“Nay, thou art but a boy, a foolish boy,” continued the earl, struggling to speak persuadingly, “incapable of judging that which is right and best.  I tell thee, I will give thee not freedom alone, but honor, station, wealth; I will acknowledge thee as my well-beloved son and heir; I will forget all that is past; nay, not e’en thy will or actions will I restrain; I will bind thee by no vow; thou shalt take no part with Edward; I will interfere not with thy peculiar politics; e’en what thou wilt thou shalt do, aye, and have—­and all this but on one condition, so slight and simple that thou art worse than fool an thou refusest.”

“Speak on,” muttered Alan, without raising his head.  “I hear.”

“Give me but information of the movements of him thou callest king,” replied Buchan, in a low yet emphatically distinct voice; “give me but a hint as to where we may meet him in combat—­in all honorable and knightly combat, thou knowest that I mean—­give me but information such as this, and thou art free, unshackled, in condition as in limb.”

“In other words, betray him,” replied Alan, starting up.  “Purchase my freedom with the price of his! mine, of nothing worth, aye, less than nothing, redeemed by his!  Oh, shame, shame on thee, my lord!  Well mayest thou offer me freedom of action as in will on such condition.  Of little heed to Edward were the resistance of all Scotland, were Robert in his power.  Honor, station, wealth!—­oh, knowest thou the human heart so little as to believe these can exist with black treachery and fell remorse?  Once and forever, I tell thee thine offers are in vain.  Were death in one scale, and free, unshackled liberty in the other, and thou badest me choose between, I would not so stain my soul.  Death, death itself were welcome, aye, worse than death—­confinement, chains.  I would hug them to my heart as precious boons, rather than live and walk the earth a traitor.”

“Beware!” muttered the earl; “tempt me not too far, rash boy.  I would not do thee ill; I would have pity on thy erring youth, remembering the evil counsels, the base heart which hath guided thee.”

“Do thou beware!” retorted Alan, fiercely.  “Speak not such foul words to me.  Father, as I know thou art in blood, there are ties far stronger which bind me to my mother—­ties, neglect, forgetfulness, indifference as thine can never know.  Pity, aye, mercy’s self, I scorn them, for I need them not.”

“Ha! sayest thou so; then I swear thou shalt not have them!” exclaimed the earl, rage again obtaining the ascendant.  “I would have saved thee; I would have given thee freedom, though I needed not the condition that I offered.  Thinkest thou I do not know that the traitor Bruce and his followers will return hither, and fall into the net prepared? thinkest thou I know not he is with thee, aye, that he would not have left his patriot countess thus slightly guarded, an he hoped not to return himself?  He cannot escape me—­the murder of Sir John Comyn will be avenged.”