, thou art, thou
wilt be! My brother, my brother, I may live and die for thee!" and the
young enthusiast raised his clasped hands above his head, as in
speechless thanksgiving for these strange, exciting news; his flushed
cheek, his quivering lip, his moistened eye betraying an emotion which
seemed for the space of a moment to sink on the hearts of all who
witnessed it, and hush each feeling into silence. A shout from the court
below broke that momentary pause.

"God save King Robert! then, say I," vociferated Alan, eagerly grasping
the knight's hand. "Sit, sit, Sir Knight; and for the love of heaven,
speak more of this most wondrous tale. Erewhile, we hear of this goodly
Earl of Carrick at Edward's court, doing him homage, serving him as his
own English knight, and now in Scotland--aye, and Scotland's king. How
may we reconcile these contradictions?"

"Rather how did he vanish from the tyrant's hundred eyes, and leave the
court of England?" inquired Nigel, at the same instant as the Countess
of Buchan demanded, somewhat anxiously--

"And Sir John Comyn, recognizes he our sovereign's claim? Is he amongst
the Bruce's slender train?"

A dark cloud gathered on the noble brow of the knight, replacing the
chivalric courtesy with which he had hitherto responded to his
interrogators. He paused ere he answered, in a stern, deep voice--

"Sir John Comyn lived and died a traitor, lady. He hath received the
meed of his base treachery; his traitorous design for the renewed
slavery of his country--the imprisonment and death of the only one that
stood forth in her need."

"And by whom did the traitor die?" fiercely demanded the young heir of
Buchan. "Mother, thy cheek is blanched; yet wherefore? Comyn as I am,
shall we claim kindred with a traitor, and turn away from the good
cause, because, forsooth, a traitorous Comyn dies? No; were the Bruce's
own right hand red with the recreant's blood--he only is the Comyn's
king."

"Thou hast said it, youthful lord," said the knight, impressively. "Alan
of Buchan, bear that bold heart and patriot sword unto the Bruce's
throne, and Comyn's traitorous name shall be forgotten in the scion of
Macduff. Thy mother's loyal blood runs reddest in thy veins, young sir;
too pure for Comyn's base alloy. Know, then, the Bruce's hand is red
with the traitor's blood, and yet, fearless and firm in the holy justice
of his cause, he calls on his nobles and their vassals for their homage
and their aid--