coming more
painful with each glance he fixed on Agnes, who was sitting apart with
Nigel, her aching head resting on his shoulder, but he strove to return
the caresses of his daughter, to repay with fond smiles the exertions of
his wife. Sir Niel Campbell (who, after many painful trials, had
rejoined the king) and others strove to disperse the silently gathering
gloom by jest and song, till the cavern walls re-echoed with their
soldier mirth. Harshly and mournfully it fell on the ear and heart of
the maiden of Buchan, but she would not have it stilled.

"No, no; do thou speak to me, Nigel, and I shall only list to thee. Why
should the noble efforts of these brave men--for I know even to them
mirth is now an effort--be chilled and checked, because my sick heart
beats not in unison? Oh, when will Lord James return?"

Nigel sought to soothe, to speak hope, but though his words fell like
balm on the bleeding heart he held to his, it was the rich melody of
their voice, not the matter of their meaning.

The hour of rest was fast approaching, when the well-known signal was
heard without, and the young Lord Douglas, with his two companions, were
hastily and eagerly admitted within the cave. Their looks denoted great
fatigue, and the eager eyes which scanned their countenances read little
to hope, yet much, much, alas! to fear.

"Thou hast so far succeeded as to obtain the intelligence we need," was
the king's instant greeting, as he released his favorite young follower
from his embrace; "that I can read, but further, I fear me, thou hast
little to communicate which we shall love to hear."

"My tidings are ill indeed, your highness; aggravated and most
undreamed-of ill. But, perchance," and the young man hesitated, for his
eye caught the pallid face of Agnes, who had irresistibly drawn closer
to the circle about the king, and fixed her eyes on him with an
expression almost wild in its agony, "perchance they had better first
meet your grace's private ear."

"No, no!" reiterated Agnes, springing forward, and clinging convulsively
to his arm. "It is only me thou fearest, I know; I know thou wouldst
spare me, but do not, do not. I can bear all, every thing, save this
horrible suspense; speak out, let me but know all, and then I can teach
my soul to bear it. Oh, do not hesitate, do not pause; in mercy, tell
me--oh, tell me all!"

Thus adjured, but feeling most painfully the suffering his tale would
produce, Douglas struggled