The Caged Lion | Page 3

at entrance, as if supposing the old man asleep; and at a slow pace the
new- comer crossed the hall to the chimney, where he stood by the fire,
warming himself and looking wistfully at the old Knight.
He was wrapped in a plaid, black and white, which increased the gray
appearance of the pale sallow face and sad expression of the wearer, a
boy of about seventeen, with soft pensive dark eyes and a sickly
complexion, with that peculiar wistful cast of countenance that is apt to
accompany deformity, though there was no actual malformation
apparent, unless such might be reckoned the slight halt in the gait, and
the small stature of the lad, who was no taller than many boys of twelve
or fourteen. But there was a depth of melancholy in those dark brown
eyes, that went far into the heart of any one who had the power to be
touched with their yearning, appealing, almost piteous gaze, as though
their owner had come into a world that was much too hard for him, and
were looking out in bewilderment and entreaty for some haven of
peace.
He had stood for some minutes looking thoughtfully into the fire, and
the sadness of his expression ever deepening, before the old man raised
his face, and said, 'You here, Malcolm? where are the others?'
'Patie and Lily are still on the turret-top, fair Uncle,' returned the boy.
'It was so cold;' and he shivered again, and seemed as though he would
creep into the fire.
'And the reek?' asked the uncle.
'There is another reek broken out farther west,' replied Malcolm. 'Patie

is sure now that it is as you deemed, Uncle; that it is a cattle-lifting
from Badenoch.'
'Heaven help them!' sighed the old man, again folding his hands in
prayer. 'How long, O Lord, how long?'
Malcolm took up the appeal of the Psalm, repeating it in Latin, but with
none the less fervency; that Psalm that has ever since David's time
served as the agonized voice of hearts hot-burning at the sight of
wrong.
'Ah yes,' he ended, 'there is nothing else for it! Uncle, this was
wherefore I came. It was to speak to you of my purpose.'
'The old purpose, Malcolm? Nay, that hath been answered before.'
'But listen, listen, dear Uncle. I have not spoken of it for a full year now.
So that you cannot say it is the caresses of the good monks. No, nor the
rude sayings of the Master of Albany,' he added, colouring at a look of
his uncle. 'You bade me say no more till I be of full age; nor would I,
save that I were safe lodged in an abbey; then might Patrick and Lily be
wedded, and he not have to leave us and seek his fortune far away in
France; and in Patie's hands and leading, my vassals might be safe; but
what could the doited helpless cripple do?' he added, the colour rising
hotly to his cheek with pain and shame. 'Oh, Sir, let me but save my
soul, and find peace in Coldingham!'
'My poor bairn,' said his uncle, laying a kind hand upon him, as in his
eagerness he knelt on one knee beside the chair, 'it must not be. It is
true that the Regent and his sons would willingly see you in a cloister.
Nay, that unmanly jeer of Walter Stewart's was, I verily believe, meant
to drive you thither. But were you there, then would poor Lilias become
a prize worth having, and the only question would be, whether Walter
of Albany, or Robert of Athole, or any of the rest of them, should tear
her away to be the lady of their fierce ungodly households.'
'You could give her to Patrick, Uncle.'
'No, Malcolm, that were not consistent with mine honour, or oaths to
the King and State. You living, and Laird of Glenuskie, Lilias is a mere
younger sister, whom you may give in marriage as you will; but were
you dead to the world, under a cowl, then the Lady of Glenuskie, a
king's grandchild, may not be disposed of, save by her royal kinsman,
or by those who, woe worth the day! stand in his place. I were no better
than yon Wolf of Badenoch or the Master of Albany, did I steal a

march on the Regent, and give the poor lassie to my own son!'
'And so Lilias must pine, and Patrick wander off to the weary French
war,' sighed Malcolm; 'and I must be scorned by my cousins whenever
the House of Stewart meets together; and must strive with these fierce
cruel men, that will ever be too hard for me when Patie is gone.' His
eyes filled with tears as he