lushed with a dark
red fire, and his hand clenched at the hilt of the sword by his side.

'And is there not a man in Scotland left to strike for the right?' he
demanded at last; 'cannot nobles, clergy, and burghers, band themselves
in parliament to put down Albany and his bloody house, and recall their
true head?'

'They love to have it so,' returned Sir David sadly. 'United, they might
be strong enough; but each knows that his fellow, Douglas, Lennox, March,
or Mar, would be ready to play the same game as Albany; and to raise a
rival none will stir.'

'And so,' proceeded Sir James, bitterly, 'the manhood of Scotland goes
forth to waste itself in an empty foreign war, merely to keep France in
as wretched a state of misrule as itself.'

'Nay, nay, Sir,' cried Patrick angrily, 'it is to save an ancient ally
from the tyranny of our foulest foe. It is the only place where a
Scotsman can seek his fortune with honour, and without staining his soul
with foul deeds. Bring our King home, and every sword shall be at his
service.'

'What, when they have all been lavished on the crazy Frenchman?' said Sir
James.

'No, Sir,' said Patrick, rising in his vehemence; 'when they have been
brightened there by honourable warfare, not tarnished by home
barbarities.'

'He speaks truly,' said Sir David; 'and though it will go to my heart to
part with the lad, yet may I not say a word to detain him in a land where
the contagion of violence can scarce be escaped by a brave man.'

Sir James gave a deep sigh as of pain, but as if to hinder its being
remarked, promptly answered, 'That may be; but what is to be the lot of a
land whose honest men desert her cause as too evil for them, and seek out
another, that when seen closer is scarce less evil?'

'How, Sir!' cried Patrick; 'you a prisoner of England, yet speaking
against our noble French allies, so foully trampled on?'

'I have lived long enough in England,' returned Sir James, 'to think that
land happiest where law is strong enough to enforce peace and order.'

'The coward loons!' muttered Patrick, chiefly out of the spirit of
opposition.

'You have been long in England, Sir?' said Lilias, hoping to direct the
conversation into a more peaceful current.

'Many years, fair lady,' he replied, turning courteously to her; 'I was
taken when I was a mere lad, but I have had gentle captors, and no over
harsh prison.'

'And has no one ransomed you?' she asked pitifully, as one much