"There is a gentleman here who arrived only yesterday," said Lord Dunbarton, who had also dismounted. "He is the bearer of two relics to your Majesty: the first is the despatch of the expiring Dundee; the second will bear witness of his own zeal and courage in your cause at the victory of Killycrankie."
"Let him approach," said the king, covering his face to hide his emotion.
"Mr. Fenton," said the Earl, "His Majesty would speak with you," and Walter, whose heart trembled from the depth of his emotions, grounded his musquet, and, kneeling before James, placed in his hands the long-treasured despatch of Dundee, and the Dutch standard of Mackay's regiment.
"My brave Dundee!" exclaimed James, in a low voice, as he kissed and perused the brief letter which had been hurriedly penned amid the agonies of death; "'tis stained with his loyal and noble blood! Oh! never had a king a subject more devoted, more loyal, or more true! Accept my thanks, young gentleman, for the services you have performed, the valour you have displayed, and the fidelity you evince; accept my thanks, for misfortune has left me nothing else wherewith to reward the faithful and the brave, who have followed me to exile and obscurity. This standard I will retain; one day, perhaps, in Holyrood or Windsor, I may replace it in your hands with such rewards as a king alone can give."
Walter strove to speak, but his voice failed him, on which Lord Dunbarton said,—
"Like his brothers in misfortune, my young friend seeks no other reward than the honour of serving your Majesty, and the satisfaction of doing that which is right."
The King drew his sword.
"What is your name, Sir!" he asked.
"Fenton—Walter Fenton, of Dunbarton's Foot."
"No kinsman, I hope, of Fenton of that ilk, who is so active in his treason against us?"