alcolm, who knew Brother Simon by sight, was clear that he had not seen
him there.

All this had taken place a year ago, and there could be no doubt that
some treachery had been exercised. Nothing had since been heard of
Lilias; none of Malcolm's letters had reached St. Abbs, having doubtless
been suppressed by the Prior of Coldingham; and all that was certain was
that Walter Stewart, to whom their first suspicions directed themselves,
had not publicly avouched any marriage with Lilias or claimed the
Glenuskie estates, or the King, who had of late been in close
correspondence with Scotland, must have heard of it. And it was also
hardly possible that the Regent Murdoch and his sons, though they might
for a few weeks have been misled by M'Kay's report, should not have soon
become aware of Malcolm's existence.

Unless, then, Walter had married her 'on the first brash,' as Patrick
called it, he might not have thought her a prize worth the winning; but
the whole aspect of affairs had become most alarming, and Malcolm turned
pale as death at the thought that his sister might be suffering
retribution for the sin he had contemplated.

The danger was terrible! He could not imagine Lilias to have the moral
grandeur and force of Esclairmonde. Moreover, she supposed her lover
dead, and had not the same motive for guarding her troth. Forlorn and
despairing, she might have yielded, and Walter Stewart was, Malcolm
verily believed, worse to deal with than even Boemond. As the whole
danger and uncertainty came over him, his senses seemed to reel; he leant
back in his seat, and heard as in the midst of a dream his sister's sobs
and groans, Patrick's fierce and furious exclamations, and the Abbess's
attempts at consoling him. Dizzy with horror at the scene he realized,
Lilias's cries and shrieks of entreaty were ringing in his ear, when
suddenly a sweet full low voice seemed to come through them, 'I am bound
ever to pray for you and your sister.' Mingled with the cry came ever
the sweet soft Litany cadences--'For all that are desolate and oppressed:
we beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.' Gradually the cries seemed to be
swallowed up, both voices blended in _Kyrie eleison_ and then in the
_Gloria_, and at that moment he became aware of Patrick crying, 'I will
seek her in every castle in Scotland.'

'Stay, Patrick,' he said, rising, though forced to hold by his chair;
'that must be my part.'

'You--why, the laddie is white as