My son, be comforted; His mercy is yet greater than thy sin." "And blest art thou, my father, for these _blessed_ words; a messenger in truth thou art of peace and love; and oh, if prayers and penitence avail, if sore temptation may be pleaded, I shall, I shall be pardoned.
Yet would I give my dearest hopes of life, of fame, of all--save Scotland's freedom--that this evil had not chanced; that blood, his blood--base traitor as he was--was not upon my hand." "And can it be thou art such craven, Robert, as to repent a Comyn's death--a Comyn, and a traitor--e'en though his dastard blood be on thy hand ?--bah! An' such deeds weigh heavy on thy mind, a friar's cowl were better suited to thy brow than Scotland's diadem." The speaker was a tall, powerful man, somewhat younger in appearance than the king, but with an expression of fierceness and haughty pride, contrasting powerfully with the benevolent and native dignity which so characterized the Bruce.

His voice was as harsh as his manner was abrupt; yet that he was brave, nay, rash in his unthinking daring, a very transient glance would suffice to discover.
"I forgive thee thine undeserved taunt, Edward," answered the king, calmly, though the hot blood rushed up to his cheek and brow.

"I trust, ere long, to prove thy words are as idle as the mood which prompted them.

I feel not that repentance cools the patriot fire which urges me to strike for Scotland's weal--that sorrow for a hated crime unfits me for a warrior.

I would not Comyn lived, but that he had met a traitor's fate by other hands than mine; been judged--condemned, as his black treachery called for; even for our country's sake, it had been better thus." "Thou art over-scrupulous, my liege and brother, and I too hasty," replied Sir Edward Bruce, in the same bold, careless tone.