by Miss Ingram.
"DEAR father, look round on our castle home, yonder is my own pet lamb bleating its innocent farewell; though I doubt not 'tis meant for a greeting. See the waving branches of yonder sapling, thou knowest my Lord planted it, and yet we must both go now into the land of strangers: this is at least my country, and is it because thou canst boast the proud blood of a Norman noble, that we are to leave our all, and beg our bread of strangers; father, dost thou now ask me why I weep '"
So murmured Elizabeth Valois, in reply to a cheering sentence from her noble parent. They were of the number of the banished; for Donald Bane, brother to the good Malcolm Cean Mohr, had usurped the throne, by right his nephew's, and issued a sentence of banishment against all foreigners. Of course the poor Saxons and the proud Normans were included in this edict; and they were not a few who had taken refuge in the open court of the generous Malcolm, and received wealth and title from his hand. Amongst the rest were the Count Valois, his wife, and their daughter, who, as was stated, now called Scotland her country.
The sun was fast declining in the west; broad streams of glory spread over the domains lately belonging to the Count: the cattle were straying unheeded over the beautiful landscape, and amongst the rest was a little white lamb, the pet of the Lady Elizabeth.
The tears fell from her eyes, for it came in its utter helplessness to her, but she dared not take it from the land no longer her own. Two or three servants, likewise foreigners, were grouped at a little distance out of respect to the feelings of their beloved young mistress and her parent.
Valois' sorrow was not the less that he strove to appear cheerful. He had, on the contrary, loved to look around his broad lands, and then rest his eye on the slight form of his daughter; for it was for her sake he valued wealth and title. Many Scottish nobles had made tenders for her hand, but were refused on one pretext or another by the lively girl. She declared her intention of preserving her affection for her sole parent undivided; but Valois was not always satisfied with this. He fancied, though he knew not why, that there was a concealed reason, more weighty than his comfort, though he knew and valued her affection, which induced these repeated refusals. He had often heard her express a profound contempt of wealth; consequently he now felt proportionate surprise at her grief on quitting their high station, and he felt all his former suspicions arise: there must be one whose presence she valued more than the titled nobles whose tenders she had received. "Bertha," he said calmly, and almost mournfully, "why art thou so suddenly changed? Thou wilt tell me 'tis the loss of thy pet lamb, and the favourite shrubs, but I know thy heart too well to credit thee. Tell me, is there no living being thou regrettest more than these?" She looked for a moment full in her father's face, as if to read his thoughts; then flinging herself at his feet, she sobbed forth—"Yes, dear father. Why should I deny it—'tis useless now—and, oh, I had intended, as thou wilt soon know, to tell thee all. My page—the Scottish boy, I have dispatched him to bring one hither. Father, father, forgive me! I am his wife—oh, say that thou wilt call me Betha once more— see, he comes." "Betha," said the agitated but forgiving parent, "this was not well. But thou art all that is left me of my beloved wife. Rise, rise, my child' let me once again, only once fancy thee my pure—Betha, Betha, I forgive thee!" and he strained her to his lips and his bosom. "But what do I see—Duncan—the baseborn son of Malcolm ? Oh, Betha, Iwould that thy husband had been poor—but well born. As it is so, though, I will welcome him—I will bid him use thee tenderly, as I have ever done, and then leave thee, now, indeed, for stranger lands and hearts." But Elizabeth clung close about him, and Duncan, with a bended knee, besought him to listen. He told the agitated Valois, that many brave hearts had gathered, both Norman and Saxon, to place him on the throne. Valois cast a bright look of pride on his weeping child: he fancied her seated on the Scottish throne—hundreds pressing around her in admiration; he raised her in his arms, and closing her hand in Duncan's, he said, "Kneel, kneel, now Betha, Duncan, and take a father's blessing. Bless you, my children, and Heaven prosper me as I love you." In a few days Valois was commanding some few Normans, while Duncan led the English. They succeeded in driving back Donald Bane to the Hebrides, whence he had come on the death of Malcolm.
