moved by
a certain patience on his brow, and in his sweet full voice.

'No one, lady. My uncle was but too willing that the heir should be kept
aloof; and it is only now he is dead, that I have obtained leave from my
friendly captor to come in search of my ransom.'

Lilias would have liked to know the amount, but it was not manners to
ask, since the rate of ransom was the personal value of the knight; and
her uncle put in the question, who was his keeper.

'The Earl of Somerset,' rather hastily answered Sir James; and then at
once Lilias exclaimed, 'Ah, Uncle, is not the King, too, in his charge?'
And then questions crowded on. 'What like is the King? How brooks he
his durance? What freedom hath he? What hope is there of his return?
Can he brook to hear of his people's wretchedness?'

This was the first question at which Sir James attempted to unclose his
hitherto smiling and amused lip. Then it quivered, and the dew glittered
in his eyes as he answered, 'Brook it! No indeed, lady. His heart burns
within him at every cry that comes over the Border, and will well-nigh
burst at what I have seen and heard! King Harry tells him that to send
him home were but tossing him on the swords of the Albany. Better,
better so, to die in one grapple for his country's sake, than lie bound,
hearing her bitter wails, and unable to stir for her redress!' and as he
dashed the indignant tear from his eyes, Patrick caught his hand.

'Your heart is in the right place, friend,' he said; 'I look on you as an
honest man and brother in arms from this moment.'

''Tis a bargain,' said Sir James, the smile returning, and his eyes again
glistening as he wrung Sir Patrick's hand. 'When the hour comes for the
true rescue of Scotland, we will strike together.'

'And you will tell the King,' added Patrick, 'that here are true hearts,
and I could find many more, only longing to fence him from the Albany
swords, about which King Harry is so good as to fash himself.'

'But what like is the King?' asked Lilias eagerly. 'Oh, I would fain see
him. Is it true that he was the tallest man at King Harry's sacring?
more shame that he were there!'

'He and I are much of a height, lady,' returned the knight. 'Maybe I may
give you the justest notion of him by saying that I am said to be his
very marrow.'

'That explains your likeness to the poor Duke,' said Sir David,
satisfied; 'and you too count kindred with our royal house, methinks?'

'I