Baird,' said he, swallowing down a draught of wine,
and pushing aside his trencher. 'Your license, gentlemen. I must be
alone. Take care of the lads, Nigel. Malcolm is spent too. His deft
service was welcome to--to my dearest brother.'

And though he hastily shut himself into his own inner chamber, it was not
till they had seen that his grief was becoming uncontrollable.

Patrick could not but murmur, 'Dearest brother!'

'Ay, like brothers they loved!' said Baird, gravely.

'A strange brotherhood,' began Drummond.

But Malcolm cried, with much agitation, 'Not a word, Patie! You know not
what you say. Take heed of profaning the name of one who is gone to the
Sion above.'

'You turned English, our wee Malcolm!' exclaimed Drummond, in amaze.

'There is no English, French, or Scot where he is gone!' cried Malcolm.
'No Babel! O Patie, I have been far fallen! I have done you in heart a
grievous wrong! but if I have turned back in time, it is his doing that
lies there.'

'His! what, Harry of Lancaster's?' demanded the bewildered Patrick. 'What
had he to do with you?'

'He has been my only true friend here!' cried Malcolm. 'Oh, if my hand
be free from actual spoil and bloodshed, it was his doing! Oh, that he
could hear me bless him for the chastisement I took so bitterly!'

'Chastisement!' demanded Patrick. 'The English King dared chastise
_you_! of Scots blood royal! 'Tis well he is dead!'

'The laddie's well-nigh beside himself!' said Baird. 'But he speaks
true. This king whom Heaven assolizie, kept a tight hand over the
youngsters; and falling on Lord Malcolm and some other callants making
free with a house at Meaux, dealt some blows, of which my young lord
found it hard to stomach his share; though I am glad to see he is come to
a better mind. Ay, 'tis pity of this King Harry! Brave and leal was he;
never spake an untrue word; never turned eye for fear, nor foot for
weariness, nor hand for toil, nor nose for ill savour. A man, look you,
to be trusted; never failing his word for good or ill! Right little love
has there been between him and me; but I could weep like my own lad in
there, to think I shall never see that knightly presence more, nor hear
those frank gladsome voices of the boys, as they used to shout up and
down Windsor Forest.'

'You too, Sir Nigel! and with a king like ours!'

'Ay, Sir Patrick! and if he be such a king as Scotland never had since
St. David, and maybe not then,