weight and gloom he could not remove and scarcely comprehend. He felt no
power on earth could prevent his taking the only path which was open to
the true patriot of Scotland, and in following that path he raised the
standard of revolt, and enlisted his own followers against his father.
Till the moment of action he had dreamed not of these things; but the
deep anxieties, the contending feelings of his mother, which, despite
her controlled demeanor, his heart perceived, could not but have their
effect; and premature manhood was stealing fast upon his heart.

Upon the left of the king, and close beside his throne, stood the
Countess of Buchan, attired in robes of the darkest crimson velvet, with
a deep border of gold, which swept the ground, and long falling sleeves
with a broad fringe; a thick cord of gold and tassels confined the robe
around the waist, and thence fell reaching to her feet, and well-nigh
concealing the inner dress of white silk, which was worn to permit the
robes falling easily on either side, and thus forming a long train
behind. Neither gem nor gold adorned her beautiful hair; a veil was
twisted in its luxuriant tresses, and served the purpose of the matron's
coif. She was pale and calm, but such was the usual expression of her
countenance, and perhaps accorded better with the dignified majesty of
her commanding figure than a greater play of feature. It was not the
calmness of insensibility, of vacancy, it was the still reflection of a
controlled and chastened soul, of one whose depth and might was known
but to-herself.

The pealing anthem for a while had ceased, and it was as if that church
was desolate, as if the very hearts that throbbed so quickly for their
country and their king were hushed a while and stilled, that every word
which passed between the sovereign and the primate should be heard.
Kneeling before him, his hands placed between those of the archbishop,