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whereby thou mayest mercifully screen and protect the guilty, and bring showers of gratitude on thyself as the instrument thereof."

De Lyon then proposed that Lindsay, early on the morrow should seek a private audience of the King, and in sorrowful and downcast mood, charge with guilt the Ladye Jean, yet not to reveal the whole truth, adroitly concealing the page as an actor in the scene, and, pointing with earnest look and meaning glance to the gallant Knight of France, endeavour to persuade His Majesty that his unholy intrigues had stained with crime the unsullied reputation of his favourite daughter. Then make this proposal humbly to the King-that, to prevent the inevitable exposure of the intrigue, the Ladye Jean be given in marriage to John de Lyon, who, doubtless, would only be too glad to comply with His Majesty's command.

The breast of the proud Lindsay now heaved with indescribable agony, boiling passion, and choking rage, and nothing would assuage his deeply-injured feelings, intensified as they were with such a sudden and bitter disappointment to all his most valued and cherished hopes. De Lyon, seeing the intensity of his grief, with great tact and knowledge of human nature, calmly allowed its wrath to expend itself— when, quickly seizing the opportune moment to resume the game, he boldly told the sorrow-stricken Lindsay that nothing less than what he had proposed, would wipe away the disgrace from the escutcheon of the Royal House.

Scarcely yet comprehending the full extent of his degradation and misery, the Lindsay retired to an oriel recess in his chamber, to ruminate on the apparently hopeless condition of his prospects and love, and to take counsel with himself as to his future course under the circumstances.

He thus reasoned :-De Lyon had never seen aught between himself and Ladye Jean to create the slightest suspicion of his real feelings towards the Princess; there could, therefore, be no jealousy or rivalry in the matter.


the confession now made by Lyon be true, could he in his heart of hearts really love the woman who could not bring him honour? As to the first, he felt shut up, however reluctantly, to give credence to the page's confession; as to the second, he could not, as a man of honour himself, not cnly not have any affection or love for the guilty, but must spurn the very thought of such a feeling remaining in his breast. Love, he felt, must now give place to pity, and by this feeling his future actions in the case would be regulated.

Approaching the disconsolate page, the Lindsay, with the graceful air of generous chivalry, most fervently promised that on the early morrow he would not only see the King, but plead Lyon's cause in the disguise he had himself proposed, and with all the entreative earnestness of a mutual and trusty friend.

"To-morrow, then, De Lyon," said the Lindsay, "we meet again; meantime, farewell."

"Another card," thought Lyon, "well played;" and as he bent his way in the midnight silence and gloom of the palace halls, most fervently did he invoke the aid of angels, and of saints to guide the last bold throw in the desperate game to a successful issue, for on this depended the future fame or disgrace of his eventful life.

Next day when the Lindsay was admitted to the presence of the King, he found his Majesty arrayed and equipped for the Royal hunt, who in an unusual flow of good spirits, received his kinsman with the most familiar condescension, and gracious courtesy. Lindsay, however, came to the point, and explained his errand at once, withholding nothing of the compact between him and the page.

Who can depict the sudden and awful revulsion of feeling experienced by the grief-stricken King Up and down upon his seat he swung with the most intense and bitter agony. The grey old castle rung like thunder with his threat of vengeance on the guilty head of his debased, undutiful daughter, renouncing her for ever as unworthy any more of


his protection and paternal love. The climax of his ungovernable rage was reached when, with a fearful damning oath, he swore that within the sacred precincts of his Court no gay French cavalier would ever be admitted more!

Lindsay, who felt that his mission was only yet half fulfilled, now, with wily, persuasive tongue, proposed that John de Lyon should wed the Ladye Jean, thus screening the guilty conduct of his daughter, and averting the inevitable disgrace which must otherwise fall on the Royal house.

Not knowing of the artful plot, the King, in another sudden revulsion of feeling, forgot both his shame and his wrath, for this proposal of Lindsay entirely changed the current of his thoughts. Like a drowning man, he caught the straw; for he at once perceived that to save his name and lineage from infamy, immediate marriage must take place.

Dismissing Lindsay, John de Lyon was instantly summoned to the presence of the King.

Not wishing that the page should suppose the thought had suddenly entered his mind, the King had quickly thrown aside his hunting habiliments, so that when the page appeared in his presence he had assumed his ordinary costume, and sat in the Royal chair as if nothing had occurred to disturb the general equanimity of his temper and demeanour. Uncertain whether Lindsay had been true or false, De Lyon stood before the monarch in a blushing, doubtful mood, not daring even to ask his royal pleasure. The King himself broke the painful silence, and thus kindly addressed the trembling page

"A trusty and obedient servant long hast thou been, De Lyon, and I am wishful to reward thy faithfulness, yet feel somewhat at a loss what shape thy recompense may assume. Approach John Lyon-melancholy and sad, I ween! Come, raise thy blushing, drooping head, and picture a bright and sunny future. Listen-for thy great clerkly skill and faithful servitude, I will bestow upon thee this reward-thy dearest wish; thy heart's desire will I grant thee. How high, De Lyon, dost thou aspire ?"

Inwardly congratulating himself on his success, in strange, bewildered amazement he raised his eyes to those of the King to assure himself the scene was real, and not a wild dream of his heated imagination. Not reading the thoughts nor comprehending the real feelings of the page, the King continued—

"All my daughters are now affianced excepting one-the Ladye Jean—and for thy worth and services, De Lyon, I would on thee bestow her hand."

The artful page could scarce conceal his inward emotion, and deeply blushing even at his own success, replied in broken sentences how much he prized the unexpected boon, concluding his confused expression of thanks by passionately exclaiming in the height of his joy

"You have indeed, sire, granted to me the fulfilment of my dearest wishes, my fondest heart's desire; for I have ever most truly, affectionately loved the Ladye Jean ! ”

"'Tis well-'tis well; then be it so," rejoined the King; and, as the page was leaving the Royal presence, his Majesty kindly beckoned him back again, called him a mulish, lovesick swain, and, as he could brook no delay in the matter, enjoined him to fix at once his nuptial day :

"To-morrow-if thou wilt-at noon."

The news of the approaching Royal wedding was hailed by the Court with the greatest satisfaction and delight, all approving highly of the monarch's choice-De Lyon having always been a marked favourite with every one, from the lowest to the highest in rank, ever since he became a courtier and a Royal page.

Meanwhile the lovers, with their secret pent up in their own breasts, longed for the time to give full vent to their triumphant, blissful joy, their very caution lest they should betray their real feelings being, strange as it may seem, the subtlest, most hazardous card they had to play!

At length, with great pomp and splendour, and high regal magnificence, the nuptials of the happy pair were duly celebrated, and all-save one rejoiced in the budding joy, and

showered their best wishes and richest blessings on the loving hearts which had that day been united in the holy bonds of wedlock. The one who formed the solitary exception was Sir James Lindsay, who, pale and downcast, mingled not in the gay and glittering throng, but mused apart as in deepest solitude, apparently unconscious of any other presence save his own. Alas! no wonder the brave Lindsay is saddespondingly sad-for his early, only love, she once so pricelessly dear to his manly heart, hath now been given to another.

Next day, De Lyon, impatient of restraint, and unable longer to conceal the victory he had gained, repaired to Lindsay's chamber, and as he entered stood confused, and sighed and blushed, and at last unfolded the deceitful tale, laying strength and emphasis on the cunning device, and confessing triumphantly the whole details of the artful plot, not omitting the emphatic declaration of the pure and perfect innocence of himself and the Princess !

Unaware of his attachment to the Princess, Lyon was confounded at the fierce and fiendish glare of the Lindsay's eye, and the terribly knit and scowling brow, as the wild, tumultuous heaving of his manly breast foreshadowed the coming storm.

"Thou hast deceived me," hoarsely and savagely he said at length, "vile wretch !"-then paused in his paroxysm of rage. "A villanous traitor hast thou been-dog-miscreant-the Princess was my bride-I loved, most dearly loved the Ladye Jean! Enjoy your stolen bliss, deceitful, treacherous boy, but-when we meet again-beware!"

De Lyon, by his courteous demeanour and exemplary conduct, ingratiated himself into the good graces of his Royal father-in-law, who raised him to the high office of Grand Chamberlain of Scotland, and as a fitting dowry to his daughter, the Ladye Jean, bestowed on him the Castle and broad lands of Glamis, in, whose family they have ever since remained.

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