“But how obtain information—­where seek her?  I pray you pardon me, your grace, but there are a thousand furies in the thought!” and scarcely could the consciousness of the royal presence restrain the rage which gathered on the swarthy features of the earl from finding vent in words.

“Nay, nay, my lord, let not your marvellous wisdom and sage indifference be so speedily at fault.  An she be not in Margaret Bruce’s train, that goodly dame may give thee some information.  Seek her, and may be thou wilt learn more of this wench than thou hast since her birth.  In pity to this sudden interest, we grant thee permission to visit these partners of treason in their respective convents, and learn what thou canst; an she be within thy reach, be advised, and find her a husband thyself, the best find most speedy means of eradicating her mother’s counsels.”

Buchan’s reply was arrested on his lips by the entrance of the royal chamberlain, announcing that the Earl of Berwick had arrived in all haste from Berwick, and earnestly besought a few minutes’ audience with his sovereign.

“Berwick!” repeated Edward, half raising himself in his surprise from his reclining posture.  “Berwick! what the foul fiend brings him from his post at such a time?  Bid him enter; haste, I charge thee.”

His impatient command was speedily obeyed, The Earl of Berwick was close on the heels of the chamberlain, and now appeared, his lowly obeisance not concealing from the quick eye of his master that wrath, black as a thunder-cloud, was resting on his brow.

“How now,” said the king, “what means this unseemly gear, sir earl? thou must have neither rested spur nor slackened rein, methinks, an thy garb tell truth; and wherefore seekest thou our presence in such fiery haste?  Wouldst thou be private?  My Lord of Buchan, thou hadst best follow our counsel ere thy interest cools.”

“Nay, your grace, bid not yon noble earl depart to grant me hearing; I would speak before him, aye, and the whole court, were it needed.  ’Tis but to lay the sword and mantle, with which your highness invested me as governor of the citadel of Berwick, at your grace’s feet, and beseech you to accept my resignation of the same.”  With well-affected humility the Earl of Berwick unclasped his jewelled mantle, and kneeling down, laid it with his sheathed sword at King Edward’s feet, remaining on his knee.

“Art craven, fool, or traitor?” demanded Edward, when his astonishment permitted words.  “What means this?  Speak out, and instantly; we are not wont to be thus trifled with.  My Lord of Berwick, wherefore dost thou do this?”

“Not because I am a craven, good my liege,” replied the nobleman, still on his knee, “for had I been so, King Edward’s penetration would have discovered it ere he intrusted me with so great a charge—­nor because I am a witless fool, unconscious of the high honor I thus tamely resign—­and not because I am a traitor, gracious sovereign, for ’tis from insult and interruption in the arrest of a blasphemous traitor I am here.”