s have many burdens upon them. What could I do? I have been a poor
man all my life, and after the removal of obstacles I saw my way to
become the richest man in Scotland. How could I openly object?"

William Douglas bowed.

"So--" he said, "that is what we desired to know! Have I your
permission to speak further?"

His father nodded pleasantly, seating himself again as one that has
finished a troublesome business. He rubbed his hands together, and
smiled upon his sons.

"Aye, speak gin ye like, William, but sit doon--sit doon, lads. We are
all of one family, and it falls out well for you as it does for me.
Let us all be pleasant and agreeable together!"

"I thank you, my lord," said his son, "but we will not sit down. We
are no longer of one family. We may be your sons in the eye of the law
and in natural fact. But from this day no one of us will break bread,
speak word, hold intimacy or converse with you. So far as in us lies
we will renounce you as our father. We will not, because of the
commandment, rise in rebellion against you. You are Earl of Douglas,
and while you live must rule your own. But for me and my brothers we
will never be your children to honour, your sons to succour, nor your
liegemen to fight for you. We go to offer our services to our cousin
Margaret, the little Maid of Galloway. We will keep her province with
our swords as the last stronghold of the true Douglases of the Black.
I have spoken. Fare you well, my lord!"

During his son's speech the countenance of the newly made Earl of
Douglas grew white and mottled, tallowy white and dull red in turns
showing upon it, like the flesh of a drained ox. He rose unsteadily to
his feet, moving one hand deprecatingly before him, like a helpless
man unexpectedly stricken. His nether lip quivered, pendulous and
piteous, in the midst of his grey beard, and for a moment he strove in
vain with his utterance.

His eyes fell abashed from the cold sternness of his eldest son's
glance, and he seemed to scan the countenances of the younger four for
any token of milder mood.

"James," he said, "ye hear William. Surely ye do not hold with him?
Remember I am your father, and I was aye particular fond o' you,
Jamie. I mind when ye wad rin to sit astride my shoulder. And ye used
to like that fine!"

There were tears in the eyes of the weak, cunning, treacherous-hearted
man. The lips of James Douglas quivered a little, and his voice failed
him, as he strove to a