"Enough of that," said the other, hastily, as he passed his handkerchief over his brow, and replaced it in his embroidered pouch; "I have other things to speak of than those which are past and beyond all human remedy. But was it not a cruel act and merciless deed in Earl James to smite down a poor gentleman, who clung to him, bleeding, faint, and despairing----" "It matters not, Sir William--it matters not; I have made up my mind to leave Scotland." "Indeed!" exclaimed Crichton, with astonishment. "For some--it may be for many, many years,--perchance I may return no more." "How--what mean you?" "That Charles VII. of France wants soldiers to aid him in his wars against the English and Burgundians, and I shall seek his camp for knight-service; or it may be, that I shall go further off, to the distant East, where the Greek empire, under the Emperor Constantine, is now threatened by the accursed pagans of the Sultan Mahomet, and where brave hearts and sharp swords are wanted to defend Christian women and the altars of God from desecration; and so there are times, chancellor, when I think I shall even find a stranger's grave on the banks of the Bosphorus." The chancellor, who had no wish that the king should lose so faithful and valiant a soldier as Sir Patrick Gray, whom he knew to be resolute, and somewhat obstinate in purpose, listened to this bitter outburst with some concern; but, patting him on the shoulder as he might have done a restive horse, he replied, smiling, "Leave Greek and Turk to fight their own battles; abide you by your king; and when the time comes, as come it must, let your grave be dug, not in the land of the sun-burned and God-abandoned pagans, but in the old kirk of Foulis, where your Scottish forefathers lie. Moreover, can it be, that you have forgotten your promise to King James--that you would be a faithful friend and mentor to his son?" "True--true--I have," replied Gray, biting his nether lip till the wound in his face made him wince; "but you know, chancellor, that I am pledged to Murielle Douglas, and that I cannot bide in Scotland without her." "I may find a way to let you leave it, and yet preserve your promise to King James,--a way that shall suit your restless humour; but speak no more to me of Murielle Douglas," said the chancellor, as his brows knit and his eyes loured. "Listen: I have other views for you; it may be a royal alliance itself." "Royal?" was the perplexed reiteration. "Yes." Here Sir Patrick Gray, who knew that he was really loved by this unscrupulous statesman, gazed at him with a curiously-mingled expression of surprise, amusement, and grim disdain; but being a poor soldier and loyal gentleman, with no heritage but his sword and spurs, he felt himself compelled to listen, though almost degraded by having to do so. "You are aware, Sir Patrick, that the king has several fair sisters?" began the chancellor. Sir Patrick bowed.