would break, and then buried his face in his hands.
“Oh! the Scotch,” he exclaimed, “the Scotch I called ‘my faithful,’ to whom I trusted myself when I could have fled to Oxford!
the Scotch, my brothers! But are you well assured, sir?”
“Lying behind the tent of Lord Leven, I raised it and saw all, heard all!”
“And when is this to be consummated?”
“To-day — this morning; so your majesty must perceive there is no time to lose!”
“To do what? since you say I am sold.”
“To cross the Tyne, reach Scotland and rejoin Lord Montrose, who will not sell you.”