CHAP. I.

IN the wild and barren country of Aberdeenshire, within a league of the sea-shore, and on the summit of a lofty hill, stood a gothic castle. The bat­tered walls that had for ages severely felt the resistless hand of time were here and there decayed and crumbling into dust; the battlements which [Page 6] seemed enveloped in the clouds, were all overgrown with ivy, and become the abode of the ill-favored and omin­ous feathered race. No vicinity, save a few straggling cottages, the habita­tions of the vassals; no sound, but where the ocean in sullen fury, lashed the sandy beach, and dismal murmurs echoed thro' the rocks.

This mansion, while the sceptre of England was swayed by Henry the VIth, was the property of Sir James Wallace, a descendant of that illustri­ous character, William Wallace, who chose to encounter the perils and the frowns of war, rather than see his country become the spoil of a rapa­cious invader. Surely the eye that pe­ruses thy fate, will not, cannot, refuse the tribute of a tear to thy remem­brance! Peace to thy hallowed shade; and may thy manly virtues meet with the reward above that was denied them here!

[Page 7] The castle had been bestowed on William as some small recompence for the services he had done his king and country, and had from that period con­tinued in his family.

Sir James resembled not his noble ancestor; of a sordid disposition, deceit­ful, cruel, and designing, his heart was a stranger to humanity or compassion. The smiling cherub Charity dared not approach his inhospitable roof; and the child of necessity, who at his portal craved a scrap of bread, was not only peremptorily refused, but if instigated by biting want to repeat the request, was spurned from off the threshold.

The partner of his bed was a being every way opposite to himself: her susceptible heart never felt greater sat­isfaction than in relieving the needy, reclaiming the abandoned, and reward­ing the virtuous!

[Page 8] Matilda, so she was called, was daughter to the Lord Glencairn, a man who, but for one failing, was formed an ornament to society. Am­bition was his darling passion, and the wish of aggrandizing, and enriching his family, wholly employed his thoughts.

At the castle of this Baron, Sir James first saw lady Wallace, and asked her of the Earl, who joyfully consented to accept him as his son. Not so Matilda; the dissimilarity of disposition with which nature had en­dued herself, and Wallace, caused her justly to look with horror on the ap­proaching nuptials. Nor was that the only reason; her gentle heart had long and faithfully been given to ano­ther. Alan Duntrone, of a noble, but unfortunate family, whose chief boast consisted of an illustrious descent, and an unspotted reputation, was the object of her affection. He had, sometime [Page 9] before embarked for France, to serve under the banners of the Gallic Mon­arch; and had not been long upon the continent, ere the fatal news arrived that he had fallen covered with wounds and glory. But the heart of Matilda was too firmly attached ever to be withdrawn from her first and only love.

Glencairn commanded his daughter on pain of denouncing a curse upon her head, to become the wife of Wal­lace. The timid and dutiful victim yielded to the rigor of her unnatural parent, and at the altar presented her hand, and pledged those vows which were in the possession of her lost Alan.

Alas! can the gaudy splendor of a court, the noisy riot of a midnight banquet, or a profusion of useless ore, insure content? Erroneously too oft do parents judge, and while they fond­ly flatter themselves they are ensuring [Page 10] their offspring's happiness, plunge them in lasting misery!

A short time subsequent to the mar­riage of Lady Wallace, her father paid the great debt to nature, and on his death-bed declared the injustice he had done his child, implored her pardon, and closed his eyes for ever, in hopes of meeting more mercy above, than he had shewn his daughter here.

The edge of her grief (for spite of the harsh treatment she had experi­enced, she tenderly loved her Father) was somewhat blunted by the birth of a female, whose helpless infancy aroused her from the stupor into which she had sunk, and for whose sake alone she wished to live.

Fortune whose delight it is to sport and trifle with the feelings of man­kind, fully evinced her blindness, and disregard of merit, in the fate of Ma­tilda.

[Page 11] The barren habitation in the north ill suited with the libertine disposition of Sir James, and his chief time was spent at Edinburgh, where in the bustle of the Scotish Court, he forgot his suffering wife; immured in a soli­tary castle, without a friend into whose breast she could pour her sorrows, and hope for consolation. The stillness in which she sat and watched the slum­bers of her little cherub, were uninter­rupted, save by the distant roaring of the waves, and whistling of the wind, which howled discordant through the ancient pile, and were at intervals ac­companied by the voice of the nightly screech owl, melancholy inhabitant of the lofty battlements.

Yet even this sad consolation she was in a short time deprived of. Her worthless lord had bestowed his heart on a woman, in whose breast vice reigned as predominant as did virtue in that of his consort; she was the wid­ow of an officer about the king's per­son; [Page 12] her birth was low, and the eleva­ted rank wherein she had latterly shone, was insufficient to irradicate the selfish ideas that were ingrafted by nature in her disposition. The thought of such a man as Wallace at her feet, at once flattered her vanity, and made that restless ambition, which had been long kindling in her bosom, burn with insa­tiate fury. After a time spent in

she yielded to his desires, with this pro­viso, that he banished his deserving lady the castle, and substituted herself as mistress. He, no less a dupe than villain, consented, and instantly set out for Aberdeen, where on his arrival, he acquainted Matilda with the reason of his unlooked-for visit; and farther in­formed her she must then, it being night, depart, but that her infant should remain behind.

[Page 13] The feelings of a mind, susceptible as her's, may be better imagined than described. On one side, her passions were torn by wounded pride, while on the other the softer senses were roused by maternal affection.

Recovering herself, however, she yielded to necessity, snatched a parting kiss from her darling babe, moistened its little face with tears, and left the Castle, attended only by Carrol, a creature of Sir James's, who had orders to convey her on board a vessel that lay at the shore, from thence to proceed to Rouen, and lodge her in a convent, the abbess of which by bribes and promises, he had made his own.

Carrol executed his commission punctually, he delivered his trust, with a strict charge that a scrutinizing eye should be kept upon her conduct; then returned, and rendered his master happy, by informing him "his loudest fears were hushed."

[Page 14] Jane (the daughter of Wallace) was thus, in the age of infancy, left with­out a friend who would instruct her inexperienced mind, and train her in the sacred paths of virtue!

A short time previous to the exile­ment of Lady Wallace, her brother Archibald, who had succeeded the late Earl, his father, in the title and estates, suddenly disappeared; nor were the most accurate enquiries able to pene­trate the mystery in which his fate was involved. Every search proving abortive, Sir James sent his trusty fol­lower Carrol to the Castle of Glen­cairn, with orders to bring his nephew Eldred, son to the aforementioned Archibald, to Edinburgh, as he design­ed to take upon himself the guardian­ship of the young Baron.

On his arrival, he resided with Wal­lace, who, when he wrote to inform his infamous paramour of the steps he had taken in the north, requested her [Page 15] presence, and that of his juvenile charge. She joyfully obeyed the man­date, and arrived at the castle, where she met with a splendid reception from the lord of it.

CHAP. II.

ELDRED, the young Lord of Glencairn, who was about the age of Jane, was happy in such a playmate; they let the hours glide by in pleasure, and never did there appear a tedious one, but that on which they parted for the night.

Thus did they beguile their time till Eldred attained his 18th year, and though reared by his uncle in a man­ner more suited to the abject station of a servile lacquey, than the representa­tive of an illustrious house, he discov­ered a disposition replete with valour, and affability. To his inferiors, con­descending [Page 17] as the pliant reed to every puff of wind; but to those who sought to play upon his generous nature he resembled the stubborn forest oak, that bids defiance to the jarring elements, and braves the fury of the winter's storm.

The youthful amusements of Jane, and her cousin, had insensibly created a sincere and ardent affection, which on their nearer approach to maturity, gained strength; nothing seemed wan­ting to complete their happiness. Too transient is the bliss of mortals, shallow is the cup of joy presented to their lips, and scarce do they taste the enticing beverage, ere the bitter dregs at bot­tom destroy the flavor of the wished for draught!

Such was the case of our young lovers; fortune was about to turn her wheel, and hurl them from the spoke of felicity to agony intolerable.

[Page 18] Fame had blown the beauty of Jane to the remotest parts of Caledonia's land, and a powerful and wealthy Highland Chief, named Donald of the Isles, (between whose father and Sir James had subsisted a strong friend­ship) was induced by her voice to quit his paternal fields, and judge whether report had or had not exaggerated. With a numerous retinue of knights and retainers he arrived at the mansion of Wallace, and was welcomed there with pomp and affected hospitality.

With impatience did he tarry for the minute that was to introduce him to the object who had caused his journey. But when he saw her he thought that had he been kept for ages in suspense, this one interview would have amply repaid him. All day did he contem­plate her charms, and when the hour of darkness warned him to retire, cur­sed the tedious night that tore her from his sight. Lost were the luxuries of the banquet on him, nor could the co­pious [Page 19] draughts of wine he swallowed, wash away the passion which had taken root on his heart. He retired not to rest, but to devise the means by which he should make her his own. At last he resolved to ask her of Sir James, but not till he had predetermined, in case he had met with a refusal, force should put him in possession of what was denied to his intreaties.

To a mind like his nothing appear­ed impracticable; of strong passions, and unable to restrain them, 'tis not a matter of wonder he soon fixed his re­solution, nor could the most imminent danger, or opposition, have put him from his purpose. Of a bold and mar­tial deportment, he had all that feroci­ty in his countenance, which marks the Caledonians: brave to an excess, but artful to an equal degree, and would have waded through the blood of multitudes to accomplish his desires: Such was the character of Eldred's rival.

[Page 20] He preferred his courtship with stu­died smiles, and speeches formed by art and cunning; she heard him at first with indifference, he persisted and was requitted with contempt. He then ad­dressed his suit to the Baron, he boasted of the high renown of his ancestors, and the wide extent of his domain, he expatiated on the number of his vassals, and set forward the mutual advantages that would accrue from an alliance. Wallace listened to him with attention, while he recollected with disgust the attachment he had observed to subsist between Jane and Eldred. He sought his daughter and commanded her to receive the addresses of his guest.

In vain the astonished maid lament­ed, wept, intreated; in vain she pro­strated herself at the feet of her un­feeling father; in vain she tore her dis­ordered locks, and smote her breast in anguish! Her supplications far from mitigating, added [...]uel to his resent­ment, and confirmed him in his ungen­erous [Page 21] purpose: he mingled curses, and unkind reproaches, with his persua­sions.

"Alas! said Jane, "Can Donald prize the constrained embraces of a heart that beats for another? Will sighs and groans accord with the caresses of a bridegroom? To Eldred my faith is given, never, never to be broken!"

"By the Holy-rood! replied Sir James, "This obstinacy irritates me; nor shall my wishes be fustrated by the idle pretensions of a boy; pay therefore the regard [...] and deference due to my mandate, or woe upon thy head. Meantime, preparations shall be made for the solemnity. Mark my words, and see thou dost obey them!"

Then, with indignation bursting from his eye, he quitted the chamber, leaving his daughter in a state of stupe­faction, till the entrance of Eldred awoke her from a trance, who ap­proaching, perceived the tears fast [Page 22] trickling down her lilly cheek, and with eager affection conjured her to make known the cause; which, when he knew, rage so shook his frame as to deprive him of articulation.

After a pause, "Can heaven," he exclaimed, "suffer such injustice? O Jane, if thy affection be ardent, as I flatter myself it is, you cannot refuse the boon which thus on my knees I crave!"

"Pronounce it," quoth Jane, "you know full well I can deny you naught."

"Enchanting sound!" cried the enraptured lover, "Oh! then, my best beloved, consent to fly with me beyond the reach of such parental cru­elty; in some far distant private corner of the kingdom, let us obliterate the remembrance of your father's cruelty, and soothe the [...]ant of wealth, by be­ing in possession of each other.

[Page 23] The bare idea of such a step, at first made the timid soul of Jane recoil; to quit the Castle clandestinely, and with a man, how must, she thought, her re­putation suffer!

At length, however, these fears and scruples were over-ruled by the per­suasive eloquence of Eldred, and the conscious purity of her own intentions.

"Yet," said Glencairn, "Can I re­solve to immure those beauties in a cot­tage, which heaven bestowed to grace a court? Impossible!

"Let not that thought disturb you," returned his mistress, "Contentment is the source of bliss, the clay-built hovel will when you are present, appear a gorgeous palace, and the humble pallet, whereon I shall repose me, will yield a more refreshing slum­ber, than, robbed of thee, I should find under the richest canopy.

[Page 24] The young Lord seized her hand, and imprinting a kiss thereon, vowed her happiness should constitute the fu­ture study of his life.

CHAP. III.

THE next consideration was, how and when they should effect their es­cape; it was determined to meet at midnight near a cavern that was situ­ated at no great distance from the cas­tle, and had formerly, in those times when the English Edward was wont to invade his neighbors kingdom, been converted by the Scots into a prison, wherein they cast such of the enemy as became their captives. It had not been used by the state for near a century, and the key had ever remained in cus­tody of the Wallaces.

This spot was fixed upon as the least liable to discovery, a vulgar notion hav­ing prevailed among the peasants that it was haunted; nay, they went so far [Page 26] as to aver they had heard frequent and melancholy noises issue from it. This superstition Sir James had strenuously endeavored to suppress, swearing who­ever dared to propagate such idle vague reports, should pay for their credulity.

Tediously, to the lovers, did the steeds of Phoebus go their daily course, and with impatience they watched their descent behind the western hills. The chapel clock announcing the hour of twelve, Jane hastened to the place of rendezvous, and Glencairn not being arrived, seated herself upon a fragment of stone, bitterly lamenting her way­ward fate.

"How cruel," she said, "is my destiny; deprived in my earliest infan­cy of a mother's fostering care, com­manded by a harsh father to give my hand unto a man whose mind I am ut­terly unacquainted with. Spirit of my departed and revered parent, arm my soul with fortitude to bear—"

[Page 27] "Her care is still for you," exclaim­ed a voice; while Jane, horror-struck, threw her eyes around, and perceived a figure suddenly turn an angle of the cavern; at this instant a dusky cloud enveloping the moon, left her in per­fect darkness, and on returning light in vain she sought for the cause of her surprize.

Scarce had she recovered from her panick, ere the sound of footsteps re­kindled her fears, which were as quick­ly dispelled when she saw Glencairn approach. She informed him of her ex­traordinary adventure, which he sought to persuade her was but the coinage of her brain; yet too firmly was it im­pressed on the mind of Jane, to be per­suaded it was fancy.

After some time, bestowed in mutual vows, sealed by their lips and witnessed by the chaste Diana, they appointed a meeting early on the ensuing morn at a cottage in the near valley. The [Page 28] owner was a venerable woman, who had had the charge of Jane during her infancy, but had been dismissed on Ma­tilda's expulsion [...] Thither it was far­ther settled Andrew, the servant of Eldred, should bring horses to accele­rate their departure.

They then, with reluctance, bade adieu, and returned by different roads to the castle.

At day-break Jane proceeded to the appointed spot, reflecting on the myste­ry of a circumstance, which her pre­sent visit to the cottage brought fresh to recollection. It was briefly this: In her several ex [...]tions thither, to which she was [...]gated by humanity, she had constantly observed a female there, who on her entering ever retired, yet was there something majestic in her form that inspired reverence.

In vain had she questioned old Maud concerning her visitor; in vain had she [Page 29] perplexed herself in conjectures of who it should be; and the predominant desire of woman, dear curiosity, was left unsatisfied!

At the lowly portal she found El­dred; he conducted her in, where she was welcomed by the good hostess, who had got the licenced trick of age. Prolixity in conversation was her mar­king feature; nor was there a possibil­ity of bringing her to the end of a tale, till she had made her accustomed obser­vations.

"My beloved mistress," she cried, "in the name of the Holy Virgin, how come I honored with your company at so early an hour? Has any mishap be­fallen you? I fear there has, for right sure am I that my last night's dream bodes nothing good; however I will not at present trouble you with that, but return to something of more con­sequence. My good Lord, your cousin, informed me that I might expect you; [Page 30] but useless were my enquiries to what I stood indebted for your visit."

"My good mother," answered El­dred, "had you permitted, I should ere this have solved your question."

"There now!" returned the aged owner of the house, "had I permitted! Have I not already said I intreated you?"

"Maud," said Jane, "am I, from this to conclude you consider my visit as unseasonable?"

"Unseasonable!" exclaimed the cottager with energy, "Alas, how little you know my heart! and yet you should know it, none ever had a greater interest in it. How often have you in early years reclined upon my bosom? Ah! those days for happiness, I never shall see their parallel. Yet what am I? A creature that few retur­ning months shall see low laid in the grave. But you, in the meridian of [Page 31] youth and beauty, Heaven will surely bless you,"

Jane tarried the conclusion of this eloquent harangue, well knowing it would be fruitless to attempt an inter­ruption, then thanking Maud for her good wishes, made known her purpose, which she had hardly ended, [...]hen An­drew arrived with the [...].

The figure of this servant was too uncommon to let it pass without men­tion.

Nature, with whom he seemed no favorite, had given him a pair of small grey eyes, but in her haste had forgot­ten the customary ornament of an eye­brow. His nose was broad, and ap­peared as if some unlucky accident had spread it across his cheeks. His mouth was wide, and decorated with two enormous rows of variegated teeth, in which however black was the predom­inant colour. His bushy beard, a [Page 32] fiery red, grew on his [...]allow chin, like furze upon a [...]un parched heath. His figure was not cast in Apollo's mould, being squat and muscular, and having one leg a few inches shorter than its fellow, caused his gait to be rather shambling than majestic.

The character of this servant was also somewhat singular; he was firmly atttached to his master, and would with pleasure have sacrificed his own life in his defence. He was, moreover, a great philosopher, and scarce ever an­swered a question without the addition of some musty proverb. Yet were the springs of his heart actuated by virtu­ous movements, and to his master he was firmly attached.

He entered, and, warned them to be gone. "Consider," said he, "Dispatch is the soul of business, and by tar­rying here, you may chance to be eased of the trouble of your journey. For no sooner will you be missed, than [Page 33] the pursuit will begin; Sir James one way, and that brawny devil, Donald, like the Colossus of Rhodes, stretching from the [...] of one hill to another. And I must own, notwithstanding their rank, I should not like to be found in their company at present. Let us be gone my Lord, Remember, quoth he, The early bird catcheth the worm."

The earl thought there was [...]ound argument in what his follower said, and prepared to depart; on which Maud suddenly left the room, but returned in a few minutes, craving permission to introduce a lady, who although a stran­ger, professed herself much interested in behalf of the two fugitives.

They begged Maud to introduce the lady; who entered the room vieled, and Jane, by her figure, discovered the person she had so frequently seen there, who took her hand and pressed it with fervor to her lips, inviting heaven to shower its choicest gifts upon her head, [Page 34] and to avert those calamities which had befallen her mother. Then presenting the hand she held to Eldred, bade him in broken sobs, consider the value of the jewel he was about to have in charge; murmured a blessing on them and precipitately withdrew, leaving her spectators in amazement!

Jane took leave of her nurse, and af­ter Glencairn had forced a purse upon her, they mounted their steeds and shaped their course southerly, resolv­ing to travel as far as Wales, amidst the lofty mountains of that country, to tend their herds and live in peaceful retirement.

They rode conversing on the strange rencounter at the abode of Maud, which much engrossed their thoughts; and the more so as Jane affirmed she had heard the voice before, till the dark gathering of the clouds foretold the impending storm, and they had just gained shelter in an adjacent grove, [Page 35] when the rain poured down in tor­rents, loud whistled the wind amidst the lofty foilage, while blue and forked lightning, gave a momentary gleam, and the big thunder, in deep, awful strains, growled over their heads.

"Aye," cried Andrew, (throwing his plaid over his shoulders) "This re­minds me of an excellent proverb, Though the sun shine, leave not your cloak at home."

While they remained under shelter, they were surprised by the voices of men, one of whom cried, "They can­not be far off, I have good intelligence this is the road they took!"

"'Tis well," returned another, "if they are taken, our labour will be well requitted."

"If!" answered a third voice, "I will pursue them to the end of the world. By the beard of Holy St. An­drew, our Lord would sacrifice▪ us [Page 36] as accomplices, should we return with­out them."

This conversation [...]unk to the very soul of Jane.

"Alas!" she said, "these are our pursuers! What will become of us?

"Fear not, my love," exclaimed Eldred, "I will protect you, while life exists!"

"Then, my Lord," said Andrew, "the most certain way of doing that, will be to run away; for take my word, you will not long have life, if you remain here." "Silence," inter­rupted his master.

By this time a party of armed men appeared, and confirmed his suspi­cions; which, however they a [...] quickly dispelled, by enquiring whether a com­pany of horsemen had not passed. Be­ing answered, no! they informed our [Page 37] travellers, those horsemen had surpri­zed the castle of a neighboring Baron, which they had plundered, and that they were in pursuit of the robbers▪ wished Eldred and his companions a pleasant journey and departed.

After tarrying some time, the sky began to clear; the water which till then had fallen, strong as a cataract, now scarcely dropped at all, and heav­en's artillery rolled at a distance, till it gradually died away.

CHAP. IV.

THEY then continued their pro­gress, and arrived in an extensive val­ley, surrounded by a hanging wood. The rays of the God of Day, who was fast retiring for the night, cast a de­lightful shade and added to the beauty of the scene. Through the dale, over a pebbled bed, meandered a bubbling stream, flanked on each side by mourn­ful willows. Casting their eyes around in wonder, at the door of a cell they descried a man vested in hermit's garb, who sate apparently in melancholy [Page 39] reverie. Around the porch were in­terwoven jasmines and honey-suckles, the fragrance of which was odoriferous.

The Anchorite, on observing our travellers approached and requested them, in a stile more suited to the pol­ished air of a courtier than the usual address of a recluse, to enter his dwel­ling; to which they consented, mar­velling what could have induced a man who seemed designed by Nature for the highest sphere, thus to seclude himself, particularly as he was not of age to lose all relish for the pleasures of so­ciety. The traces on his features seem­ed rather the effect of cruel retrospec­tion than of time; yet had it not de­stroyed that grace and affability, which accompanied his every word and ges­ture. Nor was their wonder diminish­ed, when they espied a suit of armour suspended from the stoney roof.

"Enter," he cried, "my humble dwelling, and accept a hearty welcome, [Page 40] which will be your only sauce to the poor fare that I can set before you." "A good appetite is the best sauce;" said Andrew hurrying out to turn the hor­ses loose, that he might the sooner be enabled to convince them there was truth in his assertion.

The hermit then produced some ex­cellent fruit, and water from the rivu­let that flowed before his door; of which Eldred and his fair companion partook sparingly. In the mean time, Andrew, having dispatched his busi­ness, quickly proved, by the attack he made on the provisions, that abstinence was not in the list of his philosophic virtues. "Aye," says he "this is as it should be, After the outside has been so mauled, as that of my unhappy carcase has, tis fit the inside should be well lined, to support the whole case.

To be sure your beverage is none of the strongest. I have been well buf­fetted by this element any time for the last hour: but, thank Heaven, my [Page 41] philosophy can reconcile any thing; [...]nd as you [...] wine, here's my service to you in water."

Their repast ended, the Anchorite, who called himself Ambrose, was in­trusted with the history of the young fugitives, concealing only their names; on which he made them the offer of his habitation as a refuge, until the search which would necessarily be made after them should subside. This friendly proposal they joyfully accepted; and the daughter of Wallace being pro­vided with a straw bed, the only one the place afforded, retired; while the Hermit, Glencairn, and Andrew, drew around a good neat fire for the night.

The subsequent morning, after re­galing themselves, Jane and her lover walked into the surrounding wood, when she, faint for want of that rest which her perturbed state of mind had denied her during the night, resolved to seek it under the shadow of some [Page 42] kindly tree; she therefore desired El­dred to leave her, [...] which he com­plied, and traversed the grove for some time. But how can his horror be de­scribed, when on his return he saw not Jane. Half frantic, he loudly called upon her name, but all in vain! At length he bethought himself, that pos­sibly she might have taken her way to the hermitage; and hasting thither, met his trusty squire.

"Andrew," cried he, "hast thou seen the Lady Jane? I quitted her for a short time, and on coming to the spot again, my longing eyes to no pur­pose looked for her.

"My Lord," replied his attendant, "there is an old adage, and a very true one, that After joy comes sorrow."

"Have you seen her?" returned the impatient Eldred.

[Page 43] "No my Lord," said he, "but let [...]s go in quest of [...]; Seek till you find and you'll rarely lose your labour."

Regardless of these observations, Glencairn made for the cell of Am­brose, and enquired of the holy man, whether his mistress had been there; on being answered in the negative, with wild despair pictured in his frenzy-rolling eye, again he darted amidst the impervious shade of the encircling fo­rest, making it re-echo with his cries; till exhausted nature yielded beneath her burden, and he sunk supine upon the earth.

Ambrose, who, with Andrew, had been the whole day in search of El­dred, found him at last in the situation before mentioned; his face wrapped in the plaid robe he wore, and his brown locks wet with the evening dew.

Deaf to the entreaties of the Hermit, he remained immoveable, till softened [Page 44] by the persevering and reiterated sup­plications of Andrew and the good man, he suffered them to conduct him unto the hermitage. On his arrival, the agitation his spirits had sustained brought on a raging fever, so desperate, that for several days his life was des­paired of, during which time his host administered such drugs as the produce of the earth enabled him to prepare. But conscious that his patient's mind stood most in need of medicine, he took the earliest opportunity that returning reason offered, on the part of Eldred, to inculcate the principles of religion, and sooth his tortured soul.

"My son," said he, "reflect that the ways of providence are blind and intricate! shall poor weak man at­tempt to reason, and say to Power Al­mighty, thou hast done amiss? Bow with submission to the will of Heaven, and pour that precious cordial patience on your heart.

[Page 45] "True," cried Andrew, "Patience is a plaister for all sores."

"Ah, father!" exclaimed Glen­cairn, "to the insensate feelings of an anchorite, my grief, I know, appears extravagant. But how can one, seclu­ded from the world judge of those sen­sations by which the susceptible pas­sions of frailer mortals are actuated? Had you, indeed, ever known what it is to love, and have the idol of your soul thus torn away, you might with justice reason on my case."

"True again," said the philosophic squire, "None know the weight of ano­ther's burden."

At the latter part of Eldred's speech, the scalding drop rolled down the Her­mit's cheek: after a time he thus re­plied.

"Alas, my son! you know not what you have innocently done; probed a [Page 46] wound, which though long since re­ceived, is not, nor ever will be healed."

"It is ill healing an old sore!" ejac­ulated Andrew.

"Had I ever loved!" continued Ambrose; "O! did you know my long sad sufferings, your own, heavy as you think them, placed in the scale against mine, would strike the beam; and notwithstanding the repe­tition of them will rouse a train of gloomy reflections, that for a moment scarce had slumbered, yet will I re­count them, that, by the comparison you may learn to bear with resignation the ills allotted to you."

"You had better not," cried the squire of Glencairn, "When sorrow is asleep, awake it not."

Unmindful of Andrew's remarks the recluse commenced his narrative.

CHAP. V.

"I am the sole surviving branch of a noble house, richer in honor than in wealth. My father knowing the scan­ty fortunes he possessed, were insuffi­cient to support the dignities of his fam­ily, resolved that his only son, myself, should never, if possible to prevent it, feel the want of riches.

"You are, I know," he would say, "above all mercenary thoughts, and far be it ever from me to endeavour at instilling them into your bosom. But I, from long experience, can affirm how feeble the struggles of mental worth, unless backed by that persua­sive advocate, gold. Trace the world through; behold the veriest wretch that treads the surface of the earth, [Page 48] and if bedecked in splendor, you shall see him take the senior hand of thread­bare honesty; which, like the sun ob­scured behind a watery cloud at inter­vals darts forth a pallid ray, to shew the world the beauties that he owns, and which the hand of Envy strives to hide.

"Do not, from this," continued he, "infer you should despise wealth. No consider it as the best gift of Heaven, provided you have the blessing to un­derstand the proper use of it, which surely is, that those who most abound, may have the satisfaction of relieving others, that are undeservedly neces­sitous."

"By the mass," interrupted An­drew, "a sensible shrewd remark, and I have a proverb will confirm the truth of it; Riches are like manure, offensive in a heap, but spread abroad make the earth fruitful."

[Page 49] "Your observation bears the stamp of reason," replied Ambrose; "but to resume my tale; for the reason before mentioned, I was bade prepare to fail for France, where at that time Mars shone in all his splendor. With rapture I should have obeyed the order, had not a magnet even more attrac­tive than the love of fame, influenced my stay.

"Near to the castle of my father lived a rich and haughty chief, whose daughter had charms potent enough to captivate the icy breast of cold insensi­bility. No wonder then that I, at an age when the susceptible heart is prone as wax to take impressions, should be subdued; nor was the lovely conquer­or, as I thought, insensible to what I suffered; nay she has confessed she loved me, but vowed never to be­come my bride without the assent of her parent.

[Page 50] "This I almost despaired to obtain, well knowing his predominant foible was ambition, to which he would have sacrificed every thing most dear to him. However to sanguine love nothing ap­pears unattainable, and with the con­currence of my father, I demanded the hand of the Baron's daughter.

"And who art thou" he cried "who pretendest to it? What feats of heroic prowess hast thou accomplished, or is thy name distinguished amongst the chieftains of the north? Thy shield is not inscribed with any bold and valor­ous atchievement, nor are thy deeds rehearsed by the breath of applauding minstrels. Gain thee a name in arms, and then aspire to my envied alliance. Moreover I command my daughter to forbear thy presence; thou shalt have no further opportunity to wean her from her duty.

"On this I left the castle, nettled at his ill opinion of myself, and want of [Page 51] confidence in a child, whose every ac­tion implied obedience.

"The time for my departure now drew nigh; and disappointed in my fondest wish, I counted every hour, impatient for that which was to bear me from my native country, hoping in battle some friendly sword would de­prive me of an existence now become hateful.

"All attempts to see my mistress proved ineffectual; and the only con­solation I experienced was that of re­ceiving a letter from her.

"Farewell," said she in it, "Heaven knows no youth but you ever had an interest in my heart. May the angel who regards true and virtuous love, bear a shield before thee in the field of slaughter, endue thy sword with power resistless, and bring thee back to my fond arms, encrowned with laurels! speedy be thy return; and oh, remem­ber me! Gay and courtly dames, skilled [Page 52] in the artful language of seducement, may strive to allure thee, but their love cannot equal mine."

In her letter she enclosed me a ring, as token of her unshaken constancy.

"I instantly answered her billet, in which I strove to picture the agonies I endured; conjuring her by [...]he tender­ness she acknowledged for me, not to marry untill she heard I was no more; as I was resolved to return with afflu­ence, or never to return. That should fortune deign to be propitious, I would claim her hand as the recompence of my toils, and that I was certain her fa­ther would not in that case refuse it; as she well knew to my birth he could make no exception; want of riches was my sole detriment, and should that cause be removed, no obstacle would remain.

"Having dispatched a trusty messen­ger with it, and a bracelet in return for [Page 53] the pledge she had sent me, with a hea­vy heart I sat out for Edinburgh; from thence I embarked for France, and on my landing instantly joined the army of the gallic king, by whom I was courteously received.

"Various were the different skirm­ishes, and tedious to relate; It is enough to say, that for a length of time the genius of the British arms prevailed, till by the assistance of a maid, named Joan la Pucelle, the scale was turned in our favour. She put us into possession of Orleans, routed our foes, and restored in a great degree the glory of France, which the repeated conquests of the Black Prince, Edward, and his illustri­ous descendant, Henry the fifth, had diminished. Her name was honored throughout the kingdom, and the halls of the gallic barons rung with the fame of this heroic virgin.

"Fortune still continued to befriend us, till fate deprived us of our guard­ian [Page 54] angel, Joan impelled by a furious ardor, rushed on the foe, and being se­perated from her party, fell into the hands of the Duke of York; who far from revering her courageous conduct. sentenced her to the stake.

The rumour of her caption spread like wild fire, through our host, and acted on it as a spell: The soldiers pa­nic struck, fled from the field of battle, and were pursued with slaughter. I myself escaped with difficulty, and rode till night, which was so dark, that not a star was to be discovered in the firm­ament. My situation was distressing, and both myself and horse had occasion for refreshment, which I could not perceive the possibility of obtaining, whe [...] I perceived a light at no great distance, and instantly spurred toward it, but to my mortification lost sight of my beacon; at length again it glimmer­ed, and on coming near, I found it to issue from a hut surrounded by a clump of lofty trees.

[Page 55] "I knocked at the door, which was opened by a man stricken in years, whose contenance was the most disgust­ing I ever beheld. His person was far above the common size, and his shoul­ders so robust, they reminded me of the sinewy Atlas; his profile was concave, with a nose of so enormous a length, it joined in contact with a chin that ended in a curved point. His small grey eyes were nearly obscured by a pair of pent­house brows, that resembled the shag­gy covering of the bear; nor was his voice unlike the roaring of that ill-fav­ored animal.

"Having recovered from the sur­prize into which his uncouth appear­ance had throw [...] me, I informed him, through the darkness of the night I had mistaken my road, that the same cause rendered it almost impossible for me to recover it again, and I should be indebted to his hospitality, if he would give me lodging till break of day. This artifice I conceived myself authorised to practise, [Page 56] as that part of the country was entire­ly devoted to the English.

"Endeavouring to smooth his hedi­ous features to a smile of complacency, "Enter," said he, "and such enter­tainment as my hovel affords is your's."

"I thanked him, and after leading my steed under an adjacent pent house, followed the old man into the house.

"On seating myself to supper he in­treated me to lay aside my sword, this I declined, at which he seemed chagrin­ed; however I kept my falchion by my side, and after having allayed my ap­petite, begged he would shew me to my bed. Taking a lamp, he conducted me up a ladder to a room, or rather loft, where setting down the light he left me.

"I threw myself on the pallet in my armour, and wiled away the time in a retrospection of my past life; when [Page 57] casting an eye in one corner of the room I perceived the floor much discoloured. Curiosity prompted me to a nearer in­vestigation, and on looking close I found it stained with blood.

"But I perceive the hand of Som­nus lies heavy on your brow, refresh yourself with sleep, and in the morning I will continue my narrative.

They then retired for the night, and on the morrow Father Ambrose pursu­ed his story.

CHAP. VI.

"AN involuntary horror seized me and made my seated heart knock at my ribs, as though it would have burst its prison. It instantly occurred to me, the house had been the seat of murder, and that probably I was destined to the same wretched end."

"I had scarce made my comment on the scene before me, ere my attention was again roused by the clatter of ap­proaching horses, and I soon heard their riders tap gently at the portal, which being opened, they asked if any company was within."

"Aye, replied the hoary villain, "there is a young man above, who, [Page 59] if one may judge from apperance, will yield something handsome. He has not yet had time to compose himself to that rest, which he little dreams will be his last."

"Silence Dubois," replied another voice, "we shall depend on you for the execution of this business, as an affair of moment calls us hence."

"And you may depend on me," said the old man, "it is not the first time. This good dagger has never yet failed me, and I'll answer it does not now. However, before you depart, drink one cup of wine to the success of my undertaking; here is part of a flask that I opened for the credulous fool, who shall pay dearly for it."

"Having drank, the horsemen mounted and galloped off, leaving me in a state of mind more easily conceiv­ed than described. I had not much time allowed me for reflection, as I [Page 60] heard my host ascending the ladder. I instantly extinguished my lamp, and placing myself behind the door, by the pale light that invaded my chamber window, I saw him enter the room and advance to the bed, whereon he suppo­sed his intended victim lay. I unsheath­ed my sword, and straitway plunged it in his heart.

"Traitor!" I exclaimed, "take from my hand the just reward of thy crimes—crimes which exceed all bounds. To lure the unwary traveller to his death, under the plausible mask of hospitality, is sure a species of un­parallelled villainy. But why do I waste my breath upon a wretch whose iron heart repentance cannot reach? However, if thou hast in thy compo­sition one particle of reverence for the divine Author of thy being, now, while thou hast life, intreat forgiveness.

"I then hurried from the room, and having caparisoned my charger, left the [Page 61] accursed mansion with all the speed he was master of. It was still so dark I was compelled to ride at random, with­out knowing what route I took, and at the hazard of falling into the ene­my's hands. At last, the welcome sound of a distant bell saluted my ear, and, looking towards the side from whence it issued, I descried by the rays of the sun, that now began to shoot above the dusky horizon, the spires of a monas­tery: cheered by the sight, my ex­hausted strength was renovated. Ar­riving at the gate, I demanded admit­tance, which was granted, and I usher­ed into an apartment, where I found the superior. He desired me to make known, who, and what I was; the truth I did not think it politic to en­trust him with, therefore, contented myself with saying, I was about to join the army of the Duke of York."

"Your conduct, interrupted An­drew, "was a proof of your good sense, and reminds me of an excellent [Page 62] adage. Take heed of an ox before, an ass behind, and a monk on all sides!"

"Having answered his enquiry," said the hermit, "I was accommoda­ted with a miserable couch, where, for a few hours, I enjoyed an uninterrupted slumber. On arising, I was told Fa­ther Francis was employed about the person of a wounded man; neverthe­less, I might enter his chamber. I did so, and the first object that my eyes en­countered was Dubois; the wretch whom I had left weltering in his blood. On my appearance, he utterred a groan, and fell back speechless. After a pause, he shewed signs of returning life, and at length being able to sup­port himself upon his arm exclaimed, "There stands my murderer!"

"I was instantly surrounded, and, spite of all opposition, disarmed; then hurried to a melancholly dungeon, where they loaded me with chains. Thus manacled, these fathers of reli­gion [Page 63] quitted me, guilty of no crime but spilling the blood of an assassin in my own defence.

Long, very long, did my confine­ment last. One morning, a member of this infernal society entered my cell, telling me I must prepare to die, as Dubois had just breathed his last: re­gardless of life, I followed him, happy in so near a prospect of being released from it."

"We came into a large hall, where the inhabitants of the monastery were already assembled, and which con­tained their various implements of tor­ture. The superior addressed me, and after artfully expatiating on the pre­tended enormity of my guilt, informed me the Holy-Brotherhood judged it fit I should make atonement on the rack."

[Page 64] "Thus did they strive to make the murder which they were about to per­petrate appear an act of justice."

"Empty vessels make the greatest sound," said Andrew, "The scripture saith, A fool's voice is known by multi­tude of words! Sure it is, none more apt to boast than those who have least real worth!"

"Silence, cried Eldred, though at the same time he could not forbear ad­miring the pertinence of the remark; then apologized for his servant's inter­ruption, on which Ambrose went on.

"Monster!" I exclaimed to Father Francis, "profane not the sacred name of religion, by bestowing the appella­tion of holy on this fraternity of ban­ditti, and tremble at the power of an incensed Deity. Though for some wi [...]e and unseen purpose he may awhile per­mit your cruelty to flourish, yet be as­sured a day will come, when his all [Page 65] righteous judgment shall fall heavy on you!"

"That day is distant, returned he, lead him to instant execution."

"This they proceeded to do, fast binding me to the wheel; I had just finished a short fervent prayer, when the monks were startled by the sound of loud and repeated blows at the outer gate of the monastery; on which they armed themselves, and sa [...]lied forth to seek the cause of this unexpected clam­our!"

CHAP. VII.

"PSESENTLY I heard the clash of swords, and the groans of the wounded grated on my ear; at length the shouts of victory echoed through­out the building, and the hall was fil­led with armed Frenchmen, who re­leased me!"

"Next to heaven, my thanks were due to these my preservers, which I gave them with all the cordiality my full heart inspired; then intreated to know what had brought them so provi­dentially to my relief."

"They told me an unhappy creature who had miraculously escaped from [Page 67] the monastery, after a long confine­ment, by accident passed the French encampment, and desired permission to see the general, to whom he was ad­mitted. He informed him he had just effected his emancipation from that place, and enumerated the several bar­barities inflicted by those sanctified im­postors. Upon which a detachment was ordered to attend the stranger, and to carry the place by storm; this they had just accomplished, and came in time to save me from an ignominious death."

"From this I learned, what I be­fore suspected, that my persecutors countenanced the depredations of Du­bois and his associates, and that proba­bly the spoils of those travellers, who, had fallen by his hand, were conveyed to this holy place."

"We explored the different recesses of the monastary, and delivered a long train of victims, who, for years had [Page 68] groaned beneath the yoke of monkish tyranny. Amongst the number, were a father and his son, that particularly interested me. As we entered their dungeon, we saw, by the light of our torches, the old man stretched on the damp pavement, and fast locked in sleep, his head was supported on the knee of the youth, who watched his slumbers, while the tears of filial affec­tion dropped from his eye, and moist­ened the beard of his venerable bur­den!"

"On observing us, and in habits so unlike what he had been accustomed to while in confinement, a spark of hope illumined the young man's fea­tures, and burst into a flame, on our telling him they were no longer pris­oners. With tender care he awoke his parent, and imparted to him the change in their favor. Never in my life did I witness a scene of more [...]ervent devo­tion than now took place; the old man fell upon his knees, in which he [Page 69] was followed by his son, both in silent orisons, expressing their obligation to the divinity, while the sluices of their eyes, which had before been wholly ac­tuated by grief, now flowed in streams of gratitude!"

"We then departed with those Fri­ars who had escaped the swords of the soldiery. On our arrival at the camp, I made myself known to the command­er, to whom I repeated my advent­ures, and was received by him in a manner suitable to my birth; but, spite of my endeavors to save the lives of my enemies, on the following morning they were all executed; a dreadful ex­ample, that a day of retribution, how­ever tardy, is certain to arrive!"

"I remained in the army some three years, without the comfort of the least intelligence from Scotland. At the battle o [...]—, it was my fortune to en­counter a man, whose arms and de­portment bespoke him above the com­mon [Page 70] stamp. Our strife was long and hardy, until my tempered steel cleav­ing his crest in twain, put an end to the combat, and to the life of my brave adversary."

"Thy genius has prevailed," he faintly articulated, "and well dost thou deserve to conquer; accept this trifle as a testimony of the esteem, which even a vanquished enemy pro­fesses for you." So saying, he present­ed me with a casket. "Do justice to my memory," cried he, "and let it not be your least boast, that by your arm, fell Lord—."

"At that word, death cut short his utterance, and a retreat being sounded on our part, I unwillingly quitted the body, ignorant of the name of my gen­erous antagonist."

"I embraced the first opportunity to examine my gift. How did I gul [...] my sight on the precious store pre­sented [Page 71] to it? Not for the love of wealth, but that I flattered myself, it would put me in possession of her I a­dored.

"About the same time a truce be­ing concluded between the contending kingdoms, I embarked for Scotland. During our passage, we one morning observed [...]a large vessel bearing down upon us with all the sail she could crowd, and on her nearer appearance, found her by the colours to be an Alge­rine."

"Our situation was perilous, as the size of their bark exceeded ours too much, for us to entertain a thought of conquering them; and so pusillanimous was our captain, that he talked of qui­etly surrendering. This I strenuously opposed, preferring death to a state of abject bondage. I therefore summoned the crew, and made them acquainted with my determination, not to yield tamely, conjuring them, if the slightest [Page 72] ember of courage glowed within them, to follow my example, and strive to re­pel the infidels."

"This they vowed to do; and the enemy being come up, grappled with and attempted to board us: long we sought with an ardor the love of liberty alone could inspire, till the slaughter which reigned amidst our lit­tle band, rendered all farther opposition fruitless, and our colours were struck. Petrified at the idea of becoming a slave, at a time I flattered myself secure of lasting felicity, my reason forsook me, and I singly sought to repel the foe, but all in vain, a blow from a bat­tle-axe laid me insensate on the deck, and I became their prisoner.

"On recovering, I must own, the patience and philosophy with which my vocation now urges me to arm the wretched, was then ill observed by my­self. I dashed my head against the ves­sel's side; and should have buried my [Page 73] sorrows in a watery grave, had I not been prevented. Alas! I was destined to experience still severer [...] ▪

"The victors stood for their own coast, on gaining which, [...] compan­ions were all disposed of, Muley Ab­dallah, the commander, reserving on­ly myself. He took me with him to a small, but elegant, castle, that stood without the city gates; where I was destined to the humble employment of a gardener. However, as I seemed to be the sport of fortune, I hoped the same caprice that had cast me into sla­very, would, ere it was long, release me. Full of these sanguine thoughts, I became more calm, and comforted myself with the resolution of not let­ting slip an opportunity, should any of­fer, of making my escape.

"I attended my plants, and making a virtue of necessity, tried, by my assi­duity, to gain my master's favor and confidence, that so his vigilance might [Page 74] relax, and afford me the earlier season of regaining my liberty.

"Sitting one evening, after having completed my daily task, upon a bench beneath the castle, a billet fell at my feet, I took it up, and withdrew to a se­cret part of the garden, where I open­ed the letter and read these lines:

"This letter was a cordial to my mind. I perused it over and over again, fearful I was but in a dream; yet when the first sallies of my unbounded joy abated, and reason resumed her em­pire, I found my happiness much les­sened by the declaration of love made me by the daughter of Muley Abdallah; my affection for another, my honor, my religion forbade my making a suita­ble return."

CHAP. VIII.

"A WEEK of alternate hope and anxiety elapsed, when a female slave accosted me, desiring I would meet her at sunset in the south alcove. So say­ing, she suddenly disappeared.

"At the decline of day I repaired to my rendezvous, and was shortly after joined by the faithful confidant, who bad me follow her. We entered the castle, and ascended a slight of stairs which led to the apartments of Selima, whom I found in one of them on a rich [...]. On seeing me she rose, and [...] ­ing up her veil, presented the greatest assemblage of charms I ever witnessed; at the [...]ame time requesting I would partake of her [...]eat.

[Page 77] "I fear," she said, her face suffused by the blush of modesty, "I fear, to one accustomed to the strict etiquette of European women, my conduct must appear inconsistent with the delicacy of my sex; but there was no time to be lost in ceremonious punctilio. My father is at present abroad, how soon he may return is uncertain. I have provi­ded for your escape, which must be this night. A renegado captain, who is under some obligation to me, has un­dertaken to convey you to your native land. Even now he tarries for you, lose not a moment, some mischievous stroke of fortune may prevent you else."

"A sensible lady!" quoth Andrew. "Aye, Many things fall out between the cup and the lip."

"I endeavored to express my thanks," said the Hermit, "and hoped she would not accuse me of ingratitude when I owned my sole reason or [Page 78] wishing to return homeward, was the [...]ond hope of again beholding the wo­man, to whom, before my departure my vows were pledged.

"I mentioned this abruptly, fearful she should have formed any thought of accompanying me; but much I wrong­ed her. She replied, with a smile, in which she attempted to smother her agitation: "Your candor charms me: Farewel! This eunuch will conduct you to a vessel. May you be happy in the arms of her you love; and some­times, in the midst of your felicity, bestow a thought on Selima, whose constant prayers shall be for your pros­perity."

"I pressed her hand to my lips, and departed, strongly impressed with ad­miration of her generous conduct. I followed my guide to the beach, and finding the galley in perfect readiness, I rewarded the slave and embarked.

[Page 79] "Never did I experience a night of more real satisfaction. I sate on the deck, ruminating on my past misfor­tunes, and anticipating my future hap­piness, while the swelling bosom of the sail was filled by the breath of zephyr, and our prow cut through the green bosom of the glassy ocean."

"After a pleasant voyage, I landed at Leith; and recompensing the ser­vice of the captain, proceeded to the mansion of my forefathers. By what various emotions was I actuated as I journeyed thither! I was received at the gate by the steward, a venerable man, who had spent his youth in our family.

"He started at the sight of me, as though he had seen an apparition. "Dost thou not know me, Charles?" said I.

"My young Lord!" he exclaimed. "Is it possible? Is it you?

[Page 80] "How is my beloved father? I re­turned.

"Alas!" cried he, "I have a melan­choly story to relate; but enter the cas­tle, and you shall know every circum­stance that has occurred since your quit­ting it."

"You had not been gone twelve months, before a Scots Chief, on a dark night, claimed shelter here from the inclemency of the elements, which I need not tell you was granted; for never did traveller pass these walls with­out refreshment. In the course of con­versation, he said he was just returned from the French wars. Your father eagerly embraced the opportunity to enquire after his son; but lightning could not have struck him harder [...] the answer of his guest, who told him you had perished in battle.

"Never from that time did my Lord receive the smallest comfort, and the [Page 81] burden of grief laid so heavy on his frame, that the strings of his heart cracked, and he sunk into the grave.

"Your mistress, who appeared in­consolable at the tidings of your death, some time after g [...]ve her hand to anoth­er; but a few ye [...]s only had she been married, when [...] rumour that she was no more reached my ear.

"By the decease of your father, and the report of your own demise, the estates became the king's, to whom I have punctually remitted the rents; but who will no doubt, with pleasure restore them.

"This is the melancholy greeting I am compelled to give you; and I pray heaven, who has guarded you through the slaughter of the war, may endue you with resignation!"

"Horror-struck at these dreadful tidings, disappointed at the death of [Page 82] my parent, and at the inconstancy and subsequent decease of my mistress, I yielded myself a prey to black despair, and determined to devote the remnant of my days in the service of our blessed Redeemer, by enrolling myself under the banner of the knights of Malta, and combating the enemies of my re­ligion.

"I therefore withdrew privately from the castle, as I well knew if Charles became acquainted with my design, he would oppose it with every argument he was master of. I travel­led the whole day, taking no nutri­ment, save what the earth afforded, and slacking my thirst at some running brook, till the sable mantle of night was spread over the surface of the earth, and the thick falling dew warn­ed me to seek some place where I might lay my wretched head; in vain were my searches, and exhausted nature forced me to repose my wearied body on the wet grass.

[Page 83] "The beams of the ruddy god no sooner diffused their genial heat, than I arose, and pursuing my way, arrived in this valley. The sequestered situa­tion, the willows bending over the purling stream, presented a striking portrait of my own state, and induced me to exchange my armour for the garb and [...]wl of an hermit.

"Here have I since remained, and the chearing warmth of twelve genial springs have chaced the wintry snow from off the neighboring mountains, since my arrival. Now, from my re­peated miseries, draw a lesson that may teach you to bear your own with pa­tience, and, by comparison, to consid­er them as light."

CHAP. IX.

ELDRED thanked the Anchorite, and would sain have profited by his ad­vice; but the loss of his beloved mis­tress had fixed a barbed arrow in his heart, the gangrene wound of which the hand of philosophy could not heal.

He remained with Father Ambrose until his bodily health was restored, when again the remembrance of Jane drove him almost to desperation.

"Good heaven!" he cried, "my sufferings are more than I can endure."

[Page 85] "Remember, my Lord," said An­drew, "Crosses are ladders that do lead to Heaven."

"Come," exclaimed Glencairn, his eyes burning with fury, "in the very mansion of Donald will I seek the rav­isher, for sure it must be him, and—"

"Valour can do little without discre­tion," returned Andrew, "an ounce of the latter, is worth a pound of wit."

"Why, what wouldst thou have me do?"

"In vain he craves advice that will not take it."

"No more, I charge thee; if thou canst afford me no consolation, for thy life attempt not to trifle with my feel­ings."

"Fall not out with thy friend for a tri­fle."

[Page 86] "Well, well, my honest fellow, I have been hasty, I pray you pardon me."

"I do," said Andrew; "Happy is he who knows his follies in his youth."

The impetuous sallies of passion on the part of Eldred, were restrained by the persuasive arguments of his atten­dant; and it was settled they should abandon the hermitage on the follow­ing day. They made their intention known to Father Ambrose, who in­treated his noble guest, but in vain, to prolong his stay.

On the ensuing morn, the Recluse drew from his breast a casket.

"This," said he, "is the legacy of an expiring foe. I treasured it, hoping it would have proved the means of u­niting me to her I adored. Those thoughts are crushed forever! Accept this as a memorial of one, who though [Page 87] but a short time honored with your acquaintance, has for you a sincere res­pect."

So saying, he took out a ring, which he presented to Glencairn, who thank­ed him for his present; but on looking at it, the blood forsook his cheek, and his whole frame was convulsed at per­ceiving it bore the crest of his family. The mystery in which his father's fate was wrapped, the time the jewels were given, served to confirm his suspicions, that 'twas he had fallen beneath the arm of Ambro [...]e; yet could he not account for his parent having served in the En­glish army. Again he thought, he might have been influenced by some grievance, to oppose the interests of France, and for that reason had pri­vately absconded from Scotland. To censure his host would be an act of in­justice, as to the fortune of war he stood indebted for his loss.

[Page 88] These were the feelings that tore his mind; he instantly ordered his charger, and taking an abrupt leave of the Anchorite, whom he could not see but with horror, vaulted into his sad­dle, and hastened from the valley.

He rode towards the mansion of Wallace, and dismounted at twilight at the cottage of Maud, whom he questioned concerning Jane.

"On the first news of your flight," answered she, "Sir James and Donald, attended by their retainers, followed you; but to my great surprize, on the subsequent evening, the former return­ed without his guest, denouncing the curse of an irritated parent on his daughter, and vowing he would no farther pursue her, but leave her to reap the just reward of her disobedience. This startled me, and I am now con­vinced she is in their hands, but where they have secreted her, heaven knows."

[Page 89] This intelligence increased Eldred's anxiety.

"Let us be gone, Andrew," he cri­ed, "to the dwelling of this accursed rival: dearly shall he make atonement for his villainy?

In vain were Maud's endeavors to dissuade him from his purpose; in vain she painted the dangers he must ne­cessarily encounter, and the improbabil­ity of deriving any success from his rash project.

"You forget," said he, "the name I bear, never did base fear, or the thought of danger invade the mind of my illustrious race, nor will I be the first to [...]ully such a line of ancestors. Loud is their praise in mouths of wisest men, and oft are their deeds re­corded to the sound of the lyre. As to the improbability of my success, the omnipotent Being will determine, as may seem best to him, and should I [Page 90] perish in the attempt, posterity will peruse my fate with regret."

So saying, in opposition to the stren­uous intreaties of Maud, he mounted his steed, and attended by Andrew, shaped his course northward.

On the second evening, he descried the stupendous battlements of Donald's mansion, rearing their rugged heads above the horrizon, in awful majesty.

Advancing towards it he met a youth, whose military accoutrements bespoke him one of Donald's retinue; and on examining his countenance, the air of ingeniousness with which it was strongly imprinted, prompted Eldred to make his confidante, and to endeavor by gold, that all-persuasive argument, to win him to his interest.

He accosted him with some trivial question, asking whose was the adjacent mansion; after which, he informed the [Page 91] stranger it was in his power to serve him essentially.

"My gratitude," said he, "shall not be confined to the stale trick of words; I mean to give a more substantial proof of it. Take this purse, and rest assu­red, that contains but a moiety of the acknowledgment I will make, provided you befriend me."

"Your look," replied the soldier, "bespeaks you noble. I think, from your appearance, you would yourself scorn a bribe. Why then should you suppose me guilty of accepting one? Is it because I wear this humble dress? If so, learn from me, that the dress of a hind often covers a heart, which would not degrade the gaudy mar [...]le of a monarch. If I can assist you, I shall with pleasure do it. But rest assured, if my inclination does not prompt me, it never shall be said, Edric was b [...]assed by the love of lucre!"

[Page 92] These words charmed Glencairn, who was persuaded that at least, in this instance, the face was an index of the mind. He instantly imparted his business to the stranger, who confessed Jane was within the castle; at the same time, he acknowledged the in­justice of Donald, and vowed to for­ward the schemes of Eldred as much as in him lay.

Our hero expressed his sense of the obligation, and demanded by what meth­od he could best gain admission to the habitation of Donald. Edric told him he had another military suit with which he would accommodate him, and by that artifice, enable him to pass the centinel as one of the garrison.

Glencairn applauded the mental abil­ities of the soldier, who went in quest of his armour, with which returning in a short time, the former equipped himself the [...]e [...]; then, having the watch-word, he departed on his enter­prize, [Page 93] leaving his squire with Edric, who undertook to lodge him with a friend, where he might tarry for his Lord.

CHAP. X.

ELDRED crossed the draw-bridge without the least suspicion, and had scarce entered the court-yard, when his ear was saluted by the jocund sound of festivity. He entered the building and making his way to that part whence the noise proceeded, he came to a hall which was decorated by the arms and banners of its various possessors. Here he sound a goodly company sacrificing largely to Bacchus: swiftly was the mantling goblet passed around, while the warlike deeds of the Scottish Chieftains rung through the stately ed­ifice!

[Page 95] Eldred, darting a look around, saw at the farther end his rival, and Jane seated by him, over whose spirits, nei­ther the juice of the grape, nor the voice of the bard, had the least influ­ence. Pale melancholly was pictured in her features; her face was averted from the hated society wherein she was compelled to mix, while the briny moisture from her eye fell in the spark­ling cup, and diluted the potent bev­erage.

The sight of his mistress fired the soul of Glencairn; hardly could he re­frain from sacrificing the ravisher in the midst of his adherents; but poli­cy prevented him, and he determined to counteract the villainy of Donald by stratagem.

Long did he continue at the castle, without the happiness of communica­ting a word to the loved object who had brought him thither; when, as he stood reclining against his beachen spear [Page 96] in painful rumination, the highland chief passed near him, and fixed his eyes stedfastly on him; then suddenly withdrawing them, left the court-yard. Our hero was in amazement, he nat­urally conjectured he [...] known; still he determined not to abandon the place without making Jane his com­panion.

His suspicions however were soon evaporated, by the Baron taking no farther notice of him, and fortune soon after favored his wishes. As his mis­tress was enjoying the cool evening breeze upon the terrace, he found means to convey a letter, unperceived, into her hand, imparting the danger he encountered for her sake, and with ev­ery tender argument, soliciting an in­terview that night, near the western tower, as his friend Edric would have charge of the draw-bridge, who would enable him to snatch her from the cap­tivity in which she languished.

[Page 97] Eldred waited with anxiety, the in­separable companion of love, till he thought the inhabitants of the castle buried in sleep, then flew upon the wings of impatience to the appointed spot. Long did he tarry, but no Jane appeared. Furious at his disappoint­ment, he was about to retire, when the distant view of a female, again rekin­dled his hopes, and in a minute he held the daughter of Wallace in his arms, fain would he have chid, but joy re­strained his tongue from any language, save what love inspired. With rapture he strained her to his breast, apprehen­sive he should be once more deprived of her.

Thus does the shipwrecked mariner—when wan despair forbids the thought of ever regaining land, by chance some friendly billow wafts him towards a rock, where close he clings, and fears the impetuous surge will tear him from his only hope!

[Page 98] With eagerness did Glencairn hurry cross the draw bridge, where he was joined by his squire, who had received from Edric intimation of his master's design.

"These excursions," said Andrew, "may be vastly entertaining to you, my Lord and Lady, who are lovers, who can banquet on each other's words, and warm yourselves with the breath of mutual protestations. But, for my part, I would rather have been employ­ed in feasting on a well fed Capon, and a flaggon of wine. Here have I tar­ried, until I am perfectly a walking piece of ice; my body is now in as cold a state as the summit of Arthur's seat on a winter's night. Our horses too are stolen, and by the beard of St. Andrew which way they went I know not: however 'tis for your service I suffer this inconvenience, and that thought soft­ens my sufferings."

[Page 99] Already they were at a distance from the hostile place, and safe they thought from the persecution of their enemies. The transition from a situation so de­plorable, to one directly opposite, pro­duced such a revolution in their tender minds, as lovers can only imagine.

They were fondly entertaining each other with mutual protestations, when the harsh din of footsteps fast advanc­ing, caused them to mend their pace. Taking Jane's trembling hand, Eldred hurried on, but their pursuers gained upon them, and he distinguished the voice of Donald.

"Stop, villain!" he cried, "yield up your prize, or this moment you breathe your last."

They were now so close, that all es­cape was hopeless. Eldred, therefore, like to the forest lion when at bay, pla­ced himself before his fair companion, and drawing his sword prepared to meet [Page 100] his foes. Andrew followed his example exclaiming, "It's a hard battle where none escape."

The Lord of the Isles, whose impa­tience quickened his steps, first came up and attacked his rival, they [...]ought with valour, and Glencairn was on the point of gaining the victory, when he received a wound in the back, that brought him drowned in gore upon the earth, at which Jane uttered a piercing cry, and sunk lifeless on his body, while the follower of our unfortunate hero being disarmed, was fast bound and gagged, and with the lady, whom they forced from her lover, conveyed to the Castle.

Eldred recovering from the swoon wherein loss [...] blood had cast him, [...]ound himself deprived of adored Jane, and manacled in chains; at which rage and indignation renewed his strength.

[Page 101] "Cowardly assassin, he cried, "thou disgrace to knighthood, who canst not rely on the strength of thine own arm, but causest these, thy myrmidonian crew, basely to lend thee aid! Free me from this hated bondage, restore my arms, renew the combat, and let the victor be rewarded with the charms of Jane.

"Fool!" retorted Donald, "think­est thou I will play for that, which is my own already? No! the female whom thou mentionest is within my power, even now she enters my man­sion, never to retrace her steps, till by the holy force of matrimony she is link­ed to me. For thee, rash stripling, in a deep dungeon shalt thou expiate thy audacity. Could thy presumption prompt thee to imagine that thy shal­low brain could defeat the schemes of Donald? I knew thee from the first; thou canst not but remember, when in the court yard, surprize [...] my sight upon thee; but the wiser dictates [Page 102] of cool policy recalled me to myself, and I resolved to try what plans thy daring soul would form, contenting myself with keeping a guard upon thee who watched thy every motion. The letter thou gavest to the lady she drop­ped, 'twas found and delivered to me. Thy friend the tra [...]tor Edri [...] ▪ was seized and be assured shall receive the just re­ward of his treason. Another was placed at the draw bridge in his stead, with orders to let thee pass, while with my troops I did begird the castle. Some kindly angel led thee to the spot where I myself tarried, and has given me the supreme delight of witnessing thy mise­ry. Think not to escape, for by the blessed cross of our country's champion thy punishment shall equal thy arro­gance."

"And dost thou make thy boast," exclaimed Eldred, "of this thy villai­ny? Cowardice, the constant attend­ant upon guilt, burns high within thee. [Page 103] Come, at one blow dispatch me, and glut thy savage nature!"

Donald perceived this speech was ut­tered to excite his anger, that so he might be irritated, and deprive his rival of a hateful existence.

He replied "Thy artifice is vain! Death were too gentle, too unsatisfac­tory for my revenge; in a loathsome prison, where not a breath of air but what is putrid, enters, shalt thou pine, till kneeling thou dost entreat an end to thy existence, and even that mercy is denied thee. Guards, bear him hence, and see that you obey my orders."

Resistance could avail him nought▪ as well might he have stopped the rising tide upon the sandy beach, as thus unarmed, attempt to oppose the will of Donald. The soldiers hood-winked his eyes, and placing him on horseback, set forward. After a tedious journey, he found him­self descending a long flight o [...] steps; [Page 104] suddenly stopping, the guards released his sight, and taking off his chains, left him in perfect darkness, while the harsh grating of the keys, convinced him he had reached his dungeon.

CHAP. XI.

DESPAIR now seized upon the soul of Eldred; deprived of liberty, robbed of the idol of his heart, whom with its utmost fervency he worshipped, what could he wish for but death?

Irritated by reflection, and accusing fate, that instead of permitting him to end his life in battle, like his ancestors, had doomed him to perish in ignoble bondage, perhaps by the hand of an as­sassin, he traversed his dungeon, till his foot striking against a something threw him on the ground.

Curiosity prompted him to seek the [...]ause of his disaster; after a tedious [Page 106] search he picked up a dagger, which from the feel he judged to be a rusty one. While his thoughts were em­ployed in vain conjectures, how, or for what purpose the instrument came there, the beams of the moon obscure­ly gleamed through an aperture, in the roof of the cell, and presented to his astonished sight an human skeleton, then disappearing he was again involv­ed in chaos.

So momentary and so faint had been the light, he could not persuade him­self but the horrors of his situation had conjured up this phenomenon, and that 'twas but a phantom of his disordered brain. Determined, however to con­vince himself, he felt about the place, till his hand falling on the fleshless bones, brought conviction. While in this dreadful situation, a low and dis­mal groan from a far end of the dun­geon vibrated in his ear. So many con­curring horrors were sure sufficient to unnerve the [...]bres of the strongest [Page 107] heart, and though unmoved he would have encountered a host of foes, yet did this awful scene so work upon his fancy he could scarcely support himself; a cold and chilly dew flowed down his limbs, his knees forgot their office and shook under him, his nerves were all relaxed and sinewless as the new-born infant's.

"What bloody act has this infernal den been made the scene of?" he in­voluntarily cried; Unhappy wretch I am doomed to mingle my dust with thine: Alas! thy miseries are ended, mine to come."

Harrassed with mental and corporeal fatigue, he threw himself upon the bed, and strove to gain a temporary relief from his anxiety by sleep, but the care­suspending poppies fled his eyelids, and his groans of anguish echoed through the place. He arose, walked in a state of distraction, and his reflections served only to make his situation more deplor­able. [Page 108] In vain did he endeavour to pe­netrate the mysterious gloom that sur­rounded his understanding; the more he tried to unravel the knotted clue, the more was he entangled in the maz­es of conjecture, without one leading thread to guide him to certainty; while the horrors of darkness, the whistling wind, and dreary sounds of distant bells increased the gloom.

During the whole night he was dis­turbed by a repetition of sighs and me­lancholly noises, which issued from one particular direction, and kept him in a state of racking uneasiness and anxiety.

At length the wished for morn arriv­ed, and by the aperture through which the chaste Diana had the preceding ev­ening cast her pale influence, the gaudy sun's illustrious rays now made their way, and discovered to Eldred the situ­ation of his confinement.

[Page 109] 'Twas a spacious, lofty vaulted cav­ern; on one side stood an oaken table, rotten and worn out with age; a stool that bore the same marks of antiquity, and a bed of straw. Upon the table was placed a lamp and tinder box, which, to the prisoner, was a cheering sight, as it would prevent his passing another night in the darkness which he had spent the one preceding.

The only light was admitted through the opening afore-mentioned, and which had been occasioned by an earthquake or some other strong convulsion of na­ture.

He was in the course of the day ser­ved with provisions through a small iron grate; and by the ratling of vari­ous keys, and the creaking jar of gates, he judged his prison of too much strength for him to entertain a hope of ever making his escape.

[Page 110] Faint with his wound and lack of proper sustenance, he made a slight re­past on bread and water (the only food allowed him) and sunk under the pleas­ing power of Morpheus; losing for a time the remembrance of his cares.

While sleeping, his dreams presented the figure of an aged man, whose as­pect commanded veneration and re­spect. He was immured in a thick va­pourous cloud, from which his utmost efforts were vainly put in force to dis­engage himself, till casting an eye on Eldred, the mist he was involved in va­nished, h [...]s silver beard and hair were converted into jetty locks, while the feeble limbs of age grew renovated, and formed an hero in the prime of manhood, cased in steel: full he gazed on Eldred, and uttering these words; "Heaven guard you!" disappeared.

Surprize awakened Gle [...]cairn, who sound the God of day had disappeared, and that the mist of darkness envelop­ed [Page 111] the earth. He arose, his mind whol­ly engrossed in contemplating his dream, felt his way to the table, lighted his lamp, and removed the skeleton into a recess at the far end of the cavern, and the part whence the groans he had heard on the preceding night appeared to issue. Scarce had he laid it on the ground, ere the same dismal sounds harshly struck his ear, and determined him, if possible, to discover the cause. He searched in vain, he could find no clue to guide him, nor could he per­suade himself but the sounds were su­pernatural. He tarried some time, till a deep sigh made him suddenly start from a fragment of the rock on which he had seated himself, and in so doing he threw down the light and ex­tinguished it.

At the same time a something fell on his head: he stood almost petrified with horror; another groan echoed through the cave; he sought for his lamp, found it, and with trembling [Page 112] steps made for the table, rekindled the flame, and once more entered the recess. All was quiet, on the ground he discovered a small roll of paper, which he knew had fallen upon him while in the dark. He returned to the outer part of his prison to examine it, but the damps aided by time, had near­ly obliterated the writing; neverthe­less some parts were legible, and he perused the manuscript.

CHAP. XII.

'TIS now necessary to return to Do­nald, who having resigned the captive Eldred to his followers, entered the cas­tle, and summoned Andrew to his pre­sence. Judging of others by himself, he imagined the Squire's fidelity might be shaken by the power of gold, and determined to make him assure the daughter of Wallace, that Eldred had entirely resigned her to the Lord of the Isles, on condition that he was restored to liberty. This he knew must give Jane a despicable opinion of her lover, and possibly might favor his own suit.

Donald took his seat in the hall, and the follower of the Lord Glencairn was soon ushered in.

[Page 114] "Approach and fear not," said the Chief, "fain would I be thy friend. Convince the lady Jane thy master has renounced her, and fortune is thy own. As an earnest of my favor, I present you with this purse."

"No, my Lord," answered Andrew "my affection for him I serve, was the gift of nature; I consider it as sacred, and will preserve it as I would the last legacy of a departed friend. Barter it for gold! No! keep it yourself, you have more need of it."

"I need of it?" replied Donald.

"Yes, you!" cried the squire, "Go, purchase a fresh conscience, if you can. Exchange your robe, if possible, for an honest heart, and think yourself happy in your bargain."

"Wretch!" returned the chief, "obey me, or dread my vengeance."

[Page 115] "My lord," said Andrew, "rest as­sured, my philosophy is equally proof against your menaces, as your gold."

"Fool!" exclaimed the enraged Do­nald, "Guards convey him back to prison, and double load him with chains!"

"I defy you," retorted the faithful fellow, "double that again, the tho't of having acted rightly will make my irons light; while the weight that clogs thy bosom will make your frame heavy, though in the state of Adam."

"Away with him!" cried the chief.

The soldiers obeyed, and having pinioned his arms, which gave him an appearance not unlike a trussed capon, conveyed him to his cell, and left him, with the alternative of [...]hewing the [...]ud of bitter reflection, or some moul­dy bread, which was the only susten­ance they left him.

[Page 116] "Here is indeed," muttered the cap­tive, "sufficient room for meditation; here I can indulge my philosophy, which bids fair to be put to the proof, and with as little fear of interruption as the distressed cottager has to fear the relief of greatness. Should I ever be delivered from this Giant of the Castle, this Donald, never more will I act a part so ill suited to my abilities, as that of a Squire. I am certain Mars did not preside at my nativity. I am rather apt to think my parents were thinking of an olive branch at the time—No matter; I am afraid my death will be occasioned by the branch of the near­est oak. I should not be surprized if this fiend was to hang me, and then my masters promises would be fulfilled, that by following his fortune, I should get exalted. Sure enough, I set out with a promising prospect; but it re­minds me of the old proverb, Praise a fair day at night. I am afraid I shall be kept as a scare-crow, though for­sooth there seems little occasion for [Page 117] that, the birds appear to have as great an aversion as myself to this place. The only one I saw, during my stay at Edric's friend's, was an old owl, as melancholy as myself. Oh, that I was reading Plato in the buttery; there I had food for the body as well as for the mind. Alas! I shall never see those days again."

Thus did the unlucky Andrew la­ment his fate.

In the mean time, Donald sought the apartment of Jane, whose timid nature he disturbed with his impetuous solicitations. Much were her hours embittered by his addresses; still she resisted his importunities, as firmly as the rock withstands the lashing waves beneath; and an unlooked for circum­stance called him, for a time, from the castle, and relieved her from the re­straint of his company.

[Page 118] Nor was his conduct to Jane the on­ly injustice Donald was guilty of, Scot­land, at that period, abounded with robbers; the whole kingdom was in a state of civil war; the depredations of banditti were not only tolerated but encouraged by the barons. Nay they were employed by them to destroy the neighbouring nobility.

Donald, whose disposition was suited to such deeds, soon made himself con­spicuous. At the instigation of Earl Douglas, the most powerful of the Caledonian chiefs, who had been de­feated by the king's army, he summon­ed a numerous force to join him, under the command of Lauchlan Macleod, and Murdock Gibson, two noted rob­bers, with whom he invaded every place that was devoted to their sovereign, sparing neither age nor infancy, burn­ing towns and villages, and enriching himself with the spoils thereof.

[Page 119] He attacked Argyle, and the Isle of Arran; and having obtained possession of the Castle of the latter by strata­gem, he levelled it with the earth.

From thence he passed to Lochaber, and to Murray, where he exercised the same barbarities as at the preceding places.

He likewise destroyed the Castle of Inverness, after having taken it in a manner unworthy a warrior, and put the garrison to the sword.

These things he did, not so much to gratify Lord Douglas, as to indulge his own sanguinary, avaricious turn of mind. Like the devouring locust, he carried with him destruction, and de­lighted in the miseries of his fellow crea­tures.

CHAP. XIII.

WHILE the iron hand of civil war raged thus in Scotland, Henry of England perceiving an advantageous opportunity, as he and his predecessors were ever wont to do, commanded the inhabitants of Northumberland, and the other counties on the borders, to make incursions; while the distracted state of Caledonia, prevented James, (the sovereign of that nation) making any considerable attempt to repulse the foe; and a defeat of his army by Hen­ry Piercy, Earl of Northumberland, caused Donald to think this a favorable juncture to obtain a pardon for himself and his associates.

[Page 121] He therefore sent messengers to this purpose to his majesty, who handled the matter very craftily, not openly and plainly forgiving the tyrant, nor yet making the ambassadors entirely despair of remission for their chief.

He answered them gently, that the Lord of the Isles deserved no mercy at his hands, that the languinary acts o [...] which he had been guilty called aloud for vengeance; nevertheless, that kings who represent the divine majesty of our maker, should, in holding the ballance of justice, ever lean towards the scale of mercy. That his pardon depended entirely on himself; that he should do some praise-worthy action, ere he was reinstated in his favor, and that he should moreover repair every injury inflicted by him.

With this answer Donald was obliged to be content. At the same time am­bassadors arrived from Richard, Duke of York, to cla [...]m the assistance of the [Page 122] Scottish monarch against Henry the sixth, whom he purposed to depose▪ and to place himself upon the throne of England; in return for which he pro­mised to restore the lands in Northum­berland enjoyed by James's progenitors, with Berwick and all the fields adja­cent; and, to conclude, vowed a per­petual peace and amity, to be main­tained between the two realms.

When the ambassadors had concluded their harangue, they thus received their answer:

"It is not unknown the just title that Richard Plantagenet hath to the crown of England; but my assistance should not be too precipitately granted, neither should a prince, who has so long, and by consent of his kingdom, been invested with the insignia of roy­alty, be despoiled for a light cause, nor without mature deliberation; but that I refer to the wisdom of the English nobility. I have just reason for com­plaint [Page 123] against my brother Henry. First, that he did, without provocation, in­vade my dominions, at a time when they were internally rent by civil com­motions; then also when I did seek redress, he delayed to give me an an­swer thereupon. If, therefore, the Duke of York, with the Lords of his faction, will keep promise, I here pledge myself, that my whole strength shall be exerted to drive your present sovereign from the throne, and place the crown upon his rival's head."

With this answer the ambassadors took their leave, and repeated the same to their master.

In the mean time James summoned his forces to be ready on a certain day, in order to invade their ancient enemies. On his march he was met and accosted by an English, a creature of king Henry's, and a perfect adept in the art of lying. He was accompanied by a monk, who feigned a marvelous grav­ity, [Page 124] [...] pretended he was entrusted with bills and commissions from the Pontiff of Rome.

He thus addressed the Caledonian Prince.

"It is the Pope's command, that neither the sovereign of Scotland, nor any of his army, shall pass farther in­to England, on pain of the curses and censures of Holy Kirk. For through the frivolous dissentions of Christian kings, have the Turks, (those cruel enemies to our religion) crept daily more and more into Europe. There­fore, be all debates, battles and strife set aside between the disciples of our Saviour, and their utmost endeavors used to expel the infidels, who would not only spoil them of their worldly liberty, but also of the word of God: on which account, I am now authorised by the Pope, to promise, that all rav­ages committed by King Henry shall [Page 125] be repaired, and that ye be from this time on terms of amity."

James, believing nothing of deceit in these fraudulent hypocrites, obeyed the mandate, and disbanded his troops, but was not long returned, before he discov­ered the craft and subtilty of his foes; equally enraged at his own credulity, he collected a fresh body of men, and entered the English borders.

While these transactions passed, the Duke of York led his forces against Henry, whom he attacked, routed his army, slew many of his leaders, and made the king himself prisoner, whom he conducted to London, where the Parliament pronounced him incapable of ruling, though they permitted him to continue the regal title, constituting Richard governor of the realm.

Thus was Henry, who at the ea [...] age of nine months, was acknowledg­ed monarch of England and France, [Page 126] the prime of manhood deprived of both, and the prophecy made good. "That Henry of Monmouth should win, what Henry of Windsor should lose."

In the mean time James invaded the English sovereign's favorers in the north, and when he had won the town of Roxburgh, and laid siege to the cas­tle thereof, ambassadors arrived, from his ally the Duke of York, requesting him to raise the siege, as he had entire­ly carried his point.

James claimed the lands promised, to which the ambassadors replied they could not give an answer.

Iritated at finding himself the dupe of both parties, he vowed revenge, and swore he would dye the white rose of a deeper hue than its rival. Moreover, that he would not depart till the castle [...]as his own, so [...] the commis­sioners.

[Page 127] Soon after he was joined by Donald, and a powerful reinforcement, who offered to penetrate farther into Eng­land, and by several deeds of valour, he recommended himself particularly to the notice of his monarch; his tent was pitched nearest him, and nought was done without his concurrence.

During the siege, the King was un­fortunately slain by the bursting of a cannon, near which he stood. His death was regretted by every one; but in a short time his place was supplied by his queen, who arrived with her son, and restrained their grief.

"Here," she cried, "is the offspring of him you lament; shew your re­gard to your deceased Prince, by at­tacking the enemies of his successor, nor vainly yield to an unmanly sor­row."

These words inspired the soldiers; they stormed the place, headed by [Page 128] Donald, and after a stout resistance captured it. There we shall leave the Lord of the Isles to reap the reward of his victory.

CHAP. XIV.

'TIS now proper to return to the unhappy Eldred, who was left busily employed in perusing the manuscript, some parts of which were effaced, the rest was legible, and he read it.

The manuscript dropped from the hand of Glencairn at these lines, by which he learned the skeleton was that of his long lost father. He pressed the tablets to his lips with devotion, then starting from his seat, he flew to the recess where he had deposited the re­mains; threw himself upon the ground, and clasped the fleshless bones within his arms. At length he resolved to dig a grave, and commit them to the earth.

This he accomplished by means of the rusty dagger he had found: then wrapping his robe, of which he di­vested himself, round the corse, he re­turned it to that from whence it sprung.

At that moment the nightly screech­owl uttered a lamentable cry, which [Page 134] was answered by a deep groan that issued from the corner whence he had heard the preceding ones. His blood grew clotted in his veins, he fancied the spirit of his departed sire had taken that method of spur him to revenge.

"Shade of my ill-fated, my lament­ed father!" exclaimed Eldred, "rest in peace! Fear not, but thy murder shall be expiated. Blood calls for blood, nor shall it call in vain; for sure that power who has brought me hither to discover the author of thy dreadful end, will, by some miracle, effect my deliverance, and make me the instrument of vengeance on his head!"

Having prayed awhile, he covered the bones with earth, and passed the remainder of the night in heavy rumi­nation.

The agitation he had labored under, his bodily as well as mental agony had [Page 135] exhausted him, and tired nature craved repose. He enjoyed some hours of bro­ken slumber, nor did he awake till night; he then trimmed his lamp, and returned to the manuscript.

CHAP. XV.

ELDRED bedewed the sheets with his tears, placed them in his bosom, and repaired to the grave of his parent. While every faculty was absorbed in contemplation, a loud shriek made the vital blood grow chilly at his heart; at the same time a noise at the gate of the cavern caused him to seek the rea­son. He expected to see his execution­er, but his horror was converted into surprise, when he beheld a man un­armed, and advancing towards him; he descried the features of Duncan, son of Carrol, who was Sir James's agent [Page 138] in his villainies, and an inhabitant of the castle.

"Good heaven!" cried Eldred, "by what strange chance do I find thee here? tell me."—

"Suspend your enquiries," returned the youth, "and consider only your safety. Your prison doors are open to you, fly."

The silver tongues of angels could not have been more welcome to the ears of Glencairn than these words, still his admiration increased.

"I conjure you," said he, "inform me by what strange means your kind­ness is enabled to befriend me."

"Briefly thus: last night, in passing through the gallery of the castle, the buz of people in conversation attract­ed my notice. I listened, and heard Sir James and my father in earnest dis­course; [Page 139] you, they often mentioned, and from what they said, I learned you were here in confinement, and under the latter's custody.

"He had for some time a large bunch of keys, of which he is so extremely careful, that in the day he kept them under lock, and at night deposited them beneath his pillow. I questioned him concerning what place they were the safeguard of, but was silenced with a frown."

"Suspend your idle curiosity, nor for your life attempt to develope the secrets of my heart."

"This was his answer. What I heard in the gallery convinced me those were the keys of your prison, and I have spent the whole day in devising means for your emancipation. To night my father was unexpectedly sum­moned by Sir James, and being at the time employed in the locker, where [Page 140] he kept his charge, in his haste, left the door open, and gave me the wish­ed-for opportunity of restoring you to that liberty, which, but for this lucky chance, you never would have regained. Surely I am not culpable in thwarting the schemes of a parent, when they are unworthy of him; and that Being, whose scrutinizing eye can look into my very soul, knows that I act but from his just impulse."

"What savage place is this?" said Eldred, "The Haunted Cavern!" re­plied Duncan. "The Haunted Cavern, indeed!" exclaimed our hero, "Little did I think, at the time I treated the report but as the idle chimera of the peasants, that 'twas the haunt of a be­loved—."

He recollected himself in time, to prevent the secret of the murder escap­ing his lip. He quitted the cell, after damping the earthy pillow of his fath­er, [Page 141] and vowing to dedicate his life un­to revenge.

At the door of his dungeon, he re­turned his deliverer every acknowl­edgment that a heart stored with grat­itude could inspire; then left him, and went to the humble dwelling of old Maud, where he begged she would permit him to remain for a short time, telling her, as she valued his life, not to divulge his being there.

Eldred determined here to make his abode, till the search, which would of course be made, should cease; then to visit the mansion of his ancestors, re­late the unnatural end of his father, and invoke the tenants to arm them for revenge on his assassin.

He passed the night in a state of anx­iety. In the morning, the same lady whom he had seen at the cottage on the day of his elopement with Jane, a­gain made her appearance; still she was [Page 142] veiled; with impatience she questioned him concerning his fair cousin, in which he satisfied her as much as in him lay,

In the evening Maud, by the desire of Glencairn, repaired to the castle, and on her return gave him the follow­ing account.

"I hobbled at your request to the Baron's. I am sure my old feet ach for it, and well they may; for crossing the rocks that lie 'twixt here and there would bruise the hoof of a camel."

"Spare your observations," inter­rupted Eldred, "and tell me what ti­dings you have brought."

"Spare my observations!" returned she, "I have made none, except on my fatigue, and the badness of the road. Well, at last I arrived at Sir James's, and the first person that I saw was Duncan; knowing from the service he had done you, and a signal service [Page 143] too, let me tell you. Sure his good­ness will make some recompence for the life of his father; never were two so unlike. There is as much difference between them as there [...]s 'twixt a chap­pin of whiskey and a pail of ditch wa­ter. Ah, my Lord, your gratitude to him cannot be too great."

"I am not," said Eldred, "to learn what I owe him, nor will my heart, I hope, ever forget the favors I have received from any. Rest assured, my good mother, you shall not go unre­warded."

"Reward!" said the old woman, "I scorn it! 'tis my heart that prompts me to lend you what little aid I can▪ and that looks for no other reward than the satisfaction it feels in doing good. Well, I imparted to Duncan your be­ing here."

"Strange things," replied he, "have happened at the castle: last night, du­ring [Page 144] my absence at the Haunted Cavern, a pilgrim arrived at the gate; the laws of hospitality forbad Sir James to refuse the lodging he demanded, or rest assu­red he would have done it."

"This Duncan need not have told me, for I know the Baron's disposition; he considers not the proper use of rich­es, which heaven by granting in pro­fusion to one, enables him to assist those to whom fortune has been less bounti­ful. These are my ideas of wealth, and I am sure—."

"For heaven's sake!" cried the anx­ious Eldred, "suspend your comments, and ease my impatience!"

"Well, well!" said Maud, "you are impetuous, but when your youthful blood is lowered by age, you will know better."

"This pilgrim," continued Duncan, "has won the hearts of the whole fam­ily; [Page 145] they idolize him. Now mark me; at the dead of night, the inhabi­tants were alarmed by the cries of Sir James; they flew to his chamber, and found him in a state impossible to pic­ture: His eyes were glaring, the per­spiration dropped from off him, and his features were convulsed with hor­ror. In the first sally of his panic, he unwarily discovered the cause; he pro­tested the apparition of the late Lord Glencairn had appeared to him, had opened the curtains at the bottom of his couch, presented himself in armour, and that having stood there a few mo­ments, he suddenly vanished. "My fa­ther," continued Duncan, "now en­tered the apartment, and ordered the domesticks to retire. In the morning, he informed them 'twas nothing more than a dream with which their Lord had been troubled, and which had left so strong an impression on him. This, though they mentioned not their mis­trust, I could observe they were far from crediting. Sir James is confined [Page 146] by illness to his bed, and much I fear a guilty conscience is his complaint. Recal to mind the misterious manner in which the late Lord of Glencairn disappeared: I dare say no more, but I would not have his heart in my breast for a kingdom. Trembling, I saw Carol take the keys and quit the castle: in a little time be returned, and deman­ded of me whether I had not, on the preceding evening, touched them; I denied having seen them. He sat for some time musing, then starting from his chair, left me; but I am certain he has concealed his prisoner's escape from Sir James."

"This was Duncan's account, and you have it in his own words."

Here Maud ceased to speak, and El­dred gave her the thanks which were her due.

CHAP. XVI.

WHEN the residents of the cottage were retired to rest, Eldred wandered from thence to get a little air, of which he stood in great need. Unknowingly he took his way towards the Cavern, and seating himself upon a fragment of stone, contemplated the beauties of nature: the moon shone bright, but was now and then obscured by dark­some clouds which swiftly flew across the luminary, and seemed to foretel the approaching storm. Here he was soon disturbed by the same noise he had been accustomed to hear while in confinement and which now ap­peared to issue from the cave. He started, and perceived a figure gliding [Page 148] along at no great distance. Resolved, if possible, to know what it was, he fol­lowed it, but in vain; the various turnings of the rocks favored the object of his pursuit, who soon disappeared, and le [...]t him wrapped in wonder. He recollected a similar circumstance be­faling Jane, and considered this as a stimulative to him to avenge his father's death.

The castle clock now chimed the hour of twelve, and the fast falling rain warned him to retire. He measured his steps towards the mansion of Wallace, determined no longer to delay his ven­geance, and by a secret passage enter­ed the building. The time conspired with his purpose; the croaking raven from the mouldering turrets welcom­ed his approach; he hastened to the a­partment of his uncle, and entered it; around the couch the curtains were closed; he undrew them, and beheld his victim buried in sleep, while con­science, [Page 149] that bane to rest, disturbed e­ven his slumbers.

"Behold!" he cried, "the ghastly spectre! See how his eye-balls glare! Alas! poor injured shade, can nought make thee atonement? Oh, murdered brother!"

The inflamed temper of Eldred could brook no more, in rage he exclaimed:

"Villain! awake and meet thy doom!" Wallace opened his eyes, and seeing Glencairn, the blood forsook his cheek: fixed as though influenced by the basilisk, he gazed upon the youth, when the power of utterance return­ing: "Gracious powers!" he cried, "who is it I see?"

"Thou seest," said Eldred, "the offspring of the murdered Archibald. Long hast thou triumphed, and with impunity enjoyed the produce of thy crimes; vengeance is now at hand; [Page 150] from me thou art destined to receive it."

"I submit," quoth Wallace, "to the will of fate: my punishment is just; but, O! I charge thee give me a lit­tle time for penitence, if heaven grants it, do not thou refuse it!"

"Imposter!" returned Glencairn, "too well I conceive the shallow arti­fice: thou wouldest gain time, in the vain hope that some of thy infernal pack will rescue thee, their leading blood-hound: but prepare—as well might the taken deer use persuasion with the [...]ur that holds him, as thou hope to escape my just revenge; re­venge for a murdered parent, whose death is now avenged in this."

He raised his dagger, and was about to plunge it in the breast of his pros­trate victim, when an opposite door suddenly opened, and a pilgrim enter­ed, crying; "Hold! hold thy hand!"

[Page 151] Surprize called Eldred from his pur­pose; he cast his looks upon the stran­ger, who tearing from his face an arti­ficial beard, and divesting himself of his weeds, displayed the figure of a warrior, (like to that he had seen in his dream) who flew into his arms, ex­claiming; "My son, my son!"

So momentary had been this scene, that the faculties of Eldred were total­ly suspended, and the unhappy Wal­lace, on seeing the palmer throw off his disguise, had fallen into a swoon.

"Merciful powers!" cried the aston­ished youth, "is it possible I see my father?"

"Thou dost," replied his sire, for it was him: "in me thou seest him, while I behold in thee a son, to reward my past misfortunes, and soothe my lat­ter hours."

[Page 152] Joy, the natural consequence of such unexpected happiness, having some­what subsided, their thoughts were turned to the wretched criminal, who still remained insensate. At length, with much care, they brought him to himself, but no sooner did he descry the features of his injured brother, than he relapsed into his former state; nor was it but with much difficulty they could convince him 'twas not the spirit, but the living Archibald, who stood before him, and strove by every soothing me­thod, to reconcile the culprit to him­self—but ineffectual were his endeav­ors, repentance had touch'd his heart; and the barbed dart of conscience for­bade him ease.

"In vain," said he, "you kindly try to comfort me; reason pictures me a savage unnatural wretch: for not to me you owe your life—alas! long since I thought you dead! Blessed be Provi­dence that has preserved you! Avarice, that cursed passion, was the source of [Page 153] all, and at his altar would I have sac­rificed the world! Your son I could not bear to look upon, and though a some­thing, I will not say humanity, re­strained me from destroying him; yet when I [...]ound my schemes thwarted, when I had formed an alliance for my daughter, which but for him would have taken place, I doomed him to the same wretched cavern, where I imagined you had breathed your last. Seek not to make me wish for life, even now I feel the biting agonies of death: sum­mon my servants, and let me by repa­ration make some atonement." The domesticks appeared.

"Remember," quoth Wallace, "my nephew Eldred, is the heir of all that I possess; thou, much wronged brother, curse not my memory; your sister, my injured wife, was at the instigation of Duncan, by my orders, sent to—"

Here his speech failed him; death stamped his seal upon his eye-lids, and [Page 154] had he lived but as he died, sighs and tears would have honored his memory which was reviled with scoffings and up­braidings.

Eldred was acknowledged Lord of the Castle and its vast appurtenances: the rustic tenants hailed their new mas­ter, with shouts of joy; the gates of this hitherto inhospitable mansion were now thrown open, and welcome given to every one; the ponderous ox smoaked before the fire, and the spacious hall re­sounded with the sounds of mirth and minstrelley.

CHAP. XVII.

ELDRED, by the desire of his fa­ther, whom we shall henceforth call the Lord Glencairn, recited his adven­tures. On coming to the part which related to the hermit, he shewed the ring, and questioned his sire concern­ing it.

"That ring," returned his parent, "I presented to the Lord John Talbot ere thou wert born. He was in Scot land on some business of State, and we formed, during his stay, a solemn friendship; he fell in the French wars, and I am now convinced by the arm of your Anchorite."

[Page 156] Eldred then requested an account of his own fortunes.

"Alas! my son," he replied, "I cannot satisfy you without entering in­to a detail of my sufferings; misfor­tunes I will no more entitle them, since I have at last the happiness of seeing you again. When last these eyes be­held you, you were an infant; your mother dying in giving you birth, my whole affection centered in the dear pledge she left behind her, and I thought she lived again in you, on whom my heart reclined as its last prop. On that fatal night that I de­parted from my Castle, before I moun­ted, I pressed you to my heart, and in­voked a blessing on you; then journey­ed towards the dwelling of Wallace, who having intimation of my design to visit him, planted the ruffians who took me in the grove. This I learned from himself on his visiting me in the cavern. It would be superfluous to mention cir­cumstances of which the manuscript [Page 157] has informed you: four tedious years did I pass in that dreary place, during which time my rest was often disturbed by the melancholy noises you have men­tioned. In vain were my endavors put in force to discover the cause; in vain I racked my brain, and at length con­cluded the Cavern was haunted by some restless spirit: full of these thoughts, my time grew doubly irksome.

"One stormy night, the rain beat hard against my prison roof; the peals of thunder rattled o'er my head, and vivid flames of sulphureous lightning flashed through the opening of the rock. Suddenly me thought, from the tremendous crash, the cave was rent in pieces: I flew to the recess where the shock seemed above the rest; but what was my surprise, when I found a part of it nearest the ground torn by the fury of the elements, was broken a­way? nor can I picture the agitation of my mind, when I discovered it o­pened into a long narrow passage. I [Page 158] considered this as the kind work of Providence, and falling on my knees, returned thanks to the Almighty, who thus seemed to promise me my liberty.

"I extinguished my lamp, not know­ing where the path might lead me to. I felt my way for some time, and at length descried a glimmering light, which made me more cautious how I proceeded. On my nearer approach, I found it was diffused by a lamp, sus­pended by a long iron chain from the roof of a cave, round which were scat­tered, breast-plaits cuirasses, helmets, in short, every implement of war. At the far end sat the figure of a man ca­sed in steel, and his beaver being up gave me an opportunity of seeing his face, which was as pale, as death. I was much astonished, nay, such was the effect of my surprise, that I consid­ered him as something supernatural.

"On recollection, I thought my best way would be to return to my dun­geon, [Page 159] and tarry a fitter opportunity. I did so, and waited with impatience the return of the following evening. As soon as it arrived I sought the pas­sage again, and in the cave beheld the same figure as before. I stood for some time gazing on him, my situation being such as gave me a full view of him without fear of discovery. Sud­denly he started from his seat, and van­ished through an outlet that was near him. After a time, finding all quiet, I ventured out, but at that instant he re­turned, and seeing me, unsheathed his sword and made towards me. Fortu­nately the place was so well stored with weapons, that I soon armed myself, and after an obstinate combat, stretch­ed him drowned in blood upon the earth.

"Compassion prompted me to give him every assistance in my power. I unbuckled his breast-plate, and endea­vored to staunch his wound, but he pushed me from him."

[Page 160] "Your care" he said, is vain: even now the Angel of death hovers around me, and will shortly close my eyes for ever! Misfortunes, biting want have leagued me with a band of robbers; listen to my sufferings and pity me.!

"I am son to the late Sir William Lovel, England claims my birth: in the fruitful county of Norfolk I drew my first breath, and received the fos­tering care of a fond father; the tender solicitude with which he watched my juvenile years, can never be oblitera­ted from the tablets of my memory, so long as I possess the power of reflec­tion.

"The first seventeen years of my life passed without any incident wor­thy relating, when one of our tenants, named Brackenbury, was le [...]t guardian to the daughter of a deceased friend, who had resided in a distant part of the kingdom. On her arrival, her beauty entirely engrossed the conversation of [Page 161] the place, and the continual commen­dations I heard of the pe [...]ections of this young damsel▪ made me resolve to see her. I therefore one day, on my re­turn from riding, called at Brackenbu­ry's to request a draught of water, but in hopes of beholding his charge.

"I alighted by his desire, and was conducted into the cottage, where the first object that attracted my notice was his lovely ward, Lauretta. Never did I behold so charming a creature; but if I was captivated by her beauty, I was much more so by her engaging modest mein, which had such an effect upon me, I from that moment became enslaved.

"I visited my adored Lauretta every day; I disclosed my passion, and had the satisfaction to find she returned my love: but Brackenbury, who was a man of penetration, soon discovered the cause of my visits, and threatened, [Page 162] if I did not discontinue them, to inform Sir William.

"I left the cottage in a state little short▪ of phrenzy, from which I be­came gloomy and reserved; not only my mind, but my body was infected; I could take no nourishment, sleep for­sook my pillow, and my days were mis­erable. My father perceived the al­teration, and importuned me to divulge the reason; I could not resist his en­treaties, and confessed my affection for Lauretta."

"The good man heard me without a single interruption, then replied; "my dear William, I do not blame you; you are young, and I must own the person on whom you have bestow­ed your love, though neither rich or no­bly born, is worthy of your tenderness; I entertained indeed better hopes, but rather than see you thus, you have my leave to espouse Lauretta."

[Page 163] "Words would be inadequate to the transports I felt on hearing him sanc­tion my love; I flew to the abode of my mistress, and informed her of the conversation that had passed; her joy was equal to my own."

"I now fancied nothing wanting to perfect my felicity; but oh how transient is the bliss of mortals! Three days previous to that which was [...]o have put my destined bride into my possession, my dear, my beloved parent was thrown from his hor [...]e and so violently bruised as to cause his death. I was with him at the time this fatal accident happened, and with the assistance of a peasant re­moved him to the castle.

"A surgeon was immediately sent for, who pronounced his wounds mor­tal. Finding he had but a short time to live, he ordered every one but my­self to quit the room; their desired me to sit down beside him.

[Page 164] "My dear boy!" said he, "you are going to lose a tender father, and a sin­cere friend; your happiness has consti­tuted the chief study of my life, your company has been the only solace of my latter years. I have, William, time only to say a few words relative to your future conduct. Never cringe to your superiors, nor commit a dishonorable action for the sake of any temptation that may be held out to you; rest assu­red, the greatest happiness man can taste is to retrospect his past conduct, without feeling the goading stings of a reproachful conscience. To your de­pendants be ever affable, and let it be your constant care to reward the deser­ving. Farewell, my son, may heaven bless you!"

"Here, with a sigh, he resigned his breath to the Supreme Being, and slept in peace!"

CHAP. XV.

"The violence of my grief," con­tinued the robber, "threw me into a fever, during which time Sir William was interred. On the following day, I received a visit from my cousin, the Lord Lovel. Having always lived on amicable terms with him, I imagined his coming the result of friendship, but I was soon undeceived,

"On entering the hall, after conso­ling me for my irrepairable loss, with a profusion of apparent kindness, he en­quired whether my father had left a will? I answered in the negative, on which he altered his tone, saying;"

[Page 166] "I thought as much; ' [...]is therefore ne­cessary I should let you know the cause of my being here is to take possession of these domains, which now devolve on me as nearest heir. I am moreover to inform you, your birth is illigitimate, and that you quit this place to-morrow. You acknowledge Sir William left no testament, you cannot therefore lay claim to any thing."

"I was petrified at these words, but the flinty hearted wretch, far from feeling compassion for my situation, re­peated his order that I should leave the castle the next day.

"Having disengaged myself from the stupor wherein surprise had cast me, rage succeeded▪ and I laid my hand upon my sword, with an intention to offer him a sacrifice to filial duty and affection; for the memory of my moth­er, although she died ere I was old e­nough to feel her loss, was highly re­vered by me. He perceiving my de­sign, [Page 167] called his attendants, who imme­diately entered and disarmed me.

"Turn," cried he, "yon bastard forth, and if he ever presumes to come within these walls again, death shall be his punishment."

"It was in vain to make resistance, as his followers were much too nu­merous for my domestics to cope with; I therefore submitted to my destiny, and left him master of what indeed was mine. Thus was I stripped of every thing, and shut out from the very man­sion, which bu [...] a short hour before ow­ned me for its Lord!

"At first I thought of making an appeal to the law; but too true I was the fruit of an alliance, which, though rendered firm by mutual affection, ne­ver was sanctioned by the matrimonial rites. I also thought of visiting my beloved Lauretta, but honor forbade me; to present a beggar to her arms [Page 168] I imagined, would be an ill return for her unfeigned affection.

"I set forward, determined to turn my back on Norfolk for ever. I trav­elled the whole night and the following day, scarce taking any refreshment. I entered Scotland, and was passing near this spot, when my way was in­terrupted by a man, who brandishing his sword, bade me deliver my money. Unused to be commanded, I refused, on which he furiously attacked me; but I, aware of him, unsheathed my weapon and escaped the blow. Long we fought, without the least advantage on either side, till a deep wound which he received in the sword arm, caused him to drop his falchion.

"My life is yours," he exclaimed, "take it!"

"I replied, no! although the un­provoked manner in which you attack­ed me would authorize such a deed, yet [Page 169] religion which teaches us to forgive our enemies, forbids me! Therefore live.

"He was about to return his thanks, when I observed a body of men issue from a grove at no great distance, and hasten towards us. On drawing near­er, and perceiving their associate woun­ded, they were about to sacrifice me to their rage; when he generously cried hold! and learn, though your profession compels you to divest the benighted tra­veller, to respect valor! Henceforth consider this young man as my friend"

"I found by the deference paid him, he was their captain. His hurt requi­red assistance; and seeing I was fatigued he begged I would accompany him to his cave, where I should be welcome to pass the night. Unable to suspect a person who had behaved so nobly, I ac­cepted his invitation.

[Page 170] "We walked till we came to a group of lofty rocks, and having wandered about half a mile in the midst of them, entered this place. The chief having had his wound dressed ordered some refreshment. In a minute the table was covered with all sorts of delicate viands and rich wines, which, notwith­standing so much in want of, I hardly tasted.

"Having finished our repast we re­tired. I arose early in the morning, but found the captain up before me: he in­formed me he had, spite of the anguish of his wound, left his bed in compli­ment to me. Our breakfast ended, he desired all, save myself, to retire. As soon as they were gone, he thus addres­sed me:

"Stranger, you will doubtless won­der, in a place like this, to find a being possessed of feeling; but let this teach you never to judge the heart by the out­ward appearance, and learn, that a [Page 171] mortal compelled by poverty to em­brace the rude life of a robber, may have virtues to which a prince, with all his greatness, may be a stranger. You have spared my life in a situation where few would have acted like you; 'tis a vast debt and never can be cancelled. You appear unhappy; can I in any way contribute to your satisfaction? If I can, let not an ill timed diffidence prevent your putting my professions to the test."

"I thanked him for his kindness, but assured him my griefs were not within his power to cure. He answered, his only inducement for noticing my mel­ancholy was the hope of being able to dispel it. Convinced by his manner he meant me well, I resolved to trust him with my history, which I had no soon­er finished, than in a fit of passion he cried, "Just heaven? are such villains, the worst of robbers, permitted to es­cape the lash of censure and rigour of the law, while miserable wretches like [Page 172] myself, who only take from their fel­low creatures to satisfy the wants of nature, are branded with the most op­probrious epithets? Young man, en­list yourself with me, and it shall be my study to make restitution for the wrongs you have received from for­tune."

"I consented, and became a comrade in their depredations. Long I had not followed this detested calling, when our captain died, and by the general assent of the band, I was elected commander, which post I have since filled: but gra­cious heaven has by your hand short­ened a life, the latter part of which has been marked with crimes yet has not my soul been tainted with inhumanity, and dearly would I make atonement; while yet life lasts, let me attempt it. In the several cells this place contains are numberless victims, who have long—"

[Page 173] "The unerring dart of death enter­ed his heart at these words, and for­bad his tongue its repentant office. I searched the cave, but to no purpose; so artfully were these dens concealed, that the piercing eye of the lynx in vain might have sought them.

"Tired with my fruitless attempt, I was compelled to seek my safety; I therefore returned to my own cavern, taking with me the body of the rob­ber. I stripped him, and exchanging clothes, left him, having disfigured his countenance with blood, and laid the dagger near him, that so my perse­cutors might suppose it was my body, and that in a fit of desperation I had put an end to my existence.

"I then entered the passage, and having stopped up the aperture through which I made my escape, with rubbish sought the outlet I had observed the robber vanish through, and which, to [Page 174] my extreme surprise and joy, restored me to liberty."

CHAP. XIX.

"FAINTLY can I picture the sen­sations at that moment, in which all remembrance of my past sorrows were for a time suspended. The mist of night was fleeting fast, while in the east the ruddy tinted sky announced the arrival of the god of day, and cast its influence on the bosom of the ocean. The air after so long confinement I could ill bear: still the necessity of my quick departure gave me fresh vigour, and urged me on. I travelled towards my castle, and at length the turrets of my mansion shewed themselves, when the appearance of an aged peasant cau­sed me to make towards him, and I quickly recognized his features; his [Page 176] life had been spent in the vassalage of my ancestors.

"I accosted him as a stranger, de­termined to know whether the remem­brance of Glencairn obtained a place in his mind.

"Friend," quoth I, "I have travel­led [...]ar: say, does the spring of hospi­tality influence the portal of yon edi­fice?"

"Seek it not," quoth he, "the sto­ry of woe is in vain repeated at that gate, nor is the weary traveller e'er in­vited to enter it."

"Indeed!" answered I, "and was it always so?"

"Alas!" replied the hind, "the former owner would with his own hand administer comfort to the meanest creature; with him the poor lost a be­nefactor [Page 177] the oppressed a champion, and the vicious a monitor."

"Think me not, Eldred, guilty of vanity, in repeating the words of the poor fellow; for that, of all passions, is most deserving our contempt—but let this teach thee how to act the prop­er part of man. Reflect, that Being who places thee in an exalted station, can hurl thee lower than thy dependant; and, oh! my son, be assured the great­est luxury riches can purchase, is re­leiving the b [...]ting wants of penury, and securing the prayers of our fel­low creatures!

"I ventured to discover myself, and his joy at seeing me was extreme, but was suddenly checked by recollecting where I was.

"My Lord," he cried, "fly this ho­stile place! should you be known, your life would answer."

[Page 178] "Hold!" I interrupted, "for my life I care not; know you any tidings of my son?"

"I know but little," returned the peasant, "'twas here believed you were assassinated; a short time after, Sir James sent for your son to Edin­burgh, and garrisoned the castle with his own followers, discharging yours. Since the departure of my young Lord, no Tidings have reached us."

"What could I think? From his in­human treatment to me, what could I suppose but you were no more?

"Almost distracted, I knew not what to do. But after a time, imagin­ing I had by some involuntary crime, drawn down the vengeance of heaven on me and mine; so I imagined the only method to reconcile the Deity, would be by performing some action that might appear laudable to him, and nothing seemed more suited than [Page 179] undertaking a pilgrimage to the Holy­land. I therefore provided myself with a habit for the purpose, and commen­ced my journey, having sworn the old man never to divulge his knowledge of my existence, and was accompanied by his good wishes,

"Long, long and tedious was the way: unprotected from the scorching heat of the Asiatic sun, I wandered, and having reached the destined spot, performed my mission. I then traver­sed the eastern continent, still in Pal­mer's weeds, and afterwards return­ed to Europe, most part of which I crossed. At Italy, I met with some more of my own calling, who pro­posed making the tour of England. I accompanied them, and being so near my native country, I was by an invol­untary impulse compelled to visit it. I sought the castle of Wallace, and claimed entertainment there; I learned from the conversation of the domestics, you had been reared by your uncle un­til [Page 180] a short time previous, when you had absconded with the daughter of Sir James.

"I last night threw aside my dis­guise, and entered his room: he in­stantly remembered my features, but supposing me dead, imagination caused him to consider me as the spirit of the brother he had so much wronged. I had this night retired to the closet ad­joining his apartment, with an inten­tion to disclose myself, and seek to soothe him to repentance, when the words I heard convinced me you were my son; and I will no more complain of the sickle goddess, since you are re­stored to me."

Here the Lord Glencairn concluded his narration.

On the following day the cavern was searched; they removed the rubbish and entered the passage; the noises which had been heard were again re­peated. [Page 181] At length they discovered sev­eral cells, and delivered innumerable captives who had long groaned in con­finement, and whose appearance ac­counted for the disturbances experien­ced by Eldred and his father, while in confinement. They moreover secured the banditti, and resigned them to the rigour of the law. In short, justice was again practised, and the whole neighbourhood rung with the names of Eldred and Glencairn.

It is now proper to mention Donald, whom we left a laurelled conquerer at Roxburgh. Flushed with conquest, and rendered more arbitrary from the fevorable opinion entertained of him by the queen, he repaired to the Cas­tle; and Jane still persisting in her refu­sal of his hand, he resolved by force to make her his. His confessor, who for the consideration of a little yellow dross, cleansed his soul, and gave him a absolu­tion, appeared a proper person. Choo­sing the dead of night, by force he en­tered [Page 182] the chamber of his intended vic­tim, attended by his sacerdotal friend and bade her yield her hand.

The unhappy maid upon her knees, intreated death in preference; conjur­ing him by every solemn argument to refrain from his design. But as effec­ually might the trembling lamb plead for life to the voracious wolf, as she have softened Donald's inflexible mind.

"Thy prayers are vain, weak maid," he cried, "I am preparing for thy hap­piness. What canst thou wish for? If power, my wide domains will give thee that, accompanied by wealth; if love, behold me now, though with the smooth and artful tale of hypocrites I cannot plead my passion, yet at thy feet I free­ly lay my heart."

"Hold!" exclaimed Jane, "Dissem­bling villain? too well I see through thy poor artifice: but here, in the sight [Page 183] of heaven, I swear I will never be thine!"

"Indeed, my saucy dame?" return­ed the Baron, "we'll try thy boasted perseverance. Come father, execute your office."

The priest had just begun the cere­mony, when they were startled by loud and reiterated jars against the castle gate. Donald himself appeared care­less of this unexpected intrusion, and again ordered the monk to proceed. He did so, and the irrevocable ring was about to be placed on the tremb­ling hand of Jane, when the chamber door was violently burst open, and an armed warrior stood before the aston­ished Donald!

"Monster!" said the stranger, "re­lease the lady, and oppose the strength of one more equal to thee!"

[Page 184] So saying, he immediately assailed the Lord of the Isles: their swords cast round a dreadful gleam, and victory seemed doubtful; when fortune, turn­ing her wheel out of its usual track, a thing too rare, favored the juster cause; the unknown cavalier disarmed his an­tagonist, who was now entirely in his power.

"Thy life is fairly mine," exclaimed the conqueror, "but let the compas­sion I extend to thee, teach thee to practice mercy to thy enemies. Live and repent!"

Jane, who had been an anxious spec­tator of the combat, was wrapped in silent gratitude, when the stranger raising his beaver, disovered the face of her loved Glencairn. The sudden change from deep despair to joy depri­ved her of all power, and she sunk in­sensate into the arms of Eldred.

[Page 185] By this time the Lord Glencairn joined his son; they used their endeav­ours in restoring Jane, and at length succeeded; when the latter introduced her to his father, who received him with a parental affection.

During these transactions, the fol­lowers of the two Noblemen entirely vanquished the retainers of Donald; they searched the castle, and gave liber­ty to Edric, who was joyfully received by the young Lord Eldred; and in a dun­geon had found Andrew, but in a very weak condition.

"Here," says one of the officers, "is a prisoner, but he seems to be in so bad a state, that were he released, he would scarce be able to leave the place."

"You are mistaken," replied the Squire, "were my prison doors now open, notwithstanding the pain these steel ornaments with which they have honored me, have caused, I could skip [Page 186] away as nimbly as a flea over a Friar's nose."

They liberated and conducted him to his master; his grotesque appear­ance excited a smile on the features of his spectators: his red beard was grown to an enormous length, and from the dirt which was gathered therein, gave him more the resemblance to a demon than a human being. Immediately on his entrance, he cried; "Ah, my Lord, is it possible it is you? Alas? you thought your cares were all over when last you quitted this infernal dwelling, but you are so precipitate; recollect an old proverb that I oft repeated to you; An ounce of discretion is worth a pound of wit! By the mass there stands old Plu­to, alias Donald! the last time I saw him he looked as hot as if he had been eating Tewksbury mustard."

"Silence," replied Eldred, (then presenting his father) "do you know this person, Andrew?"

[Page 187] "Hey! what! Oh, a ghost! a ghost!"

"No my honest fellow," returned Archibald, "I am no ghost!"

"Huzza! huzza!" cried the over­joyed Squire, "he's alive."

"Andrew," said Clencairn, "for your fidelity to my son, you shall be rewarded. I will place you—"

"Not in the army, I hope my Lord," interrupted Andrew, believe me, I shall make but a pitiful soldier. I have so great an antipathy to steel, that I would not be taylor to his majesty, merely because I should have been▪ obliged to handle a needle."

"Fear not," exclaimed his master, "your post shall be exempt from dan­ger."

[Page 188] "I thank you, my Lord," replied his servant, "that post will just suit me."

They now prepared to depart, and having sentenced the priest to perpet­ual imprisonment, and pardoned Don­ald, (who lived many years a sincere penitent) they pursued their journey to Aberdeenshire. In the way, Eldred informed Jane of her father's death, at which she betrayed evident marks of grief: they however sought to console her by saying, that on her arrival she would meet with one, who would more than make reparation for her loss.

CHAP. XX.

ON arriving at the castle, Glencairn retired, but soon returned, leading in a lady, whom he presented to his niece; saying, "behold the mother whose fate you so regret."

The stranger fell upon her neck, and they mingled their tears of love and tenderness; while the drop of sympathy more precious than the indian pearl, sell from the eyes of Eldred and his fath­er, and Jane instantly recognized the figure she had so often seen at old Maud's.

All now was happiness at the castle, save that the breast of Eldred was touched with remorse for his ungrateful [Page 190] conduct to the hermit. He could not bear to suffer in the opinion of so wor­thy a creature, and instantly dispatched a messenger in quest of him. His let­ter said.

"THE person he had so hospitably entertained at his cell was now restored to happiness, and wished the anchorite to share his joy."

Jane entreated her parent to relate, by what strange means she had been torn from her, and why she so long took up her abode at the cottage of Maud.

"Alas! my child," replied Matil­da, "I have suffered much: my histo­ry is unentertaining, and my misfor­tunes have been solely created by im­perious man. My father, heaven rest his ashes, first forbade me to love the youth to whom my heart was so firmly attached, that even now the passion lurks at my breast. Compelled to marry one who bore me not the least [Page 191] affection, who sought my alliance to gratify his avarice, who drove me from my native land, and immured me with­in the lofty walls of a mouldering con­vent. Carol was the person he fixed on to conduct me."

"Villain!" exclaimed Glencairn, "he has escaped too well! On hearing I was alive, and with my son, in the apartment of his Lord, he fled. Oh! had he fallen into my power, the most galling cruelties tyranny ever invented had been his!"

"Happy am I," returned Lady Wal­lace, "he is not. If the Almighty think fit to spare him, and grant him leisure for repentance, shall man re­fuse it?"

"But to resume my tale. He lodg­ed me in the convent, the abbess of which for some time, treated me with tenderness and affection; at length she hinted a distant wish that I should take [Page 192] the viel; but finding I would not un­derstand her, she spoke more plainly, I then peremptorily refused; since when she endeavored by every rigorous means to compel me, but in vain. I rather would have fallen a sacrifice at the altar, than offer a divided heart to heaven.

"My life was now become a burden to me, when I recollected an old french soldier, who daily implored charity at the grate. I resolved on bribing him; I told him frankly the treatment I had received, and promised him a purse of gold, if he would assist me in making my escape, and that he would be un­der the garden wall in the dusk of the evening. He assured me of his fideli­ity, vowed to die in my service, and moreover offered to accompany me till I was assured of my safety.

"At sun set I equipped myself with a Friar's habit▪ which he had furnish­ed me with in the course of the day, [Page 193] and was suffered by the porter to depart without the least suspicion. My trus­ty soldier was waiting for me, and we took a long leave of the convent.

"He procured me a passage in a vessel bound for Scotland, for which place I embarked, after having reward­ed him, and landed safely in my native country. I instantly repaired to the cottage of Maud, where I have since tarried, and consoled myself by being near you, my daughter. I am the person who was introduced to you by the good old woman, on the morning of your elopement: I am the object who caused your terror at the cavern, by addressing you, and who have since beheld your cousin Eldred there. He sought to overtake me, but the mazes and windings of the rocks favored my flight, and I escaped him.

"My reason for these walks was, that as I was fearful of being seen, which I must have been, had I ventur­ed [Page 194] out by day light, I embraced the hour of darkness to enjoy the fresh in­vigorating air. On the rumour of Sir James's decease, of Eldred succeeding him in the estate, and that my brother lived, I hastened to the castle. Time had not so much altered the lineaments of a sister, but that I was known, and received with such unfeigned marks of affection, that a life of gratitude will scarce repay what I owe."

"No more of that," said Archibald, "our hours of misery, I trust, are past; be those to come, of joy!"

In a few days Eldred's messenger re­turned, announcing the arrival of fa­ther Ambrose. The young Lord hur­ried out from the company to welcome him, and presently returned leading in the hermit, who no sooner entered the apartment, than he sunk lifeless upon the floor.

[Page 195] All ran to him, and were busy in re­viving him: at last they succeeded in their endeavors, and on seeing Lady Wallace, he exclaimed, "Gracious heaven! Matilda!"

The well known voice struck con­viction to her heart, and notwithstand­ing the many years they had been ab­sent from each other, she straightway knew her Alan! her beloved Alan! whom she supposed to have perished in the Gallic wars.

They renewed their vows of ever­lasting love. Glencairn welcomed him as the companion of his youth; while Jane and Eldred stood wrapped in won­der at the scene.

They all removed to the castle of Glencairn, where, after the tedious in­terval of a year from the death of Wal­lace, Alan Duntrone received the hand of his widow, and at the same time El­dred was blest with his lovely Jane.

[Page 196] The antique pile now rung with mirth and festivity. Bonfires blazed; the mantling juice of the grape swelled on the hospitable board; the pliant fingers of the bards flew o'er the strings of the soul-subduing lyre, while their tongues alternately rehearsed the deeds of wariors, and constancy of maidens.

The castle of Wallace was convert­ed into an alm's house, where age and infancy met with a sanctuary from the iron gripe of indigence, and of which the philosopher Andrew was constituted governor.

Edric was maintained as the Squire of Eldred; Duncan, the son of Car­rol▪ as his steward: Maud enjoyed a considerable pension from the purse of Eldred. In short, no one who had con­tributed to his welfare went unreward­ed.

Duntrone, with his lady, resided at the mansion of his ancestors; Eldred [Page 197] and Jane at the castle of Lord Glen­cairn, who grew old amidst a numerous offspring of grand-children.

Thus did this family exhibit a picture to convince the [...], that the road of Virtue, though [...] craggy and [...], leads [...]o a happy goal; while the facile and flowery path of Vice, [...] ends in a labyrinth of guilty conscience and despair.