s own innate purity? Yet fearful was the storm
that passed over, terrible the struggle which shook that bent form, as
in lowliness and contrition, and agony of spirit, she knelt before the
silver crucifix, and called upon heaven in its mercy to give peace and
strength--fierce, fierce and terrible; but the agonized cry was heard,
the stormy waves were stilled.

CHAPTER V.

Brightly and blithely dawned the 26th of March, 1306, for the loyal
inhabitants of Scone. Few who might gaze on the olden city, and marked
the flags and pennons waving gayly and proudly on every side; the rich
tapestry flung over balconies or hung from the massive windows, in every
street; the large branches of oak and laurel, festooned with gay
ribands, that stood beside the entrance of every house which boasted any
consequence; the busy citizens in goodly array, with their wives and
families, bedecked to the best of their ability, all, as inspired by one
spirit, hurrying in the direction of the abbey yard, joining the merry
clamor of eager voices to the continued peal of every bell of which the
old town could boast, sounding loud and joyously even above the roll of
the drum or the shrill trumpet call;--those who marked these things
might well believe Scotland was once again the same free land, which
had hailed in the same town the coronation of Alexander the Third, some
years before. Little would they deem that the foreign foeman still
thronged her feudal holds and cottage homes, that they waited but the
commands of their monarch, to pour down on all sides upon the daring
individual who thus boldly assumed the state and solemn honor of a king,
and, armed but by his own high heart and a handful of loyal followers,
prepared to resist, defend, and _free_, or _die_ for Scotland.

There was silence--deep, solemn, yet most eloquent silence, reigning in
the abbey church of Scone. The sun shining in that full flood of glory
we sometimes find in the infant spring, illumined as with golden lustre
the long, narrow casements, falling thence in flickering brilliance on
the pavement floor, its rays sometimes arrested, to revolve in
heightened lustre from the glittering sword or the suit of half-mail of
one or other of the noble knights assembled there. The rich plate of the
abbey, all at least which had escaped the cupidity of Edward, was
arranged with care upon the various altars; in the centre of the church
was placed the abbot's oaken throne, which wa