"A very strangely wayward boy, not knowing his own mind," replied the
king, smiling. "Yet why should I say so? I never asked thy confidence,
never sought it, or in any way returned or appreciated thy boyish love,
and why should I deem thee wayward, never inquiring into thy
projects--passing thee by, perchance, as a wild visionary, much happier
than myself?"

"And thou wilt think me yet more a visionary, I fear me, Robert; yet
thine interest is too dear to pass unanswered," rejoined Nigel, after
glancing round and perceiving they were alone, for the abbot had
departed with Sir Edward, seeking to tame his reckless spirit.

"Know, then, to aid me in keeping aloof from the tyrant of my country,
whom instinctively I hated, I confined myself to books and such lore yet
more than my natural inclination prompted, though that was strong
enough--I had made a solemn vow, rather to take the monk's cowl and
frock, than receive knighthood from the hand of Edward of England, or
raise my sword at his bidding. My whole soul yearned towards the country
of my fathers, that country which was theirs by royal right; and when
the renown of Wallace reached my ears, when, in my waking and sleeping
dreams, I beheld the patriot struggling for freedom, peace, the only one
whose arm had struck for Scotland, whose tongue had dared to speak
resistance, I longed wildly, intensely, vainly, to burst the thraldom
which held my race, and seek for death beneath the patriot banner. I
longed, yet dared not. My own death were welcome; but mother, father,
brothers, sisters, all were perilled, had I done so. I stood, I deemed,
alone in my enthusiast dreams; those I loved best, acknowledged, bowed
before the man my very spirit loathed; and how dared I, a boy, a child,
stand forth arraigning and condemning? But wherefore art thou thus,