The Caged Lion | Page 7

your likeness to the poor Duke,' said Sir David, satisfied;
'and you too count kindred with our royal house, methinks?'
'I am sprung from Walter the Stewart, so much I know; my lands lie
Carrick-wards,' said Sir James lightly, 'but I have been a prisoner so
long, that the pedigree of my house was never taught me, and I can
make no figure in describing my own descent.' And as though to put an
end to the inquiry, he walked to the window, where Malcolm so soon
as they had begun to talk of the misrule of Scotland, had ensconced
himself in the window-seat with his new book, making the most of the

failing light, and asked him whether the Monk of Iona equalled his
expectations.
Malcolm was not easy to draw out at first, but it presently appeared that
he had been baffled by a tough bit of Latinity. The knight looked, and
readily expounded the sentence, so that all became plain; and then, as it
was already too dark to pursue the study with comfort, he stood over
the boy, talking to him of books and of poems, while the usually pale,
listless, uninterested countenance responded by looks of eager delight
and flushing colour.
It seemed as though each were equally pleased with the other: Sir
James, at finding so much knowledge and understanding in a Scottish
castle; and Malcolm, at, for the first time, meeting anything but
contempt for his tastes from aught but an ecclesiastic.
Their talk continued till they were summoned to supper, which had
been somewhat delayed to provide for the new-comers. It was a simple
enough meal, suited to Lent, and was merely of dried fish, with barley
bread and kail brose; but there were few other places in Scotland where
it would have been served with so much of the refinement that Sir
David Drummond and his late wife had learnt in France. A tablecloth
and napkins, separate trenchers, and water for hand cleansing, were not
always to be found in the houses of the nobles; and in fact, there were
those who charged Malcolm's delicacy and timidity on the nisete or
folly of his effeminate education; the having the rushes on the floor
frequently changed, the preference of lamps for pine torches, and the
not keeping falcons, dogs, swine, and all, pell mell in the great hall.
Lilias sat between her uncle and his guest, looking so fair and bright
that Patrick felt fresh accesses of angry jealousy, while the visitor
talked as one able to report to the natives from another world, and that
world the hateful England, which as a Scotsman he was bound to abhor.
Had it been France, it had been endurable, but praise of English habits
was mere disloyalty; and yet, whenever Patrick tried to throw in a
disparaging word, he found himself met with a quiet superiority such as
he had believed no knight in Scotland could assume with him, and still
it was neither brow-beating nor insolence, nothing that could give
offence.
Malcolm begged to know whether there had not been a rare good poet
in England, called Chaucer. Verily there had been, said the knight; and

on a little solicitation, so soon as supper was over, he recited to the
eager and delighted auditors the tale of patient Grisel, as rendered by
Chaucer, calling forth eager comments from both Patrick and Lily, on
the unknightliness of the Marquis. Malcolm, however, added, 'Yet,
after all, she was but a mere peasant wench.'
'What makes that, young Sir?' replied Sir James gravely. 'I would have
you to know that the husband's rank is the wife's, and the more unequal
were their lot before, the more is he bound to respect her, and to make
her be respected.'
'That may be, after the deed is done,' said Sir David, in a warning voice;
'but it is not well that like should not match with like. Many an evil
have I seen in my time, from unequal mating.'
'And, Sir,' eagerly exclaimed Patrick, 'no doubt you can gainsay the
slander, that our noble King has been caught in the toils of an artful
Englishwoman, and been drawn in to promise her a share in his crown.'
A flush of crimson flamed forth on Sir James Stewart's cheeks, and his
tawny eye glanced with a fire like red lightning, but he seemed, as it
were, to be holding himself in, and answered with a voice forcibly kept
low and calm, and therefore the more terribly stern, 'Young Sir, I warn
you to honour your future queen.'
Sir David made a gesture with his hand, enforcing restraint upon his
son, and turning to Sir James, said, 'Our queen will we honour, when
such she is, Sir; but if you are returning