him, and stay, in consequence, he would. The king and his officers
approved of the youth's resolution, and reluctantly Isabella yielded.

About two hours before noon the Bruce and his companions departed,
desiring Sir Alan not to expect their return till near midnight, as they
intended penetrating a part of the country which had not yet been
explored; they might be a few hours sooner, but they scarcely expected
it. It was afterwards remembered that a peculiar expression of sadness
overclouded the countenance of the countess, as for a moment she fixed
her speaking eyes on the king's face when he cheerfully bade her
farewell, and said, in a low emphatic voice--

"Farewell, sire! It may be the hour of meeting is longer deferred than
we either of us now believe. Fain would I beseech your grace to grant me
one boon, make me but one promise ere you depart."

"Any boon, any promise that our faithful friend and subject can demand,
is granted ere 'tis asked," answered the king, without a moment's pause,
though startled alike at the expression of her features and the sadness
of her voice. "Gladly would we give any pledge that could in any way
bespeak our warm sense of thy true merit, lady, therefore speak, and
fear not."

"'Tis simply this, sire," she said, and her voice was still mournful,
despite her every effort to prevent its being so. "Should unforeseen
evil befall me, captivity, danger of death, or aught undreamed of now,
give me your royal word as a knight and king, that you will not peril
your sacred person, and with it the weal and liberty of our unhappy
country, for my sake, but leave me to my fate; 'tis a strange and
fanciful boon, yet, gracious sovereign, refuse it not. I mean not
treachery such as we have encountered, where your grace's noble
gallantry rescued me with little peril to yourself. No; I mean other and
greater danger; where I well know that rather than leave me exposed to
the wrath of my husband and Edward of England, you would risk your own
precious life, and with it the liberty of Scotland. Grant me this boon,
my liege, and perchance this heavy weight upon my spirit will pass and
leave me free."

"Nay, 'tis such a strange and unknightly promise, lady, how may I pledge
my word to its fulfilment?" answered Robert, gravely and sadly. "You bid
me pledge mine honor to a deed that will stain my name with an
everlasting infamy, that even the liberty of Scotland will not wash
away. How may I do this thin