it!" "Stand back!" exclaimed Morton; "it was fair play. Your comrade sought a fall and has obtained it." "That is true enough," said Bothwell, as he slowly rose. "Put up your sword, Halliday, and, friend, give me your hand. I did not think that one of you could have worsted the best wrestler in the Life Guards on the floor of a wretched inn. I promise you that the time will come when we shall meet again and renew the game in a more earnest manner."' "And I'll promise you," said the stranger, "that when we next meet, I will lay your head so low that you will never have the power to lift it again." "Beloved, if thou art a soldier thou art a stout man. Good-by to you. You had better mount your horse before the officer makes his round, for I assure you he has arrested less suspiciouslooking persons.

The stranger at once settled his bill, and, going into the stable, saddled his powerful black horse, which was now refreshed by rest and forage. Turning to Morton he said: "I ride toward Milnwood, which I understand is your home; will you favor me with your company?" 'Certainly," replied Morton, although there was a gloomy and relentless severity in the man's manner from which he recoiled. Some comrades accompanied them a short distance, then scattered in different directions, and travellers were left alone.

66

The company had not long left the inn, when Cornet Grahame and the provost of the borough with a party of soldiers entered the apartment of Neil Blane. The cornet said: "Guard the doors! let no man leave the house! Bothwell, what means this? Did you not hear the signal to mount?" "He was just going to quarters," said his comrade "he has had a bad fall." "In a fray, I suppose, said Grahame. "If you neglect duty in this way your royal blood will not protect you. You should have been at quarters and not lost a golden opportunity. News has arrived that the Archbishop of St. Andrews has been foully assassinated by a body of rebel Whigs, who pursued and stopped

his carriage, dragged him out and stabbed him. Here are their descriptions; a thousand marks is on each of their heads."

Bothwell, turning to Halliday, exclaimed: "The test and the qualification! I know the meaning now, zounds! that we should not have stopped him! Saddle our horses. Cornet was one of the men very stout and square built, thin in the flanks and sharp nosed. Let me see the list. John Balfour, called Burley, aquiline nose, red-haired, five feet eight inches in height. It is he, the very man, squints with one eye. The very man and the same black horse. He was in this room not a quarter of an hour ago.”

A few hasty inquiries indicated that the reserved and stern stranger was Balfour of Burley, the actual leader of the band of assassins, who, in the fury of misguided zeal, had murdered the primate, whom they had accidentally met as they were searching for another person against whom they cherished enmity. "Horse, horse, and pursue them, my lads!" exclaimed Cornet Grahame, "the murderer's head is worth its weight in gold."

IV. AFTER leaving the inn, Morton and his companion rode together for some time in silence; for there was something repellent in the stranger's manner which checked conversation, until he abruptly demanded: "Why does your father's son indulge in such profane mummeries as I find you this day engaged in ?" Morton replied: “I perform my duty as a subject, and pursue my harmless recreations according to my own pleasure."

"Do you think that it is the duty of a Christian youth to bear arms in the cause of those who have shed the blood of God's saints in the wilderness? or is it a lawful recreation to waste time at shooting at a bunch of feathers, and close your evening with wine-bibbing in a public house, when he who is mighty hath come to purge the wheat from the chaff ?"

"I suppose from the tone of your remarks that you are

an opponent of the government,” replied Morton. "I must remind you that you are causelessly using dangerous language in the presence of a mere stranger who should not listen to it in these times."

"Thou canst not help it, Henry Morton; thy Master hath need of thee, and when He calls thou must obey. Thou evidently hast not heard the call of a true preacher, or thou hadst ere now been what thou assuredly will one day become." Morton replied: "My family, like yourself, are of the Presbyterian belief." His uncle attended the ministry of one of those clergymen, who, complying with certain regulations, were licensed to preach by the government. This indulgence made a great schism among the Presbyterians; and those who accepted it were severely censured by the more rigid sectarians, who refused the proffered The stranger, therefore, listened with great disdain

terms.

to Morton's profession of faith.

"This is but equivocation. On Sunday you listen to a cold, worldly discourse from one who forgets his high commission so much as to hold his title by the favors of the courtiers and false prelates, and you call that hearing the word. This indulgence is a bait of the devil-an uplifting of one Christian banner against the other, a contest of darkness with light."

"My uncle," said Morton, "believes that we enjoy a reasonable freedom of conscience under the indulged clergy, and I must necessarily be guided by his sentiments in the choice of a place of worship for his family." "Your uncle,' said the stranger, "bows to the golden calf with selfish motives. Your father was a man of another stamp."

"My father, sir," said Morton, "was indeed a brave man. He fought for that royal family in whose name I was this day bearing arms." "Aye, and had he lived to see these days, he would have repented that he ever drew sword in their cause. But more of this hereafter-I promised thee that thy hour will surely come, and then my words will haunt thee. My road lies here."

WAVERLEY-VOL. III.-8

He pointed toward a pass which wound among the dreary hills; but as he was about to turn into it, an old woman, wrapped in a red cloak, who was sitting at the junction, arose, and approaching him, said mysteriously: "If you be of our own people avoid that path for your life, for there is a lion in it. The curate and ten soldiers are guarding it to take the lives of our poor wanderers who attempt to join Hamilton and Dingwall. They number sixty or seventy souls, but they are poorly armed and provisioned." "God will keep his own!" replied the stranger; "which route shall I take to join them ?"

"It is impossible to join them to-night," replied she, "the troopers keep too strict a guard. There is news from the east, I hear, that makes the soldiers fiercer than ever. You must seek shelter somewhere for the night, and keep yourself in hiding until the gray of the morning, and then you may find your way. I came to this spot to warn any of our people who might come this way lest they should fall into the nets of the spoilers. I occupy a hut by the wayside, a mile distant; but four soldiers have quartered themselves there, to spoil my household goods, because I will not attend the service of that carnal curate, John Halftext."

"Good-night, good woman, and thanks for thy counsel," said the stranger as he rode on, "but where to lodge to-night, I know not." "I am sorry for your distress," said Morton, "and had I my own house I would brave the law rather than leave you in such a strait. But my uncle is so alarmed at the penalties demanded by the laws against such as receive or consort with proscribed persons that he has strictly forbidden us to hold any intercourse with them."

"It is what I expected," said the stranger; "nevertheless I might be received without his knowledge in a barn or hayloft, where I could stretch me down and sleep." "I assure you," replied Morton, much embarrassed, "that I have not the means of receiving you at Milnwood without my uncle's consent and knowledge; nor would I dare involve him in danger by harboring a member of a party he deprecates.