price upon his mother's head.
Alas! poor boy, he little knew that father's heart.

It was evening, a still, oppressive evening, for though the sun yet
shone brightly as he sunk in the west, a succession of black
thunder-clouds, gradually rising higher and higher athwart the intense
blue of the firmament, seemed to threaten that the wings of the tempest
were already brooding on the dark bosom of night. The very flowers
appeared to droop beneath the weight of the atmosphere; the trees moved
not, the birds were silent, save when now and then a solitary note was
heard, and then hushed, as if the little warbler shrunk back in his
leafy nest, frightened at his own voice. Perchance it was the stillness
of nature which had likewise affected the inmates of a retired chamber
in the palace, for though they sate side by side, and their looks
betrayed that the full communion of soul was not denied, few words were
spoken. The maiden of Buchan bent over the frame which contained the
blue satin scarf she was embroidering with the device of Bruce, in gold
and gems, and it was Nigel Bruce who sate beside her, his deep,
expressive eyes fixed upon her in such fervid, such eloquent love, that
seldom was it she ventured to raise her glance to his. A slight shadow
was on those sweet and gentle features, perceptible, perchance, to the
eye of love alone; and it was this that, after enjoying that silent
communion of the spirit, so dear to those who love, which bade Nigel
fling his arm around that slender form, and ask--

"What is it, sweet one? why art thou sad?"

"Do not ask me, Nigel, for indeed I know not," she answered, simply,
looking up a moment in his face, in that sweet touching confidence,
which made him draw her closer to his protecting heart; "save that,
perchance, the oppression of nature has extended to me, and filled my
soul with unfounded fancies of evil. I ought to be very happy, Nigel,
loved thus by _thee_," she hid her eyes upon his bosom; "received as thy
promised bride, not alone by thy kind sisters, thy noble brothers,
but--simple-hearted maiden as I am--deemed worthy of thee by good King
Robert's self. Nigel, dearest Nigel, why, in an hour of joy like this,
should dreams of evil come?"

"To whisper, my beloved, that not on earth may we look for the
perfection of joy, the fulness of bliss; that while the mortal shell is
round us joy is chained to pain, and granted us but to lift up the
spirit to that heaven where pain i