ired earnestly to speak to him on matters of
great import, and begging him to grant a private interview with him
at his lodging at as early an hour as might be convenient to him.
The man returned with a verbal reply, that the earl would see the
writer at his lodging at nine o'clock on the following morning.

At the appointed time Archie presented himself at the house inhabited
by Bruce. To the request of the earl's retainer for his name and
business he replied that his name mattered not, but that he had
received a message from the earl appointing him a meeting at that
hour.

Two minutes later he was ushered into the private cabinet of Robert
Bruce. The latter was seated writing, and looked up at his unknown
visitor.

"Do you remember me, Sir Robert Bruce?" Archie asked.

"Methinks I know your face, sir," the earl replied, "but I cannot
recall where I have seen it."

"It is five years since," Archie said, "and as that time has changed
me from a youth into a man I wonder not that my face has escaped
you."

"I know you now!" the earl exclaimed, rising suddenly from his
seat. "You are Sir Archibald Forbes?"

"I am," Archie replied, "and I have come now on the same errand I
came then--the cause of our country. The English think she is
dead, but, though faint and bleeding, Scotland yet lives; but there
is one man only who can revive her, and that man is yourself."

"Your mission is a vain one," Bruce replied. "Though I honour you,
Sir Archibald, for your faith and constancy; though I would give
much, ay all that I have, were my record one of as true patriotism
and sacrifice as yours, yet it were madness to listen to you. Have
I not," he asked bitterly, "earned the hatred of my countrymen?
Have I not three times raised my standard only to lower it again
without striking a blow? Did I not fight by Edward at the field
of Falkirk? Ah!" he said in a changed tone, "never shall I forget
the horror which I felt as I passed over the field strewn with
Scottish corpses. Truly my name must be loathed in Scotland; and
yet, Sir Archibald, irresolute and false as I have hitherto proved
myself, believe me, I love Scotland, the land of my mother."

"I believe you, sir," Archie said, "and it is therefore that I
implore you to listen to me. You are now our only possible leader,
our only possible king. Baliol is a captive at Rome, his son a courtier
of Edward. Wallace is dead. Comyn proved weak and incapable, and
was unable to ra