l, in a tone so
peculiar it almost startled his companion. "Are there those who assert
they have seen his semblance--good, gifted, beautiful as thou hast
described him? why not at once deem him the guardian spirit of our
house?"

"And there are those who deem him so, young lord," answered the seer.
"It is said that until the Lords of Bruce again obtained possession of
these lands, in the visions of the night the form of the murdered
warrior, clad as in yon portrait, save with the addition of a scarf
across his breast bearing the crest and cognizance of the Bruce,
appeared once in his lifetime to each lineal descendant. Such
visitations are said to have ceased, and he is now only seen by those
destined like himself to an early and bloody death, cut off in the prime
of manhood, nobleness, and joy."

"And where--sleeping or waking?" demanded the young nobleman, in a low,
deep tone, laying his hand on the minstrel's arm, and looking fixedly on
his now strangely agitated face.

"Sleeping or waking? it hath been both," he answered, and his voice
faltered. "If it be in the front of the war, amid the press, the crush,
the glory of the battle, he hath come, circled with bright forms and
brighter dreams, to the sleeping warrior on the eve of his last fight;
if"--and his voice grew lower and huskier yet--"if by the red hand of
the foe, by the captive's chain and headsman's axe, as the noble
Wallace, there have been those who say--I vouch not for its truth--he
hath been seen in the vigils of the night on the eve of knighthood, when
the young, aspiring warrior hath watched and prayed beside his arms.
Boy! boy! why dost thou look upon me thus?"

"Because thine eye hath read my doom," he said, in a firm, sweet tone;
"and if there be aught of truth in thy tale, thou knowest, feelest I
have seen him. God of mercy, the captive's chain, the headsman's axe!
Yet 'tis Thy will, and for my country--let it come."

CHAPTER XVII.

"Thou art idle, maiden; wherefore not gather thy robes and other gear
together, as thy companions? Knowest thou not in twenty-four hours we
shall be, heaven willing, safely sheltered under the holy wing of St.
Duthac?" was Queen Margaret's address to Agnes, about a week after the
conversation we have recorded. There were many signs of confusion and
tokens of removal in her scanty train, but the maiden of Buchan stood
apart, offering assistance when needed, but making no arrangements for
herself.

"I s