you can know nothing worse of me than that I have been willing to save the life of friend or foe."

"I know no ill of you, Mrs. Machell. I only wished to show that I know so much of this person's affairs that I can be safely intrusted with the rest. Proceed with your narrative." She added: "Your voice commands, but it is sweet. I have little more to say. The Stuarts have been dethroned, and William and Mary reign in their stead, but pay no heed to the Covenant. They have taken the indulged clergy and the Erastian assembly of our once pure kirk of Scotland to their bosom, and souls are hardened and deadened, which is worse than the tyranny and apostasy of the persecuting times. The Covenant which we fasted and prayed and suffered for is no more. It was once thought that something might be gained by bringing back the old Stuart family on a new basis and agreement, and Burley went to the north to seek it, and saw Claverhouse himself, whom they now call Dundee."

Morton, amazed, exclaimed: "I would have sworn that meeting would have terminated in the death of one of them." "No," added the dame, "there have been sudden political changes of late. Claverhouse spoke our friend fair, and bade him consult with Lord Evandale, who refused to meet him, and now Burley seeks for revenge against that nobleman, and will have naught of anything but fire and sword; and his mind seems unsettled, for the Evil One has apparently prevailed against him. Did you ever see him with his Bible in his hand and a drawn sword on his knee? Did you never sleep in the room with him, and hear him strive on his knees with the delusions of Satan? I have seen him, after such agonized strife, tremble while the heavy sweat dropped from his brow."

As she spoke, Morton recalled the appearance of Burley during his sleep in the hay loft at Milnwood, the report of Cuddie that his reason had been dethroned, and some whispers current among the Cameronians, who boasted of Burley's soul exercises and his contests with the foul fiend, which

led Morton to believe that the man himself was a victim to those delusions. It was probable that disappointed ambition, wrecked hopes, and the downfall of the party which he had served with such desperate fidelity, were likely to aggravate enthusiasm into temporary insanity. Mrs. Machell's information confirmed him in this belief.

He asked her in what retreat Burley had sought refuge. She replied: "As gloomy a place as ever mortal remained in; but he likes it, because he feels safe there. But you'll see it. I saw it when I was a lass. It is late, and you had better go to rest now." They then parted for the evening, and Morton threw himself on the bed and slept undisturbed by the noise made by the dragoons returning to the inn.

XLII. SHORTLY after daybreak the next morning, guided by the little mountain maid, Morton traversed a wild path over hill and waste moor toward the dreary cavern of the Linn where John Burley of Balfour was concealed. Passing through a thicket they reached the bank of a brook, stopping finally in a rocky ledge from which the cataract descended abruptly fully one hundred feet. Far beneath, at the distance of perhaps a quarter of a mile, the eye caught the windings of the stream as it emerged from the foaming abyss into a more open course.

While Morton gazed on this scene of tumult, his young attendant said: "Follow me, but be careful lest you slip." With daring agility which habit had rendered easy, and aided by notches and slight projections in the rock, she scrambled down its face into the chasm which it overhung. Steady, bold and active, Morton descended also for about twenty feet nearly opposite the waterfall, which covered them with its spray. At this point an old oak tree lying across the chasm formed a bridge of fearfully narrow dimensions and uncertain footing. From behind the opposite projection glimmered a strong red light, which contrasted strangely with the beams of the rising sun. The girl pointed to the oak and the projecting point beyond

it, and, being unable to be heard owing to the roar of the torrent, indicated that there lay his further passage.

Morton gazed at her with surprise, for although he knew that the persecuted Presbyterians had in the preceding reign sought refuge among caves and thickets, yet his imagination had never pictured the horror and peril of such a wild residence, which was probably known to only a few adventurous shepherds of the vicinity.

The oak tree was wet and slippery and traversed the chasm about sixty feet above the base of the cataract. The guide tripped across and back over this terrific bridge with her little bare feet without hesitation, as if to give him courage. Morton resolved to attempt the passage which he accomplished successfully, and reached the mouth of a small cavern opposite, in which was standing before a fire of redhot charcoal the man whom he sought.

Burley held his Bible in one hand and his drawn sword in the other. He looked like a fiend, and was indulging in violent language and gestures. His demeanor was that of a man who strives for life and death with a mortal enemy, each ejaculation being accompanied with a thrust with his sword into the empty air. After indulging in wild exclamations, he stood motionless, like a maniac whose fit is over. "The dangerous time is past now," said the little girl; "it only comes on at sunrise, and you may go in and speak to him now. I'll wait for you on the rock opposite, for he cannot bear to see two persons at once.

Slowly and cautiously, and keeping constantly on his guard, Morton presented himself before his old comrade. What, comest thou again when thine hour is over?" was his first exclamation; and flourishing his sword aloft, his countenance displayed a ghastly terror mingled with the rage of a demon.

"I am come, Mr. Balfour, to renew our acquaintance, which has been broken off since the fight on Bothwell Bridge." As soon as Burley became aware that Morton was before him in person, he at once exerted control over

his own heated and enthusiastic imagination. He lowered his sword at once, and muttered an excuse that he was exercising for the purpose of keeping himself warm.

He then continued: "Thou hast tarried long, Henry Morton. Art thou yet willing to take the right hand of fellowship, and be one of those who look not to thrones or dynasties, but to the rule of Scripture for guidance ?" Morton, evading this question, said: "I am surprised that you should know me after so many years." "The features of those who ought to act with me are engraved upon my heart," replied Burley, "and few but the son of Silas Morton durst have followed me into this my castle of retreat. Seest thou my drawbridge in yonder oak tree? One push from my foot, and it is dashed into the abyss below, bidding foemen on the further side stand at defiance, and leaving enemies on this side at the mercy of one who never met his equal in single combat.

"I should think you now would have little need of such defences." "Little need ?" said Burley, impatiently; "when incarnate fiends are combined against me on earth, and Satan himself— But it matters not-enough that I like my place of refuge and would change not this rocky cavern for the fair chambers of the castle of the Earls of Torwood with their broad lands. Unless thy fever fit is over thou thinkest differently ?"

"It was of those possessions I came to speak," said Morton, "and I trust to find Mr. Balfour the same rational person as I knew him in former troublous times. In a word, by some means you have exercised a secret but most prejudicial influence over the fortunes of Lady Margaret Bellenden and her granddaughter, and in favor of the base oppressive apostate, Basil Oliphant, whom the law, deceived by thy operations, has placed in possession of their lawful property. Face to face you will not deny what your own handwriting vouches."

"And suppose I deny it not," retorted Burley, "and that thy eloquence were found unequal to persuade me to

retrace my steps, what then? Dost thou still hope to possess the fair-haired girl with her rich inheritance ?" "I have no such hope," replied Morton, calmly.

"And for whom, then, hast thou ventured here, to seek to rend the prey from the valiant-for whose sake, I ask ?" "For Lord Evandale's and that of his bride," replied Morton. "Think better of mankind, Mr. Balfour, and believe there are some who are willing to sacrifice their happiness to that of others."

"By my soul," exclaimed Balfour, "thou art the tamest puppet that ever sustained injury unavenged. What, wouldst thou help the accursed Evandale to the arms of the woman whom thou lovest? Endow them with wealth, and thou thinkest that there lives another man, offended even more deeply than thou, yet equally mean-spirited, and that he is John Balfour ?"

"For my own feeling," said Morton, composedly, "I am answerable to none but Heaven. To you, Mr. Balfour, I should suppose it but little consequence whether Basil Oliphant or Lord Evandale possesses these estates.'

"Thou art deceived," said Burley. "Both are indeed in outer darkness, and strangers to the light; but this Oliphant is a base churl, whose wealth and power are at the disposal of him who can threaten to deprive him of them. He has changed his religion to advance his interests; and he will become what I list while I retain in my power the document that may deprive him of them. I can guide him as I may direct, and the property shall remain his until I have assurance of bestowing it on a sure and sincere friend. But Lord Evandale is a malignant, of heart like flint, and brow like adamant. His heathen virtues are more dangerous to us than the sordid cupidity of slaves of avarice.

"This might have been all well as an argument years since, but I could never acquiesce in its justice," said Morton. "But at this crisis it seems useless to you to persevere in retaining the influence which can no longer be directed