gh in heaven, when
Kenneth of Scotland stood upon his watch on Saint George's Mount, beside
the banner of England, a solitary sentinel, to protect the emblem of
that nation against the insults which might be meditated among the
thousands whom Richard's pride had made his enemies. High thoughts
rolled, one after each other, upon the mind of the warrior. It seemed
to him as if he had gained some favour in the eyes of the chivalrous
monarch, who till now had not seemed to distinguish him among the crowds
of brave men whom his renown had assembled under his banner, and Sir
Kenneth little recked that the display of royal regard consisted in
placing him upon a post so perilous. The devotion of his ambitious and
high-placed affection inflamed his military enthusiasm. Hopeless as that
attachment was in almost any conceivable circumstances, those which had
lately occurred had, in some degree, diminished the distance between
Edith and himself. He upon whom Richard had conferred the distinction
of guarding his banner was no longer an adventurer of slight note, but
placed within the regard of a princess, although he was as far as ever
from her level. An unknown and obscure fate could not now be his. If
he was surprised and slain on the post which had been assigned him, his
death--and he resolved it should be glorious--must deserve the praises
as well as call down the vengeance of Coeur de Lion, and be followed
by the regrets, and even the tears, of the high-born beauties of the
English Court. He had now no longer reason to fear that he should die as
a fool dieth.

Sir Kenneth had full leisure to enjoy these and similar high-souled
thoughts, fostered by that wild spirit of chivalry, which, amid its
most extravagant and fantastic flights, was still pure from all selfish
alloy--generous, devoted, and perhaps only thus far censurable, that it
proposed objects and courses of action inconsistent with the frailties
and imperfections of man. All nature around him slept in calm moon-shine
or in deep shadow. The long rows of tents and pavilions, glimmering or
darkening as they lay in the moonlight or in the shade, were still and
silent as the streets of a deserted city. Beside the banner-staff lay
the large staghound already mentioned, the sole companion of Kenneth's
watch, on whose vigilance he trusted for early warning of the approach
of any hostile footstep. The noble animal seemed to understand the
purpose of their watch; for he looked f