.

THE LETTER.
It was with a countenance sadly dejected that Crispin returned to his chamber and sate himself wearily upon the bed.

With elbows on his knees and chin in his palms he stared straight before him, the usual steely brightness of his grey eyes dulled by the despondency that sat upon his face and drew deep furrows down his fine brow.
With a sigh he rose at last and idly fingered the papers he had taken from the pocket of Kenneth's coat.

As he did so his glance was arrested by the signature at the foot of one.

"Gregory Ashburn" was the name he read.
Ashen grew his cheeks as his eyes fastened upon that name, whilst the hand, to which no peril ever brought a tremor, shook now like an aspen.
Feverishly he spread the letter on his knee, and with a glance, from dull that it had been, grown of a sudden fierce and cruel, he read the contents.
DEAR KENNETH, Again I write in the hope that I may prevail upon you to quit Scotland and your attachment to a king, whose fortunes prosper not, nor can prosper.