"I own you have had some wrong; but my Rothsay will be murdered--I must go myself." But, as he arose precipitately from his chair, the poor king missed a footstep, stumbled, and fell heavily to the ground, in such a manner that, his head striking the corner of the seat from which he had risen, he became for a minute insensible.

The sight of the accident at once overcame March's resentment and melted his heart.

He ran to the fallen monarch, and replaced him in his seat, using, in the tenderest and most respectful manner, such means as seemed most fit to recall animation.
Robert opened his eyes, and gazed around with uncertainty.

"What has happened ?--are we alone ?--who is with us ?" "Your dutiful subject, March," replied the Earl.
"Alone with the Earl of March!" repeated the King, his still disturbed intellect receiving some alarm from the name of a powerful chief whom he had reason to believe he had mortally offended.
"Yes, my gracious liege, with poor George of Dunbar, of whom many have wished your Majesty to think ill, though he will be found truer to your royal person at the last than they will." "Indeed, cousin, you have had too much wrong; and believe me, we shall strive to redress--" "If your Grace thinks so, it may yet be righted," interrupted the Earl, catching at the hopes which his ambition suggested: "the Prince and Marjory Douglas are nearly related--the dispensation from Rome was informally granted--their marriage cannot be lawful--the Pope, who will do much for so godly a prince, can set aside this unchristian union, in respect of the pre-contract.

Bethink you well, my liege," continued the Earl, kindling with a new train of ambitious thoughts, to which the unexpected opportunity of pleading his cause personally had given rise--"bethink you how you choose betwixt the Douglas and me.