and welcomed the honor of knighthood, in all
the high hopes and buoyancy of youth and healthful life; more, many more
than half the number of the stout yeomen, who had risen at his call to
rescue their land from chains--where now were these? Was it wonder that
the king had sunk upon a stone, and bent his head upon his hands? But
speedily he rallied; he addressed each man by name; he spoke comfort,
hope, not lessening the magnitude of his defeat, but still promising
them liberty--still promising that yet would their homes be redeemed,
their country free; aye, even were he compelled to wander months, nay,
years in those mountain paths, with naught about him but the title of a
king; still, while he had life, would he struggle on for Scotland; still
did he feel, despite of blighted hope, of bitter disappointment, that to
him was intrusted the sacred task of her deliverance. Would he, might he
sink and relax in his efforts and resign his purpose, because his first
engagement was attended by defeat? had he done so, it was easy to have
found death on the field. Had he listened to the voice of despair, he
confessed, he would not have left that field alive.

"But I lived for my country, for ye, her children," he continued, his
voice becoming impassioned in its fervor; "lived to redeem this night,
to suffer on a while, to be your savior still. Will ye then desert me?
will ye despond, because of one defeat--yield to despair, when Scotland
yet calls aloud? No, no, it cannot be!" and roused by his earnest, his
eloquent appeal, that devoted band sprung from their drooping posture,
and kneeling at his feet, renewed their oaths of allegiance to him; the
oath that bound them to seek liberty for Scotland. It was then, as one
by one advanced, the king for the first time missed his brother Nigel
and the heir of Buchan; amidst the overwhelming bitterness of thought
which had engrossed him, he had for a brief while forgotten the
precarious situation of Alan, and the determination of Nigel to seek and
save, or die with him; but now the recollection of both rushed upon him,
and the flush which his eloquence had summoned faded at once, and the
sudden expression of anguish passing over his features roused the
attention of all who stood near him.

"They must have fallen," he murmured, and for the first time, in a
changed and hollow voice. "My brother, my brother, dearest, best! can it
be that, in thy young beauty, thou, too, art taken from me?--