time they had crossed the bit of table-land that formed
the moor, and descended into another little gorge, which was the place
where the attack had been made upon the travellers.

This was where it was possible that they might find Sir David; but no
trace was to be seen, except that the grass was trampled and stained with
blood. Perhaps, both Lilias and old Halbert suggested, some of their
people had returned and taken him to the Abbey of Coldingham, and as this
was by far the safest lodging and refuge for her and her brother, the
horses' heads were at once turned thitherwards.

The grand old Priory of Coldingham, founded by King Edgar, son of
Margaret the Saint, and of Malcolm Ceanmohr, in testimony of his
gratitude for his recovery of his father's throne from the usurper
Donaldbane, was a Benedictine monastery under the dominion of the great
central Abbey of Durham.

It had been a great favourite with the Scottish kings of that glorious
dynasty which sprung from Margaret of Wessex, and had ample estates,
which, when it was in good hands, enabled it to supply the manifold
purposes of an ecclesiastical school, a model farm, a harbour for
travellers, and a fortified castle. At this period, the Prior, John de
Akecliff, or Oakcliff, was an excellent man, a great friend of Sir David
Drummond, and much disliked and persecuted by the House of Albany, so
that there was little doubt that this would be the first refuge thought
of by Sir David's followers.

Accordingly Malcolm and his companions rode up to the chief gateway, a
grand circular archway, with all the noble though grotesque mouldings,
zigzag and cable, dog-tooth and parrot-beak, visages human and diabolic,
wherewith the Norman builders loved to surround their doorways. The
doors were of solid oak, heavily guarded with iron, and from a little
wicket in the midst peered out a cowled head, and instantly ensued the
exclamation--

'Benedicite! Welcome, my Lord Malcolm! Ah! but this will ease the heart
of the Tutor of Glenuskie!'

'Ah! then he is here?' cried Malcolm.

'Here, Sir, but in woful plight; borne in an hour syne by four carles who
said you had been set upon by the Master of Albany, and sair harried, and
they say the Tutor doth nought but wail for his bairns. How won ye out
of his hands, my Lord?'

'Thanks to this good knight,' said Malcolm; and the gate was opened, and
the new-comers dismounted to pass under the archway, which taught
humility. A