reparation of honour, though I blame not you personally for the
breach of contract which has destroyed the peace of my family. Let
me conjure you, by what observance your Highness may owe an injured
man, to forego for the present this scandalous dispute."

"My lord, I owe you much," replied Rothsay; "but this haughty and
all controlling lord has wounded mine honour."

"My lord, I can but add, your royal father is ill--hath swooned
with terror for your Highness's safety."

"Ill!" replied the Prince--"the kind, good old man swooned, said
you, my Lord of March? I am with him in an instant."

The Duke of Rothsay sprung from his saddle to the ground, and was
dashing into the palace like a greyhound, when a feeble grasp was
laid on his cloak, and the faint voice of a kneeling female exclaimed,
"Protection, my noble prince!--protection for a helpless stranger!"

"Hands off, stroller!" said the Earl of March, thrusting the
suppliant glee maiden aside.

But the gentler prince paused. "It is true," he said, "I have
brought the vengeance of an unforgiving devil upon this helpless
creature. O Heaven! what a life, is mine, so fatal to all who approach
me! What to do in the hurry? She must not go to my apartments. And
all my men are such born reprobates. Ha! thou at mine elbow, honest
Harry Smith? What dost thou here?"

"There has been something of a fight, my lord," answered our