The Prince shrugged his shoulders, with a touch of the French habit that still clung to him. “But so is life, my friend--each day of it the most astounding muddle of surprises. They said I could not land in Scotland and bring an ill-trained army through the heart of England. I did it, by grace of God. And then we said that the road from Derby to the throne was open to us--and so it was, but for one obstacle we had forgotten.” “Your Highness,” said the other, with sharp remembrance of the past, “I could have removed that obstacle--and would not. I did not serve you well.” “What! removed the Highlanders’ gospel that they serve their own chieftain first and after that their king? With faith you might do it, sir--the faith that removes mountains; but otherwise----” “I had my lord Murray’s life at command--and--I did not take it.” The Prince’s face was hard when he heard the way of that duel in the wood. He was thinking not at all of pity and chivalrous scruples, but of the men entrusted to his care who had been routed by Murray’s prudent obstinacy. “God forgive you, sir!” he said gravely. “I wish you had not told me this. With Murray laid aside I should have had my way at Derby.” Sir Jasper peeped now behind the veil of that disastrous Council, guessed how disordered the party of retreat would have been without their leader. And he glanced at the Prince’s face--he who loved and had followed him into the unknown for sake of warm, unquestioning loyalty--and read only condemnation there. And because he was wearier than he knew, it seemed that all his strength and steadfastness were leaving him. Until now the cold and hardship had touched his body, but not the soul of him--the soul that passed sorrows through the mills of faith, and made forward battle-songs of them. His comrade in adversity glanced round on him suddenly, saw how hardly he was taking the rebuke. And the Prince, as his habit was, forgot the bitter might-have-beens and rallied to the help of one in need. “Sir Jasper,” he said, with a grace boyish in its candour, “we’re bred of the same stuff, you and I. We are hot and keen, and we hate--as far as the gallows, but not as far as the rope. It seems idle that one Stuart should chide another of the breed.” “I served you ill,” said the other. “He was known already as the weak link of the chain--and I did not snap it.” “It would have lain on your conscience. You could not do it, that was all.” “You are kind,” said Sir Jasper slowly--“but you struck deep just now. I’ve feared many things in my time, but never once that I should fail the Stuart.”