The Days of Bruce | Page 8

constantly with her father, she imbibed
those higher qualities of mind which so ably fitted her for the part
which in after years it was her lot to play. The last words of his devoted
wife, imploring him to educate her child himself, and not to sever the
tie between them, by following the example of his compeers, and
sending her either to England, France, or Norway, had been zealously
observed by the earl; the prosperous calm, which was the happy portion
of Scotland during the latter years of Alexander III., whose favorite
minister he was, enabled him to adhere to her wishes far more
successfully than could have been the case had he been called forth to
war.
In her father's castle, then, were the first thirteen years of the Lady
Isabella spent, varied only by occasional visits to the court of
Alexander, where her beauty and vivacity rendered her a universal
favorite. Descended from one of the most ancient Scottish families,
whose race it was their boast had never been adulterated by the blood
of a foreigner, no Norman prejudice intermingled with the education of
Isabella, to tarnish in any degree those principles of loyalty and
patriotism which her father, the Earl of Fife, so zealously inculcated.

She was a more true, devoted Scottish woman at fourteen, than many of
her own rank whose years might double hers; ready even then to
sacrifice even life itself, were it called for in defence of her sovereign,
or the freedom of her country; and when, on the death of Alexander,
clouds began to darken the horizon of Scotland, her father scrupled not
to impart to her, child though she seemed, those fears and anxieties
which clouded his brow, and filled his spirit with foreboding gloom. It
was then that in her flashing eye and lofty soul, in the undaunted spirit,
which bore a while even his colder and more foreseeing mood along
with it, that he traced the fruit whose seed he had so carefully sown.
"Why should you fear for Scotland, my father?" she would urge; "is it
because her queen is but a child and now far distant, that anarchy and
gloom shall enfold our land? Is it not shame in ye thus craven to deem
her sons, when in thy own breast so much devotion and loyalty have
rest? why not judge others by yourself, my father, and know the dark
things of which ye dream can never be?"
"Thou speakest as the enthusiast thou art, my child. Yet it is not the rule
of our maiden queen my foreboding spirit dreads; 'tis that on such a
slender thread as her young life suspends the well-doing or the ruin of
her kingdom. If she be permitted to live and reign over us, all may be
well; 'tis on the event of her death for which I tremble."
"Wait till the evil day cometh then, my father; bring it not nearer by
anticipation; and should indeed such be, thinkest thou not there are bold
hearts and loyal souls to guard our land from foreign foe, and give the
rightful heir his due?"
"I know not, Isabella. There remain but few with the pure Scottish
blood within their veins, and it is but to them our land is so dear: they
would peril life and limb in her defence. It is not to the proud baron
descended from the intruding Norman, and thinking only of his
knightly sports and increase of wealth, by it matters not what war. Nor
dare we look with confidence to the wild chiefs of the north and the
Lords of the Isles; eager to enlarge their own dominions, to extend the
terrors of their name, they will gladly welcome the horrors and
confusion that may arise; and have we true Scottish blood enough to

weigh against these, my child? Alas! Isabella, our only hope is in the
health and well-doing of our queen, precarious as that is; but if she fail
us, woe to Scotland!"
The young Isabella could not bring forward any solid arguments in
answer to this reasoning, and therefore she was silent; but she felt her
Scottish blood throb quicker in her veins, as he spoke of the few pure
Scottish men remaining, and inwardly vowed, woman as she was, to
devote both energy and life to her country and its sovereign.
Unhappily for his children, though perhaps fortunately for himself, the
Earl of Fife was spared the witnessing in the miseries of his country
how true had been his forebodings. Two years after the death of his
king, he was found dead in his bed, not without strong suspicion of
poison. Public rumor pointed to his uncle, Macduff of Glamis, as the
instigator, if not the actual perpetrator of the deed; but