‘Thou wilt know me when we meet again,’ was all he said; and for the very calmness of the voice the Master of Albany, who was but a mere commonplace insolent ruffian, quailed with awe and terror to the very backbone.

‘Loose me, and I will swear,’ he faintly murmured.

Sir James, before removing his foot, unclasped his gorget, and undoing a chain, held up a jewel shaped like a St. Andrew’s cross, with a diamond in the midst, covering a fragmentary relic.  At the sight Walter Stewart’s eyes, large pale ones, dilated as if with increased consternation, the sweat started on his forehead, and his breath came in shorter gasps.  Malcolm and Lilias, standing near, likewise felt a sense of strange awe, for they too had heard of this relic, a supposed fragment of St. Andrew’s own instrument of martyrdom, which had belonged to St. Margaret, and had been thought a palladium to the royal family and House of Stewart.

‘Rise on thy knees,’ said Sir James, now taking away his foot, ’and swear upon this.’

Walter, completely cowed and overawed, rose to his knees at his victor’s command, laid his hand on the relic, and in a shaken, almost tremulous voice, repeated the words of the oath after his dictation:  ’I, Walter Stewart, Master of Albany, hereby swear to God and St. Andrew, to fight in no private brawl, to spoil no man nor woman, to oppress no poor man, clerk, widow, maid, or orphan, to abstain from all wrong or spulzie from this hour until the King shall come again in peace.’

He uttered the words, and kissed the jewel that was tendered to him; and then Sir James said, in the same cold and dignified tone, ’Let thine oath be sacred, or beware.  Now, mount and go thy way, but take heed how I meet thee again.’

Sir Walter’s horse was held for him by Brewster, the knight’s English attendant, and without another word he flung himself into the saddle, and rode away to join such of his followers as were waiting dispersed at a safe distance to mark his fate, but without attempting anything for his assistance.

‘Oh, Sir!’ burst forth Malcolm; but then, even as he was about to utter his thanks, his eye sought for the guardian who had ever been his mouthpiece, and, with a sudden shriek of dismay, he cried, ’My uncle! where is he? where is Sir David?’

‘Alack! alack!’ cried Lilias.  ’Oh, brother, I saw him on the ground; he fell before my horse.  I saw no more, for the Master held me, and muffled my face.  Oh, let us back, he may yet live.’

‘Yea, let us back,’ said Sir James, ’if we may yet save the good old man.  Those villains will not dare to follow; or if they do, Nigel—­Brewster, you understand guarding the rear.’

‘Sir,’ began Lilias, ‘how can we thank—­’

‘Not at all, lady,’ replied Sir James, smiling; ’you will do better to take your seat; I fear it must be en croupe, for we can scarce dismount one of your guards.’