sojourn at Windsor which James apprehended, the training of such a youth
as Malcolm of Glenuskie would be no small solace.

By the time Malcolm had learnt as much of all this as Sir Nigel Baird
knew, or chose to communicate, the King entered the room. He flung
himself on his knees, exclaiming, with warm gratitude, as he kissed the
King's hand, 'My liege, I little kenned--'

'I meant thee to ken little,' said James, smiling. 'Well, laddie, wilt
thou share the prisoner's cell?--Ay, Bairdsbrae, you were a true prophet.
Harry will do all himself, and will not hear of losing me to deal with my
own people at my own gate. No, no, he'll have me back with Southron bows
and bills, so soon as this small trifle of France lies quiet in his
grasp! I had nearly flung back my parole in his face, and told him that
no English sword should set me on the Bruce's throne; but there is
something in Harry of Monmouth that one _must_ love, and there are
moments when to see and hear him one would as soon doubt the commission
of an angel with a flaming sword.'

'A black angel!' growled Sir Nigel.

'Scoff and chafe, Baird, but look at his work. Look at Normandy, freed
from misrule and exaction, in peace and order. Look at this land. Was
ever king so loved? Or how durst he act as he did this day?'

'Nay, an it were so at home,' said Baird, 'I had as lief stay here as
where a man is not free to fight out his own feud. Even this sackless
callant thought it shame to see two honest men baulked.'

'Poor Scotland!' sighed James. 'Woe is the land where such thoughts come