es Kennedy asked no questions, only said kindly, in the Latin that
was always spoken in the University, 'Pray pardon us! _Mores Hyperboreis
desunt_. {3} The Regent would be grieved, if he knew how these
_scelerati_ {4} have sorted you. Come, rest and wash--it will soon be
supper-time.'

He took Malcolm to an inner court, filled for him a cup of ale, for his
immediate refreshment, and led him to a spout of clear water, in the side
of the rock on which the Castle stood; where a stone basin afforded the
only facilities for washing that the greater part of the inhabitants of
the Castle expected, and, in effect, more than they commonly used.
Malcolm, however, was heartily glad of the refreshment of removing the
dust from his weary face and feet--and heartily thanked his protector, in
the same dog-Latin. Kennedy waited for him, and as a great bell began to
ring, said '_Pro caena_,' {5} and conducted him towards the great hall
while Malcolm felt much impelled to make himself known, but was conscious
that he had not so comported himself towards his cousin at Paris as to
deserve much favour from him.

A high table was spread in the hall, with the usual appliances befitting
princes and nobles. The other tables, below the dais, were of the rudest
description, and stained with accumulations of grease and ale; and no
wonder, since trenchers were not, and each man hacked a gobbet for
himself from the huge pieces of beef carried round on spits--nor would
the guests have had any objection, during a campaign, to cook the meat in
the fashion described by Froissart, between themselves and the saddle.
These were the squirearchy; Malcolm's late persecutors did not aspire to
the benches around these boards, or only at second hand, and for the most
part had no seat but the unclean straw and rushes that strewed the floor.

As James Kennedy entered the hall with Malcolm, there came from another
door, marshalled by the seneschal in full feudal state, the Regent Duke
of Albany himself, his wife, a daughter or two, two sons--and Malcolm
saw, with beating heart, Lilias herself, pale worn, sorrowful-looking,
grievously altered, but still his own Lily. Others followed, chiefly
knights and attendants, but Malcolm saw no one but Lily. She took her
place dejectedly, and never raised her eyes towards him, even when, on
the Regent's question, 'What have ye there, Jamie?' Kennedy stood forth
and answered that it was a scholar, a student, for whom