The hour was far advanced, but the restlessness of his fevered fancy still prevented all rest. The apartment was dark, no attendant was within call, and he was necessitated, though a king, to yield obedience to a power which no mortal can resist; the feelings of love, sorrow, regret, remorse, and repentance—as applicable to the parent who was lying in a royal sepulchre, and to another who was virtually, in so far as regarded his intention, deposed and degraded—alternated, became stronger, decayed, and revived again with a painful and harassing vacillation. He heard the warder call two o'clock; again all was silent as before, and his thoughts were about to fall into the same painful train, when he heard the iron bar of the door of his apartment gently drawn, and saw enter the figure of an old man, with a long grey beard, a grey cloak, which reached to his feet, and was bound by a blue belt, and holding in his hand a taper, which, glimmering with a fitful light, exposed very imperfectly the strange and fearful-looking object who held it. James's eyes were fixed upon him intensely, and the lustreless orbs of his visiter repaid the looks with as intent a gaze, and made a thrill of superstitious terror run over his body. The figure continued the gaze as it approached the bed, which, having reached, it stood silent, holding up the lamp in the face of the trembling youth, and apparently taking care not to change the set of its features, or the direction or manner of its look. This attitude enabled James to scan narrowly the features of the individual: they appeared to be somewhat sinister, though he could not say where the precise expression lay, or what it truly was—seriousness seemed to degenerate into sternness, and that again into malignity, which was again relieved by some traces of kindness and patronising protection. A deep scar on the right cheek, and what by doctors is called a staphylomatic eye, in consequence of its resemblance to a white grape, had a great share in the production of the uncertain expression which was so difficult to read. Having thus stood for some time at the side of the bed, looking into the face of the prince, and holding the glimmering lamp so as to suit its imperfect vision, the figure lifted solemnly its left hand, and, in a low and somewhat guttural tone of voice, said—
"What is the duty of a son to a parent, of a subject to a king, of a creature to the Creator?"
James was silent; the question was threefold, and implied censure, which, co-operating with his fear, prevented reply.
"What doth he deserve," proceeded the figure, "who disobeyeth his parent, deposeth his king, and rebelleth against the laws of God?"
The terror of an apparition working on a predisposed mind was every moment receiving an augmentation of strength; and the young prince, in place of replying, grasped the bedclothes firmly around him, and eyed the speaker with nervous looks.
"Thou answerest not," continued the speaker—"and why? Pride and self-approbation are gifted with the loquacity of the joy which, they say, chattereth only when the sun shineth; but wisdom is represented by the owl, whose reign is in the still hours of night. Yesterday thou couldst speak of being a king—ay, a king over thy father and thy father's subjects—and a king in the verity of traitors' tongues thou art; yet where is thy authority, when even the tongue of royalty cleaveth slavishly to the parched mouth of the conscience-stricken, and preventeth thee from seizing these dry bones" (holding forth his hands), "and consigning this head of grey hairs to the Heading Hill of Stirling? The king or the prince who is enslaved by his conscience oweth the duties of villeinage to the worst and hardest of masters. The chain is forging, the forge is in action, the hammer and the anvil hold in their embrace the connecting link of a king's bondage. The eagle flies over Schiehallion to-day, and to-morrow the spurning pinions quiver in the grasp of the hand. The exulting, swelling heart of virtue hath not yet collapsed. There is time to rouse thyself, and throw off the tyrant whose power thou feelest even now. Return to thy allegiance. Love and obey thy father; aid him against his foes. Refuse—and be thrice miserably damned."
The figure turned, and retreated from the bed. The door was opened, shut and locked. Nothing was to be seen, and nothing heard. Roused from his fear, James sprung up, and cried—
"Whether of mortal mould, or a mere borrower on occasion of our rude forms of earth, return, and say whence thy commission, and of what import. If a mere messenger of man, I'll heed thee not; but, if thou'lt give me proof that James of Scotland, my royal father, enjoys the protection of the King of All, I'll on the instant renounce my new-born honours, hail him king, thee my good angel, and be once more plain James of Rothsay."
No answer was returned to the call of the prince; he listened for a time at the door of the apartment, and, hearing no sound, returned to bed, where, after tossing about for several hours, he fell into a sound sleep. Towards morning he dreamed that the figure again visited him, and communed with him on the crime of filial disobedience—the fancied apparition and the supposed conversation being in the dream so clearly developed, that, when he awoke, he felt the greatest difficulty in endeavouring to segregate the real from the imaginary appearances. He had even doubts whether he had actually seen the figure, or whether the first scene was not that of a dream as well as the second; and he knew of no mode other than that of having recourse to simple conviction, of satisfying himself on this interesting point. He was not contented with the proof afforded by his consciousness, the very ne plus ultra of human probation, and resolved on making an application to the warder, with the view of getting some confirmation of the evidence of his senses.
He had scarcely made his resolution, when Governor Shaw unlocked the door, and entered the apartment. Full of the thoughts he had been indulging and canvassing with so much anxiety since he arose, the prince told his visiter what he thought he had seen during the night, but candidly admitted that he had had also a vision in a dream approaching so nearly to the reality of the waking sense, that he could not take upon him to say that the first appearance was undoubtedly a real natural exhibition of a mortal existence. The governor listened with great attention, and anxiously inquired what was the subject of the conversation that passed between him and the old man. The prince narrated to him, as nearly as possible, the words used by the figure, and admitted that he himself had no power to reply, till after the visiter was gone and the door locked. Shaw was evidently much moved by the recital, and, in a confused and hurried manner, endeavoured to convince James that he had had a visit of nightmare—an affection with which he was probably, in consequence of his extreme youth, as yet unacquainted, but a mysterious operation of nature, quite sufficient to produce in a young and fervent mind that semi-consciousness of reality which had apparently perplexed him so much. He recommended to him to banish the affair from his mind, and, above all, to say nothing of it to the warlike nobles in the castle, whose very objection to the rule of his father was founded on the latter's faith in dreams, auguries, and astrological nostrums—a true sign of a weak intellect.