He caught at his horse's bridle to steady him and turned weakly
to his father.
"Do you speak to my lady--I cannot!" he gasped.
A terrible figure was Malise MacKim, the strong man of Galloway, as he
came forward. Stained with the black peat of the morasses, his armour
cast off piecemeal that he might run the easier, his under-apparel
torn almost from his great body, his hair matted with the blood which
still oozed from an unwashed wound above his brow.
"My lady," he said hoarsely, his words whistling in his throat, "I
have strange things to tell. Can you bear to hear them?"
"If you have found my daughter dead or dying, speak and fear not!"
"I have things more terrible than the death of many daughters to tell
you!"
"Speak and fear not--an it touch the lives of my sons, speak freely.
The mother of the Douglases has learned the Douglas lesson."
"Then," said Malise, sinking his head upon his breast, "God help you,
lady, your two sons are dead!"
"Is David dead also?" said the Lady of Douglas.
"He is dead," replied Malise.
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