The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. Vol. 1Aguilar, Grace
History
The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. Vol. 1
Aguilar, Grace
Robert I, King of Scots, 1274-1329 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- Robert I, 1306-1329 -- Fiction
"My liege and brother," exclaimed Lady Campbell, eagerly, as she hastily
led forward the Countess of Buchan, who sunk at once on her knee,
overpowered by the emotion of a patriot, thinking only of her country,
only of her sovereign, as one inspired by heaven to attempt her rescue,
and give her freedom. "How glad am I that it has fallen on me to present
to your grace, in the noble Countess of Buchan, the chosen friend of my
girlhood, the only descendant of the line of Macduff worthy to bear that
name. Allied as unhappily she is to the family of Comyn, yet still,
still most truly, gloriously, a patriot and loyal subject of your grace,
as her being here, with all she holds most dear, most precious upon
earth, will prove far better than her friend's poor words."
"Were they most rich in eloquence, Mary, believe me, we yet should need
them not, in confirmation of this most noble lady's faithfulness and
worth," answered the king, with ready courtesy, and in accents that were
only too familiar to the ear of Isabella. She started, and gazed up for
the first time, seeing fully the countenance of the sovereign. "Rise,
lady, we do beseech you, rise; we are not yet so familiar with the forms
of royalty as to behold without some shame a noble lady at our feet.
Nay, thou art pale, very pale; thy coming hither hath been too rapid,
too hurried for thy strength, methinks; I do beseech you, sit." Gently
he raised her, and leading her gallantly to one of the cumbrous couches
near them, placed her upon it, and sat down beside her. "Ha! that is
well; thou art better now. Knowest thou, Mary, thine office would have
been more wisely performed, hadst thou presented _me_ to the Countess of
Buchan, not her to me."
"Thou speakest darkly, good my liege, yet I joy to see thee thus
jestingly inclined."
"Nay, 'tis no jest, fair sister; the Countess of Buchan and I have met
before, though she knew me but as a wild, heedless stripling first, and
a moody, discontented soldier afterwards. I owe thee much, gentle lady;
much for the night's lodging thy hospitality bestowed, though at the
time my mood was such it had no words of courtesy, no softening fancy,
even to thyself; much for the kindness thou didst bestow, not only then,
but when fate first threw us together; and therefore do I seek thee,
lady--therefore would I speak to thee, as the friend of former years,
not as the sovereign of Scotland, and as such received by thee." He
spoke gravely, with somewhat of sadness in his rich voice. Perhaps it
was well for the countess no other answer than a grateful bow was
needed, for the sudden faintness which had withdrawn the color from her
cheek yet lingered, sufficient to render the exertion of speaking
painful.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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