penitence to me--to me, who frail and lowly unto thee, am yet the
minister of Him whom sin offends. To thee he stands a warrior and a
king, who rude irreverence may brook not, even from his brother. Be
peace between us, then, my son; an old man's blessing on thy fierce yet
knightly spirit rest."

With a muttered oath Sir Edward had strode away at the abbot's first
words, but the cloud passed from his brow as he concluded, and slightly,
yet with something of reverence, he bowed his head.

"And whither didst thou wend thy way, my fiery brother?" demanded
Robert. "Bringest thou aught of news, or didst thou and Douglas but set
foot in stirrup and hand on rein simply from weariness of quiet?"

"In sober truth, 'twas even so; partly to mark the movements of the
English, an they make a movement, which, till Pembroke come, they are
all too much amazed to do; partly to see if in truth that poltroon
Duncan of Fife yet hangs back and still persists in forswearing the
loyalty of his ancestors, and leaving to better hands the proud task of
placing the crown of Scotland on thy head."

"And thou art convinced at last that such and such only is his
intention?" The knight nodded assent, and Bruce continued, jestingly,
"And so thou mightst have been long ago, my sage brother, hadst thou
listened to me. I tell thee Earl Duncan hath a spite against me, not for
daring to raise the standard of freedom and proclaim myself a king, but
for very hatred of myself. Nay, hast thou not seen it thyself, when,
fellow-soldiers, fellow-seekers of the banquet, tournay, or ball, he
hath avoided, shunned me? and why should he seek me now?"

"Why? does not Scotland call him, Scotland bid him gird his sword and
don his mail? Will not the dim spectres of his loyal line start from
their very tombs to call him to thy side, or brand him traitor and
poltroon, with naught of Duff about him but the name? Thou smilest."

"At thy violence, good brother. Duncan of Fife loves better the silken
cords of peace and pleasure, e'en though those silken threads hide
chains, than the trumpet's voice and weight of mail. In England bred,
courted, flattered by her king, 'twere much too sore a trouble to excite
his anger and lose his favor; and for whom, for what?--to crown the man
he hateth from his soul?"

"And knowest thou wherefore, good my son, in what thou hast offended?"

"Offended, holy father? Nay, in naught unless perchance a service
rendered when a boy--a simpl