cheek, an indignant tear trembled in his dark flashing eye, and his
voice, sweet, thrilling as it was, quivered with the vain effort to
restrain his emotion.

"Sovereign of Scotland," he exclaimed, "descendant of that glorious line
of kings to whom my ancestors have until this dark day vowed homage and
allegiance; sovereign of all good and faithful men, on whose inmost
souls the name of Scotland is so indelibly writ, that even in death it
may there be found, refuse not thou my homage. I have but my sword, not
e'en a name of which to boast, yet hear me swear," he raised his clasped
hands towards heaven, "swear that for thee, for my country, for thee
alone, will I draw it, alone shall my life be spent, my blood be shed.
Reject me not because my name is Comyn, because I alone am here of that
once loyal house. Oh! condemn me not; reject not untried a loyal heart
and trusty sword."

"Reject thee," said King Robert, laying his hand kindly on the boy's
shoulder; "reject thee, young soldier," he said, cheeringly: "in Alan of
Buchan we see but the noble son of our right noble countrywoman, the
Lady Isabella; we see in him but a worthy descendant of Macduff, the
noble scion, though but by the mother's side, of the loyal house of
Fife. Young as thou art, we ask of thee but the heart and sword which
thou hast so earnestly proffered, nor can we, son of Isabella of Fife,
doubt their honesty and truth; thou shalt earn a loyal name for thyself,
and till then, as the brother in arms, the chosen friend of Nigel Bruce,
all shall respect and trust thee. We confer knighthood on twenty of our
youthful warriors seven days hence; prepare thyself to receive it with
our brother: enough for us to know thou hast learned the art of chivalry
at thy mother's hand."