ered, nor endangered themselves.'
'Nor,' said Kennedy, 'endeared themselves to all who love the leal and
the brave, and count these indeed as verities for which to live.'
From the manner in which these words were spoken, Malcolm had no further
doubt either that Kennedy knew him, or that he meant to assist him; and
the discussion thenceforth proceeded without further departures from the
regular style, and was sustained with considerable spirit, till the
Regent grew weary of it, and bed-time approached, when Kennedy announced
his intention of taking his fellow-student to share his chamber; and, as
this did not appear at all an unnatural proposal, in the crowded Castle,
Malcolm followed him up various winding stairs into a small circular
chamber, with a loop-hole window, within one of the flanking towers.
Carefully closing the heavy door, Kennedy held out his hands. 'Fair
cousin,' he said, 'this is bravely done of you.'
'Will it save my sister?' asked Malcolm, anxiously.
'It should,' said his kinsman; 'but how can it be? Whatever is done,
must be ere Walter Stewart returns.'
'Tell me all! I know nothing--save that she was cruelly lured from St.
Abbs.'
'I know little more,' said Kennedy. 'It was on a false report of your
death, and Walter had well-nigh obtained a forcible marriage; when her
resistance and cries to Heaven daunted the monk who was to have performed
the rite, so that he, in a sort, became her protector. When she was
brought here, Walter swore he would bend her to his will; shut her up in
the old keep, and kept her there, scantily fed, and a close prisoner,
while he went forth on one of his forays. The Regent coming here
meantime, found the poor maiden in her captivity, and freed her so far
that she lives, to all appearance, as becomes his kinswoman; but the
Duchess is cruelly strict with her, being resolved, as she says, to take
down her pride.'
'They must know that I live,' said Malcolm.
'They do; but Walter is none the less resolved not to be balked. Things
came to a wild pass a few weeks syne. The Regent had never dared tell
him how far matters had gone for bringing back the King, when one day
Walter came in, clad for hawking; and, in his rudest manner, demanded the
falcon that was wont to sit on his father's wrist, and that had never
been taken out by any other. The Regent refused to part with the bird,
as he had oft done before; whereupon his son, in his fury, snatched her
from
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