The proud heart of Douglas felt the keen thrust.  It was true, he would not, even for the King he devotedly loved, draw sword in an unholy cause.  As a burning tear stole down his scarred cheek, he turned aside to conceal what might seem weakness.  This sight the king could not bear, and seizing the hand of Angus, exclaimed: 

    “’Now, by the Bruce’s soul,
      Angus, my hasty speech forgive! 
        I well may say of you,—­
      That never king did subject hold,
      In speech more free, in war more bold,
      More tender and more true: 
      Forgive me, Douglas, once again!’”

While monarch and man embraced, while the aged noble’s tears fell like rain, Marmion seized the moment to restore himself to favor with both, and whispered half aloud to the King: 

    “’Oh! let such tears unwonted plead
      For respite short from dubious deed! 
      A child will weep a bramble’s smart,
      A maid to see her sparrow part,
      A stripling for a woman’s heart: 
      But woe awaits a country when
      She sees the tears of bearded men. 
      Then, oh! what omen, dark and high,
      When Douglas wets his manly eye!’”

That a stranger should see his changing moods, and above all, should presume to tamper therewith, aroused in James the fierce spirit of revenge.  Said the fiery monarch: 

    “’Laugh those that can, weep those that may,
      Southward I march by break of day;
      And if within Tantallon strong
      The good Lord Marmion tarries long,
      Perchance our meeting next may fall
      At Tamworth, in his castle-hall.’”

Marmion felt the taunt, and answered gravely:  “My humble home would be much honored if King James should visit its halls, but Nottingham has as true archers as e’er drew bow, and Yorkshire men are stern and brave.

    “’And many a banner will be torn,
      And many a knight to earth be borne,
      And many a sheaf of arrows spent,
      Ere Scotland’s King shall cross the Trent.’”

Scornfully the Monarch turned away, and commanded the gayeties to proceed.  He flung aside cloak and sword, and gallantly led Dame Heron in the dance, as the minstrels, at the King’s command, struck up “Blue Bonnets o’er the Border.”

[Illustration:  Scott’s monument, Edinburgh.]

CHAPTER VI.

Now we leave the royal revels, and return to Saint Hilda and her maids.  As they sailed back to Whitby, their galley was captured on the high seas by the Scotch, and the ladies were held at Edinburgh until James should decide their fate.

Soon, however, they were informed that they must prepare to journey to England, under the escort of Lord Marmion.  At this, terror seized the heart of the Abbess and of Clara.  The aged, saintly lady knew the fate of Constance, and for this, feared Lord Marmion’s wrath.  She told her beads, she implored heaven!