in his soul.  Internally he vowed he would raise the banner of his race, and prove the loyalty, the patriotism, the glowing love of liberty which her counsels, her example had planted in his breast; and if the recollection of his mother’s precarious situation as a proscribed traitor to Edward, and of his father’s desertion of his country and her patriot king in his adherence to a tyrant—­if these reflections came to damp the bright glowing views of others, they did but call the indignant blood to his cheek, and add greater firmness to his impatient step, for yet more powerfully did they awake his indignation against Edward.  Till now he had looked upon him exclusively in the light of Scotland’s foe—­one against whom he with all true Scottish men must raise their swords, or live forever ’neath the brand of slaves and cowards; but now a personal cause of anger added fuel to the fire already burning in his breast.  His mother was proscribed—­a price set upon her head; and as if to fill the measure of his cup of bitterness to overflowing, his own father, he who should have been her protector, aided and abetted the cruel, pitiless Edward.  Traitress!  Isabella of Buchan a traitress! the noblest, purest, bravest amid Scotland’s children.  She who to him had ever seemed all that was pure and good, and noblest in woman; and most noble and patriot-hearted now, in the fulfilment of an office inherent in the House of Fife.  Agitated beyond expression, quicker and quicker he strode up and down the precincts marked for his watch, the increasing tempest without seeming to assimilate strangely with the storm within.  Silence would have irritated, would have chafed those restless smartings into very agony, but the wild war of the elements, while they roused his young spirit into yet stronger energy, removed its pain.

“It matters not,” his train of thought continued, “while this brain can think, this heart can feel, this arm retain its strength, Isabella of Buchan needs no other guardian but her son.  It is as if years had left their impress on my heart, as if I had grown in very truth to man, thinking with man’s wisdom, fighting with man’s strength.  He that hath never given a father’s love, hath never done a father’s duty, hath no claim upon his child; but she, whose untiring devotion, whose faithful love hath watched over me, guarded, blessed from the first hour of my life, instilled within me the principles of life on earth and immortality in heaven—­mother! mother! will not thy gentle virtues cling around thy boy, and save him even from a father’s curse?  Can I do else than devote the life thou gavest, to thee, and render back with my stronger arm, but not less firm soul, the care, protection, love thou hast bestowed on me?  Mother, Virgin saint,” he continued aloud, flinging himself before the shrine to which we have alluded, “hear, oh hear my prayer!  Intercede for me above, that strength, prudence, wisdom may be granted me in the accomplishment of my knightly vows; that my mother, my own mother may be the first and dearest object of my heart:  life, fame, and honor I dedicate to her.  Spare me, bless me but for her; if danger, imprisonment be unavailingly her doom, let not my spirit waver, nor my strength flag, nor courage nor foresight fail, till she is rescued to liberty and life.”