favour. The guest could not help smiling, and saying he was glad books
were thus prized in Scotland; but at that moment, as the sunny look shone
on his face, and he stood before the fire in the close suit of chamois
leather which he wore under his armour, old Sir David exclaimed, 'Ha!
never did I see such a likeness. Patie, you should be old enough to
remember; do you not see it?'

'What should I see? Who is he like?' asked Patrick, surprised at his
father's manner.

'Who?' whispered Sir David in a lowered voice; 'do you not see it? to the
unhappy lad, the Duke of Rothsay.'

Patrick could not help smiling, for he had been scarcely seven years old
at the time of the murder of the unfortunate Prince of Scotland; but a
flush of colour rose into the face of the guest, and he shortly answered,
'So I have been told;' and then assuming a seat near Sir David, he
entered into conversation with him upon the condition of Scotland at the
period, inquiring into the state of many of the families and districts by
name. Almost always there was but one answer--murder--harrying--foray;
and when the question followed, 'What had the Regent done?' there was a
shrug of the shoulders, and as often Sir James's face flushed with a dark
red fire, and his hand clenched at the hilt of the sword by his side.

'And is there not a man in Scotland left to strike for the right?' he
demanded at last; 'cannot nobles, clergy, and burghers, band themselves
in parliament to put down Albany and his bloody house, and recall their
true head?'

'They love to have it so,' returned Sir David sadly. 'United, they might