her to scorn, his eyes grew
wild, and there were some that tell'd me they lookit to see that
glittering awsome knight among them again! My certie, they maun hae been
feared enow the time he did come.'

Malcolm had now had his fears and suspicions so far confirmed, that he
perceived what his course should next be. Strange to say, in spite of
the horror of knowing his sister to have been a whole year in Walter
Stewart's power, he was neither hopeless nor disheartened. Lilias seemed
to have kept her persecutor at bay once, and she might have done so
again--if only by the appeal to the mysterious relic, on which his oath
to abstain from violence had been sworn. And confidence in
Esclairmonde's prayers continued to buoy him up, as he recited his own,
and formed his designs for ascertaining whether she were to be found at
Doune--either as wife, or as captive, to Walter, Earl of Fife and heir of
Albany.

So soon as the doors of Coldingham Priory were opened, he was on his way
northward. It was a sore and trying journey, in the bitter March
weather, for one so little used to hardship. He did not fail in
obtaining shelter or food; his garb was everywhere a passport; but he
grew weary and footsore, and his anxiety greatly increased when he found
that fatigue was bringing back the lameness, which greatly enhanced the
likelihood of his being recognized. Kind monks, and friendly gude-wives,
hospitably persuaded the worn student to remain and rest, till his
blistered feet were whole; but he pressed on whenever he found it
possible to travel, and after the first week found his progress less
tardy and painful.

Resting at Edinburgh for Passion-tide and Easter Day, he found that the
Regent Albany himself, with all his family, were at Doune, and he
accordingly made his way thither; rejoicing that he had had some little
time to perfect himself in his part, before rehearsing it to the persons
most likely to detect his disguise.

Along the banks and braes of bonny Doune he slowly moved, with weary
limbs; looking up to the huge pile of the majestic castle in sickening of
heart at the doubt that was about to become a certainty, and that
involved the happiness or the absolute misery of his sister's life. Nay,
he would almost have preferred to find that she had perished in her
resistance, rather than have become wife to such a man as Walter Stewart.

The Duke of Albany, as representing majesty, kept up all the state that
Scottish