n' his youngest son at hame
i' the castle wi' but a few servants.

"For mony a day the leddy waited patiently, wi' mony prayers for the
safety o' her dear ones. At last a messenger brocht tidings o' a great
battle. He didna richtly ken whether the victory lay wi' us or wi' the
English; he only kenned o' mony fine men killed or sairly wounded.

"Hearin' this, the Leddy Flora gaed to the watch-tower i' the castle
keep, her son, the young Malcolm, beside her. Frae this tower they could
see a' round for mony miles. They watched an' waitit, an' at last they
spied a company o' men marchin' towards the castle. They were the men o'
Glendown, for their colours could be seen. The Leddy Flora sent a prayer
o' thanksgivin' to the skies, for weel she kenned that the men wouldna
come withoot their lord. Fu' o' joy, she hurried awa to gie her orders
for the reception o' the returnin' warriors. But, wae's me, what did she
see as she went to the castle door to welcome them? The men hadna come
back withoot their lord an' his son, but it was their deid bodies they
were carryin' hame. Eh, but it was a sair sicht to see the leddy weepin'
gin her heart wad break. E'en the great, rough men couldna hide their
tears; an' nae shame to them ava, for a strong heart should hae its saft
spot. Then, efter a while, the leddy raised her heid an' said, 'Men o'
Glendown, they hae dee'd a glorious death, fechtin' for his Majesty the
king an' for their country. 'Tis the death they wad hae chosen, fechtin'
face to foe. Let us a' be thankful for God's mercy. They micht hae been
cast into prison, an' put to a shamefu' death, but this is glory an'
honour to them.' An' again she wept, coverin' her face wi' her hands.
The young Malcolm, too, was weepin', no because his heart was afraid but
because it was sair.

"Then ane o' the men up an' spoke. 'Not so, my leddy. 'Twas a foul blow
that killed my lord an' his son, an' it was gien them by a hidden enemy.
We was marchin' hame victorious, Lord Ronald ridin' awa to the front,
wi' young Ronald by his side, when a' in a moment an airmed man on a
horse sprang frae a thicket an' thrust my lord i' the back wi' his
sword. He fell withoot a groan. Young Ronald, he drew his sword like a
flash o' licht, but it was too late; the murderer's knife plunged deep
into his brave young heart. We rushed to the spot, my leddy, but the
murderer had an unco swift horse, an' he rode awa like the deil towards
the Abbey o' Glendown. We c