The Days of Bruce | Page 9

as no decided
proof could be alleged against him, and the High Courts of Scotland
not seeming inclined to pursue the investigation, the rumor ceased, and
Macduff assumed, with great appearance of zeal, the guardianship of
the young Earl of Fife and his sister, an office bequeathed to him under
the hand and seal of the earl, his nephew.
The character of the Lady Isabella was formed; that of her brother, a
child of eight, of course was not; and the deep, voiceless suffering her
father's loss occasioned her individually was painfully heightened by
the idea that to her young brother his death was an infinitely greater
misfortune than to herself. He indeed knew not, felt not the agony
which bound her; he knew not the void which was on her soul; how
utterly, unspeakably lonely that heart had become, accustomed as it had
been to repose its every thought, and hope, and wish, and feeling on a
parent's love; yet notwithstanding this, her clear mind felt and saw that
while for herself there was little fear that she should waver in those
principles so carefully instilled, for her brother there was much, very
much to dread. She did not and could not repose confidence in her
kinsman; for her parent's sake she struggled to prevent dislike, to
compel belief that the suavity, even kindness of his manner, the
sentiments which he expressed, had their foundation in sincerity; but

when her young brother became solely and entirely subject to his
influence, she could no longer resist the conviction that their guardian
was not the fittest person for the formation of a patriot. She could not,
she would not believe the rumor which had once, but once, reached her
ears, uniting the hitherto pure line of Macduff with midnight murder;
her own noble mind rejected the idea as a thing utterly and wholly
impossible, the more so perhaps, as she knew her father had been
latterly subject to an insidious disease, baffling all the leech's art, and
which he himself had often warned her would terminate suddenly; yet
still an inward shuddering would cross her heart at times, when in his
presence; she could not define the cause, or why she felt it sometimes
and not always, and so she sought to subdue it, but she sought in vain.
Meanwhile an event approached materially connected with the Lady
Isabella, and whose consummation the late Thane of Fife had earnestly
prayed he might have been permitted to hallow with his blessing.
Alexander Comyn, Earl of Buchan and High Constable of Scotland,
had been from early youth the brother in arms and dearest friend of the
Earl of Fife, and in the romantic enthusiasm which ever characterized
the companionship of chivalry, they had exchanged a mutual vow that
in after years, should heaven grant them children, a yet nearer and
dearer tie should unite their houses. The birth of Isabella, two years
after that of an heir to Buchan, was hailed with increased delight by
both fathers, and from her earliest years she was accustomed to look to
the Lord John as her future husband. Perhaps had they been much
thrown together, Isabella's high and independent spirit would have
rebelled against this wish of her father, and preferred the choosing for
herself; but from the ages of eleven and nine they had been separated,
the Earl of Buchan sending his son, much against the advice of his
friend, to England, imagining that there, and under such a knight as
Prince Edward, he would better learn the noble art of war and all
chivalric duties, than in the more barbarous realm of Scotland. To
Isabella, then, her destined husband was a stranger; yet with a heart too
young and unsophisticated to combat her parent's wishes, by any idea
of its affections becoming otherwise engaged, and judging of the son
by the father, to whom she was ever a welcome guest, and who in
himself was indeed a noble example of chivalry and honor, Isabella

neither felt nor expressed any repugnance to her father's wish, that she
should sign her name to a contract of betrothal, drawn up by the
venerable abbot of Buchan, and to which the name of Lord John had
been already appended; it was the lingering echoes of that deep, yet
gentle voice, blessing her compliance to his wishes, which thrilled
again and again to her heart, softening her grief, even when that
beloved voice was hushed forever, and she had no thought, no wish to
recall that promise, nay, even looked to its consummation with joy, as a
release from the companionship, nay, as at times she felt, the wardance
of her kinsman.
But this calm and happy frame of mind was not permitted to be of long
continuance. In one of