“That the baron several times endeavored to possess himself of the infant child of Sir Walter, also came to light in his dying moments; that he had determined to exterminate root and branch, fearful he should still possess some clue to his birth; he had frantically avowed, but in his last hour, he would have given all his amassed treasure, his greatness, his power, but for one little moment of assurance that his grandson lived.  He left him all his possessions, his lordship, his name, but as there were none came forth to claim, they of necessity passed to the crown.”

“But the child, the son of Sir Walter—­if from him our line descends, he must have lived to manhood—­why did not he demand his rights?”

“He lived, aye, and had a goodly progeny; but the fearful tale of his father’s fate related to him again and again by the faithful Edric, who had fled from his master’s murdered corse to watch over the safety of that master’s child, and warn all who had the charge of him of the fiend in human shape who would probably seek the boy’s life as he had his father’s, caused him to shun the idea of his Scottish possessions with a loathing horror which he could not conquer; they were associated with the loss of both his parents, for his father’s murder killed his devoted mother.  He was contented to feel himself Norman in possessions as well as in name.  He received lands and honors from the Dukes of Normandy, and at the advanced age of seventy and five, accompanied Duke William to England.  The third generation from him obtained anew Scottish possessions, and gradually Kildrummie and its feudal tenures returned to its original lords; but the tower had been altered and enlarged, and except the tradition of these chambers, the fearful fate of the second of the line has faded from the minds of his descendants, unless casually or supernaturally recalled.”

“Ha! supernaturally, sayest thou?” interrupted Nigel, in a tone so peculiar it almost startled his companion.  “Are there those who assert they have seen his semblance—­good, gifted, beautiful as thou hast described him? why not at once deem him the guardian spirit of our house?”

“And there are those who deem him so, young lord,” answered the seer.  “It is said that until the Lords of Bruce again obtained possession of these lands, in the visions of the night the form of the murdered warrior, clad as in yon portrait, save with the addition of a scarf across his breast bearing the crest and cognizance of the Bruce, appeared once in his lifetime to each lineal descendant.  Such visitations are said to have ceased, and he is now only seen by those destined like himself to an early and bloody death, cut off in the prime of manhood, nobleness, and joy.”

“And where—­sleeping or waking?” demanded the young nobleman, in a low, deep tone, laying his hand on the minstrel’s arm, and looking fixedly on his now strangely agitated face.