of the maniac Lord of Brus himself. Had not heaven, in
its all-seeing justice, thus revealed it, the crime would ever have
remained concealed. His bandit hirelings were at hand to remove and
bury, many fathoms deep in moat and earth, all traces of the deed. One
of the unfortunate knight's followers was supposed to have shared the
fate of his master, and to the other, who escaped almost miraculously,
you owe the preservation of your royal line.

"But there was one witness of the deed neither time nor the most cunning
art could efface. The blood lay in a pool on the oaken floor, and the
voice of tradition whispers that day after day it was supernaturally
renewed; that vain were the efforts to absorb it, it ever seemed moist
and red; and that to remove the plank and re-floor the apartment was
attempted again and again in vain. However this may be, it is evident
that _erasing it_ was attended with extreme difficulty; that the blood
had penetrated well-nigh through the immense thickness of the wood."

Nigel stooped down over the crumbling fragment; years, aye, centuries
had rolled away, yet there it still stood, arrested it seemed even in
its decay, not permitted to crumble into dust, but to remain an
everlasting monument of crime and its retribution. After a brief pause
Nigel resumed his seat, and pushing the hair from his brow, which was
damp with some untold emotion, signed to the old man to proceed.

"That the stranger warrior returned not to Malcolm's court, and had
failed in his promises to various friends, was a matter of
disappointment, and for a time, of conjecture to the king and his court.
That his followers, in obedience, it was said, to their master's signet,
set off instantly to join him either in England or Normandy, for both of
which places they had received directions, satisfied the greater number.
If others suspected foul play, it was speedily hushed up; for the baron
was too powerful, too closely related to the throne, and justice then
too weak in Scotland to permit accusation or hope for conviction. Time
passed, and the only change observable in the baron was, that he became
more gloomy, more abstracted, wrapt up, as it were, in one dark
remembrance, one all-engrossing thought. Towards his wife he was
changed--harsh, cold, bitterly sarcastic; as if her caresses had turned
to gall. Her gentle spirit sunk beneath the withering blight, and he was
heard to laugh, the mocking laugh of a fiend, as he followed