"I have no orders concerning him," said the man, gruffly, but
nevertheless permitted Sholto to enter after the Earl and his brother.

The chamber was bare save for a _prie-dieu_ in the angle of the wall,
at which the Douglas looked with a strange smile upon his face.

"Right _à propos_," said he; "they have need of religion in this house
of traitors."

David Douglas went to the window-seat of low stone, and bent his head
into his hands. He was but a boy and life was sweet to him, for he had
just begun to taste the apple and to dream of the forbidden fruit. He
held his head down and was silent a space. Then suddenly he sobbed
aloud with a quick, gasping noise, startling enough in that still
place.

"For God's dear sake, David laddie," said his brother, going over to
him, placing his hand upon his shoulder, "be silent. They will think
that we are afraid."

The boy stilled himself instantly at the word, and looked up at his
brother with a pale sort of smile.

"No, William, I am not afraid, and if indeed we must die I will not
disgrace you. Be never feared of that. Yet I thought on our mother's
loneliness. She will miss me sore, for she fleeched and pled with me
not to come, yet I would not listen to her."

Sholto stood by the door, erect as if on duty at Thrieve.