There was evidently a desire to speak, to utter some inquiry, but he looked on that sweet face upturned to his, and the unspoken words died in an inarticulate murmur on his lips.
"My brother," he said, at length, and with some difficulty, though it was evident from the expression of his countenance this was not the question he had meant to ask, "my noble brother, will thy glorious struggles, thy persevering valor, end in this?
No, no, it cannot be.
Prophet and seer, hast thou e'er gazed on him--him, the hope, the joy, the glory of the line of Bruce?
Hast thou gazed on him, and was there no joy there ?" "Yes!" answered the old man, starting from his posture of despondency, and raising his hands with animated fervor, while his cheek flushed, and his eyes, fixed on distance, sparkled with all the fire of youth.

"Yes! I have gazed upon that face, and in present and in future it is glorious still.

Thick mists have risen round him, well-nigh concealing him within their murky folds, but still, still as a star penetrating through cloud, and mist, and space, till it sees its own bright semblance in the ocean depths, so has that brow, circled by its diadem of freedom, gleamed back upon mine aching sight, and I have seen and known there is joy for Bruce and Scotland yet!" "Then is there joy for all true Scottish men, good father, and so will we chase all sadness from our brows and hearts," replied Nigel, lightly.
"Come, tell us of the past, and not the future, while we stroll; thou hast traditions, hast thou not, to while away an hour ?" "Nay, my young lord," replied the seer, "hast thou not enough in the present, embodied as it is in this fair maiden's dreaming eye and loving heart?
The minstrel's harp and ancient lore are for the evening hour, not for a time and companion such as this," and with an audible blessing he turned away, leaving them to their stroll together.
It was not, however, without an effort Nigel could take advantage of his absence, and make good use of moments so blissful to hearts that love.
There was something in the old man's mournful tone and glance when it rested upon him, that answered strangely and sadly to the spirit-voice breathing in his own bold breast.

It seemed to touch that chord indefinably, yet felt by the vibration of every nerve which followed.

He roused himself, however, and ere they joined the morning meal, there was a brighter smile on the lip and heart of Agnes than had rested there for many a long day.
For a few weeks there was peace both within and without the castle of Kildrummie.