"Ah, were the idle feuds of petty minds thus laid at rest, bold boy, thy dreams might e'en be truth; but knowest thou, young man--knowest thou, Isabella, the breach between the Comyn and the Bruce is widened, and, alas! by blood ?" "Aye, lady; but what boots it?
A traitor should have no name, no kin, or those who bear that name should wash away their race's stain by nobler deeds of loyalty and valor." "It would be well did others think with thee," replied Lady Campbell; "yet I fear me in such sentiments the grandson of the loyal Fife will stand alone.

Isabella, dearest Isabella," she added, laying her hand on the arm of the countess, and drawing her away from her children, "hast thou done well in this decision?
hast thou listened to the calmer voice of prudence as was thy wont?
hast thou thought on all the evils thou mayest draw upon thy head, and upon these, so lovely and so dear ?" "Mary, I have thought, weighed, pondered, and yet I am here," answered the countess, firmly, yet in an accent that still bespoke some inward struggle.

"I know, I feel all, all that thou wouldst urge; that I am exposing my brave boy to death, perchance, by a father's hand, bringing him hither to swear fealty, to raise his sword for the Bruce, in direct opposition to my husband's politics, still more to his will; yet, Mary, there are mutual duties between a parent and a child.

My poor boy has ever from his birth been fatherless.

No kindly word, no glowing smile has ever met his infancy, his boyhood.