof pardon, but it was vain, vain! Nigel, Nigel, why did my voice fail, my eye grow dim? I might have won thy pardon yet. "

"Beloved, thou couldst not, " he answered, mournfully. "Mine own sweetAgnes, take comfort, 'tis but a brief farewell; we shall meet where warand blood and death can never enter more. "

"I know it, Oh, I know it, " she sobbed; "but to part thus, to lose thee, and by such a death, oh, it is horrible, most horrible!"

"Nay, look not on it thus, beloved; there is no shame even in thisdeath, if there be no shame in him who dies. "

"Shame!" she repeated; "couldst think I could couple aught of shame withthee, my own? even this dark fate is noble when borne by such as thee. "

Nigel held her closer to his heart, and for his sole answer pressed aquivering kiss upon her cheek. Gloucester, who had been in earnestcommune with the sentinel without the door, now returned, and informedhim that the soldier, who was well known to him and who much dislikedhis present watch, had willingly consented that the page (whomGloucester had represented as a former attendant of Sir Nigel's, thoughnow transferred to his service) should remain with his former master, oncondition that the earl would come for him before the priests and otherswho were to attend him to the scaffold entered the dungeon, as thisdeparture from the regular prison discipline, shown as it was to oneagainst whom the king was unusually irritated, might cost him his head. Gloucester had promised faithfully, and he offered them the melancholyoption of parting now, or a few sad hours hence. 

"Let me, do let me stay; Nigel, my husband, send me not from thee now!"exclaimed Agnes, sinking at his feet and clasping his knees. "I will notweep, nor moan, nor in aught afflict thee. Nigel, dearest Nigel, I willnot leave thee now. "

"But is it wise, is it well, my best beloved? think, if in the deepanguish of to-morrow thy disguise be penetrated, thy sex discovered, andthy cruel father claim thee, dragging thee even from the protection ofthe princess--oh, the bitterness of death were doubled then! Thouthinkest but of me, mine own, but thy safety, thy future peace is allnow left for me. "

"Safety, peace--oh, do not, do not mock me, Nigel--where are they forpoor Agnes, save in her husband's grave? What is life now, that thoushouldst seek to guard it? no, no, I will abide by thee, thou shalt notsend me hence. "

"But to-morrow, lady, to-morrow, " interposed Gloucester, with deepcommiseration. "I would not, from any selfish fear, shorten by oneminute the few sad hours ye may yet pass together, but bethink ye, Idare not promise to shield thee from the horrors of to-morrow, for Icannot. Fearful scenes and sounds may pass before thee; thou mayest comein contact with men from whom thou wilt shrink in horror, and thoughthine own safety be of little worth, remember the betrayal of thy sexand rank may hurl down the royal vengeance on the head of thyprotectress, daughter of Edward though she be. Canst thou be firm--wiltthou, canst thou await the morrow?"

"Yes, " answered Agnes, the wildness of her former accents subsiding intoalmost solemnity; "the safety of thy noble countess shall not behazarded through me. Leave me with my husband, add but this last mercyto the many thou hast showered on me, and the blessing of God will reston thee and thy noble wife forever. "

She raised his hand to her lips, and Gloucester, much affected, placedhers in her husband's, and wrung them convulsively together. "We shallmeet again, " was all he trusted his voice to utter, and departed. 

The hours waned, each one finding no change in the position of thoseloving ones. The arm of Agnes twined around the neck of her beloved, herbrow leaned against his bosom, her left hand clasped his right, and hisleft arm, though fettered, could yet fold that slender waist, could yetdraw her closer to him, with an almost unconscious pressure; his lipsrepeatedly pressed that pale brow, which only moved from its position tolift up her eyes at his entreaty in his face, and he would look on thosefeatures, lovely still, despite their attenuation and deep sorrow, gazeat them with an expression that, spite of his words of consoling love, betrayed that the dream of earth yet lingered; he could not close hiseyes on her without a thrill of agony, sharper than the pang of death. But the enthusiast and the patriot spoke not at that hour only ofhimself, or that dearer self, the only being he had loved. He spoke ofhis country, aye, and less deplored the chains which bound her then, than with that prophetic spirit sometimes granted to the departing, dilated on her future glory. He conjured Agnes, for his sake, tostruggle on and live; to seek his brother and tell him that, saveherself, Nigel's last thought, last prayer was his; that standing on thebrink of eternity, the mists of the present had rolled away, he saw butthe future--Scotland free, and Robert her beloved and mighty king. 

"Bid him not mourn for Nigel, " he said; "bid him not waver from hisglorious purpose, because so many of his loved and noble friends mustfall--their blood is their country's ransom; tell him, had I a hundredlives, I would have laid them down for him and for my country as gladly, as unhesitatingly as the one I now resign; and tell him, dearest, how Iloved him to the last, how the recollection of his last farewell, hisfervent blessing lingered with me to the end, giving me strength tostrive for him and die, as becomes his brother; tell him I glory in mydeath--it has no shame, no terror, for it is for him and Scotland. Wiltthou remember all this, sweet love? wilt thou speak to him these words?"

"Trust me I will, all, all that thou hast said; they are written here, "placing her hand on her heart, "here, and they will not leave me, evenif all else fail. "

"And thou wilt say to him, mine own, that Nigel besought his love, histenderness for thee, " he continued, losing the enthusiasm of the patriotin the tenderness of the husband; "tell him I look to him in part todischarge the debt of love, of gratitude I owe to thee; to guard thee, cherish thee as his own child. Alas! alas! I speak as if thou must reachhim, and yet, beset with danger, misery, as thou art, how may this be?"

"Fear not for me; it shall be, my husband. I will do thy bidding, I willseek my king, " she said, for when comfort failed for him, she sought togive it. "Hast forgotten Dermid's words? He would be near me when Ineeded him, and he will be, my beloved, I doubt him not. "

"Could I but think so, could I but know that he would be near to shieldthee, oh, life's last care would be at an end, said Nigel, earnestly;and then for some time that silence, more eloquent, more fraught withfeeling in such an hour than the most impassioned words, fell on themboth. When again he spoke, it was on a yet more holy theme; thethoughts, the dreams of heaven, which from boyhood had been his, nowfound vent in words and tones, which thrilled to the inmost spirit ofhis listener, and lingered there, when all other sense had fled. He hadlived in an era of darkness. Revelation in its doctrines belonged to thepriests alone; faith and obedience demanded by the voice of man alone, were all permitted to the laity, and spirits like Nigel's consequentlyformed a natural religion, in which they lived and breathed, hallowingthe rites which they practised, giving scope and glory to their faith. He pictured the world, on whose threshold he now stood, pictured it, notwith a bold unhallowed hand, but as the completion, the consummation ofall those dim whisperings of joy, and hope, and wisdom, which hadengrossed him below--the perfection of that beauty, that loveliness, inthe material and immaterial, he had yearned for in vain on earth. 

"And this world of incomparable unshadowed loveliness awaits me, " hesaid, the superstition of the age mingling for the moment with thoughtswhich seemed to mark him a century beyond his compeers; "purchased bythat single moment of suffering called death. It is mine, my beloved, and shall be thine; and oh, when we meet there, how trivial will seemthe dark woes and boding cares of earth! I have told thee the vision ofmy vigil, Agnes, my beloved; again I have seen that blessed spirit, aye, and there was no more sadness on his pale brow, naught, naught ofearth--spiritualized, etherealized. He hovered over my sleep, and with asmile beckoned me to the glorious world he inhabits; he seemed to callme, to await me, and then the shrouding clouds on which he lay closedthicker and thicker round him, till naught but his celestial featuresbeamed on me. Agnes, dearest, best, think of me thus, as blessedeternally, unchangeably, as awaiting thee to share that blessedness, notas one lost to thee, beloved; and peace, aye, joy e'en yet shall smilefor thee. "

"Nigel, Nigel, are there such things for the desolate, the lone?"murmured Agnes, raising her pale brow and looking despairingly in hisface. "Oh, I will think on thee, picture thee in thy thrice-glorifiedhome, but it will be with all of mortal clinging to me still, and thewild yearnings to come to thee will banish all of peace. Speak not suchwords to thy poor weak Agnes, my beloved. I will struggle on to bear thymessage to my sovereign; there lies my path when thou art gone, darknessenvelops it when that goal is gained--I have no future now, save thatwhich gives me back to thee. "

He could not answer, and then again there was silence, broken only bythe low voice of prayer. They knelt together on the cold stones, heraised her cold hands with his in supplication; he prayed for mercy, pardon for himself, for comfort, strength for her; he prayed for hiscountry and her king, her chained and sorrowing sons, and the soft, liquid star of morning, gloaming forth through heavy masses of murkyclouds directly on them as they knelt, appeared an angel's answer. Thedawn broke; bluer and bluer became the small and heavily-barredcasement, clearer and clearer grew the damp walls of the dungeons, andmorning, in its sunshine and gladness, laughed along the earth. Closerand closer did Agnes cling to that noble heart, but she spoke no word. "He tarries long--merciful heaven, grant he be not detained too late!"she heard her husband murmur, as to himself, as time waned andGloucester came not, and she guessed his thoughts. 

"I care not, " she answered, in a voice so hollow he shuddered; "I willgo with thee, even to the scaffold. "

But Gloucester, true to his promise, came at length; he was evidentlyanxious and disturbed, and a few hurried words told how the Earl ofBerwick had detained him in idle converse, as if determined to preventany private interview with the prisoner; even now the officers andpriests were advancing to the dungeons, their steps already reverberatedthrough the passages, and struck on the heart of Agnes as a bolt of ice. "I had much, much I wished to say, but even had I time, what boots itnow? Nigel, worthy brother of him I so dearly loved, aye, even now woulddie to serve, fear not for the treasure thou leavest to my care; asthere is a God above us, I will guard her as my sister! Theycome--farewell, thou noble heart, thou wilt leave many a foe to mournthee!" The voice of the earl quivered with emotion. Nigel convulsivelypressed his extended hand, and then he folded Agnes in his arms; hekissed her lips, her brow, her cheek, he parted those clustering curlsto look again and yet again upon her face--pale, rigid as sculpturedmarble. She uttered no sound, she made no movement, but consciousnesshad not departed; the words of Gloucester on the previous night rung inher ears, demanding control, and mechanically she let her arms unloosetheir convulsive grasp of Nigel, and permitted the earl gently to leadher to the door, but ere it opened, she turned again to look on Nigel. He stood, his hands clasped in that convulsive pressure of agony, hisevery feature working with the mighty effort at control with the laststruggle of the mortal shell. With one faint yet thrilling cry shebounded back, she threw herself upon his swelling bosom, her lips methis in one last lingering kiss, and Gloucester tore her from his arms. They passed the threshold, another minute and the officers, and guard, and priest stood within the dungeon, and a harsh, rude voice bade theconfessor haste to shrive the prisoner, for the hour of execution was athand. 

Bearing the slight form of the supposed page in his arms, Gloucesterhastily threaded the passages leading from the dungeon to the postern bywhich he had intended to depart. His plan had been to rejoin hisattendants and turn his back upon the city of Berwick ere the executioncould take place; a plan which, from his detention, he already found wasfutile. The postern was closed and secured, and he was compelled toretrace his steps to a gate he had wished most particularly to avoid, knowing that it opened on a part of the court which, from its commandinga view of the scaffold, he justly feared would be crowded. He had pausedbut to speak one word of encouragement to Agnes, who, with a calmnessappalling from the rigidity of feature which accompanied it, now stoodat his side; he bade her only hold by his cloak, and he hoped speedilyto lead her to a place of safety. She heard him and made a sign ofobedience. They passed the gate unquestioned, traversed an inner court, and made for the great entrance of the castle; there, unhappily, theirprogress was impeded. The scaffold, by order of Edward, had been erectedon the summit of a small green ascent exactly opposite the prison of theCountess of Buchan, and extending in a direct line about half a quarterof a mile to the right of the castle gates, which had been flung wideopen, that all the inhabitants of Berwick might witness the death of atraitor. Already the courts and every vacant space was crowded. A sea ofhuman heads was alone visible, nay, the very buttresses and somepinnacles of the castle, which admitted any footing, although of themost precarious kind, had been appropriated. The youth, theextraordinary beauty, and daring conduct of the prisoner had excited anunusual sensation in the town, and the desire to mark how such a spiritwould meet his fate became irresistibly intense. Already it seemed as ifthere could be no space for more, yet numbers were still pouring in, notonly most completely frustrating the intentions of the Earl ofGloucester, but forcing him, by the pressure of multitudes, with themtowards the scaffold. In vain he struggled to free himself a passage;in vain he haughtily declared his rank and bade the presumptuous serfsgive way. Some, indeed, fell back, but uselessly, for the crowds behindpushed on those before, and there was no retreating, no possible meansof escaping from that sight of horror which Gloucester had designed socompletely to avoid. In the agony of disappointment, not a little mixedwith terror as to its effects, he looked on his companion. There was nota particle of change upon her countenance; lips, cheek, brow, wereindeed bloodless as marble, and as coldly still; her eyes werefascinated on the scaffold, and they moved not, quivered not. Even whenthe figure of an aged minstrel, in the garb of Scotland, suddenly stoodbetween them and the dread object of their gaze, their expressionchanged not; she placed her hand in his, she spoke his name to herconductor, but it was as if a statue was suddenly endowed with voice andmotion, so cold was the touch of that hand, so sepulchral was thatvoice; she motioned him aside with a gesture that compelled obedience, and again she looked upon the scaffold. The earl welcomed the old mangladly, for the tale of Agnes had already prepared him to receive him, and to rely on his care to convey her back to Scotland. Engrossed withhis anxiety for her, and whenever that permitted him, speaking earnestlyto the old man, Gloucester remained wholly unconscious of the closevicinity of one he was at that moment most desirous to avoid. 

The Earl of Buchan, in the moment of ungovernable rage, had indeed flunghimself on horseback and galloped from the castle the preceding night, intending to seek the king, and petition that the execution might bedeferred till the torture had dragged the retreat of Agnes from Nigel'slips. The cool air of night, however, had had the effect of so fardissipating the fumes of passion, as to convince him that it would bewell-nigh impossible to reach Carlisle, obtain an interview with Edwardat such an unseasonable hour, and return to Berwick in sufficient timefor the execution of his diabolical scheme. He let the reins fall on hishorse's neck, to ponder, and finally made up his mind it was better tolet things take their course, and the sentence of the prisoner proceedwithout interruption; a determination hastened by the thought thatshould he die under the torture, all the ignominy and misery of a publicexecution would be eluded. The night was very dark and misty, the roadin some parts passing through, woods and morasses, and the earl, toomuch engrossed with his own dark thoughts to attend to his path, lostthe track and wandered round and round, instead of going forward. Thisheightened not the amiability of his previous mood; but until dawn hisefforts to retrace his steps or even discover where he was were useless. The morning, however, enabled him to reach Berwick, which he did just asthe crowds were pouring into the castle-yard, and the heavy toll of thebell announced the commencement of that fatal tragedy. He hastilydismounted and mingled with the populace, they bore him onward throughanother postern to that by which the other crowds had impelledGloucester. Finding the space before them already occupied, these twohuman streams, of course, met and conjoined in the centre; and the twoearls stood side by side. Gloucester, as we have said, whollyunconscious of Buchan's vicinity, and Buchan watching his anxious andsorrowful looks with the satisfaction of a fiend, revelling in his beingthus hemmed in on all sides, and compelled to witness the execution ofhis friend. He watched him closely as he spoke with the minstrel, buttried in vain to distinguish what they said. He looked on the page too, and with some degree of wonder, though he believed it only mortal terrorwhich made him look thus, natural in so young a child; but afterwardsthat look was only too fatally recalled. 

Sleepless and sad had been that long night to another inmate of BerwickCastle, as well as to Nigel and his Agnes. It was not till the dawn hadbroken that the Countess of Buchan had sunk into a deep though troubledslumber, for it was not till then the confused sounds of the workmenemployed in erecting the scaffold had ceased. She knew not for whom itwas upraised, what noble friend and gallant patriot would there besacrificed. She would not, could not believe it was for Nigel; for whenhis name arose in her thoughts, it was shudderingly repelled, and withhim came the thought of her child--where, oh, where was she?--what wouldbe her fate? The tolling of the bell awoke her from the brief trance ofutter unconsciousness into which, from exhaustion, she had fallen. Sheglanced once beneath her. The crowds, the executioner at his post, theguard already round the scaffold, too truly told the hour was at hand, and though her heart turned sick with apprehension, and she felt as ifto know the worst were preferable to the hour of suspense, she could notlook again, and she would have sought the inner chamber, and endeavor toclose both ears and eyes to all that was passing without, when the Earlof Berwick suddenly entered, and harshly commanded her to stir not fromthe cage. 

"It is your sovereign's will, madam, that you witness the fate of thetraitor so daring in your cause, " he said, as with a stern grasp heforced her to the grating and retained his hold upon her arm; "that youmay behold in his deserved fate the type of that which will at lengthbefall the yet blacker traitor of his name. It is fitting so loyal apatriot as thyself should look on a patriot's fate, and profit thereby. "

"Aye, learn how a patriot can die--how, when his life may no morebenefit his country and his kin, he may serve them in his death, " calmlyand proudly she answered. "It is well; perchance, when my turn cometh, Imay thank thy master for the lesson now rudely forced upon me. The hourwill come when the blood that he now so unjustly sheds shall shriekaloud for vengeance. On me let him work his will--I fear him not. "

"Be silent, minion! I listen not to thy foul treason, " said the earl, hoarse with suppressed passion at the little effect his sovereign'smandate produced, when he had hoped to have enforced it midst sobs andtears; and she was silent, for her eye had caught one face amidst thecrowd that fascinated its gaze, and sent back the blood, which hadseemed to stagnate when the idea that it was indeed Nigel now about tosuffer had been thus rudely thrust upon her--sent it with such suddenrevulsion through its varied channels, that it was only with a desperatestruggle she retained her outward calmness, and then she stood, to theeye of Berwick, proud, dignified, collected, seemingly so cold, that hedoubted whether aught of feeling could remain, or marvelled if themandate of Edward had indeed power to inflict aught of pain. Butwithin--oh, the veriest tyrant must have shuddered, could he have knownthe torture there; she saw, she recognized her child; she read naughtbut madness in that chiselled gaze; she saw at a glance there was noescaping from beholding, to the dreadful end, the fate of her beloved;before, behind, on every side, the crowds pressed round, yet from theslightly elevated position of the scaffold, failing to conceal it fromher gaze. The Earl of Gloucester she perceived close at her side, as ifprotecting her; but if indeed she was under his care, how came she onsuch a spot, at such a time?--did he know her sex, or only looked on heras a favored page of Nigel's, and as such protected? Yet would not theanguish of that hour betray her not alone to him, but to that dark andcruel man whom she also marked beside her, and who, did he once knowher, would demand the right of a father, to give her to his care? andoh, how would that right be exercised! would the murderer of his son, his heir, have pity on a daughter? But it would be a vain effort topicture the deep anguish of that mother's heart, as in that dread momentshe looked upon her child, knowing, feeling _her_ might of grief, as ifit had been her own; well-nigh suffocated with the wild yearning to foldher to her maternal bosom, to bid her weep there, to seek to comfort, tosoothe, by mingling her tears with hers, to protect, to hide her miseryfrom all save her mother's eye--to feel this till every pulse throbbedas to threaten her with death, and yet to breathe no word, to give nosign that such things were, lest she should endanger that precious oneyet more. She dared not breathe one question of the many crowding on herheart, she could but gaze and feel. She had thought, when, they told herthat her boy was dead, that she had caused his death, there was littlemore of misery fate could weave, but at that moment even Alan wasforgotten. It was her own wretchedness she had had then to bear, for hewas at rest; but now it was the anguish of that dearer self, her soleremaining child--and oh, a mother's heart can better bear its individualwoes than those that crash a daughter to the earth. 

A sudden rush amidst the crowd, where a movement could take place, theheavy roll of muffled drums, and the yet deeper, more wailing toll ofthe funeral bell, announced that the prisoner had left the dungeon, andirresistibly the gaze of the countess turned from her child to seek him;perchance it was well, for the preservation of her composure, that theintervening crowd prevented her beholding him till he stood upon thescaffold, for hardly could she have borne unmoved the sight of thatnoble and gallant form--beloved alike as the friend of her son, thebetrothed of her daughter, the brother of her king--degraded of allinsignia of rank, chained to the hurdle, and dragged as the commonest, the vilest criminal, exposed to the mocking gaze of thousands, to theplace of execution. She saw him not thus, and therefore she knew notwherefore the features of Agnes had become yet more rigid, bore yet morethe semblance of chiselled marble. He stood at length upon the scaffold, as calmly majestic in his bearing as if he had borne no insult, sufferedno indignity. His beautiful hair had been arranged with care on eitherside his face, and still fell in its long, rich curls, about his throat;and so beautiful, so holy was the expression of his perfect features, that the assembled crowds hushed their very breath in admiration and inawe; it seemed as if the heaven, on whose threshold he stood, hadalready fixed its impress on his brow. Every eye was upon him, and allperceived that holy calmness was for one brief minute disturbed; butnone, save three of those who marked it, knew or even guessed the cause. The countess had watched his glance, as at first composedly it hadwandered over the multitude beneath and around him, and she saw it reston that one face, which, in its sculptured misery, stood alone amidstthousands, and she alone perceived the start of agony that sightoccasioned, but speedily even that emotion passed; he looked from thatloved face up to the heaven on which his hopes were fixed, in whose carefor her he trusted--and that look was prayer. She saw him as he knelt inprayer, undisturbed by the clang of instruments still kept up aroundhim; she saw him rise, and then a deadly sickness crept over her everylimb, a thick mist obscured her sight, sense seemed on the point ofdeserting her, when it was recalled by a sound of horror--a shriek sowild, so long, so thrilling, the rudest spirit midst those multitudesshrunk back appalled, and crossed themselves in terror. On one ear itfell with a sense of agony almost equal to that from whence it came; themother recognized the voice, and feeling, sight, hearing, as by anelectric spell, returned. She looked forth again, and though her eyecaught the noble form of Nigel Bruce yet quivering in the air, sheshrunk not, she sickened not, for its gaze sought her child; she haddisappeared from the place she had occupied. She saw the Earl ofGloucester making a rapid way through the dispersing crowds, a suddengust blew aside his wrapping-cloak, the face of her child was exposed toher view, there was a look of death upon her brow; and if the Earl ofBerwick had lingered to note whether indeed this scene of horror wouldpass unnoticed, unfelt by his prisoner, he was gratified at length, forIsabella of Buchan lay senseless on her prison floor. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"And she is in safety, Gilbert?" inquired the Princess Joan, the eveningof the day following the execution, lifting her eyes, swimming in tears, to her husband's face. They were sitting alone in their privateapartments, secured from all intruders by a page stationed in theante-room; and the earl had been relating some important particulars ofthe preceding day. 

"I trust in heaven she is, and some miles ere now on her road toScotland, " was his answer. "I fear for nothing save for the beautifulmind that fragile shell contains; alas! my Joan, I fear me that has goneforever!"

"Better, oh better, then, that fainting-fit had indeed been death, " shesaid, "that the thread of life had snapped than twisted thus in madness. Yet thou sayest her purpose seemed firm, her intellect clear, in herintense desire to reach Scotland. Would this be, thinkest thou, werethey disordered?"

"I think yes; for hadst thou seen, as I, the expression of countenance, the unearthly calmness with which this desire was enforced, theconstant, though unconscious, repetition of words as these, 'to theking, to the king, my path lies there, he bade me seek him; perchance hewill be there to meet me, ' thou too wouldst feel that, when that goal isgained, her husband's message given, sense must fail or life itselfdepart. But once for a few brief minutes I saw that calmness partlyfail, and I indulged in one faint hope she would be relieved by tears. She saw old Dermid gaze on her and weep; she clung to his neck, herfeatures worked convulsively, and her voice was choked and broken, asshe said, We must not tarry, Dermid, we must not wait to weep and moan;I must seek King Robert while I can. There is a fire on my brain andheart, which will soon scorch up all memory but one; I must not waittill it has reached _his_ words, and burned them up too--oh, let us onat once;' but the old man's kindly words had not the effect I hoped, sheonly shook her head, and then, as if the horrible recollection of thepast flashed back, a convulsive shuddering passed through her frame, andwhen she raised her face from her hand its marble rigidity hadreturned. "

"Alas! alas! poor sufferer, " exclaimed the princess, in heartfeltsorrow; "I fear indeed, if such things be, there is little hope ofreason. I would thou hadst conveyed her here, perchance the soothing andsympathy of one of her own sex had averted this evil. "

"T doubt, my kind Joan, " replied her husband; "thy words had suchbeneficial power before, because hope had still possession of herbreast, she hoped to the very last, aye, even when she so madly wentwith thee to Edward; now that is over; hope is crushed, when despair hasrisen. Thou couldst not have soothed; it would have been but wringingthy too kind heart, and exposing her to other and heightened evils. " Theprincess looked up inquiringly. "Knowest thou not Buchan hath discoveredthat his daughter remained with Nigel Bruce, as his engaged bride, atKildrummie, and is even now seeking her retreat, vowing she shall repentwith tears of blood her connection with a Bruce?"

"I did not indeed; how came this?"

"How, I know not, save that it was reported Buchan had left the court, on a mission to the convent where the Countess of Carrick and herattendants are immured, and in all probability learnt this importantfact from them. I only know that at the instant I entered the prisoner'sdungeon, Buchan was demanding, at the sword's point, the place of herretreat, incited to the deadliest fury at Nigel's daring avowal thatAgnes was his wife. "

"Merciful heaven! and Agnes, what did she?"

"I know not, for I dared not, absolutely dared not look upon her face. Her husband's self-control saved her, for he stood and answered ascalmly and collectedly as if indeed she were in the safety he declared;her father brushed by, nay, well-nigh stumbled over her, as he furiouslyquitted the dungeon, glared full at her, but knew her not. But I darednot again bring her here, it was in too close vicinity with the king andher cruel father, for her present state of mind must have betrayed everydisguise. "

"And thinkest thou he could have the heart to injure her, separated asshe is by death from the husband of her love?"

"Aye, persecute her as he hath his wife and son. Joan, I would ratherlose my own right hand than that unhappy girl should fall into herfather's power. Confinement, indeed, though it would add but little realmisery to her present lot, yet I feel that with her present wildyearnings to rejoin the Bruce, to fulfil to the very utmost herhusband's will, it would increase tenfold the darkness round her; thevery dread of her father would unhinge the last remaining link ofintellect. "

Joan shuddered. "God in mercy forefend such ill!" she said, fervently;"I would I could have seen her once again, for she has strangely twinedherself about my heart; but thou hast judged wisely, my Gilbert, hersafety is too precious to be thus idly risked; and this old man, canstthou so trust him--will he guide her tenderly and well?"

"Aye, I would stake my life upon his truth; he is the seer and minstrelof the house of Bruce, and that would be all-sufficient to guarantee hisunwavering fidelity and skill. He has wandered on foot from Scotland, tolook on his beloved master once again; to watch over, as a guardianspirit, the fate of that master's devoted wife, and he will do this, Idoubt not, and discover Carrick's place of retreat, were it at theutmost boundaries of the earth. I only dread pursuit. "

"Pursuit! and by whom?"

"By her father. Men said he was close beside me during that horriblehour, though I saw him not; if he observed her, traced to her lips thatmaddening shriek, it would excite his curiosity quite sufficiently forhim to trace my steps, and discovery were then inevitable. "

"But did he do this--hast seen him since?"

"No, he has avoided me; but still, for her sake, I fear him. I know nothow or when, but there are boding whispers within me that all will notbe well. Now I would have news from thee. Is Hereford released?"

"Yes; coupled with the condition that he enters not my father's presenceuntil Easter. He is deeply and justly hurt; but more grieved at thechange in his sovereign than angered at the treatment of himself. "

"No marvel; for if ever there were a perfect son of chivalry, one mostfeelingly alive to its smallest point of honor, it is Humphrey Bohun. "

So spoke Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, unconscious that hehimself had equal right to a character so exalted; that both Scottishand English historians would emulate each other in handing his name downto posterity, surrounded by that lucid halo of real worth, on which theeye turns again and again to rest for relief from the darker minds andruder hearts which formed the multitude of the age in which he lived. The duties of friendship were performed in his preservation of theperson, and constant and bold defence of the character of the Bruce; theduties of a subject, in dying on the battle-field in service for hisking. 

The boding prognostics of the Earl of Gloucester were verified ere thatday closed. While still in earnest converse with his countess, amessenger came from the king, demanding their instant presence in hiscloset. The summons was so unusual, that in itself it was alarming, nordid the sight of the Earl of Buchan in close conference with the monarchdecrease their fears. As soon as a cessation of his pains permitted theexertion, Buchan had been sent for by the king; the issue of hisinquiries after his daughter demanded, and all narrated; his interviewwith Sir Nigel dwelt upon with all the rancor of hate. Edward hadlistened without making any observation; a twinkle of his still brighteye, an expression about the lips alone betraying that he not only heardbut was forming his own conclusions from the tale. 

"And you have no clue, no thought of her retreat?" he asked, at length, abruptly, when the earl ceased. 

"Not the very faintest, your grace. Had not that interfering Gloucestercome between me and my foe, I had forced it from him at the sharpsword's point. "

"Gloucester--humph!" muttered the king. "Yet an so bloody was thypurpose, my good lord, his interference did thee no ill. How was theearl accompanied--was he alone?"

"If I remember rightly, alone, your grace. No, by my faith, there was apage with him!"

"A page--ha! and what manner of man was he?"

"Man! your highness, say rather a puny stripling, with far more of thewoman about him than the man. "

"Ha!" again uttered the king; "looked he so weakly--did thy fury permitsuch keen remark?"

"Not at that time, your highness; but he was, with Gloucester, compelledto witness the execution of this black traitor, and he looked white, statue-like, and uttered a shriek, forsooth, likely to scare back thevillain's soul even as it took flight. Gloucester cared for the daintybrat, as if he had been a son of your highness, not a page in hishousehold, for he lifted him up in his arms, and bore him out of thecrowd. "

"Humph!" said Edward again, in a tone likely to have excited curiosityin any mind less obtuse on such matters than that of the Scottish earl. "And thou sayest, " he added, after some few minutes pause, "this daringtraitor, so lately a man, would tell thee no more than that thy daughterwas his wife, and in safety--out of thy reach?"

Buchan answered in the affirmative. 

"And thou hast not the most distant idea where he hath concealed her?"

"None, your highness. "

"Then I will tell thee, sir earl; and if thou dost not feel inclined todash out thine own brains with vexation at letting thy prey so slip outof thy grasp, thou art not the man I took thee for, " and Edward fixedhis eyes on his startled companion with a glance at once keen andmalicious. 

"The white and statue-looking page, with more of woman about him thanthe man, was the _wife_ of this rank villain, Sir Nigel Bruce, and thydaughter, my Lord of Buchan. The Earl of Gloucester may, perchance, tellthee more. "

The earl started from his seat with an oath, which the presence ofmajesty itself could not restrain. The dulness of his brain wasdissolved as by a flash of lightning; the ghastly appearance, themaddening shriek, the death-like faint, all of which he had witnessed inGloucester's supposed page, nay, the very disturbed and anxious look ofthe earl himself, gave truth and life to Edward's words, and he struckhis clenched fist against his brow, and strode up and down the royalcloset, in a condition as frantically disturbed as the monarch couldpossibly have desired; and then, hastily and almost incoherently, besought the king's aid in sifting the matter to the very bottom, andobtaining repossession of his daughter, entreating leave of absence toseek out Gloucester and tax him with the fact. 

Edward, whose fury against the house of Bruce--whether man, woman, orchild, noble or serf, belonging to them--had been somewhat soothed bythe ignominious execution of Nigel, had felt almost as much amused asangered at the earl's tale, and enjoyed the idea of a man, whom in hisinmost heart he most thoroughly despised, having been so completelyoutwitted, and for the time so foiled. The feud between the Comyn andthe Bruce was nothing to him, except where it forwarded his owninterests. He had incited Buchan to inquire about his daughter, simplybecause the occupation would remove that earl out of his way for a shorttime, and perhaps, if the rumor of her engagement with one of thebrothers of the Bruce were true, set another engine at work to discoverthe place of their concealment. The moment Buchan informed him it was toNigel she had been engaged, with Nigel last seen, his acute penetrationrecalled the page who had accompanied the princess when she supplicatedmercy, and had he heard no more, would have pointed there for thesolution of the mystery. Incensed he was and deeply, at the fraudpractised upon him at the Karl and Countess of Gloucester daring toharbor, nay, protect and conceal the wife of a traitor; but his angerwas subdued in part by the belief that now it was almost impossible shecould escape the wardance of her father, and _his_ vengeance would bemore than sufficient to satisfy him; nay, when he recalled the face andthe voice, it was so like madness and death, and he was, moreover, soconvinced that now her husband was dead she could do him no manner ofharm, that he inwardly and almost unconsciously hoped she mighteventually escape her father's power, although he composedly promisedthe earl to exercise his authority, and give him the royal warrant forthe search and committal of her person wherever she might be. Anger, that Gloucester and his wife should so have dared his sovereign power, was now the prevailing feeling, and therefore was it he commanded theirpresence, determined to question them himself, rather than through thestill enraged Buchan. 

Calmly and collectedly the noble pair received alike the displeasure oftheir sovereign and the ill-concealed fury of Buchan. They neitherdenied the charge against them nor equivocated in their motives fortheir conduct; alarmed they were, indeed, for the unhappy Agnes; but asdenial and concealment were now alike impossible, and could avail hernothing, they boldly, nay, proudly acknowledged that which they haddone, and openly rejoiced it had been theirs to give one gleam ofcomfort to the dying Nigel, by extending protection to his wife. 

"And are ye not traitors--bold, presuming traitors--deserving thechastisement of such, bearding me thus in my very palace?" wrathfullyexclaimed Edward. "Know ye not both are liable to the charge of treason, aye, treason--and fear ye to brave us thus?"

"My liege, we are no traitors, amenable to no such charge, " calmlyanswered Gloucester; "far, far more truly, faithfully, devotedly yourgrace's subjects than many of those who had shrunk from an act as this. That in so doing we were likely to incur your royal displeasure, weacknowledge with deep regret and sorrow, and I take it no shame thus onmy knee to beseech your highness's indulgence for the fault; but if youdeem it worthy of chastisement, we are ready to submit to it, denying, however, all graver charge, than that of failing in proper deference toyour grace. "

"All other charge! By St. Edward, is not that enough?" answered theking, but in a mollified tone. "And thou, minion, thou whom we deemedthe very paragon of integrity and honor, hast thou aught to say? Did notthy lips frame falsehood, and thy bold looks confirm it?"

"My father, my noble father, pardon me that in this I erred, " answeredJoan, kneeling by his side, and, despite his efforts to prevent it, clasping his hand and covering it with kisses; "yet I spoke nofalsehood, uttered naught which was not truth. She _was_ ill and weakly;she was well-nigh maddened from scenes and sounds of blood. I hadbesought her not to attend me, but a wife's agony could not berestrained, and if we had refused her the protection she so wildlycraved, had discovered her person to your highness, would it haveavailed thee aught? a being young, scarce past her childhood--miserable, maddened well-nigh to death, her life wrapt up in her husband's, whichwas forfeited to thee. "

"The wife of a traitor, the offspring of a traitress, connected on everyside with treason, and canst ask if her detention would have availed usaught? Joan, Joan, thy defence is but a weak one, " answered the king, sternly, but he called her "Joan, " and that simple word thrilled to herheart as the voice of former years, and her father felt a sudden gushof tears fall on the hand he had not withdrawn, and vainly he struggledagainst the softening feelings those tears had brought. It was strangethat, angered as he really was, the better feelings of Edward should insuch a moment have so completely gained the ascendency. Perhaps he wasnot proof against the contrast before him, presented in the persons ofBuchan and Gloucester; the base villainy of the one, the exaltednobility of the other, alike shone forth the clearer from theirunusually close contact. In general, Edward was wont to deem thesesoftening emotions foolish weaknesses, which he would banish by shunningthe society of all those who could call them forth. Their candidacknowledgment of having deserved his displeasure, and submission to hiswill, however, so soothed his self-love, his fondness for absolutepower, that he permitted them to have vent with but little restraint. Agnes might have been the wife of a traitor, but he was out of Edward'sway; the daughter of a traitress, but she was equally powerless; linkedwith treason, but too much crashed by her own misery to be sensible ofaught else. Surely she was too insignificant for him to persevere inwrath, and alienate by unmerited severity yet more the hearts which atsuch moments he felt he valued, despite his every effort to thecontrary. 

So powerfully was he worked upon, that had it not been for theill-restrained fury of Buchan, it was possible the subject would havebeen in the end peaceably dismissed; but on that earl's reminding him ofhis royal word, the king commanded Gloucester to deliver up his chargeto her rightful guardian, and all the past should be forgiven. The earlquietly and respectfully replied he could not, for he knew not where shewas. Wrath gathered on Edward's brow, and Buchan laid his hand on hissword; but neither the royal commands nor Buchan's muttered threats andoaths of vengeance could elicit from Gloucester more than that she hadset off to return to Scotland with an aged man, not three hours afterthe execution had taken place. He had purposely avoided all inquiries asto their intended route, and therefore not any cross-questioning on thepart of the king caused him to waver in the smallest point from hisoriginal tale, or afforded any evidence that he knew more than he said. 

"Get thee to Sir Edward Cunningham, my Lord of Buchan, and bid him drawup a warrant for the detention and committal of these two personswherever they may be, " the king said, "and away with thee, and a trustytroop, with all speed to Berwick. Make inquiries of all who at thatparticular hour passed the gates, and be assured thou wilt find someclue. Take men enough to scour the country in all directions; providethem with an exact description of the prisoners they seek, and tarrynot, and thou wilt yet gain thy prize; living or dead, we resign all ourright over her person to thee, and give thee power, as her father, to dowith her what may please thee best. Away with thee, my lord, and heavenspeed thee!"

"My liege and father, oh, why hast thou done this?" exclaimed theprincess, imploringly, as, with a low obeisance to the king and agesture of triumph at the Earl of Gloucester, Buchan departed. "Hath shenot borne misery enough!"

"Nay, we do but our duty to our subjects in aiding fathers to repressrebellious children, " replied the king. "Of a truth, fair dame ofGloucester, thy principles of filial duty seem somewhat as loose andlight as those which counselled abetting, protecting, and concealing thepartner of a traitor. Wouldst have us refuse Buchan's most fatherlydesire? Surely thou wouldst not part him from his child?"

"Forever and forever!" exclaimed the princess, fervently. "Great God inheaven, that such a being should call that monster father, and owe himthe duty of a child! But, oh, thou dost but jest, my father; in mercyrecall that warrant--expose her not to wretchedness as this!"

"Peace, " replied the king, sternly. "As thou valuest thine own and thyhusband's liberty and life, breathe not another syllable, speak notanother word for her, or double misery shall be her portion. We haveshown enough of mercy in demanding no further punishment for that whichye have done, than that for ten days ye remain prisoners in your ownapartments. Answer not; we will have no more of this. "

The Earl of Buchan, meanwhile, had made no delay in gaining thenecessary aids to his plan. Ere two hours passed, he was on his road toBerwick, backed with a stout body of his own retainers, and bearing acommission to the Earl of Berwick to provide him with as many more as hedesired. He went first to the hostelry near the outskirts of the town, where he remembered Gloucester had borne the supposed page. There heobtained much desirable information, an exact description of the dress, features, and appearance of both the page and his companion; of theformer, indeed, he recollected all-sufficient, even had the descriptionbeen less exact. The old minstrel had attracted the attention of manywithin the hostel, and consequently enabled Buchan to obtain informationfrom various sources, all of which agreed so well that he felt sure ofsuccess. 

Backed by the warrant of Edward, he went to the civil authorities of thetown, obtained four or five technically drawn-up descriptions of theprisoners, and intrusted them to the different officers, who, with bandsof fifty men, he commanded to search every nook and corner of thecountry round Berwick, in various directions. He himself discoveringthey had passed through the Scotch gate and appeared directing theircourse in a westerly direction, took with him one hundred men, andfollowed that track, buoyed up by the hope not only of gainingpossession of his daughter, but perhaps of falling in with the retreateven of the detested Bruce, against whom he had solemnly recorded a vownever to let the sword rest in the scabbard till he had revenged themurder of his kinsman, the Red Comyn. Some words caught by a curiouslistener, passing between the page and minstrel, and eagerly reported tohim, convinced him it was Robert Bruce they sought, and urged him tocontinue the search with threefold vigor. 

Slowly and sadly meanwhile had the hours of their weary pilgrimagepassed for the poor wanderers, and little did they imagine, as theythreaded the most intricate paths of the borders of Scotland, that theywere objects of persecution and pursuit. Though the bodily strength ofAgnes had well-nigh waned, though the burning cheek and wandering, toobrightly flashing eye denoted how fearfully did fever rage internally, she would not pause save when absolutely compelled. She could neithersleep nor eat: her only cry was, "To the king--bring me but to KingRobert while I may yet speak!" her only consciousness, that she had amission to perform, that she was intrusted with a message from the dead;all else was a void, dark, shapeless, in which thought framed no image;mind, not a wish. Insensibility it was not, alas! no, that void was woe, all woe, which folded up heart and brain as with a cloak of fire, scorching up thought, memory, hope--all that could recall the past, vivify the present, or vision forth the future. She breathed indeed andspoke, and clung to that aged man with all the clinging helplessness ofher sex, but scarce could she be said to live; all that was real of lifehad twined round her husband's soul, and with it fled. 

The old man felt not his advanced age, the consciousness of the manydangers hovering on their way; his whole thought was for her, to bringher to the soothing care and protection of the king, and then he carednot how soon his sand run out. When wandering in the districts ofAnnandale and Carrick, before he had arrived at Berwick, he had learnedthe secret but most important intelligence that King Robert had passedthe winter off the coast of Ireland, and was supposed to be only waitinga favorable opportunity to return to Scotland, and once more upraise hisstandard. This news had been most religiously and strictly preserved asecret amid the few faithful adherents of the Bruce, who perhaps spokeyet more as they hoped than as a fact well founded. 

For some days their way had been more fatiguing than dangerous, forthough the country was overrun with English, a minstrel and a page wereobjects far too insignificant, in the present state of excitement, tomeet with either detention or notice. Not a week had passed, however, before rumors of Buchan's parties reached the old man's ears, and filledhim with anxiety and dread. The feverish restlessness of Agnes toadvance yet quicker on their way, precluded all idea of halting, save inwoods and caverns, till the danger had passed. Without informing her ofall he had heard, and the danger he apprehended, he endeavored to avoidall towns and villages; but the heavy rains which had set in renderedtheir path through the country yet more precarious and uncertain, andoften compelled him most unwillingly to seek other and better shelter. At Strathaven he became conscious that their dress and appearance werestrictly scrutinized, and some remarks that he distinguished convincedhim that Buchan had either passed through that town, or was lingering inits neighborhood still. Turning sick with apprehension, the old manhastily retraced his steps to the hostel, where he had left Agnes, andfound her, for the first time since their departure, sunk into a kind ofsleep or stupor from exhaustion, from which he could not bear to arouseher. Watching her for some little time in silence, his attention wasattracted by whispering voices, only separated from him by a thinpartition. They recounted and compared one by one the dress and peculiarcharacteristics of himself and his companion, seeming to compare it witha written list. Then followed an argument as to whether it would not bebetter to arrest their progress at once, or send on to the Earl ofBuchan, who was at a castle only five miles distant. How it wasdetermined Dermid knew not, for the voices faded in the distance; but hehad heard enough, and it seemed indeed as if detention and restraintwere at length at hand. What to do he knew not. Night had now some hoursadvanced, and to attempt leaving the hostel at such an unseasonable hourwould be of itself sufficient to confirm suspicion. All seemed at restwithin the establishment; there was no sound to announce that amessenger had been dispatched to the earl, and he determined to await ascalmly as might be the dawn. 

The first streak of light, however, was scarce visible in the eastbefore, openly and loudly, so as to elude all appearance of flight, hedeclared his intention of pursuing his journey, as the weather hadalready detained them too long. He called on the hostess to receive herreckoning, commanded the mules to be saddled, all of which was done, tohis surprise, without comment or question, and they departedunrestrained; the old man too much overjoyed at this unexpected escapeto note that they were followed by two Englishmen, the one on horseback, the other on foot. Anxiety indeed had still possession of him, for hecould not reconcile the words he had overheard with their quietdeparture; but as the day passed, and they plunged thicker and thickerin the woods of Carrick, and there was no sign of pursuit, or even of ahuman form, he hailed with joy a solitary house, and believed the dangerpassed. 

The inmates received them with the utmost hospitality; the order fortheir detention had evidently not reached them, and Dermid determined onwaiting quietly there till the exhausted strength of his companionshould be recruited, and permit them to proceed. An hour and more passedin cheerful converse with the aged couple who owned the house, and who, with the exception of one or two servants, were its sole inhabitants. The tales of the minstrel were called for and received with a glee whichseemed to make all his listeners feel young again. Agnes alone sateapart; her delicate frame and evident exhaustion concealing deepersufferings from her hosts, who vied with each other in seeking toalleviate her fatigue and give bodily comfort, if they could offer noother consolation. Leaning back in a large settle in the chimney corner, she had seemed unconscious of the cheerful sociability around her, whensuddenly she arose, and advancing to Dermid, laid a trembling hand onhis arm. He looked up surprised. 

"Hist!" she murmured, throwing back the hair from her damp brow. "Hearye no sound?"

All listened for a time in vain. 

"Again, " she said; "'tis nearer, more distinct. Who comes with a troopof soldiers here?"

It was indeed the heavy trampling of many horse, at first so distant asscarcely to be distinguished, save by ears anxious and startled as oldDermid's; but nearer and nearer they came, till even the inmates of thehouse all huddled, together in alarm. Agnes remained standing, her handon Dermid's arm, her head thrown back, her features bearing anexpression scarce to be defined. The horses' hoofs, mingled with theclang of armor, rung sharp and clear on the stones of the courtyard. They halted: the pommel of a sword was struck against the oaken door, and a night's lodging courteously demanded. The terror of the owners ofthe house subsided, for the voice they heard was Scotch. 

The door was thrown open, the request granted, with the same hospitalityas had been extended to the minstrel and the page. On the instant therewas a confused sound of warriors dismounting, of horses eager forstabling and forage; and one tall and stately figure, clad from head tofoot in mail, entered the house, and removing his helmet, addressed somewords of courteous greeting and acknowledgment to its inmates. A loudexclamation burst from the minstrel's lips; but Agnes uttered no sound, she made one bound forward, and dropped senseless at the warrior's feet. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

It was on a cool evening, near the end of September, 1311, that a troop, consisting of about thirty horse, and as many on foot, were leisurelytraversing the mountain passes between the counties of Dumfries andLanark. Their arms were well burnished; their buff coats and half-armorin good trim; their banner waved proudly from its staff, as bright andgay as if it had not even neared a scene of strife; and there was an airof hilarity and gallantry about them that argued well for success, ifabout to commence an expedition, or if returning, told with equalemphasis they had been successful. That the latter was the case wasspeedily evident, from the gay converse passing between them; theirallusions to some late gallant achievement of their patriot sovereign;their joyous comparisons between good King Robert and his weak opponent, Edward II. Of England, marvelling how so wavering and indolent a soncould have sprung from so brave and determined a sire; for, Scotsmen asthey were, they were now FREE, and could thus afford to allowthe "hammer" of their country some knightly qualities, despite the sternand cruel tyranny which to them had ever marked his conduct. They spokein laughing scorn of the second Edward's efforts to lay his father'syoke anew upon their necks; they said a just heaven had interfered andurged him to waste the decisive moment of action in indolence and folly, in the flatteries of his favorite, to the utter exclusion of those wiserlords, whose counsels, if followed on the instant, might have shakeneven the wise and patriot Bruce. Yet they were so devoted to theirsovereign, they idolized him alike as a warrior and a man too deeply, toallow that to the weak and vacillating conduct of Edward they owed thepreservation of their country. It was easy to perceive by the springystep, the flashing eye, the ringing, tone with which that magic name, the Bruce, was spoken, how deeply it was written on the heart; the joyit was to recall his deeds, and feel it was through him that they werefree! Their converse easily betrayed them to be one of thosewell-ordered though straggling parties into which King Robert's invadingarmies generally dispersed at his command, when returning to their ownfastnesses, after a successful expedition to the English border. 

The laugh and jest resounded, as we have said, amongst both officers andmen; but their leader, who was riding about a stone's throw ahead, gaveno evidence of sharing their mirth. He was clad from head to foot inchain armor, of a hue so dark as to be mistaken for black, and from hiswearing a surcoat of the same color, unenlivened by any device, gave himaltogether a somewhat sombre appearance, although it could not detractin the smallest degree from the peculiar gracefulness and easy dignityof his form, which was remarkable both on horseback and on foot. He wasevidently very tall, and by his firm seat in the saddle, had been earlyaccustomed to equestrian exercises; but his limbs were slight almost todelicacy, and though completely ensheathed in mail, there was anappearance of extreme youth about him, that perhaps rendered the absenceof all gayety the more striking. Yet on the battle-field he gave noevidence of inexperience as a warrior, no sign that he was merely ascholar in the art of war; there only did men believe he must be olderthan he seemed; there only his wonted depression gave place to anenergy, a fire, second to none amongst the Scottish patriots, not evento the Bruce himself; then only was the naturally melancholy music ofhis voice lost in accents of thrilling power, of imperative command, andthe oldest warriors followed him as if under the influence of somespell. But of his appearance on the field we must elsewhere speak. Henow led his men through the mountain defiles mechanically, as if buriedin meditation, and that meditation not of the most pleasing nature. Hisvizor was closed, but short clustering curls, of a raven blackness, escaped beneath the helmet, and almost concealed the white linen andfinely embroidered collar which lay over his gorget, and was secured infront by a ruby clasp; a thick plume of black feathers floated from hishelmet, rivalling in color the mane of his gallant charger, which pawedthe ground, and held his head aloft as if proud of the charge he bore. Ashield was slung round the warrior's neck, and its device and mottoseemed in melancholy accordance with the rest of his attire. On a fieldargent lay the branch of a tree proper, blasted and jagged, with thewords "_Ni nom ni paren, je suis seul_, " rudely engraved in NormanFrench beneath; his helmet bore no crest, nor did his war-cry on thefield, "Amiot for the Bruce and freedom, " offer any clue to the curiousas to his history, for that there was some history attached to him allchose to believe, though the age was too full of excitement to allowmuch of wonderment or curiosity to be expended upon him. His goldenspurs gave sufficient evidence that he was a knight; his prowess on thefield proclaimed whoever had given him that honor had not bestowed it onthe undeserving. His deeds of daring, unequalled even in that age, obtained him favor in the eyes of every soldier; and if there were somein the court and camp of Bruce who were not quite satisfied, and lovednot the mystery which surrounded him, it mattered not, Sir Amiot of theBranch, or the Lonely Chevalier, as he was generally called, went on hisway unquestioned. 

"Said not Sir Edward Bruce he would meet us hereabouts at set of sun?"were the first words spoken by the knight, as, on issuing from themountains, they found themselves on a broad plain to the east of Lanark, bearing sad tokens of a devastating war, in the ruined and blackenedhuts which were the only vestiges of human habitations near. The answerwas in the affirmative; and the knight, after glancing in the directionof the sun, which wanted about an hour to its setting, commanded a halt, and desired that, while waiting the arrival of their comrades, theyshould take their evening meal. 

On the instant the joyous sounds of dismounting, leading horses topicquet, unclasping helmets, throwing aside the more easily displacedportions of their armor, shields, and spears, took the place of thesteady tramp and well-ordered march. Flinging themselves in variousattitudes on the greensward, provender was speedily laid before them, and rare wines and other choice liquors, fruits of their late campaign, passed gayly round. An esquire had, at the knight's sign, assisted himto remove his helmet, shield, and gauntlets; but though this removaldisplayed a beautifully formed head, thickly covered with dark hair, hisfeatures were still concealed by a species of black mask, the mouth, chin, and eyes being alone visible, and therefore his identity waseffectually hidden. The mouth and chin were both small and delicatelyformed; the slight appearance of beard and moustache seeming to denotehis age as some one-and-twenty years. His eyes, glancing through theopening in the mask, were large and very dark, often flashing brightly, when his outward bearing was so calm and quiet as to afford littleevidence of emotion. Some there were, indeed, who believed the eye thetruer index of the man than aught else about him, and to fancy there wasfar more in that sad and lonely knight than was revealed. 

It was evident, however, that to the men now with him his remaining soclosely masked was no subject of surprise, that they regarded it as anordinary thing, which in consequence had lost its strangeness. They wereeager and respectful in their manner towards him, offering to raise hima seat of turf at some little distance from their noisy comrades; butacknowledging their attention with kindness and courtesy, he refused it, and rousing himself with some difficulty from his desponding thoughts, threw himself on the sward beside his men, and joined in their mirth andjest. 

"Hast thou naught to tell to while away this tedious hour, goodMurdoch?" he asked, after a while, addressing a gray-headed veteran. 

"Aye, aye, a tale, a tale; thou hast seen more of the Bruce than all ofus together, " repeated many eager voices, "and knowest yet more of hisdeeds than we do; a tale an thou wilt, but of no other hero than theBruce. "

"The Bruce!" echoed the veteran; "see ye not his deeds yourselves, needye more of them?" but there was a sly twinkle in his eye that betrayedhis love to speak was as great as his comrades to hear him. "Have ye notheard, aye, and many of you seen his adventures and escapes in Carrick, hunted even as he was by bloodhounds; his guarding that mountain pass, one man against sixty, aye, absolutely alone against the Galwegian hostof men and bloodhounds; Glen Fruin, Loudun Hill, Aberdeen; the harryingof Buchan; charging the treacherous foe, when they had to bear him fromhis litter to his horse, aye, and support him there; springing up fromhis couch of pain, and suffering, and depression, agonizing to witness, to hurl vengeance on the fell traitors; aye, and he did it, and broughtback health to his own heart and frame; and Forfar, Lorn, Dunstaffnage--know ye not all these things? Nay, have ye not seen, shared in them all--what would ye more?"

"The harrying of Buchan, tell us of that, " loudly exclaimed many voices;while some others shouted, "the landing of the Bruce--tell us of hislanding, and the spirit fire at Turnberry Head; the strange woman thataddressed him. "

"Now which am I to tell, good my masters?" laughingly answered the oldman, when the tumult in a degree subsided. "A part of one, and part ofthe other, and leave ye to work out the rest yourselves; truly, apleasant occupation. Say, shall it be thus? yet stay, what says SirAmiot?"

"As you will, my friends, " answered the knight, cheerily; "but decidequickly, or we shall hear neither. I am for the tale of Buchan, " therewas a peculiarly thrilling emphasis in his tone as he pronounced theword, "for I was not in Scotland at the time, and have heard butdisjointed rumors of the expedition. "

The veteran looked round on his eager comrades with an air ofsatisfaction, then clearing his voice, and drawing more to the centre ofthe group; "Your worship knows, " he began, addressing Sir Amiot, who, stretched at full length on the sward, had fixed his eyes upon him, though their eagle glance was partly shaded by his hand, "that our goodKing Robert the Bruce, determined on the reduction of the north of hiskingdom, advanced thereto in the spring of 1308, accompanied by hisbrother, Lord Edward, that right noble gentleman the Earl of Lennox, SirGilbert Hay, Sir Robert Boyd, and others, with a goodly show of men andarms, for his successes at Glen Fruin and Loudun Hill had brought him avast accession of loyal subjects. And they were needed, your worship, ofa truth, for the traitorous Comyns had almost entire possession of thecastles and forts of the north, and thence were wont to pour down theirravaging hordes upon the true Scotsmen, and menace the king, till hescarcely knew which side to turn to first. Your worship coming, I haveheard, from the low country, can scarcely know all the haunts andlurking-places for treason the highlands of our country present; howhordes of traitors may be trained and armed in these remote districts, without the smallest suspicion being attached to them till it iswell-nigh too late, and the mischief is done. Well, to drive out theseblack villains, to free his kingdom, not alone from the yoke of anEnglish Edward, but a Scottish Comyn, good King Robert was resolved--andeven as he resolved he did. Inverness, the citadel of treason anddisloyalty, fell before him; her defences, and walls, and turrets, andtowers, all dismantled and levelled, so as to prevent all furtherharborage of treason; her garrison marched out, the ringleaders sentinto secure quarters, and all who hastened to offer homage and swearfidelity, received with a courtesy and majesty which I dare to say didmore for the cause of our true king than a Comyn could ever do againstit. Other castles followed the fate of Inverness, till at length thenorth, even as the south, acknowledged the Bruce, not alone as theirking, but as their deliverer and savior. 

"It was while rejoicing over these glorious successes, the lords andknights about the person of their sovereign began to note with greatalarm that his strength seemed waning, his brow often knit as withinward pain, his eye would grow dim, and his limbs fail him, without amoment's warning; and that extreme depression would steal over his manlyspirit even in the very moment of success. They watched in alarm, butsilently; and when they saw the renewed earnestness and activity withwhich, on hearing of the approach of Comyn of Buchan, Sir John deMowbray, and that worst of traitors, his own nephew, Sir David ofBrechin, he rallied his forces, advanced to meet them, and compelledthem to retreat confusedly to Aberdeen, they hoped they had beendeceived, and all was well. 

"But the fell disease gained ground; at first he could not guide hischarger's reins, and then he could not mount at all; his voice failed, his sight passed; they were compelled to lay him in a litter, and bearhim in the midst of them, and they felt as if the void left by theirsovereign's absence from their head was filled with the dim shadow ofdeath. Nobly and gallantly did Lord Edward endeavor to remedy this fatalevil; Lennox, Hay, even the two Frasers, who had so lately joined theking, seemed as if paralyzed by this new grief, and hung over theBruce's litter as if their strength waned with his. Sternly, nay, atsuch a moment it seemed almost harshly, Lord Edward rebuked thisweakness, and, conducting them to Slenath, formed some strongentrenchments, of which the Bruce's pavilion was the centre, intendingthere to wait his brother's recovery. Ah, my masters, if ye were notwith good King Robert then, ye have escaped the bitterest trial. Ye knownot what it was to behold him--the savior of his country, the darling ofhis people, the noblest knight and bravest warrior who ever girded on asword--lie there, so pale, so faint, with scarce a voice or passing sighto say he breathed. The hand which grasped the weal of Scotland, the armthat held her shield, lay nerveless as the dead; the brain which thoughtso well and wisely for his fettered land, lay powerless and still; thethrilling voice was hushed, the flashing eye was closed. The foes wereclose around him, and true friends in tears and woe beside his couch, were all alike unknown. Ah! then was the time for warrior's tears, formen of iron frame and rugged mood to soften into woman's woe, and weep. Men term Lord Edward Bruce so harsh and stern, one whom naught of grieffor others or himself can move; they saw him not as I have. It was mineto watch my sovereign, when others sought their rest; and I have seenthat rugged chieftain stand beside his brother's couch alone, unmarked, and struggle with his spirit till his brow hath knit, his lip becomeconvulsed, and then as if 'twere vain, all vain, sink on his knee, clasphis sovereign's hand, and bow his head and weep. 'Tis passed and overnow, kind heaven be praised! yet I cannot recall that scene, unbind thefolds of memory, unmoved. "

The old man passed his rough hand across his eyes, and for a briefmoment paused; his comrades, themselves affected, sought not to disturbhim, and quickly he resumed. 

"Days passed, and still King Robert gave no sign of amendment, except, indeed, there were intervals when his eyes wandered to the countenancesof his leaders, as if he knew them, and would fain have addressed themas his wont. Then it was our men were annoyed by an incessant dischargefrom Buchan's archers, which, though they could do perhaps no greatevil, yet wounded many of our men, and roused Lord Edward's spirit toresent the insult. His determination to leave the entrenchments andretreat to Strathbogie, appeared at first an act of such unparalleleddaring as to startle all his brother leaders, and they hesitated; butthere never was any long resisting Sir Edward's plans; he bears a spellno spirit with a spark of gallantry about him can resist. The retreatwas in consequence determined on, to the great glee of our men, who weretired of inaction, and imagined they should feel their sovereign'ssufferings less if engaged hand to hand with, the foe, in his service, than watching him as they had lately done, and dreading yet greaterevils. 

"Ye have heard of this daring retreat, my friends; it was in the mouthof every Scotsman, aye, and of Englishman too, for King Robert himselfnever accomplished a deed of greater skill. The king's litter was placedin the centre of a square, which presented on either side such animpenetrable fence of spears and shields, that though Buchan and DeMowbray mustered more than double our number, they never ventured anattack, and a retreat, apparently threatening total destruction, fromits varied dangers, was accomplished without the loss of a single man. At Strathbogie we halted but a short space, for finding no obstructionin our path, we hastened southward, in the direction of Inverury; therewe pitched the tent for the king, and, taking advantage of a naturalfortification, dispersed our men around it, still in a compact square. Soon after this had been accomplished, news was received that our foeswere concentrating their numerous forces at Old Meldrum, scarcely twomiles from us, and consequently we must hold ourselves in constantreadiness to receive their attack. 

"Well, the news that the enemy was so near us might not perhaps havebeen particularly pleasing, had they not been more than balanced by theconviction--far more precious than a large reinforcement, for in itselfit was a host--the king was recovering. Yes, scarcely as we dared hope, much less believe it, the disease, which had fairly baffled all theleech's art, which had hung over our idolized monarch so long, at lengthshowed symptoms of giving way, and there was as great rejoicing in thecamp as if neither danger nor misfortune could assail us more; a newspirit sparkled in every eye, as if the awakening lustre in the Bruce'sglance, the still faint, yet thrilling accents of a voice we had fearedwas hushed forever, had lighted on every heart, and kindled anew theirslumbering fire. One day, Lord Edward, the Earl of Lennox, and a gallantparty, were absent scouring the country about half a mile round ourentrenchments, and in consequence, one side of our square was more thanusually open, but we did not think it signified, for there wore notidings of the enemy; well, this day the king had called me to him, andbade me relate the particulars of the retreat, which I was proud enoughto do, my masters, and which of you would not be, speaking as I did withour gallant sovereign as friend with friend?"

"Aye, and does he not make us all feel this?" burst simultaneously frommany voices; "does he not speak, and treat us all as if we were hisfriends, and not his subjects only? Thine was a proud task, goodMurdoch, but which of us has good King Robert not addressed with kindlywords and proffered hand?"

"Right! right!" joyously responded the old man; "still I say that hourwas one of the proudest in my life, and an eventful one too for Scotlandere it closed. King Robert heard me with flashing eye and kindlingcheek, and his voice, as he burst forth in high praise and love for hisdaring brother, sounded almost as strong and thrilling as was its wontin health; just then a struggle was heard without the tent, a scuffle, as of a skirmish, confused voices, clashing of weapons, and war-cries. Up started the king, with eagle glance and eager tone. 'My arms, ' hecried, 'bring me my arms! Ha hear ye that?' and sure enough, 'St. Davidfor De Brechin, and down with the Bruce!' resounded so close, that itseemed as if but the curtain separated the traitor from his kinsman andhis king. Never saw I the Bruce so fearfully aroused, the rage of thelion was upon him. 'Hear ye that?' he repeated, as, despite myremonstrances, and these of the officers who rushed into the tent, hesprang from the couch, and, with the rapidity of light, assumed hislong-neglected armor. 'The traitorous villain! would he beard me to myteeth? By the heaven above us, he shall rue this insolence! Bring me mycharger. Beaten off, say ye? I doubt it not, my gallant friends; but itis now the Bruce's turn, his kindred traitors are not far off, and wewould try their mettle now. Nay, restrain me not, these folk will work acure for me--there, I am a man again!' and as he stood upright, sheathedin his glittering mail, his drawn sword in his gauntleted hand, a wildshout of irrepressible joy burst from us all, and, caught up by thesoldiers without the tent, echoed and re-echoed through the camp. Thesudden appearance of the Bruce's charger, caparisoned for battle, standing before his master's tent, the drums rolling for the muster, thelightning speed with which Sir Edward Bruce, Lennox, and Hay, afterdispersing De Brechin's troop, as dust on the plain, galloped to theroyal pavilion, themselves equally at a loss to understand the bustlethere, all prepared the men-at-arms for what was to come. Eagerly didthe gallant knights remonstrate with their sovereign, conjure him tofollow the battle in his litter, rather than attempt to mount hischarger; they besought him to think what his life, his safety was tothem, and not so rashly risk it. Lord Edward did entreat him to reservehis strength till there was more need; the field was then clear, thefoes had not appeared; but all in vain their eloquence, the kingcombated it all. 'We will go seek them, brother, ' cheerily answered theking; 'we will go tell them insult to the Bruce passes not unanswered. On, on, gallant knights, our men wax impatient. ' Hastening from thetent, he stood one moment in the sight of all his men: removing hishelmet, he smiled a gladsome greeting. Oh, what a shout rung forth fromthose iron ranks! There was that noble face, pale, attenuated indeed, but beaming on them in all its wonted animation, confidence, and love;there was that majestic form towering again in its princely dignity, seeming the nobler from being so long unseen. Again and again that shoutarose, till the wild birds rose screaming over our heads, in untuned, yet exciting chorus. Nor did the fact that the king, strengthened as hewas by his own glorious soul, had in reality not bodily force enough tomount his horse without support, take from the enthusiasm of his men, nay, it was heightened and excited to the wildest pitch. 'For Scotlandand freedom!' shouted the king, as for one moment he rose in hisstirrups and waved his bright blade above his head. 'For Bruce andScotland!' swelled the answering shout. We formed, we gathered incompact array around our leaders, loudly clashed our swords against ourshields; we marched a brief while slowly and majestically along theplain; we neared the foe, who, with its multitude in terrible array, awaited our coming; we saw, we hurled defiance in a shout which rent thevery air. Quicker and yet quicker we advanced; on, on--we scoured thedusty plain, we pressed, we flew, we rushed upon the foe; the Bruce wasat our head, and with him victory. We burst through their ranks; wecompelled them, at the sword's point, to turn and fight even to thedeath; we followed them foot to foot, and hand to hand, disputing everyinch of ground; they sought to retreat, to fly--but no! Five miles ofScottish ground, five good broad miles, was that battle-field; the enemylay dead in heaps upon the field, the remainder fled. "

"And the king!" exclaimed the knight of the mask, half springing up inthe excitement the old man's tale had aroused. "How bore he this day'swondrous deed--was not his strength exhausted anew?"

"Aye, what of the king?" repeated many of the soldiers, who had heldtheir very breath while the veteran spoke, and clenched their swords, asif they were joining in the strife he so energetically described. 

"The king, my masters, " replied Murdoch, "why, if it could be, he lookedyet more the mighty warrior at the close than at the commencement of thework. We had seen him the first in the charge, in the pursuit; we hadmarked his white plume waving above all others, where the strife waxedhottest; and when we gathered round him, when the fight was done, hewas seated on the ground in truth, and there was the dew of extremefatigue on his brow--he had flung aside his helmet--and his cheek washotly flushed, and his voice, as he thanked us for our gallant conduct, and bade us return thanks to heaven for this great victory, was somewhatquivering; but for all that, my masters, he looked still the warrior andthe king, and his voice grew firmer and louder as he bade us have nofears for him. He dismissed us with our hearts as full of joy and lovefor him as of triumph on our humbled foes. "

"No doubt, " responded many voices; "but Buchan, Mowbray, DeBrechin--what came of them--were they left on the field?"

"They fled, loving their lives better than their honor; they fled, likecowards as they were. The two first slackened not their speed till theystood on English ground. De Brechin, ye know, held out Angus as long ashe could, and was finally made captive. "

"Aye, and treated with far greater lenity than the villain deserved. Hewill never be a Randolph. "

"A Randolph! Not a footboy in Randolph's train but is more Randolph thanhe. But thou sayest Buchan slackened not rein till he reached Englishground; he lingered long enough for yet blacker treachery, if rumorspeaks aright. Was it not said the king's life was attempted by hisorders, and by one of the Comyn's own followers?"

"Ha!" escaped Sir Amiot's lips. "Say they this?" but he evidently hadspoken involuntarily, for the momentary agitation which had accompaniedthe words was instantly and forcibly suppressed. 

"Aye, your worship, and it is true, " replied the veteran "It was twonights after the battle. All the camp was at rest; I was occupied asusual, by my honored watch in my sovereign's tent. The king was sleepingsoundly, and a strange drowsiness appeared creeping over me too, confusing all my thoughts. At first I imagined the wind was agitating acertain corner of the tent, and my eyes, half asleep and half wakeful, became fascinated upon it; presently, what seemed a bale of carpets, only doubled up in an extraordinary small space, appeared within thedrapery. It moved; my senses were instantly aroused. Slowly andcautiously the bale grew taller, then the unfolding carpet fell, and ashort, well-knit, muscular form appeared. He was clothed in thosepadded jerkins and hose, plaited with steel, which are usual to those ofhis rank; the steel, however, this night was covered with thin, blackstuff, evidently to assist concealment. He looked cautiously around him. I had creeped noiselessly, and on all fours, within the shadow of theking's couch, where I could observe the villain's movements myselfunseen. I saw a gleam of triumph twinkle in his eye, so sure he seemedof his intended victim. He advanced; his dagger flashed above the Bruce. With one bound, one shout, I sprang on the murderous wretch, wrenchedthe dagger from his grasp, and dashed him to the earth. He struggled, but in vain; the king started from that deep slumber, one moment gazedaround him bewildered, the next was on his feet, and by my side. Thesoldiers rushed into the tent, and confusion for the moment waxed loudand warm; but the king quelled it with a word. The villain was raised, pinioned, brought before the Bruce, who sternly demanded what was hisintent, and who was his employer. Awhile the miscreant paused, but then, as if spell-bound by the flashing orb upon him, confessed the whole, aye, and more; that his master, the Earl of Buchan, had sworn a deep anddeadly oath to relax not in his hot pursuit till the life-blood of theBruce had avenged the death of the Red Comyn, and that, though he hadescaped now, he must fall at length, for the whole race of Comyn hadjoined hands upon their chieftain's oath. The brow of the king grewdark, terrible wrath beamed from his eyes, and it seemed for the momentas if he would deliver up the murderous villain into the hands thatyearned to tear him piecemeal. There was a struggle, brief yet terrible, then he spoke, and calmly, yet with a bitter stinging scorn. 

"'And this is Buchan's oath, ' he said. 'Ha! doth he not bravely, myfriends, to fly the battle-field, to shun us there, that hireling handsmay do a deed he dares not? For this poor fool, what shall we do withhim?'

"'Death, death--torture and death! what else befits the sacrilegioustraitor?' burst from many voices, pressing forward to seize and bear himfrom the tent; but the king signed them to forbear, and oh, what a smiletook the place of his previous scorn!

"'And I say neither torture nor death, my friends, ' he tried. 'What, arewe sunk so low, as to revenge this insult on a mere tool, theinstrument of a villainous master? No, no! let him go free, and tell hislord how little the Bruce heeds him; that guarded as he is by a freepeople's love, were the race of Comyn as powerful and numerous asEngland's self, their oath would avail them nothing. Let the poor foolgo free!'

"A deep wild murmur ran through the now crowded tent, and so mingledwere the tones of applause and execration, we knew not which the mostprevailed. 

"'And shall there be no vengeance for this dastard deed?' at length thedeep, full voice of Lord Edward Bruce arose, distinct above the rest. 'Shall the Bruce sit tamely down to await the working of the villainoath, and bid its tools go free, filling the whole land withwell-trained murderers? Shall Buchan pass scathless, to weave yetdarker, more atrocious schemes?'

"'Brother, no, ' frankly rejoined the king. 'We will make free to go andvisit our friends in Buchan, and there, an thou wilt, thou shalt paythem in coin for their kindly intents and deeds towards us; but for thispoor fool, again I say, let him go free. Misery and death, God wot, weare compelled to for our country's sake, let us spare where but our ownperson is endangered. '

"And they let him free, my masters, unwise as it seemed to us; nonecould gainsay our sovereign's words. Sullen to the last, the onlysymptom of gratitude he vouchsafed was to mutter forth, in, answer tothe Bruce's warning words to hie him to his comrades in Buchan, and bidthem, an they feared fire and devastation, to fly without delay, 'Aye, only thus mayest thou hope to exterminate the traitors; pity none, sparenone. The whole district of Buchan is peopled by the Comyn, bound bythis oath of blood, ' and thus he departed. "

"And spoke he truth?" demanded Sir Amiot, hoarsely, and with anagitation that, had others more suspicious been with him, must have beenremarked, although forcibly and painfully suppressed; "spoke he truth?Methought the district of Buchan had only within the last centurybelonged to the Comyn, and that the descendants of the CountessMargaret's vassals still kept apart, loving not the intermixture ofanother clan. Said they not it was on this account the Countess ofBuchan had exercised such influence, and herself beaded a gallant troopat the first rising of the Bruce? an the villain spoke truth, whencecame this change?"

"Why, for that matter, your worship, it is easy enough explained, "answered Murdoch, "and, trust me, King Robert set inquiries enoughafloat ere he commenced his scheme of retaliation. Had there been one ofthe Lady Isabella's own followers there, one who, in her name, claimedhis protection, he would have given it; not a hair of their heads wouldhave been injured; but there were none of these, your worship. The fewof the original clan which had not joined him were scattered all overthe country, mingling with other loyal clans; their own master hadhunted them away, when he came down to his own districts, just beforethe capture of his wife and son. He filled the Tower of Buchan with hisown creatures, scattered the Comyns all over the land, with expresscommands to attack, hunt, or resist all of the name of Bruce to the lastebb of their existence. He left amongst them officers and knights astraitorous, and spirits well-nigh as evil as his own, and they obeyedhim to the letter, for amongst the most inveterate, the mosttreacherous, and most dishonorable persecutors of the Bruce stood firstand foremost the Comyns of Buchan. Ah! the land was changed from thetime when the noble countess held sway there, and so they felt to theircost. 

"It was a grand yet fearful sight, those low hanging woods and glens allin one flame; the spring had been particularly dry and windy, and thebranches caught almost with a spark, and crackled and sparkled, andblazed, and roared, till for miles round we could see and hear the workof devastation. Aye, the coward earl little knew what was passing in histerritories, while he congratulated himself on his safe flight intoEngland. It was a just vengeance, a deserved though terribleretaliation, and the king felt it as such, my masters. He had borne withthe villains as long as he could, and would have borne with them still, had he not truly felt nothing would quench their enmity, and inconsequence secure Scotland's peace and safety, but their utterextermination, and all the time he regretted it, I know, for there was aterrible look of sternness and determination about him while the worklasted; he never relaxed into a smile, he never uttered a jovial word, and we followed him, our own wild spirits awed into unwonted silence. There was not a vestige of natural or human life in the district--allwas one mass of black, discolored ashes, utter ruin and appallingdevastation. Not a tower of Buchan remains. "

"All--sayest thou all?" said Sir Amiot, suddenly, yet slowly, and withdifficulty. "Left not the Bruce one to bear his standard, and thus markhis power?"

"Has not your worship remarked that such is never the Bruce's policy?Three years ago, he had not force enough to fortify the castles he tookfrom the English, and leaving them standing did but offer safe harborsfor the foe, so it was ever his custom to dismantle, as utterly toprevent their reestablishment; and if he did this with the castles ofhis own friends, who all, as the Douglas saith, 'love better to hear thelark sing than the mouse squeak, ' it was not likely he would spareBuchan's. But there was one castle, I remember, cost him a bitterstruggle to demolish. It was the central fortress of the district, distinguished, I believe, by the name of 'the Tower of Buchan, ' and hadbeen the residence of that right noble lady, the Countess Isabella andher children. Nay, from what I overheard his grace say to Lord Edward, it had formerly given him shelter and right noble hospitality, and adearer, more precious remembrance still to his noble heart--it had beenfor many months the happy home of his brother, Sir Nigel, and we knowwhat magic power all associated with _him_ has upon the king; and had itnot been for the expostulations of Lord Edward, his rough yet earnestentreaty, methinks that fortress had been standing yet. That sternness, terrible to behold, for it ever tells of some mighty inward passionsconquered, again gathered on our sovereign's brow, but he turned hischarger's head, and left to Lord Edward the destruction of the fortress, and he made quick work of it; you will scarce find two stones togetherof its walls. "

"He counselled right, " echoed many voices, the eagerness with which theyhad listened, and now spoke, effectually turning their attention fromtheir mysterious leader, who at old Murdoch's last words had withdifficulty prevented the utterance of a deep groan, and then, as ifstartled at his own emotion, sprung up from his reclining posture, andjoined his voice to those of his men. "He counselled, and did rightly, "they repeated; "it would have been an ill deed to spare a traitor's denfor such softening thoughts. Could we but free the Countess Isabella, she would not want a home in Buchan--nay, the further from her cruelhusband's territories the better and for her children--the one, poorinnocent, is cared for, and the other--"

"Aye, my masters, and trust me, that other was in our sovereign's heartas forcibly as the memories he spoke. That which we know now concerninghim was then undreamed of; it was only faintly rumored that Lord Douglashad been deceived, and Alan of Buchan had not fallen by a father's hand, or at least by his orders; that he was in life, in close confinement; myold ears did catch something of this import from the king, as he spokewith his brother. "

"What import?" asked Sir Amiot, hoarsely. 

"Only, your worship, that, for the sake of the young heir of Buchan, hewished that such total devastation could have been spared; if he werereally in life, as rumor said, it was hard to act as if he wereforgotten by his friends. "

"And what was Sir Edward's reply?"

"First, that he doubted the rumor altogether; secondly, that if he didreturn to the king, his loss might be more than made up; and thirdly, that it was more than probable that, young as he was, if he really didlive, the arts of his father would prevail, and he would purchase hisfreedom by homage and fidelity to England. "

"Ha! said he so--and the king?"

"Did not then think with him, nay, declared he would stake his righthand that the boy, young as he was, had too much of his mother's noblespirit for such a deed. It was well the stake was not accepted, for, bySt. Andrew, as the tale now goes, King Robert would have lost. "

"As the tale now goes, thou unbelieving skeptic, " replied one of hiscomrades, laughing; "has not the gallant been seen, recognized--is henot known as one of King Edward's minions, and lords it bravely? Buthark! there are chargers pricking over the plain. Hurrah! Sir Edward andLord James, " and on came a large body of troopers and infantry even ashe spoke. 

Up started Sir Amiot's men in eager readiness to greet and join; theirarmor and weapons they had laid aside were resumed, and ere theircomrades reached them all were in readiness. Sir Amiot, attended by hisesquires and a page, galloped forward, and the two knights, perceivinghis advance, spurred on before their men, and hasty and cordialgreetings were exchanged. We should perhaps note that Sir Amiot's mannerslightly differed in his salutation of the two knights. To Lord EdwardBruce he was eager, frank, cordial, as that knight himself; to theother, whom one glance proclaimed as the renowned James Lord Douglas, there was an appearance of pride or reserve, and it seemed an effort tospeak with him at all. Douglas perhaps did not perceive this, or wasaccustomed to it, for it seemed to affect him little; and Lord Edward'sbluff address prevented all manifestation of difference between hiscolleagues, even if there existed any. 

"Ready to mount and ride; why that's well, " he cried. "We are beyond ourtime, but it is little reck, we need but spur the faster, which our menseem all inclined to do. What news? why, none since we parted, save thathis grace has resolved on the siege of Perth without further delay. "

"Nay, but that is news, so please you, " replied Sir Amiot. "When Iparted from his grace, there was no talk of it. "

"There was talk of it, but no certainty; for our royal brother kept hisown counsel, and spoke not of this much-desired event till his way layclear before him. There have been some turbulent spirits in thecamp--your humble servant, this black lord, and Randolph amongstthem--who in truth conspired to let his grace know no peace by night orday till this object was attained; but our prudent monarch gave uslittle heed till his wiser brain arranged the matters we but burned toexecute. "

"And what, think you, fixed this resolve?"

"Simply that for a time we are clear of English thieves and Normanrogues, and can march northward, and sit down before Perth without fearof being called southward again. Edward will have enow on his hands tokeep his own frontiers from invasion; 'twill be some time ere he see theextent of our vengeance, and meanwhile our drift is gained. "

"Aye, it were a sin and crying shame to let Perth remain longer inEnglish hands, " rejoined Douglas; "strongly garrisoned it may be; butwhat matter?"

"What matter! why, 'tis great matter, " replied Sir Edward, joyously. "What glory were it to sit down before a place and take it at firstcharge? No, give me good fighting, tough assault, and brave defence. Think you I would have so urged the king, did I not scent a gloriousstruggle before the walls? Strongly garrisoned! I would not give onelink of this gold chain for it, were it not. But a truce to this idleparley; we must make some miles ere nightfall. Sir Knight of the Branch, do your men need further rest? if not, give the word, and let them fallin with their comrades, and on. "

"Whither?" demanded Sir Amiot, as he gave the required orders. "Wheremeet we the king?"

"In the Glen of Auchterader, south of the Erne. Lady Campbell andIsoline await us there, with the troops left as their guard atDumbarton. So you perceive our friend Lord Douglas here hath doublecause to use the spur; times like these afford little leisure forwooing, and such love-stricken gallants as himself must e'en make themost of them. "

"And trust me for doing so, " laughingly rejoined Douglas. "Scoff' at meas you will, Edward, your time will come. "

"Not it, " answered the warrior; "glory is my mistress. I love better toclasp my true steel than the softest and fairest hand in Christendom; tocaress my noble steed and twine my hand thus in his flowing mane, andfeel that he bears me gallantly and proudly wherever my spirit lists, than to press sweet kisses on a rosy lip, imprisoned by a woman'ssmile. "

"Nay, shame on thee!" replied Douglas, still jestingly. "Thou a trueknight, and speak thus; were there not other work to do, I would e'enrun a tilt with thee, to compel thee to forswear thy foul treasonagainst the fair. "

"Better spend thy leisure in wooing Isoline; trust me, she will not bewon ere wooed. How now, Sir Knight of the Branch, has the fiendmelancholy taken possession of thee again? give her a thrust with thylance, good friend, and unseat her. Come, soul of fire as thou art inbattle, why dost thou mope in ashes in peace? Thou speakest neither fornor against these matters of love; wilt woo or scorn the little god?"

"Perchance both, perchance neither, " replied the knight, and his voicesounded sadly, though he evidently sought to speak in jest. He hadfallen back from the side of Douglas during the previous conversation, but the flashing eye denoted that it had passed not unremarked. He nowrode up to the side of Lord Edward, keeping a good spear's length fromLord James, and their converse turning on martial subjects, became moregeneral. Their march being performed without any incident of note, wewill, instead of following them, take a brief retrospective glance onthose historical events which had so completely and gloriously turnedthe fate of Scotland and her patriots, in those five years which thethread of our narrative compels us to leave a blank. 

END OF VOL. I. 

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GRACE AGUILAR'S WORKS. 

HOME INFLUENCE. MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE. VALE OF CEDARS. WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP. DAYS OF BRUCE. WOMEN OF ISRAEL. HOME SCENES AND HEART STUDIES. 

_1 vol. , 12mo, Illustrated, price $1, with a Memoir of the Author, _

HOME INFLUENCE, A TALE FOR MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. 

By GRACE AGUILAR. 

"Grace Aguilar wrote and spoke as one inspired; she condensed andspiritualized, and all her thoughts and feelings were steeped in theessence of celestial love and truth. To those who really knew GraceAguilar, all eulogium falls short of her deserts, and she has left ablank in her particular walk of literature, which we never expect to seefilled up. "--_Pilgrimages to English Shrines, by Mrs. Hall. _

"A clever and interesting tale, corresponding well to its name, illustrating the silent, constant influence of a wise and affectionateparent over characters the most diverse. "--_Christian Lady's Magazine. _

"This interesting volume unquestionably contains many valuable hints ondomestic education, much powerful writing, and a _moral_ of vastimportance. "--_Englishwoman's Magazine. _

"It is very pleasant, after reading a book, to speak of it in terms ofhigh commendation. The tale before us is an admirable one, and isexecuted with taste and ability. The language is beautiful andappropriate; the analysis of character is skilful and varied. The workought to be in the hands of all who are interested in the propertraining of the youthful mind. "--_Palladium. _

"In reviewing this work, we hardly know what words in the Englishlanguage are strong enough to express the admiration we have felt in itsperusal. "--_Bucks Chronicle. _

"The object and end of the writings of Grace Aguilar were to improve theheart, and to lead her readers to the consideration of higher motivesand objects than this world can ever afford. "--_Bell's WeeklyMessenger. _

"'Home Influence' will not be forgotten by any who have perusedit. "--_Critic. _

"A well-known and valuable tale. "--_Gentleman's Magazine. _

"A work which, possesses an extraordinary amount of influence to elevatethe mind and educate the heart, by showing that rectitude and virtueconduce no less to material prosperity, and worldly comfort andhappiness, than to the satisfaction of the conscience, the approval ofthe good, and the hope and certainty of bliss hereafter. "--_Herts CountyPress. _

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THE SEQUEL TO HOME INFLUENCE. 

THE MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE. 

A SEQUEL TO

_"Home Influence, a Tale for Mothers and Daughters. "_

By GRACE AGUILAR. 

1 VOL. , 12MO. CLOTH. $1. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"Grace Aguilar belonged to the school of which Maria Edgeworth was thefoundress. The design of the book is carried out forcibly andconstantly, 'The Home Influence' exercised in earlier years being shownin its active germination. "--_Atlas. _

"The writings of Grace Aguilar have a charm inseparable from productionsin which feeling is combined with intellect; they go directly to theheart. 'Home Influence, ' the deservedly popular story to which this is asequel, admirably teaches the lesson implied in its name. In the presenttale we have the same freshness, earnestness, and zeal--the same spiritof devotion, and love of virtue--the same enthusiasm and sincerereligion which characterized that earlier work. We behold the mother nowblessed in the love of good and affectionate offspring, who, parentsthemselves, are, after her example, training _their_ children in the wayof rectitude and piety. "--_Morning Chronicle. _

"This beautiful story was completed when the authoress was little abovethe age of nineteen, yet it has the sober sense of middle age. There isno age nor sex that will not profit by its perusal, and it will affordas much pleasure as profit to the reader. "--_Critic. _

"The same kindly spirit, the same warm charity and fervor of devotionwhich breathes in every line of that admirable book, 'Home Influence, 'will be found adorning and inspiring 'The Mother's Recompense. '"--_MorningAdvertiser. _

"The good which, she (Grace Aguilar) has effected is acknowledged on allhands, and it cannot be doubted but that the appearance of this volumewill increase the usefulness of one who may yet be said to be stillspeaking to the heart and to the affections of human nature. "--_Bell'sMessenger. _

"It will be found an interesting supplement, not only to the book towhich it specially relates, but to all the writer's otherworks. "--_Gentleman's Magazine. _

"'The Mother's Recompense' forms a fitting close to its predecessor, 'Home Influence. ' The results of maternal care are fully developed, itsrich rewards are set forth, and its lesson and its moral are powerfullyenforced. "--_Morning Post. _

"We heartily commend this volume; a better or more useful present to ayouthful friend or a young wife could not well be selected. "--_HertsCounty Press. _

"We look upon 'The Days of Bruce' as an elegantly-written andinteresting romance, and place it by the side of Miss Porter's 'ScottishChiefs. '"--_Gentleman's Magazine. _

"A very pleasing and successful attempt to combine ideal delineation ofcharacter with the records of history. Very beautiful and very true arethe portraits of the female mind and heart which Grace Aguilar knew howto draw. This is the chief charm of all her writings, and in 'The Daysof Bruce' the reader will have the pleasure of viewing this skillfulportraiture in the characters of Isoline and Agnes, and Isabella ofBuchan. "--_Literary Gazette. _

"What a fertile mind was that of Grace Aguilar! What an earlydevelopment of reflection, of feeling, of taste, of power of invention, or true and earnest eloquence! 'The Days of Bruce' is a composition ofher early youth, but full of beauty. Grace Aguilar knew the female heartbetter than any writer of our day, and in every fiction from her pen wetrace the same masterly analysis and development of the motives andfeelings of woman's nature. 'The Days of Bruce' possesses also theattractions of an extremely interesting story, that absorbs theattention, and never suffers it to flag till the last page is closed, and then the reader will lay down the volume with regret. "--_Critic. _

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HOME SCENES AND HEART STUDIES, By GRACE AGUILAR. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 

One volume, 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1. 00. 

The Perez Family. The Stone-Cutter's Boy of Possagno. Amete andYafeh. The Fugitive. The Edict; A Tale of 1492. The Escape; A Tale of1755. Red Rose Villa. Gonzalvo's Daughter. The Authoress. 

Helon. Lucy. The Spirit's Entreaty. Idalie. Lady Gresham's Fete. The Group of Sculpture. The Spirit of Night. Recollections of a Rambler. Cast thy Bread upon the Waters. The Triumph of Love. 

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THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL;

Or, Characters and Sketches from the Holy Scriptures, illustrativeof the past History, present Duties, and future Destiny of HebrewFemales, as based on the Word of God. 

By GRACE AGUILAR. 

Two volumes, 12mo. Price $2. 00. 

PRINCIPAL CONTENTS. 

FIRST PERIOD--WIVES OF THE PATRIARCHS. Eve. --Sarah. --Rebekah. --Leah and Rachel. 

SECOND PERIOD--THE EXODUS AND THE LAW. Egyptian Captivity, and Jochebed. --The Exodus--Mothers of Israel. --Lawsfor Wives in Israel. --Laws for Widows and Daughters InIsrael. --Maid-servants in Israel, and other Laws. 

THIRD PERIOD--BETWEEN THIS DELIVERY OF THE LAW AND THE MONARCHY. Miriam. --Tabernacle Workers--Caleb's Daughter. --Deborah. --Wife ofManoah. --Naomi. --Hannah. 

FOURTH PERIOD--THE MONARCHY. Michal. --Abigail. --Wise Women of Tekoah. --Woman ofAbel. --Rispah. --Prophet's Widow. --The Shunamite. --Little IsraelitishMaid. --Huldah. 

FIFTH PERIOD--BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY. The Captivity. --Review of Book of Ezra. --Suggestions as to the identityof the Ahasuerus of Scripture. --Esther. --Review of Events narrated in Ezraand Nehemiah. 

SIXTH PERIOD--CONTINUANCE OF THE SECOND TEMPLE. Review of Jewish History, from the Return from Babylon to the Appeal ofHycanus and Aristobulus to Pompey. --Jewish History from the Appeal toPompey to the Death of Herod. --Jewish History from the Death of Herod tothe War. --The Martyr Mother. --Alexandra. --Mariamne. --Salome. --Helena. --Berenice. 

SEVENTH PERIOD--WOMEN OF ISRAEL IN THE PRESENT AS INFLUENCED BY THE PAST. The War and Dispersion. --Thoughts on the Talmud. --Talmudic Ordinancesand Tales. --Effects of Dispersion and Persecution. --General Remarks. 

"A work that is sufficient of itself to create and crown areputation. "--_Pilgrimages to English Shrines, by Mrs. S. C. Hall. _

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WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP. 

A STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE. 

By GRACE AGUILAR. 

_With Illustrations. One volume, 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1. 00. _

 "To show us how divine a thing A woman may be made. "--Wordsworth. 

"This story illustrates, with feeling and power, that beneficialinfluence which women exercise, in their own quiet way, over charactersand events in our every-day life. "--_Britannia. _

"The book is one of more than ordinary interest in various ways, andpresents an admirable conception of the depths and sincerity of femalefriendship, as exhibited in England by English women. "--_WeeklyChronicle. _

"We began to read the volume late in the evening; and, although itconsists of about 400 pages, our eyes could not close in sleep until wehad read the whole. This excellent book should find a place on everydrawing-room table--nay, in every library in the kingdom. "--_BucksChronicle. _

"We congratulate Miss Aguilar on the spirit, motive, and composition ofthis story. Her aims are eminently moral, and her cause comesrecommended by the most beautiful associations. These, connected withthe skill here evinced in their development, insure the success of herlabors. "--_Illustrated News. _

"As a writer of remarkable grace and delicacy, she devoted herself tothe inculcation of the virtues, more especially those which are thepeculiar charm of women. "--_Critic. _

"It is a book for all classes of readers; and we have no hesitation insaying, that it only requires to be generally known to becomeexceedingly popular. In our estimation it has far more attractionsthan Miss Burney's celebrated, but overestimated, novel of'Cecilia. '"--_Herts County Press. _

"This very interesting and agreeable tale has remained longer withoutnotice on our part than we could have desired; but we would now endeavorto make amends for the delay, by assuring our readers that it is a mostably-written publication, full of the nicest points of information andutility that could have been by any possibility constructed; and, as aproof of its value, it may suffice to say, that it has been taken fromour table again and again by several individuals, from therecommendation of those who had already perused it, and be prevented ourgiving an earlier attention to its manifold claims for the favorablecriticism. It is peculiarly adapted for the young, and wherever it goeswill be received with gratification, and command very extensiveapprobation. "--_Bell's Weekly Messenger. _

"This is a handsome volume: just such a book as we would expect to findamong the volumes composing a lady's library. Its interior correspondswith its exterior; it is a most fascinating tale, full of noble and justsentiments. "--_Palladium. _

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THE VALE OF CEDARS

or, THE MARTYR. 

A STORY OF SPAIN IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY. 

By GRACE AGUILAR. 

_With Illustrations. 1 vol. , 12mo. Cloth, $1. 00. _

"The authoress of this most fascinating volume has selected for her fieldone of the most remarkable eras in modern history--the reigns of Ferdinandand Isabella. The tale turns on the extraordinary extent to which concealedJudaism had gained footing at that period in Spain. It is marked by muchpower of description, and by a woman's delicacy of touch, and it will addto its writer's well-earned reputation. "--_Eclectic Review. _

"The scene of this interesting tale is laid during the reign ofFerdinand and Isabella. The Vale of Cedars is the retreat of a Jewishfamily, compelled by persecution to perform their religions rites withthe utmost secrecy. On the singular position of this fated race in themost Catholic land of Europe, the interest of the tale mainlydepends; whilst a few glimpses of the horrors of the terribleInquisition are afforded the reader, and heighten the interestof the narrative. "--_Sharpe's Magazine. _

"Any thing which proceeds from the pen of the authoress of this volumeis sure to command attention and appreciation. There is so much ofdelicacy and refinement about her style, and each a faithful delineationof nature in all she attempts, that she has taken her place amongst thehighest class of modern writers of fiction. We consider this to be oneof Miss Aguilar's best efforts. "--_Bell's Weekly Messenger. _

"We heartily commend the work to our readers as one exhibiting, notmerely talent, but genius, and a degree of earnestness, fidelity toNature, and artistic grace, rarely found. "--_Herts County Press. _

"The 'Vale of Cedars' is indeed one of the most touching and interestingstories that have ever issued from the press. There is a life-likereality about it which is not often observed in works of this nature;while we read it we felt as if we were witnesses of the various scenesit depicts. "--_Bucks Chronicle. _

"It is a tale of deep and pure devotion, very touchinglynarrated. "--_Atlas. _

"The authoress has already received our commendation; her present workis calculated to sustain, her reputation. "--_Illustrated News. _

"It is indeed a historical romance of a high class. Seeing how steadyand yet rapid was her improvement--how rich the promise of hergenius--it is impossible to close this notice of her last and best work, without lamenting that the authoress was so untimely snatched from aworld she appeared destined, as certainly she was singularly qualified, to adorn and to improve. "--_Critic. _

New York: D. APPLETON & CO.