, communicate the tidings to my unhappy brother?"

"Not for broad Scotland," said the Douglas. "I would sooner bare my
breast, within flight shot, as a butt to an hundred Tynedale bowmen. No,
by St. Bride of Douglas! I could but say I saw the ill fated youth dead.
How he came by his death, your Grace can perhaps better explain. Were it
not for the rebellion of March and the English war, I would speak my own
mind of it."

So saying, and making his obeisance to the King, the Earl rode off to
his own lodgings, leaving Albany to tell his tale as he best could.

"The rebellion and the English war!" said the Duke to himself. "Ay, and
thine own interest, haughty earl, which, imperious as thou art, thou
darest not separate from mine. Well, since the task falls on me, I must
and will discharge it."

He followed the King into his apartment. The King looked at him with
surprise after he had assumed his usual seat.

"Thy countenance is ghastly, Robin," said the King. "I would thou
wouldst think more deeply when blood is to be spilled, since its
consequences affect thee so powerfully. And yet, Robin, I love thee the
better that thy kind nature will sometimes show itself, even through thy
reflecting policy."

"I would to Heaven, my royal brother," said Albany, with a voice half
choked, "that the bloody field we have seen were the worst we had to see
or hear of this day. I should waste little sorrow on the wild kerne who
lie piled on it like carrion. But--" he paused.

"How!" exclaimed the King, in terror. "What new evil? Rothsay? It must
be--it is Rothsay! Speak out! What new folly has been done? What fresh
mischance?"

"My lord--my liege, folly and mischance are now ended with my hapless
nephew."

"He is dead!--he is dead!" screamed the agonized parent. "Albany, as
thy brother, I conjure thee! But no, I am thy brother no longer. As thy
king, dark and subtle man, I charge thee to tell the worst."

Albany faltered out: "The details are but imperfectly known to me; but
the certainty is, that my unhappy nephew was found dead in his apartment
last night from sudden illness--as I have heard."

"Oh, Rothsay!--Oh, my beloved David! Would to God I had died for thee,
my son--my son!"

So spoke, in the emphatic words of Scripture, the helpless and bereft
father, tearing his grey beard and hoary hair, while Albany, speechless
and conscience struck, did not venture to interrupt the tempest of his
grief. But the agony of the King's