Two Penniless Princesses Read online

  Produced by Sandra Laythorpe

  TWO PENNILESS PRINCESSES

  By Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER 1. DUNBAR

  ''Twas on a night, an evening bright When the dew began to fa', Lady Margaret was walking up and down, Looking over her castle wa'.'

  The battlements of a castle were, in disturbed times, the onlyrecreation-ground of the ladies and play-place of the young people.Dunbar Castle, standing on steep rocks above the North Sea, was notonly inaccessible on that side, but from its donjon tower commanded amagnificent view, both of the expanse of waves, taking purple tints fromthe shadows of the clouds, with here and there a sail fleeting beforethe wind, and of the rugged headlands of the coast, point beyond point,the nearer distinct, and showing the green summits, and below, thetossing waves breaking white against the dark rocks, and the distancebecoming more and more hazy, in spite of the bright sun which made abroken path of glory along the tossing, white-crested waters.

  The wind was a keen north-east breeze, and might have been thought toosevere by any but the 'hardy, bold, and wild' children who were merrilyplaying on the top of the donjon tower, round the staff whence flutteredthe double treasured banner with 'the ruddy lion ramped in gold'denoting the presence of the King.

  Three little boys, almost babies, and a little girl not much older, werepresided over by a small elder sister, who held the youngest in her lap,and tried to amuse him with caresses and rhymes, so as to prevent hisinterference with the castle-building of the others, with their smallhoard of pebbles and mussel and cockle shells.

  Another maiden, the wind tossing her long chestnut-locks, uncovered, buttied with the Scottish snood, sat on the battlement, gazing far out overthe waters, with eyes of the same tint as the hair. Even the sea-breezefailed to give more than a slight touch of colour to her somewhatfreckled complexion; and the limbs that rested in a careless attitude onthe stone bench were long and languid, though with years and favourablecircumstances there might be a development of beauty and dignity. Herlips were crooning at intervals a mournful old Scottish tune, sometimesonly humming, sometimes uttering its melancholy burthen, and she now andthen touched a small harp that stood by her side on the seat.

  She did not turn round when a step approached, till a hand was laid onher shoulder, when she started, and looked up into the face of anothergirl, on a smaller scale, with a complexion of the lily-and-rose kind,fair hair under her hood, with a hawk upon her wrist, and blue eyesdancing at the surprise of her sister.

  'Eleanor in a creel, as usual!' she cried.

  'I thought it was only one of the bairns,' was the answer.

  'They might coup over the walls for aught thou seest,' returned thenew-comer. 'If it were not for little Mary what would become of the poorweans?'

  'What will become of any of us?' said Eleanor. 'I was gazing out overthe sea and wishing we could drift away upon it to some land of rest.'

  'The Glenuskie folk are going to try another land,' said Jean. 'I wasin the bailey-court even now playing at ball with Jamie when in comes alay-brother, with a letter from Sir Patrick to say that he is comingthe night to crave permission from Jamie to go with his wife to France.Annis, as you know, is betrothed to the son of his French friends,Malcolm is to study at the Paris University, and Davie to be in theScottish Guards to learn chivalry like his father. And the Leddy ofGlenuskie--our Cousin Lilian--is going with them.'

  'And she will see Margaret,' said Eleanor. 'Meg the dearie! Dostremember Meg, Jeanie?'

  'Well, well do I remember her, and how she used to let us nestle in herlap and sing to us. She sang like thee, Elleen, and was as mother-likeas Mary is to the weans, but she was much blithesomer--at least beforeour father was slain.'

  'Sweetest Meg! My whole heart leaps after her,' cried Eleanor, with afervent gesture.

  'I loved her better than Isabel, though she was not so bonnie,' saidJean.

  'Jeanie, Jeanie,' cried Eleanor, turning round with a vehemencestrangely contrasting with her previous language, 'wherefore should wenot go with Glenuskie to be with Meg at Bourges?'

  Jeanie opened her blue eyes wide.

  'Go to the French King's Court?' she said.

  'To the land of chivalry and song,' exclaimed Eleanor, 'where they havecourts of love and poetry, and tilts and tourneys and minstrelsy, andthe sun shines as it never does in this cold bleak north; and above allthere is Margaret, dear tender Margaret, almost a queen, as a queen shewill be one day. Oh! I almost feel her embrace.'

  'It might be well,' said Jean, in the matter-of-fact tone of a practicalyoung lady; 'mewed up in these dismal castles, we shall never getprincely husbands like our sisters. I might be Queen of Beauty, I doubtme whether you are fair enough, Eleanor.'

  'Oh, that is not what I think of,' said Eleanor. 'It is to see our ownMargaret, and to see and hear the minstrel knights, instead of the rudesavages here, scarce one of whom knows what knighthood means!'

  'Ay, and they will lay hands on us and wed us one of these days,'returned Jean, 'unless we vow ourselves as nuns, and I have no mind forthat.'

  'Nor would a convent always guard us,' said Eleanor; 'these reiversdo not stick at sanctuary. Now in that happy land ladies meet withcourtesy, and there is a minstrel king like our father, Rene is hisname, uncle to Margaret's husband. Oh! it would be a very paradise.'

  'Let us go, let us go!' exclaimed Jean.

  'Go!' said Mary, who had drawn nearer to them while they spoke. 'Whitherdid ye say?'

  'To France--to sister Margaret and peace and sunshine,' said Eleanor.

  'Eh!' said the girl, a pale fair child of twelve; 'and what would poorJamie and the weans do, wanting their titties?'

  'Ye are but a bairn, Mary,' was Jean's answer. 'We shall do better forJamie by wedding some great lords in the far country than by waitinghere at home.'

  'And James will soon have a queen of his own to guide him,' addedEleanor.

  'I'll no quit Jamie or the weans,' said little Mary resolutely,turning back as the three-year-old boy elicited a squall from theeighteen-months one.

  'Johnnie! Johnnie! what gars ye tak' away wee Andie's claw? Here, mymannie.'

  And she was kneeling on the leads, making peace over the precious crab'sclaw, which, with a few cockles and mussels, was the choicest toy ofthese forlorn young Stewarts; for Stewarts they all were, though thethree youngest, the weans, as they were called, were only half-brothersto the rest.

  Nothing, in point of fact, could have been much more forlorn than thecondition of all. The father of the elder ones, James I., the flowerof the whole Stewart race, had nine years before fallen a victim tothe savage revenge and ferocity of the lawless men whom he had vainlyendeavoured to restrain, leaving an only son of six years old and sixyoung daughters. His wife, Joanna, once the Nightingale of Windsor, hadwreaked vengeance in so barbarous a manner as to increase the disliketo her as an Englishwoman. Forlorn and in danger, she tried to secure aprotector by a marriage with Sir James Stewart, called the Black Knightof Lorn; but he was unable to do much for her, and only added thefeuds of his own family to increase the general danger. The two eldestdaughters, Margaret and Isabel, were already contracted to the Dauphinand the Duke of Brittany, and were soon sent to their new homes. Thelittle King, the one darling of his mother, was snatched from her,and violently transferred from one fierce guardian to another; eachregarding the possession of his person as a sanction to tyranny. He hadbeen introduced to the two winsome young Douglases only as a prelude totheir murder, and every day brought tidings of some fresh violence;nay, for the second time, a murder was perpetrated in the Queen's ownchamber.

  The poor woman had never been very tender or affectionate, and had thehaughty demeanour with which the
house of Somerset had thought fitto assert their claims to royalty. The cruel slaughter of her firsthusband, perhaps the only person for whom she had ever felt a softeninglove, had hardened and soured her. She despised and domineered over hersecond husband, and made no secret that the number of her daughterswas oppressive, and that it was hard that while the royal branch hadproduced, with one exception, only useless pining maidens, her secondmarriage in too quick succession should bring her sons, who could onlybe a burthen. No one greatly marvelled when, a few weeks after the birthof little Andrew, his father disappeared, though whether he had perishedin some brawl, been lost at sea, or sought foreign service as far aspossible from his queenly wife and inconvenient family, no one knew.

  Not long after, the Queen, with her four daughters and the infants, hadbeen seized upon by a noted freebooter, Patrick Hepburn of Hailes, andcarried to Dunbar Castle, probably to serve as hostages, for they werefairly well treated, though never allowed to go beyond the walls. TheQueen's health had, however, been greatly shaken, the cold blasts of thenorth wind withered her up, and she died in the beginning of the year1445.

  The desolateness of the poor girls had perhaps been greater than theirgrief. Poor Joanna had been exacting and tyrannical, and with no femaleattendants but the old, worn-out English nurse, had made them do herall sorts of services, which were requited with scoldings and grumblingsinstead of the loving thanks which ought to have made them offices ofaffection as well as duty; while the poor little boys would indeed havefared ill if their half-sister Mary, though only twelve years old, hadnot been one of those girls who are endowed from the first with tender,motherly instincts.

  Beyond providing that there was a supply of some sort of food, andthat they were confined within the walls of the Castle, Hepburn did nottrouble his head about his prisoners, and for many weeks they hadno intercourse with any one save Archie Scott, an old groom of theirmother's; Ankaret, nurse to baby Andrew; and the seneschal and his wife,both Hepburns.

  Eleanor and Jean, who had been eight and seven years old at the timeof the terrible catastrophe which had changed all their lives, had beenwell taught under their father's influence; and the former, who hadinherited much of his talent and poetical nature, had availed herself ofevery scanty opportunity of feeding her imagination by book or ballad,story-teller or minstrel; and the store of tales, songs, and fanciesthat she had accumulated were not only her own chief resource but thatof her sisters, in the many long and dreary hours that they had to pass,unbrightened save by the inextinguishable buoyancy of young creaturestogether. When their mother was dying, Hepburn could not help for veryshame admitting a priest to her bedside, and allowing the clergy toperform her obsequies in full form. This had led to a more completeperception of the condition of the poor Princesses, just at thetime when the two worst tyrants over the young King, Crichton andLivingstone, had fallen out, and he had been able to put himself underthe guidance of his first cousin, James Kennedy, Bishop of St.Andrews and now Chancellor of Scotland, one of the wisest, best, andtruest-hearted men in Scotland, and imbued with the spirit of the lateKing.

  By his management Hepburn was induced to make submission and deliver upDunbar Castle to the King with all its captives, and the meeting betweenthe brother and sisters was full of extreme delight on both sides. Theyhad been together very little since their father's death, only meetingenough to make them long for more opportunities; and the boy at fifteenyears old was beginning to weary after the home feeling of rest amongkindred, and was so happy amidst his sisters that no attempt at breakingup the party at Dunbar had yet been made, as its situation made it aconvenient abode for the Court. Though he had never had such advantagesof education as, strangely enough, captivity had afforded to his father,he had not been untaught, and his rapid, eager, intelligent mind hadcaught at all opportunities afforded by those palace monasteries ofScotland in which he had stayed for various periods of his vexed andstormy minority. Good Bishop Kennedy, with whom he had now spent manymonths, had studied at Paris and had passed four years at Rome, so asto be well able both to enlarge and stimulate his notions. In Eleanor hehad found a companion delighted to share his studies, and full likewiseof original fancy and of that vein of poetry almost peculiar to Scottishwomen; and Jean was equally charming for all the sports in which shecould take part, while the little ones, whom, to his credit be itspoken, he always treated as brothers, were pleasant playthings.

  His presence, with all that it involved, had made a most happy changein the maidens' lives; and yet there was still great dreariness, muchrestraint in the presence of constant precaution against violence, muchrudeness and barbarism in the surroundings, absolute poverty in theplenishing, a lack of all beauty save in the wild and rugged face ofnorthern nature, and it was hardly to be wondered at that youngpeople, inheritors of the cultivated instincts of James I. and of thePlantagenets, should yearn for something beyond, especially for thatsunny southern land which report and youthful imagination made thembelieve an ideal world of peace, of poetry, and of chivalry, and theloving elder sister who seemed to them a part of that golden age whentheir noble and tender-hearted father was among them.

  The boy's foot was on the turret-stairs, and he was out on thebattlements--a tall lad for his age, of the same colouring as Eleanor,and very handsome, except for the blemish of a dark-red mark upon onecheek.

  'How now, wee Andie?' he exclaimed, tossing the baby boy up in his arms,and then on the cry of 'Johnnie too!' 'Me too!' performing the same featwith the other two, the last so boisterously that Mary screamed that'the bairnie would be coupit over the crag.'

  'What, looking out over the sea?' he cried to his elder sisters. 'That'sthe wrang side! Ye should look out on the other, to see Glenuskie comingwith Davie and Malcolm, so we'll have no lack of minstrelsy and talesto-night, that is if the doited old council will let me alone. Here,come to the southern tower to watch for them.'

  The sisters had worked themselves to the point of eagerness wherepropitious moments are disregarded, and both broke out--

  'Glenuskie is going to Margaret. We want to go with him!'

  'Go! Go to Margaret and leave me!' cried James, the red spot on his facespreading.

  'Oh, Jamie, it is so dull and dreary, and folks are so fierce and rude.'

  'That might be when that loon Hepburn had you, but now you have me, whocan take order with them.'

  'You cannot do all, Jamie,' persisted Eleanor; 'and we long after thatfair smooth land of peace. Lady Glenuskie would take good care of ustill we came to Margaret.'

  'Ay! And 'tis little you heed how it is with me,' exclaimed James, 'whenyou are gone to your daffing and singing and dancing--with me that havesaved you from that reiver Hepburn.'

  'Jamie, dear, I'll never quit ye,' said little Mary's gentle voice.

  He laughed.

  'You are a leal faithful little lady, Mary; but you are no good as yet,when Angus is speiring for my sister for his heir.'

  'And do you trow,' said Jean hotly, 'that when one sister is to be aqueen, and the other is next thing to it, we are going to put up with araw-boned, red-haired, unmannerly Scots earl?'

  'And do you forget who is King of Scotland, ye proud peat?' her brothercried in return.

  'A braw sort of king,' returned Jean, 'who could not hinder his motherand sisters from being stolen by an outlaw.'

  The pride and hot temper of the Beauforts had descended to both brotherand sister, and James lifted his hand with 'Dare to say that again';and Jean was beginning 'I dare,' when little Annaple opportunely called,'There's a plump of spears coming over the hill.'

  There was an instant rush to watch them, James saying--

  'The Drummond banner! Ye shall see how Glenuskie mocks at this same finefancy of yours'; and he ran downstairs at no kingly pace, letting theheavy nail-studded door bang after him.

  'He will never let us go,' sighed Jean.

  'You worked him into one of his tempers,' returned Eleanor. 'You shouldhave broached it to him more by degrees.'

>   'And lost the chance of going with Sir Patie and his wife, and gotplighted to the red-haired Master of Angus--never see sweet Meg andher braw court, and the tilts and tourneys, but live among murderouscaitiffs and reivers all my days,' sobbed Jean.

  'I would not be such a fule body as to give in for a hasty word or two,specially of Jamie's,' said Eleanor composedly.

  'And gin ye bide here,' added gentle Mary, 'we shall be all together,and you will have Jamie and the bairnies.'

  'Fine consolation,' muttered Jean.

  'Eh well,' said Eleanor, we must go down and meet them.'

  'This fashion!' exclaimed Jean. 'Look at your hair, Ellie--blown wildabout your ears like a daft woman's, and your kirtle all over mortarand smut. My certie, you would be a bonnie lady to be Queen of Love andBeauty at a jousting-match.'

  'You are no better, Jeanie,' responded Eleanor.

  'That I ken full well, but I'd be shamed to show myself to knights andlairds that gate. And see Mary and all the lave have their hands asblack as a caird's.'

  'Come and let Andie's Mary wash them,' said that little personage,picking up fat Andrew in her arms, while he retained his beloved crab'sclaw. 'Jeanie, would you carry Johnnie, he's not sure-footed, over thestair? Annaple, take Lorn's hand over the kittle turning.'

  One chamber was allotted to the entire party and their single nurse.Being far up in the tower, it ventured to have two windows in themassive walls, so thick that five-and-twenty steps from the floor wereneeded to reach the narrow slips of glass in a frame that could beremoved at will, either to admit the air or to be exchanged for solidwooden shutters to exclude storms by sea or arrows and bolts by land.The lower part of the walls was hung with very grim old tapestry, onwhich Holofernes' head, going into its bag, could just be detected;there were two great solid box-beds, two more pallets rolled up for theday, a chest or two, a rude table, a cross-legged chair, a few stools,and some deer and seal skins spread on the floor completed the furnitureof this ladies' bower. There was, unusual luxury, a chimney with ahearth and peat fire, and a cauldron on it, with a silver and a copperbasin beside it for washing purposes, never discarded by poor QueenJoanna and her old English nurse Ankaret, who had remained beside herthrough all the troubles of the stormy and barbarous country, and,though crippled by a fall and racked with rheumatism, was the chiefcomfort of the young children. She crouched at the hearth with herspinning and her beads, and exclaimed at the tossed hair and soiledhands and faces of her charges.

  Mary brought the little ones to her to be set to rights, and the eldergirls did their best with their toilette. Princesses as they were, theruddy golden tresses of Eleanor and the flaxen locks of Jean and Marywere the only ornaments that they could boast of as their own; andthough there were silken and embroidered garments of their mother's inone of the chests, their mourning forbade the use of them. The girlsonly wore the plain black kirtles that had been brought from Haddingtonat the time of the funeral, and the little boys had such homespungarments as the shepherd lads wore.

  Partly scolding, partly caressing, partly bemoaning the condition of heryoung ladies, so different from the splendours of the house of Somerset,Ankaret saw that Eleanor was as fit to be seen as circumstances wouldpermit; as to Jean and Mary, there was no trouble on that score.

  The whole was not accomplished till a horn was sounded as an intimationthat supper was ready, at five o'clock, for the entire household, andall made their way down--Jean first, in all the glory of her fair faceand beautiful hair; then Eleanor with little Lorn, as he was called, hisChristian name being James; then Annaple and Johnnie hand-in-hand, Marycarrying Andrew, and lastly old Ankaret, hobbling along with her stick,and, when out of sight, a hand on Annaple's shoulder. In public, nothingwould have made her presume so far. The hall was a huge, vaulted,stone-walled room, with a great fire on the wide hearth, and three longtables--one was cross-wise, on the dais near the fire, the other two ranthe length of the hall. The upper one was furnished with tolerably cleannapery and a few silver vessels; as to the lower ones, they were in twodegrees of comparison, and the less said of the third the better. It wasfor the men-at-arms and the lowest servants, whereas the second belongedto those of the suite of the King and Chancellor, who were not of rankto be at his table. The Lord Lion King-at-Arms was high-table company,but he was absent, and the inferior royal pursuivant was entertainingtwo of his fellows, one with the Douglas Bloody Heart, the otherwith the Lindsay Lion on a black field, besides two messengers of thedifferent clans, who looked askance at one another.

  Leaning against the wall near the window stood the young King withtwo or three youths beside him, laughing and talking over three greatdeer-hounds, and by the hearth were two elder men--one, a tall dignifiedfigure in the square cap and purple robe of a Bishop, with a face ofgreat wisdom and sweetness; the other, still taller, with slightlygrizzled hair and the weather-beaten countenance of a valiant andsagacious warrior, dressed in the leathern garments usually worn underarmour.

  As Jean emerged from the turret she was met and courteously greetedby Sir Patrick Drummond and his sons, as were also her sisters, with agrace and deference to their rank such as they hardly ever received fromthe nobles, and whose very rarity made Eleanor shy and uncomfortable,even while she was gratified and accepted it as her due.

  The Bishop inclined his head and gave them a kind smile; but they hadalready seen him in the morning, as he was residing in the castle. Hewas the most fatherly friend and kinsman the young things knew, andthough really their first cousin, they looked to him like an uncle. Heinsisted on due ceremony with them, though he had much difficulty inenforcing it, except with those Scottish knights and nobles who, likeSir Patrick Drummond, had served in France, and retained their Frenchbreeding.

  So Jean, hawk and all, had to be handed to her seat by Sir Patrick asthe guest, Eleanor by her brother, not without a little fraternal pinch,and Mary by the Bishop, who answered with a paternal caress to hermurmured entreaty that she might keep wee Andie on her lap and give himhis brose.

  It was not a sumptuous repast, the staple being a haggis, also brothwith chunks of meat and barleycorns floating in it, the meat in stringsby force of boiling. At the high table each person had a bowl, eithersilver or wood, and each had a private spoon, and a dagger to serve asknife, also a drinking-cup of various materials, from the King's goldgoblet downwards to horns, and a bannock to eat with the brose. At themiddle table trenchers and bannocks served the purpose of plates; and atthe third there was nothing interposed between the boards of the tableand the lumps of meat from which the soup had been made.

  Jean's quick eyes soon detected more men-at-arms and with differentbadges from the thyme spray of Drummond, and her brother was evidentlybursting with some communication, held back almost forcibly by theBishop, who had established a considerable influence over the impetuousboy, while Sir Patrick maintained a wise and tedious politicalconversation about the peace between France and England, which was to becemented by the marriage of the young King of England to the daughter ofKing Rene and the cession of Anjou and Maine to her father.

  'Solid dukedoms for a lassie!' cried young James. 'What a craven to makesuch a bargain!'

  'Scarce like his father's son,' returned Sir Patrick, 'who gat the bridewith a kingdom for her tocher that these folks have well-nigh lost amongthem.'

  'The saints be praised if they have.'

  'I cannot forget, my liege, how your own sainted father loved and foughtfor King Harry of Monmouth. Foe as he was, I own that I shall never lookon his like again.'

  'I hold with you in that, Patie,' said Bishop Kennedy; 'and frown asyou may, my young liege, a few years with such as he would do more foryou--as it did with your blessed father--than ever we can.'

  'I can hold mine own, I hope, without lessons from the enemy,' saidJames, holding his head high, while his ruddy locks flew back, his eyesglanced, and the red scar on his cheek widened. 'And is it true that youare for going through false England, Patie?'

  'I made frie
nds there when I spent two years there with your Grace'sblessed father,' returned Sir Patrick, 'and so did my good wife. Shelongs to see the lady who is now Sister Clare at St. Katharine's inLondon, and it is well not to let her and Annis brook the long seavoyage.'

  'There, Jean! I'd brook ten sea voyages rather than hold myself beholdento an Englishman!' quoth James.

  'Nevertheless, there are letters and messages that it is well to confideto so trusty and wise-headed a knight as Glenuskie,' returned theBishop.

  The meal over, the silver bowls were carried round with water to washthe hands by the two young Drummonds, sons of Glenuskie, and by theKing's pages, youths of about the same age, after which the Bishop andSir Patrick asked licence of the King to retire for consultation tothe Bishop's apartment, a permission which, as may well be believed, hegranted readily, only rejoicing that he was not wanted.

  The little ones were carried off by Mary and Nurse Ankaret; and theKing, his elder sisters, and the other youths of condition betookthemselves, followed by half-a-dozen great dogs, to the court, wherethe Drummonds wanted to exhibit the horses procured for the journey, andJames and Jean to show the hawks that were the pride of their heart.

  By and by came an Italian priest, who acted as secretary to theBishop--a poor little man who grew yellower and yellower, was alwaysshivering, and seemed to be shrivelled into growing smaller and smallerby the Scottish winds, but who had a most keen and intelligent face.

  'How now, Father Romuald,' called out James. 'Are ye come to fetch me?'

  'Di grazia, Signor Re', began the Italian in some fear, as the dogssmelted his lambskin cape. 'The Lord Bishop entreats your Majesty'spresence.'

  His Majesty, who, by the way, never was so called by any one else,uttered some bitter growls and grumbles, but felt forced to obey thecall, taking with him, however, his beautiful falcon on his wrist, andthe two huge deer-hounds, who he declared should be of the council if hewas.

  Jean and Eleanor then closed upon David and Malcolm, eagerly demandingof them what they expected in that wonderful land to which they weregoing, much against the will of young David, who was sure there would beno hunting of deer, nor hawking for grouse, nor riding after an Englishborderer or Hieland cateran--nothing, in fact, worth living for! Itwould be all a-wearying with their manners and their courtesies and suchlike daft woman's gear! Why could not his father be content to let himgrow up like his fellows, rough and free and ready?

  'And knowing nothing better--nothing beyond,' said Eleanor.

  'What would you have better than the hill and the brae? To tame a horseand fly a hawk, and couch a lance and bend a bow! That's what a man ismade for, without fashing himself with letters and Latin and manners, nobetter than a monk; but my father would always have it so!'

  'Ye'll be thankful to him yet, Davie,' put in his graver brother.

  'Thankful! I shall forget all about it as soon as I am knighted, andmake you write all my letters--and few enough there will be.'

  'And you, Malcolm!' said Eleanor, 'would you be content to hide withinfour walls, and know nothing by your own eyes?'

  'No indeed, cousin,' replied the lad; 'I long for the fair churchesand cloisters and the learned men and books that my father tells of. Mymother says that her brother, that I am named for, yearned to make thisa land of peace and godliness, and to turn these high spirits to God'sglory instead of man's strife and feud, and how it might have been donesave for the slaying of your noble father--Saints rest him!--which brokemine uncle's heart, so that he died on his way home from pilgrimage.She hopes to pray at his tomb that I may tread in his steps, and be ablessing and not a curse to the land we love.'

  Eleanor was silent, seeing for the first time that there might be higheraims than escaping from dulness, strife, and peril; whilst Jean cried--

  ''Tis the titles and jousts, the knights and ladies that I care for--menthat know what fair chivalry means, and make knightly vows to dare allsorts of foes for a lady's sake.'

  'As if any lass was worth it,' said David contemptuously.

  'Ay, that's what you are! That's what it is to live in this savagerealm,' returned Jean.

  At this moment, however, Brother Romuald was again seen advancing,and this time with a request for the presence of the ladies Jean andEleanor.

  'Could James be relenting on better advice?' they asked one another asthey went.

  'More likely,' said Jean, with a sigh, amounting to a groan, 'it is onlyto hear that we are made over, like a couple of kine, to some ruffianlyreivers, who will beat a princess as soon as a scullion.'

  They reached the chamber in time. Though the Bishop slept there it alsoserved for a council chamber; and as he carried his chapel and householdfurniture about with him, it was a good deal more civilised-looking thaneven the princesses' room. Large folding screens, worked with tapestry,representing the lives of the saints, shut off the part used as anoratory and that which served as a bedchamber, where indeed the good manslept on a rush mat on the floor. There were a table and several chairsand stools, all capable of being folded up for transport. The young Kingoccupied a large chair of state, in which he twisted himself in a veryundignified manner; the Bishop-Chancellor sat beside him, with the GreatSeal of Scotland and some writing materials, parchments, and lettersbefore him, and Sir Patrick came forward to receive and seat the youngladies, and then remained standing--as few of his rank in Scotland wouldhave done on their account.

  'Well, lassies,' began the King, 'here's lads enow for you. There's theMaster of Angus, as ye ken--'(Jean tossed her head)--'moreover, auldCrawford wants one of you for his son.'

  'The Tyger Earl,' gasped Eleanor.

  'And with Stirling for your portion, the modest fellow,' added James.'Ay, and that's not all. There's the MacAlpin threats me with all hisclan if I dinna give you to him; and Mackay is not behindhand, but willcome down with pibroch and braidsword and five hundred caterans to payhis court to you, and make short work of all others. My certie, sistersseem but a cause for threats from reivers, though maybe they would notbe so uncivil if once they had you.'

  'Oh, Jamie! oh! dear holy Father,' cried Eleanor, turning from the Kingto the Bishop, 'do not, for mercy's sake, give me over to one of thoseruffians.'

  'They are coming, Eleanor,' said James, with a boy's love of terrifying;'the MacAlpin and Mackay are both coming down after you, and we shallhave a fight like the Clan Chattan and Clan Kay. There's for thedemoiselle who craved for knights to break lances for her!'

  'Knights indeed! Highland thieves,' said Jean; 'and 'tis for what tocherthey may force from you, James, not for her face.'

  'You are right there, my puir bairn,' said the Bishop. 'These men--saveperhaps the young Master of Angus--only seek your hands as a pretextfor demands from your brother, and for spuilzie and robbery amongthemselves. And I for my part would never counsel his Grace to yield thelambs to the wolves, even to save himself.'

  'No, indeed,' broke in the King; we may not have them fighting downhere, though it would be rare sport to look on, if you were not to bethe prize. So my Lord Bishop here trows, and I am of the same mind, thatthe only safety is that the birds should be flown, and that you shouldhave your wish and be away the morn, with Patie of Glenuskie here, sincehe will take the charge of two such silly lasses.'

  The sudden granting of their wish took the maidens' breath away. Theylooked from one to the other without a word; and the Bishop, in morecourtly language, explained that amid all these contending parties hecould not but judge it wiser to put the King's two marriageable sistersout of reach, either of a violent abduction, or of being the cause ofa savage contest, in either case ending in demands that would be eitherimpossible or mischievous for the Crown to grant, and moreover in miseryfor themselves.

  Sir Patrick added something courteous about the honour of the charge.

  'So soon!' gasped Jean; 'are we really to go the morn?'

  'With morning light, if it be possible, fair ladies,' said Sir Patrick.

  'Ay,' said James, 'then
will we take Mary and the weans to the nunneryin St. Mary's Wynd, where none will dare to molest them, and I shall goon to St. Andrews or Stirling, as may seem fittest; while we leave oldSeneschal Peter to keep the castle gates shut. If the Hielanders come,they'll find the nut too hard for them to crack, and the kernel gone, soyou'd best burn no more daylight, maidens, but busk ye, as women will.'

  'Oh, Jamie, to speak so lightly of parting!' sighed Eleanor.

  'Come--no fule greeting, now you have your will,' hastily said James,who could hardly bear it himself.

  'Our gear!' faltered Jeanie, with consternation at their ill-furnishedwardrobes.

  'For that,' said the Bishop, 'you must leave the supply till you areover the Border, when the Lady Glenuskie will see to your appearing asnigh as may be as befits the daughters of Scotland among your Englishkin.'

  'But we have not a mark between us,' said Jean, 'and all my mother'sjewels are pledged to the Lombards.'

  'There are moneys falling due to the Crown,' said the Bishop, 'and I canadvance enow to Sir Patrick to provide the gear and horses.'

  'And my gude wife's royal kin are my guests till they win to theirsister,' added Sir Patrick.

  And so it was settled. It was an evening of bustle and a night ofwakefulness. There were floods of tears poured out by and over sweetlittle Mary and good old Ankaret, not to speak of those which Jamesscorned to shed. Had a sudden stop been put to the journey, perhaps,Eleanor would have been relieved but Jean sorely disappointed.

  It was further decided that Father Romuald should accompany the party,both to assist in negotiations with Henry VI. and Cardinal Beaufort, andto avail himself of the opportunity of returning to his native land, fa north, and to show cause to the Pope for erecting St. Andrews into anarchiepiscopal see, instead of leaving Scotland under the primacy ofYork.

  Hawk and harp were all the properties the princesses-errant took withthem; but Jean, as her old nurse sometimes declared, loved Skywingbetter than all the weans, and Elleen's small travelling-harp was allthat she owned of her father's--except the spirit that loved it.