XIX. COLONEL GRAHAME of Claverhouse met the family assembled in the hall of the tower with his usual serenity and courtesy. He adjusted his uniform and washed the stains of blood from his hands and face, as if he had just returned from a morning ride. Lady Margaret, in tears, sympathized with him in his misfortune.

He replied: "I regret that this affair may render your stay here dangerous to you, in view of your recent hospitality to the king's troops, and of your well known loyalty. I came here to offer myself as escort of Miss Bellenden and yourself to Glasgow." "I am greatly obliged to you, Colonel Grahame," she replied; "but my brother, Major Bellenden, has assumed the responsibility of defending this house against the rebels, and Margaret Bellenden will never be driven from her own hearth while a brave man remains to protect it."

"And will Major Bellenden undertake this ?" inquired Claverhouse, joyfully of the veteran. "Yet why should I question it? It is on a par with the rest of your life. But have you the means?" "All but men and provisions," replied the major, "with which we are poorly supplied. "I will leave you a dozen good fellows," said Claverhouse; "it will be of the utmost service if you can defend the place for a week, by which time you will surely be relieved."

"I will hold it during that space if I can only obtain provisions from the country. I regret to hear that Sergeant Francis Stewart of your troop has been slain, and also that your valued nephew and namesake is no more. "Yes, major, he fittingly died in the performance of his duty. He was indeed a handsome, gallant, high-spirited youth, and was my destined heir. I live to avenge him. I am not a selfish man, major, though the world deems me so. I have not been severe, grasping or ambitious for myself. The service of my country may sometimes have driven me to severity, but I acted for the best, and I am endeavoring to bear the present loss with fortitude. My enemies in the council will lay this misfortune to my account, and will

calumniate me to my sovereign, and the enemy will exult in my flight. I despise their accusations and rejoicings. My nephew who has fallen stood between a grasping kinsman and my inheritance, for I have no children. I fear your friend Lord Evandale has also fallen.”

"What a fatal day!" ejaculated the major. "I heard such a report, but it was contradicted, and it was said that the defeat was occasioned by the young nobleman's impetuosity.' "Not so, major," was the reply. "Let the living officers bear the blame, and let laurels be hung over the graves of the fallen. I do not, however, speak of Lord Evandale's death as certain; but killed or a prisoner I fear he must be. Yet he was extricated from the tumult the last time we spoke together as we were about leaving the field. My soldiers had little temptation to desert, for there exists no friendship between them and the boors of this section of the country, and every village they pass through is likely to rise against them. But let us discuss your plans and wants, and the means of corresponding with you. I doubt whether I can remain long in Glasgow, even when I join Lord Ross, for this transient success of the fanatics will raise the devil through all the western counties."

They then discussed the major's means of defence in case a general insurrection should take place, as was to be expected. The major thought the ladies would be in equal safety at Tillietudlem as if escorted by Claverhouse to Glasgow. The colonel then took a polite leave of the ladies, asserting that they would speedily hear from him, and that his efforts would be to redeem his character.

Lady Margaret thanked Claverhouse for the succor he had promised to leave them, while Edith longed to inquire the fate of Henry Morton, but could find no pretext for doing so. She could glean nothing from the major, whose consultation with the colonel related solely to military

matters.

Major Bellenden accompanied Claverhouse to his regiment in order to receive the detachment who were to be

left in the tower. Sixteen men, under the command of Sergeant Inglis, were assigned for this duty. They were instructed by their colonel to defend the house under the command of Major Bellenden, and to behave bravely and obediently, for which he would reward them on his return to relieve the garrison. In case of mutiny, cowardice, rapine, or neglect of duty, they would be severely punished. These horsemen, with some attention to their attire and arms, were soon in a presentable condition.

Major Bellenden, now left to his own resources, sent out several videttes to obtain provisions and to learn of the movements of the enemy, who had remained on the field of battle, while their advance-guards were scouring the country in quest of supplies, and threatening to bring fire and sword against those who refused to furnish them. Confronted by similar demands for supplies from troops of loyalists and also of insurgents, the poor peasantry knew not how to act.

A few of them, like Neil Blane, the prudent host of the village, attempted to conciliate both sides by dividing their provisions between them. Others of the peasantry took up arms. The loyalists in the country were not numerous, but possessed fortune and influence, being chiefly landed proprietors of ancient descent, who with their relatives formed a sort of militia, organized to resist detached bodies of the insurgents. The news that the town of Tillietudlem was to be defended against the rebels emboldened these feudal volunteers, who looked upon it as a stronghold to which they could retreat if they failed in the desultory war they were now about to wage.

On the other hand, the villages and farms, the properties of the small heritors, sent forth numerous recruits to the Presbyterian cause. These men had been the principal sufferers during the oppression of the time. Their minds were fretted sore and driven to desperation by cruelties and exactions, and they regarded the present insurrection as a door opened by Providence to obtain liberty of conscience

and freedom from tyranny, which was directed against both body and soul. Numbers of these men, therefore, took up arms, and prepared to cast in their lot with the victors of Loudon Hill.

XX. WE return now to Henry Morton, whom we left on the field of battle. Burley, in company with the eloquent young clergyman, accosted him. Burley said: "Henry Morton, the Council of the army of the Covenant, believing that the son of Silas Morton can never prove lukewarm or indifferent to the cause, have this day nominated you to be a captain of their host, with the right of a vote in their Council."

"Mr. Balfour," replied Morton, composedly, "I appreciate this mark of confidence, and I confess that the injuries of my country and the wrongs to my own person should make me willing to draw my sword for liberty and freedom of conscience, but I will own to you that I must be better satisfied concerning the principles which underlie your cause ere I can agree to assume command among you.

"Our principles are the reformation of church and state, the rebuilding of sanctuaries, the gathering of the deposed saints, and the destruction of the men of sin."

"I will own frankly, Mr. Burley, that such language, so powerful with others, is lost upon me. You should know this fact." (The young clergyman here groaned deeply.) "I distress you, sir, I see; but hear me out. I revere the Scriptures as deeply as you do. From them I extract a rule of conduct and a law of salvation. But I do not obtain these by wresting particular passages from their context, or by applying biblical phrases to events to which they can have but slender relation."

The young divine appeared shocked with this declaration, and was about to remonstrate. "Hush, Ephraim !" said Burley. "Listen to me, Morton! What is the object for which thou art content to draw thy sword? Is it not that the church and state shall be reformed by the free

voice of a live parliament, with just laws, which shall prevent the executive government from shedding the blood, torturing and imprisoning the persons, exhausting the estates and trampling on the consciences of men at their own wicked pleasure?"

"Most certainly," replied Morton. "Such I esteem legitimate cause of warfare, and for such I will fight as long as I can wield a sword." Ephraim interrupted him by saying: "My conscience forces me to speak. It is the cause of my Master who has sent me. Is it not a profane usurpation of this authority to place the adulterous king in power?" Burley called him aside and whispered: "You speak well, but not wisely. You have heard this night in Council how the scattered remnant is dispersed and divided, and would you further separate them ?"

"I know," replied the young clergyman, "that thou art faithful, honest, and zealous, even unto slaying; but, believe me, this temporizing with sin is itself a falling away. Heaven will not aid us when we seek carnal cunning. The sanctified end must be wrought by sanctified means." "I tell thee," answered Balfour, "thy zeal is too rigid in this matter; we cannot do without the help of such persons; the sons of the Evil One are yet too strong for us. The Council has adopted a resolution that may suit the tender consciences of all who groan under the yoke of our present oppressors. Strive not to hinder my efforts to gain this youth over to us; his name alone will call hundreds to our ban

ners.

"Do as thou wilt," said Ephraim Macbriar, the clergyman; "but I will not assist to mislead the youth, nor bring him into jeopardy of life, unless upon such grounds as will insure his eternal reward." The impatient preacher then withdrew.

John Balfour of Kinlock or Burley was a gentleman of some fortune and of good family in the County of Fife, and had been a soldier from early youth. In the earlier part of his military life he had been wild and licentious, but had