perhaps just above, the other just below, thirty; both of
the most perfect mould of symmetry, activity, and strength, though
perhaps more inclining to agility than robustness. Both were
fair-complexioned, and wore no beard; but John was the paler, graver, and
more sedate, and his aquiline profile had an older look than that borne
by Hal's perfectly regular features. It would have been hard to define
what instantly showed the seniority of his brother, for the clearness of
his colouring--bright red and white like a lady's--his short,
well-moulded chin, and the fresh earnestness and animation of his
countenance, gave an air of perpetual youth in spite of the scar of an
arrow on the cheek which told of at least one battle; but there were
those manifestations of being used to be the first which are the evident
tokens of elder sonship, and the lordly manner more and more impressed
Malcolm. He was glad that his own Sir James was equal in dignity, as
well as superior in height, and he thought the terrible red lightning of
those auburn eyes would be impossible to the sparkling azure eyes of the
Englishman, steadfast, keen, and brilliant unspeakably though they were;
but so soon as Sir James seemed to have made his explanation, the look
was most winningly turned on him, a hand held out, and he was thus
greeted: 'Welcome, my young Prince Malcolm; I am happy that your cousin
thinks so well of our cheer, that he has brought you to partake it.'

'His keeper, Somerset,' thought Malcolm, as he bowed stiffly; 'he seems
to treat me coolly enough. I come to serve my King,' he said, but he was
scarcely heard; for as Hal unbuckled his sword before sitting down on the
grass, he thrust into his bosom a small black volume, with which he
seemed to have been beguiling the time; and John exclaimed--

'There goes Godfrey de Bulloin. I tell you, Jamie, 'tis well you are
come! Now have I some one to speak with. Ever since Harry borrowed my
Lady of Westmoreland's book of the Holy War, he has not had a word to
fling at me.'

'Ah!' said Sir James, 'I saw a book, indeed, of the Holy Land! It would
tempt him too much to hear how near the Border it dwells! What was it
named, Malcolm?'

'The "Itinerarium of Adamnanus,"' replied Malcolm, blushing at the sudden
appeal.

'Ha! I've heard of it,' cried the English knight. 'I sent to half the
convent libraries to beg the loan when Gilbert de Lannoy set forth for
the survey of Palestine. Does th