somewhat rallied, and she gathered his history
from his conversation when he was able to speak.

He had had a time of happy labour in Scotland, fully carrying out the
designs with which he and his cousin James Kennedy had taken upon them
the ministry. Their own birth, and the appointments their King gave
them, so soon as their age permitted, made them able to exert an
influence that told upon the rude and unenlightened clergy around. It
had been almost a mission of conversion, to awaken a spirit of
Christianity in the country, that had so long been a prey to anarchy. The
King's declaration, 'I will make the key keep the castle, and the bracken-
bush keep the cow, though I live the life of a dog to bring it about,'
had been the moving spring of their lives. James had fought hour by hour
with the foul habits of lawlessness, savagery, and violence, that had
hitherto been absolutely unchecked; and while he strove with the sword of
justice, the two young priests worked within the Word of truth, to
implant some sense of conscience in the neglected people.

It had been a life of constant exertion, but full of hope and
cheerfulness. Amid that rude country, James's own home was always a
bright spot of peace, sunshine, and refinement. With his beloved queen,
and their fair little brood of children, the King cast aside his cares,
and was all, and more than all, he had been as the ornament of Henry's
Court. There all that was sweet, innocent, and beautiful was to be
found; and there Malcolm, his royal kinsman's confidant, counsellor, and
chaplain, was always welcome as one of the home circle and family, till
he broke away from such delights to labour in his task of reviving
religion in the land. A little band of men were gathering round, clergy
awakening from their sloth or worldliness, young nobles who began to see
what chivalry meant, burghers who rejoiced in order; and hope and
encouragement strengthened the hands of the three kinsmen.

But, alas! there were those who deemed James's justice on the savage
prince and noble mere sacrilege on high blood, and who absolutely hated
and loathed peace and order. Those thirteen years of cheerful progress
ended in that murder so unspeakably horrible in all its circumstances,
which almost merits the name of a martyrdom to right and justice. Malcolm
so shuddered when he did but touch on it, and was so rent with agitation,
that Esclairmonde perceived that when his beloved King had