ut there is
something in Harry of Monmouth that one _must_ love, and there are
moments when to see and hear him one would as soon doubt the commission
of an angel with a flaming sword.'

'A black angel!' growled Sir Nigel.

'Scoff and chafe, Baird, but look at his work. Look at Normandy, freed
from misrule and exaction, in peace and order. Look at this land. Was
ever king so loved? Or how durst he act as he did this day?'

'Nay, an it were so at home,' said Baird, 'I had as lief stay here as
where a man is not free to fight out his own feud. Even this sackless
callant thought it shame to see two honest men baulked.'

'Poor Scotland!' sighed James. 'Woe is the land where such thoughts come
readiest to gray-haired men and innocent boys. I tell you, cousin, this
precious right is the very cause that our poor country is so lawless and
bloody, that yon poor silly sparrow would fain be caged for fear of the
kites and carrion-crows.'

'Alack, my Lord, let me but have my way. I cannot fight! Let Patrick
Drummond have my sister and my lands, and your service will be far better
done,' said Malcolm.

'I know all that,' said the King, kindly. 'There is time enough for
settling that question; and meantime you will not be spoilt for monk or
priest by cheering me awhile in my captivity. I need you, laddie,' me
added, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, with all the instinctive
fascination of a Stewart. 'I lack a comrade of my own blood, for I am
all alone!'

'Oh, Sir!' and Malcolm, looking into his face, saw it full of tenderness.

'Books and masters you shall have,' continued James, 'such as for church
or state, cathedral, cloister, or camp, shall render you the meeter
prince; and I pass you my royal word, that if at full age the cowl be
your choice, I will not gainsay you. Meantime, abide with me, and be the
young brother I have yearned for.'

The King threw his arms round Malcolm, who felt, and unconsciously
manifested, a strange bliss in that embrace, even while fixed in his
determination that nothing should make him swerve from his chosen path,
nor render him false to his promise to Patrick and Lilias. It was a
strange change, from being despised and down-trodden by fierce cousins,
or only fondled, pitied, and treated with consideration by his own
nearest and dearest friends, to be the chosen companion of a king, and
_such_ a king. Nor could it be a wile of Satan, thought Malcolm, since
James still pr