'M 
 
 J)
 
 CofAy ^y^'U/i^A:
 
 v7
 
 TALES AND LEGENDS.
 
 ,
 
 TALES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHORS OF 
 
 " THE ODD VOLUME," &c. 
 
 Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme, 
 My barmie noddle's working prime, 
 My fancy yerliit up sublime 
 
 Wi' hasty summon ; 
 Hae ye a leisure moment's time 
 
 To hear what's coming ? 
 
 Burns. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED FOR CADELL AND CO., EDINBURGH ; 
 AND SIMPKIN AND MARSHALL, LONDON. 
 
 1828,
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 rRlKTED BY BALLANTYKE AND CO.
 
 v,l 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 TAGV. 
 
 The Three Kings, 1 
 
 The Rescue, 219 
 
 VOL, I,
 
 J
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 VOL. I
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Hastings. More pity that the eag-le should be mew'd, 
 While Kites and buzzards prey at liberty. 
 
 King Richard the Tliird, 
 
 York. I will be King, or die. 
 
 King Henry the Sixth. 
 
 When James the Fourth of Scotland met his 
 doom on the fatal field of Flodden, then was stri- 
 kingly verified the adage, " that the country is 
 hapless whose prince is a child." 
 
 During the minority of James the Fifth, the 
 kingdom was torn by faction, and the dissensions of 
 the nobles, and their incessant contests for power, 
 rendered it a scene of turbulence and bloodshed. 
 After various struggles, the bold and valiant Earl 
 of Angus gained that perilous eminence which was 
 coveted by so many envious and powerful rivals,
 
 * THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 and his marriage with the mother of his Prince 
 strengthened his authority, overawed his competi- 
 tors, and silenced opposition. 
 
 Intoxicated by success, he neglected to continue 
 those arts by which he had gained the affection of 
 Queen Margaret, who, partaking perhaps some- 
 what of that love of change so conspicuously ex- 
 hibited by her royal brother. Bluff King Harry, 
 divorced the Earl of Angus, and, some time after, 
 married the brother of Lord Evandale, Harry 
 Stewart, and who was afterwards created Lord 
 Methven. 
 
 But the authority of Douglas was too firmly es- 
 tablished to be shaken by this event. He ruled 
 the country with the strong hand of power, curbed 
 the pride of her boldest barons, and king in every- 
 thing but the name, he reigned with such despotic 
 sway, as rendered the name of Douglas a talisman 
 to quell sedition, and tame even the fiercest and 
 most daring of the Scottish nobles. During his 
 childhood, James was insensible to the bondage in 
 which he was held ; but when the slowly moving 
 finger of time had written man on his brow, his 
 proud spirit was chafed by the consciousness that 
 the semblance of royalty alone was his, while the 
 proud Douglas usurped his power, and grasped the
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 5 
 
 sceptre with a hand which seemed formed to com- 
 mand. Proud, generous, and high-minded, James 
 writhed internally, and passionately longed for an 
 opportunity of breaking the galling chain of sub- 
 jection. This step he knew to be one of difficulty, 
 if not of danger ; and surrounded, as he was, by the 
 adherents of the haughty Earl, caution and cir- 
 cumspection were highly necessary. Dissembling, 
 therefore, his feelings, he watched, in silent impa- 
 tience, for an opportunity of escaping from a yoke, 
 which every day became more and more hateful. 
 At this period, the Earl of Angus, accompanied 
 by the youthful Monarch, visited Jedburgh, to ad- 
 minister justice, and quell the disorders which pre- 
 vailed in the south country ; but here, as elsewhere, 
 James found that the shadow of royalty alone was 
 his, — that his wishes were disregarded, his com- 
 mands disobeyed, — while the lightest word of 
 Angus was a law which no one could withstand, 
 without periling life and fortune in the bold at- 
 tempt. The indignation of James was increased 
 tenfold, on finding that Angus openly outraged 
 justice, and that decisions were given, favourable 
 or unfavourable, according as the parties were 
 friends or foes of the haughty Earl. The for- 
 bearance of James being now exhausted, he re-
 
 6 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 solved to make an effort to free himself from the 
 dominion of this arrogant noble ; and through the 
 agency of the Earl of Lennox, he summoned to his 
 aid the undaunted and daring Buccleuch. His 
 mandate was promptly obeyed. This bold Baron, 
 the chief of a numerous and enterprising clan, 
 quickly armed his followers, and hastened to res- 
 cue his Sovereign from the thraldom which was 
 so galling to his impetuous spirit. 
 
 At Melrose, the clans of Home and Kerr, and 
 the Baron of Fairniherst, took leave of the King, 
 and had been gone but a short time, when Buc- 
 cleuch and his followers suddenly appeared on 
 Halidon-Hill. Somewhat startled by his appear- 
 ance, the Earl of Angus sent a herald to demand 
 his purpose, and to command him to retire. To 
 this Buccleuch answered, that he came, as was the 
 custom of the Borders, to show his clan to the 
 King, whose mind he knew better than did the 
 Earl. 
 
 Incensed at this audacity, Douglas, turning to 
 James, exclaimed, " Sir, yonder is Buccleuch, 
 with the thieves of Annandale and Liddesdale, to 
 bar your Grace's passage. I vow to God, they shall 
 either fight or flee. Your Grace shall tarry on this 
 hillock with my brother George, and I will either
 
 THE THREE KINGS. T 
 
 clear your road of yonder banditti, or die in the 
 attempt." 
 
 Surrounded as he was by the adherents of An- 
 gus, James, not daring to resist his commands, 
 suffered himself to be led to a rising ground, from 
 whence he viewed that combat which was to loosen 
 or rivet his fetters. With eager eyes he followed 
 the steps of Angus and his confederates, as they 
 rushed to the onset. At the war-cry of the bold 
 Borderers his burning blood rushed to his brow, 
 his hand involuntarily sought his weapon, and 
 scarce could he be restrained from mingling in the 
 fight. The encounter was fierce and bloody, and 
 victory still remained doubtful, when the Homes 
 and Kerrs, recalled by the sound of the melee, sud- 
 denly attacked Buccleuch, who performed prodi- 
 gies of valour, but in vain ; and who, overpower- 
 ed by numbers, spent with fatigue, and fainting 
 under his wounds, was forced to retreat, and leave 
 the victorious Douglas master of the field. 
 
 Equally fruitless was a like attempt made some 
 time after by the Earl of Lennox, instigated by 
 the Archbishop of St Andrews, and assisted by the 
 Earl of Glencairn, the Master of Kilmaurs, the 
 Earl of Cassilis, and many other nobles, who, 
 chafed at the power of the Douglasses, rose in arms
 
 8 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 against tliem ; but the fortunate star of Angus pre- 
 vailed — he was again a victor, his opponents were 
 defeated, and the Earl of Lennox Jay slain on the 
 bloody field. 
 
 These futile efforts served only to confirm the 
 authority of Angus. Many of his enemies were 
 slain, others submitted to his power, and recovered 
 his favour. Amongst the latter was the Archbishop 
 of St Andrews, who was forced for a time to ex- 
 change his splendid attire for the homely weeds of 
 a shepherd, and, under that disguise, (which, to 
 render still more perfect, he actually performed 
 the functions of his assamed character,) he found 
 safety till the first ebullitions of passion passed 
 from the mind of Angus, when the Archbishop, by 
 the sacrifice of some church benefices and leases 
 of tithes, pacified his powerful enemy, and pro- 
 cured his pardon. The greatness of Angus was now 
 at its height. His retainers, kinsmen, and allies, 
 filled the highest offices of the state. Every fortress 
 and castle was garrisoned by his adherents, except 
 that of Stirling, which, being a part of the dowry of 
 the Queen Dowager, and inhabited only by a small 
 number of her poor retainers, he had disdained to 
 touch. This demolition of his hopes of freedom 
 
 M
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 9 
 
 raised in James's heart a tempest of grief and in- 
 dignation, to which, however, he dared not to give 
 vent. Forced to suppress his emotions, they preyed 
 internally on his mind ; frustrated in his endea- 
 vours to escape from thraldom, hopeless of suc- 
 cour, he ceased to contend with fortune, and en- 
 deavoured to hide, in bursts of wild and unnatural 
 gaiety, the burning hatred he nourished in secret 
 against his stern and imperious jailor. 
 
 Angus was too well versed in human nature to 
 be deceived by the youthful dissembler, whose sen- 
 timents were known to him, but by whom they 
 were wholly disregarded, as he was too sure of his 
 power over his victim to deem it necessary to con- 
 ciliate him, whose master he felt himself to be, and 
 whose every action and movement he ruled with 
 absolute sway. 
 
 Defeated and foiled, James was forced to bend to 
 the will of Angus, and suffered himself to be con- 
 ducted to the palace of Falkland. 
 
 The presence of Angus being now required in 
 Lothian, he soon after quitted Falkland, leaving the 
 King under the care of Archibald and James Dou- 
 glas, who, assisted by a numerous body of the EarPs 
 retainers, watched every movement of James, and, 
 under pretence of paying him all deference and
 
 10 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 respect, never lost view of him during the day, and 
 scarcely could the King prevail on them to let him 
 enjoy in privacy the hours dedicated to repose. 
 This surveillance was keenly felt and resented hy 
 the youthful monarch ; but on the absence of his 
 arch-enemy, his spirits revived, and he signified 
 his intention of next day taking the diversion of 
 hunting. 
 
 " Will it please your Grace," said the Lord 
 Treasurer, Archibald Douglas, " to postpone your 
 pastime for a short season, as pressing affairs de- 
 mand my presence at Dundee, whither I must ren- 
 der myself without delay ?" 
 
 " In sooth, my lord," answered James, gaily, 
 <* we are unwilling to remain longer inactive as 
 the sloth, and still more unwilling to deprive you 
 of the sweet smiles which gossip Rumour says await 
 you at Dundee. Yet why should we not both enjoy 
 our pastime ? By our Lady, we shall to-morrow 
 kill a fat buck or two, of which a choice morsel 
 shall be laid at the feet of the fair dame who lures 
 you from our company." 
 
 '' Whoever has so slandered me to your Grace — " 
 
 *' Nay, chafe not so, my lord ; we spoke but in 
 
 jest, and meant not to blemish your honour — let 
 
 the matter pass. Much it grieves us that we can-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 1 J 
 
 not have your honoured presence in the chase ; hut 
 without douht we shall he well cared for — we have 
 set our mind on hounding a deer to-morrow, and 
 you must not haulk our fancy." 
 
 " Since your Grace will have it so," replied 
 Douglas, " I will not gainsay your wishes. Lord 
 William Douglas also leaves this ; hut I will give 
 orders to my nephew, James Douglas, to see that 
 all things needful and fitting are prepared for your 
 Grace's pleasure." 
 
 " Be it so," replied the King ; " and command 
 our Charaherlain, the Laird of Fairny, to warn all 
 the gentlemen and tenants within our hounds to 
 hring at sunrise to Falkland-wood their fleetest 
 dogs and swiftest horses to grace our train. — What, 
 ho ! who waits ? Serve instantly our evening cup 
 — We must go to rest hetimes, so that we may be 
 winding the merry horn before the dew is off the 
 grass. My lord, we drink to you — We pray you 
 pledge us in a cup of Malvasy. — Drummond, the 
 goblet to my lord. — Come, wish success to our en- 
 terprise." 
 
 '' I trust," replied Douglas, raising the goblet 
 to his lips, " that your Grace will meet with good 
 sport, and that you will enjoy your promised plea-
 
 ]2 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Nay, never doubt it — we swear to you that the 
 life of a hart of grece is at stake. By Our Lady's 
 help, there will be such hunting to-morrow as has 
 not been seen since Scotland was a kingdom. But 
 when set you forth, my lord ?" 
 
 " In an hour's space — the night is calm and fair, 
 and the moon will light me on my way — but we 
 shall soon meet again." 
 
 " We shall soon meet again," replied the King, 
 " when each shall render an account of our deeds. 
 Good night, my lord ;" and with these words the 
 King passed to his chamber, and soon after Dou- 
 glas and his attendants issued from the palace, and 
 pricking hastily on, were quickly lost to view. 
 
 The soft moonlight slept on upland and lawn, 
 and glinted on wood and plain, where all breathed 
 quietness and repose. Not so the palace, which 
 resounded with the note of preparation for the 
 coming sport. Domestics were seen passing to 
 and fro in every quarter — the grooms hurried to 
 the stables, and the huntsmen paced the court with 
 an air befitting the important part they were soon 
 to play in the approaching scene. 
 
 It was somewhat beyond midnight when two 
 yeomen of the stables were challenged by the war* 
 der — " Who goes there ?''
 
 THE THREE KINGS'. 13 
 
 *' How now, Cutlibert," replied the bold yeo- 
 man, " art thou blinded with star-gazing, that thou 
 bids Jockie Hart to stand ?" 
 
 " Fair and softly, my master,'* replied the war- 
 der; " you pass not till I know where you and 
 your companions are bound for.'* 
 
 " Why, thou dolt, dost thou not know the prime 
 sport that we are to have to-morrow ?" 
 
 " I know full well that the King hunts to-mor- 
 row ; but that is no reason why you should leave 
 the palace at midnight." 
 
 " But it is a reason, fool — you know this hunt- 
 ing-match was a sudden whim of the King's, and 
 that there has been little time to warn the bold 
 nobles to attend. So Carmichael and I have the 
 King's especial order to ride by this fair moon- 
 light to Auchtermuchty and Strathmiglo to sum- 
 mon the burly lairds — Bar our passage at your pe- 
 ril. — Carmichael, hold my steed ; now mount your 
 own and follow me." 
 
 " In faith, my master, you bear yourself boldly, 
 because, forsooth, you have gained the King's fa- 
 vour ; but what will that avail you ? Secure the 
 countenance of the Earl — that is the sure road to 
 fortune." 
 
 " May be so,'* replied the yeoman ; " but the
 
 14- THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 King must be master some day, and when that 
 time comes, I would rather be the meanest hind 
 in Scotland, than have one drop of the Douglas 
 blood in my body. — But we waste time — undo the 
 portal quickly ; the night wears fast, and every 
 moment is precious to those who have such busi- 
 ness as ours on hand." 
 
 Thus admonished, the warder unfastened the 
 gate, the bold yeomen passed out, and the clatter 
 of their horses' hoofs was drowned by the deep- 
 toned baying of the hounds, and the boisterous 
 mirth of the domestics, who sought to lighten their 
 toil by jest and song.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. l^ 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 A maid there is in yonder towel', 
 Wlio, peeping from her early bower, 
 Half shows, like thee, with simple wile, 
 Her braided hair, and morning smile. 
 
 Joanna Baili-ie. 
 
 Lord Douglas on a milk-white steed, 
 
 Most like a baron bold, 
 Rode foremost of the company, 
 
 Whose armour shone like gold. 
 
 Old Ballad, 
 
 On the day preceding that fixed by James for 
 the hunting party, the beautiful Maude Buchanan 
 anxiously paced the battlements of her father's 
 tower of Arnprior; but a brilliant mid-day sun 
 glanced on wood and dell before that object met 
 her view, which called a brighter sparkle to her 
 eye, and deepened the rose of her cheek. The 
 cavalcade, which now wound rapidly round the 
 hill, and swept through the woods of Arnprior, be- 
 tokened the presence of some distinguished chief; 
 and as the party drew near, Maude, with a thrill of
 
 IjS THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 '.a 
 
 joy recognised the bleeding heart of the Douglas 
 blazing in the sun. She noticed not the attending 
 train, the pricking horsemen, the sumptuously at- 
 tired pages, the hawks, or the yelling hounds. Her 
 beautiful eyes were fixed on one who rode far in 
 advance of his attendants, and whose chesnut 
 steed, panting and covered with foam, bore marks 
 of hasty travel. His gallant rider was simply atti- 
 red — a hunting-dress of green showed to advan- 
 tage his finely-turned and manly form — a single 
 feather graced his cap, and his bugelet horn, tipped 
 with silver, hung carelessly from his breast. But 
 no simplicity of attire could disguise the noble 
 bearing of Lord William Douglas, whose dark 
 eyes flashed with delight as he descried the lady of 
 his love watching his approach, and an unwonted 
 glow suffused his olive cheek as he returned her 
 mute welcome. When his bounding courser stop- 
 ped at the castle gate, Lord William bent his head 
 almost to the saddle-bow, then springing lightly 
 to the ground, he passed the opened portal. 
 
 " Quick, Eppie, quick !" exclaimed Maude, has- 
 tily, to her attendant ; " bring hither my mantle. 
 Nay, have done," continued she, as Eppie attempt- 
 ed to arrange her flaxen tresses, which the sum- 
 mer breeze had blown into graceful disorder ; " it
 
 THE THREE KINGS, IM 
 
 shames me to be a laggard in meeting my love, 
 who has spared neither horse nor man in this hur- 
 ried journey." 
 
 *' Ye may say that," rejoined the damsel ; " for 
 the horses are panting so loud ye might hear them 
 a mile off; and poor Bonnyblink looks as disjaskit 
 as if he had come frae a foray on the Borders. He 
 had scarcely enough of pith left to give me a glance 
 up here." 
 
 ^* See that you treat the youth kindly," answer- 
 ed Maude ; " he has Lord William's favour, and 
 therefore must be deserving." 
 
 " He has my favour," replied the rustic beauty; 
 ^* and I am sure that " 
 
 " Give me my veil, girl," said Maude ; ^' I lack 
 time now to listen to your prate." 
 
 " Oh, my lady, stop just a minute, till I sort 
 your kirtle ; — and dinna be angry with me if I bid 
 ye no be putting off Lord William, when he will 
 be wanting you to name your wedding-day ; and 
 dinna ye say, as ye did the last time he was down 
 on his knees to ye, that ye canna leave your father, 
 and suchlike nonsense. Fathers maun be left — 
 it's the nature of things ; and there's naebody half 
 so keen as Sir John himsell to see you Lord Wil- 
 liam's bride." 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " You speak truly, Eppie ; my father lias often 
 urged Lord William^s suit ; but the more generous 
 he is, the more does it become me to be careful of 
 his comfort. He has, unhappily, no child but my- 
 self to pay him duty, and I cannot prevail on my- 
 self to leave him; — there is no haste, my good 
 girl" 
 
 " It may be sae," replied the damsel ; " but I 
 dinna like the sough that^s going through the coun- 
 try-side. Maist folk seem to think that the Dou- 
 glasses will get a downcome before long ; and I 
 doubt, if Lord William's braid lands were gane, 
 that Sir John wouldna scruple to bid Lord Wil- 
 liam gang after them. It's weel kent that the Kin^ 
 is in muckle dool and sorrow at the strict hand 
 that the Earl of Angus has ower him, and that a 
 day o' reckoning will no be lang o' coming." 
 
 " Nay, Eppie," replied Maude, " allowing that 
 Lord Angus bears higher rule over the King than 
 he ought. Lord William is not to blame ; he stays 
 but little at the court, as his uncle the Lord An- 
 gus fears that he favours the King too much." 
 
 " It's a' the better for him if he bides little at 
 court, for it's no very canny to have anything to 
 do either with kings or courtiers. — But, gude pre-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 19 
 
 serve us ! only hear how Sir John is crying for you 
 to come down ; he seems in an unco fizzy." 
 
 " Coming, dear father," said Maude, as she has- 
 tily descended at the impatient summons of the 
 knight. 
 
 " How now, Maude ?" said the burly Sir John ; 
 " thou wert not wont to lag when Lord William 
 sought thy company. Wherefore such tardy wel- 
 come to our honoured guest ?" 
 
 " Will you too chide ?" exclaimed Maude, as her 
 lover hastened to meet her. 
 
 " Have I not cause ?" he replied, half reproach- 
 fully. " I may only enjoy your presence a few 
 brief hours ; wonder not, then, that every moment 
 is so precious to me." 
 
 " How fares the noble Earl of Angus ?" asked 
 Sir John. 
 
 " Well, I trust," replied Lord William. « His 
 private affairs have called him into Lothian, whi- 
 ther he has summoned me to meet him ; he likes not 
 that I should be with the King while he is absent. 
 He knows it moves me much to see our youthful 
 monarch mewed up like an imprisoned eagle, and 
 but wound himself in his endeavours to escape 
 from a captivity so galling to his bold spirit." 
 
 " By the mass," retorted Sir John, " but the
 
 20 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 Earl knows bravely how to deal with friends and 
 foes ! The overthrow and death of Lennox insures 
 Lis power and greatness. By our Lady, the splen- 
 dour of the house of Douglas casteth all other into 
 the shade ; nothing is wanting to its happiness !" 
 
 " Yes," said Lord William, " one thing is want- 
 ing to complete at least my bliss. — When, dearest 
 Maude," continued he, taking her hand — " when 
 may I hope to call this mine for ever ? — why will 
 you so cruelly delay my happiness ?" 
 
 *^ In sooth," replied the fair Maude, drawing her 
 veil more closely over her cheek, " you know my 
 heart has long been yours ; but I cannot resolve 
 to leave my dear father, and " 
 
 '' Away with such folly !" exclaimed Sir John, 
 in an angry tone : " you shall no longer trifle 
 with your noble suitor, who offers you everything 
 the heart of woman can desire — therefore I com- 
 mand you " 
 
 " Nay, Sir John," interrupted Lord William, 
 « we will have no compulsion. I will not owe 
 my dearest happiness to a father's commands. 
 Maude alone shall give herself to me." 
 
 '* If she does not, and that speedily," replied 
 Sir John, in a menacing tone, " she shall rue the 
 day !" and casting a fierce look on his daughter,
 
 THE THREE KINGS. -21 
 
 the haughty knight strode from the apartment. 
 Maude burst into tears. 
 
 " Heed him not, dear Maude," said Lord Wil- 
 liam ; " nay, do not weep. Wherefore this emotion ? 
 Have you not permitted me to hope that my ardent 
 attachment was not displeasing to you? Have 
 you not received and answered my vows of love ? 
 Come, dearest Maude, let me lead you to that bliss- 
 ful spot where you first deigned to listen to my 
 passion. Let us wander once more through your 
 favourite glade, and pause beneath that branching 
 thorn, which was the only witness to our vows : 
 there, perhaps, my dearest Maude may restore me 
 that affection, without which life would be an un- 
 supportable burden." 
 
 <* You wrong me," answered Maude, as she walk- 
 ed by the side of her generous lover, — " you wrong 
 me cruelly in thinking I repent me of my plight- 
 ed vows. My heart was never more truly yours 
 man at this moment ; but " 
 
 " Mar not the charm of that avowal, by any 
 chilling drawback," exclaimed Lord William, pas- 
 sionately kissing her hand ; " to tell me that I have 
 your love, is to say all that I wish to hear. Say it 
 again, dear Maude ; and oh, tell mc that you will 
 soon be mine !"
 
 22 - THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Hear me, William," replied Maude, " and let 
 me explain the cause of the apparent coldness which 
 has wounded you. You know my father, and his 
 passionate desire that I should wed greatly — in 
 you he sees united every requisite to satisfy the 
 most soaring ambition, and therefore he presses 
 our union. I fear that it is not you that he values, 
 but your rank and power ; and I dread that the dis- 
 interestedness of my affection also may be ques- 
 tioned. Yet Heaven is my witness that the gauds 
 of life have no charms for me. I love you for your- 
 self alone, and my heart can never know change." 
 
 " Beauteous Maude," replied Lord William, " let 
 not an overstrained delicacy delay my happiness ; 
 suffice it that I know the sincerity of your guile- 
 less heart. I shall never feel rest nor peace till 
 you are wholly mine ;" and Lord William bent his 
 knee on the flowery turf — " Yes, soon shall we 
 be bound in the sweetest bonds — soon shall I have 
 a sacred right'to protect and guide the dear object 
 of my unchanging love. — What ! not one little 
 word ? Must I be satisfied with a mute consent ? 
 Thus, then, I seal my happiness," and Lord Wil- 
 liam imprinted on her fair brow one long and fer- 
 vent kiss. 
 
 It was not till the shades of evening began to
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 23 
 
 fall on upland and dell, that the lovers could in- 
 flict on themselves the pain of separation ; but that 
 moment came, and Maude repaired to the case- 
 ment, to watch the departure of her lover, whose 
 bugelet-horn quickly summoned his attendant; and 
 followed by his train, Lord William again swept 
 through the domain of Arnprior, cheered by the 
 hope, that when he next appeared there, it would 
 be to bear away its brightest gem.
 
 24. THE THKEE KINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Wanvtek. 1 wondcr how the King escaped our bands. 
 
 King Henry the SUcih, 
 
 The scene is changed, the maiden is alone. 
 To brood upon Hope's temple overthrown ; 
 The hue has left her lip, the light her eye, 
 And she has flung her down as if to die. 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 The preparations which Sir John was making 
 for the nuptials of Maude were suddenly suspended. 
 By noon on the day succeeding that on which Lord 
 William left Arnprior, it was rumoured through 
 the country that the King, disguised as a yeoman, 
 had escaped from Falkland to the Castle of Stirling, 
 and which he was putting in a state of defence. 
 Incredible as this appeared to be, yet the nume- 
 rous bands of horsemen which were seen at inter- 
 vals hurrying towards Stirling, testified that some 
 great event either had taken place or was in agi- 
 tation. Impatient to learn the real state of affairs. 
 Sir John ordered his followers to horse, and with-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 25 
 
 out delay directed his rapid course towards Stir- 
 ling. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Maude remained a prey to 
 the most excruciating suspense. Rumours the most 
 vague and contradictory had reached her. She 
 knew not what to dread, yet it appeared certain 
 that some great change in the posture of affairs 
 had occurred. The downfall of the House of Dou- 
 glas was openly predicted, and dark hints thrown 
 out as to its probable fate. 
 
 On the evening of the fourth day of her father's 
 absence, Maude sat mournfully at the casement, 
 watching with straining eyes for the return of a 
 messenger, whom she had that day dispatched for 
 intelligence to Stirling. The sun had sunk be- 
 hind the hills, and the night breeze gently stirred 
 the transparent veil which bound her flaxen tresses, 
 ere her longing eyes were greeted by the welcome 
 sight of an approaching horseman. Eager to learn 
 what tidings her messenger conveyed, she hurried 
 down to meet him, and in another moment found 
 herself clasped in the arms of Lord William. A 
 few broken sentences only had passed, when Sir 
 John burst into the apartment. At his sight, 
 Maude withdrew herself from Lord William's em- 
 brace, and then, for the first time, observed the
 
 26 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 agitation which was betrayed in the speaking 
 countenance of Douglas, and in the gestures of the 
 knight. 
 
 " Take thy last leave, Maude, and that quickly," 
 said Sir John, with sternness ; *' for every mo- 
 ment that Lord William remains here perils both 
 his life and mine." 
 
 " Take leave ! — Peril !" said Maude, almost 
 breathless from alarm — " For the love of Heaven, 
 tell me what has happened ?'* 
 
 " You will hear it but too soon," answered Sir 
 John. " The King is in Stirling Castle, and ruin, 
 irretrievable ruin, has fallen on the house of Dou- 
 glas." 
 
 The colour forsook the cheek of Maude, and she 
 would have fallen to the ground, had not Lord 
 William sprung towards her, and passing his arm 
 round her trembling form, rested her drooping head 
 on his breast. 
 
 " You are too rash. Sir John," said Douglas — 
 " Somewhat more of tenderness might have been 
 used in breaking this disastrous intelligence to 
 your daughter. — Look up, dear Maude ! Let us 
 bear our trial with fortitude — it unmans me to 
 see you thus." 
 
 " Hark ye, Maude," said Sir John — " this is no
 
 THE THBEE KINGS. 27 
 
 time for weakness and tears. Douglas must leave 
 this house, or bring certain ruin on me and mine. 
 I have seen the King, and have heard him, with 
 the deepest oaths, swear the destruction of Angus, 
 and of every one who bears his name. All are 
 proscribed and proclaimed traitors, and, if taken, 
 will too surely suffer their doom." 
 
 " Is it even so ?" asked Maude, as she wiped 
 away her tears. 
 
 " It is too true," answered Lord William ; 
 " the blow has fallen — the house of Douglas is 
 levelled in the dust. Its power has passed away, 
 and but to bear its name carries with it peril, 
 disgrace, and death." 
 
 " Give me that name !" exclaimed Maude, while 
 the blood rushed to her pale cheek and brow — 
 " Give me that name, though it lead to peril or 
 death. Never in the days of its towering gran- 
 deur was it so venerated by me, as in this hour of 
 its blighted honour. Let me bear the name of 
 Douglas, and consoled by thee, I will welcome ex- 
 ile, and smile away despair." 
 
 Overpowered with emotion, Lord William knelt 
 at her feet, and bent his head on her hand. 
 
 " How now, Maude !" exclaimed Sir John ; " art 
 <listracted, wench ? Wouldst thou link thy fate
 
 28 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 with a ruined house ? Wouldst thou many a pro- 
 scribed and banished man ?" 
 
 Lord William sprung to his feet. 
 
 " Fear not, Sir John," he said, firmly, " fear 
 not that such a fate awaits your daughter. Never 
 will I involve the woman I love in the calamities 
 which have fallen on my name and race. Think 
 not that a selfish purpose brought me hither. I 
 came but to take one last look of all I hold dear, 
 to render back to this fair and generous maiden 
 her plighted faith, to snatch a last embrace, and 
 to bid her, as I now do, a last farewell." 
 
 He held her for a moment to his heart, and 
 pressed her pale lips. 
 
 " Maude, dearest Maude," he exclaimed, in a 
 tone of suppressed anguish, "receive back your 
 plighted word — from this moment you are free. I 
 feel that you will long love the poor exile; but 
 when time shall have effaced his image, and when 
 another than Douglas shall talk of love, and recall 
 your smiles, oh, may Heaven's choicest gifts bless 
 your union ! Forget me, Maude — forget me, and 
 be happy. Farewell !" 
 
 " You shall not go !" exclaimed Maude, as she 
 threw herself into his arms — " Ah, how can you 
 speak to me of another love ? No, William, no ;
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 29 
 
 that shall never be. From the happy, the proud, 
 the worshipped Douglas, my maiden bashfulness 
 concealed the extent of my love ; but to Douglas, 
 the proscribed and banished, I lay open the dearest 
 secrets of a heart, where he alone shall ever reign. 
 Take me, then, with you, dear William — refuse 
 me not the consolation of soothing your affliction. 
 Send quickly for the Abbot of Cambuskenneth 
 to join our hands. Supported by mutual tender- 
 ness, we will brave every danger, and, happy in 
 each other's love, we shall be so blessed, that the 
 proudest coroneted dame in James's palace may 
 envy the lot of the homeless exiles." 
 
 *' Urge me not, Maude," replied Lord William, 
 '* urge me not. Such happiness is not for me— 
 happiness did I say ? — Misery rather, deep into- 
 lerable misery and self-reproach, would consume 
 me, did I basely take advantage of your generous 
 love. No, Maude, no — we must part." 
 
 " Ay, by our Lady, and that speedily," cried Sir 
 John I " unless that puling fool keeps you till the 
 dagger's point reaches you in her arms. Be 
 counselled by me. Lord William : Sleep not, rest 
 not, till you are out of the bounds of Scotland. 
 Where go you from this ?" 
 
 " To join the Earl of Angus, whose place of
 
 so THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 concealment is known to me. His conduct to- 
 wards our King I always condemned; but al- 
 though he has involved his race in ruin, I will not 
 desert him in adversity, nor shall I leave him till 
 he is in safety." 
 
 " By the mass," exclaimed Sir John, " he is 
 more likely to be in safety than thou art, if thou 
 dally long here. Fearest thou not to be so near 
 the lion's den ? If James at Stirling but guessed 
 who is in his neighbourhood, we should soon see 
 his archers bursting through our woods, and sur- 
 rounding this tower. Be warned then, Douglas, 
 and seek safety in flight. I wish not your blood 
 to be spilt on my hearth. The night wears fast, 
 and you ought to be far from this before the 
 dawn." 
 
 " Go then," cried Maude ; " fly, dear William ! 
 Alas ! that my folly has held you so long near 
 your foes. Leave me — oh, haste away ! We may 
 yet meet in happier times. Be careful of your life ; 
 for in death, as in life, I am yours only. Our 
 Lady guide and preserve you — Farewell !" 
 And thus parted the lovers.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Why, what a madcap hath Heaven lent us here ! 
 
 King John. 
 
 Thus sternly spoke he, mounted on his steed, 
 And to the northward spurr'd at headlong speed. 
 His troopers follow'd— 
 
 Craignethan Castle. 
 
 This afflicting separation Maude endeavoured 
 to bear with patience and fortitude ; she was not 
 of a temper to give way to despondency, and long 
 she struggled to still her alarms, and to hope that 
 some favourable change would yet take place. 
 Fiery and impetuous as James was known to be, 
 he was believed to possess a generous spirit, and 
 Maude fondly hoped that, the first burst of pas- 
 sion evaporated, he would be accessible to softer 
 feelings ; but when every passing day brought to 
 her some new proof of the vindictive feelings of 
 the King, and of his determined hatred to the
 
 32 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 Earl of Angus, and of all those who were impli- 
 cated, even in the most remote manner, in that 
 which was now denominated Treason, her heart 
 sunk within her. So deep, indeed, was the resent- 
 ment of the King, that there was not found one 
 hardy enough to intercede for the banished Earl ; 
 nor did any single individual of his former friends 
 dare even to name him in James's presence, so 
 that Maude, reluctant as she had been to part with 
 Lord William, rejoiced now in the belief that he 
 was far distant from her, and safe from the fury 
 of the implacable King. 
 
 The violent alternations of hope and fear which 
 thus agitated Maude's mind, produced their usual 
 effect, and a severe illness followed. Maude, how- 
 ever, scarcely regretted her indisposition, as it af- 
 forded her an opportunity of escaping from the 
 observation of her father, whom her sadness irri- 
 tated and displeased. Gradually, however, her 
 health was restored, and with it came some por- 
 tion of her former spirit and vivacity ; hope again 
 revived, and she pleased herself with picturing 
 that felicity which, she trusted, awaited her and 
 her noble lover, and which would amply recom- 
 pense them for their present sufferings. Her 
 musings were not long unbroken.
 
 THE TTIREK KINdS. S3 
 
 <* Oh ! my lady," exclaimed Epple, bursting 
 one day into her apartment, " such a siglit as I 
 hae seen !" 
 
 *' What is the matter ?" asked Maude in alarm. 
 
 " Oh ! my lady, come up to the terrace, and 
 look out yoursell — I ne'er expected to see the like 
 at Arnprior." 
 
 " Speak, I command you," said Maude, beco- 
 ming pale as death; " Is he taken ? Do they lead 
 him to the scaffold ? even there shall Maude Bu- 
 chanan follow him." 
 
 " Gude forgie me, thoughtless gowk that I 
 was," exclaimed Eppie, " to gie ye sic a fright ! 1 
 might hae kent tliat your mind wad be aye rinnin 
 on Lord William; but it's no him, my lady — I 
 wish it was, for we'll ne'er be happy till he and 
 Bonnyblink, puir chiel, come back again. But 
 gang up to the terrace — Gude guide us, she canna 
 rise aff her chair, and looks just like a water-lily. 
 Just sit still, and she'll come to you ;— they maun 
 be amaist at the gate by this time — she was can- 
 tering down the avenue as fast as if she had been 
 riding to a bridal; her pages could hardly keep 
 up wi' her." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, speak plainly, Eppie," cried 
 Maude — " Who comes ?" 
 
 VOL. I. c:
 
 34 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Wha should it be/' said Eppie, " but your 
 ain blythe cousin, Lady Dorothea Grahame ? We'll 
 now hear a laugh in the castle, gude be praised. 
 My face is grown sae lang, I'm feared to look my- 
 sell in the glass. Do you hear her, my lady ? — if 
 she's no joking wi' Sir John already ! I hope she 
 may bring him out o' the dorts ; I'm thinking he's 
 no ower-weel pleased wi' your ladyship making 
 sic a moan for Lord William. He maybe thinks 
 there's nae man worth sae muckle dolour, — and, 
 to be sure, he should ken best, being ane o' the 
 kind ; — but I hear Lady Dorothea coming up the 
 stair, singing like a mavis." 
 
 " You may leave me then, Eppie," said Maude; 
 " I shall call when you are wanted;" — and the 
 damsel withdrew, just as Maude's lively cousin 
 entered the apartment. 
 
 " How now, sweet Maude," cried Lady Doro- 
 thea; " does it become the daughter of the bold 
 Arnprior to sit down in hopeless despair, because 
 Fortune, that capricious dame, has withdrawn her 
 smiles ?" 
 
 " Alas ! dear cousin," replied Maude, " you 
 know not all the misery " 
 
 " I do know it," interrupted Lady Dorothea, 
 " and therefore am I come. Cheer up, dear friend ;
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 35^ 
 
 — you ouglit not to despond: true, your happy 
 prospects are at present obscured; but, believe 
 me, the time will come when you will claim my 
 promise, to grace your bridal with my presence. 
 Nay, do not shake your sunny ringlets, and look 
 so full of woe. Have you not deep cause for 
 thankfulness, that Lord William has reached Eng- 
 land in safety ?" 
 
 " Could I but be convinced of that," replied 
 Maude, " half my grief would be removed ; but 
 this cruel uncertainty kills me. No tidings of his 
 safety have reached me, and " 
 
 " Ay, but they have reached me^ fair cousin," 
 replied Lady Dorothea ; " so recall your smiles. 
 I knew too well the state of your silly heart, not 
 to endeavour to find means to still its tremors. 
 You may rely on my information, — giddy as I am, 
 I would not for worlds play with your feelings on 
 this subject. In truth, I but delayed my visit till 
 I could bring you some comfort. Nay, do not 
 thank me — the sparkle of your eye, and the bright 
 smile which displays those dimples I have so often 
 envied, would abundantly recompense me, even 
 had I no other reward ; but to my interference in 
 your concerns I owe the pleasure of becoming ac-
 
 36 THE THREE KINCiK. 
 
 quainted with the Master of M ar — Know you the 
 youth?'* 
 
 " In sooth I do, and regard him much, — he 
 bears a fair report." 
 
 " Ay, and a handsome person," rejoined Lady 
 Dorothea : " of which, however, he pretends to 
 be ignorant. I marvel that he lacks sense to en- 
 liven the solitude of Arnprior." 
 
 " This reminds me," replied Maude, " of hear- 
 ing that Alloa Tower was preparing for the Earl, 
 and surely the Master is too good a son to allow 
 him to sojourn there alone." 
 
 ** Perhaps so; and if he does venture here, do 
 not allow your moody father to keep him outside 
 the walls, for he it was who, at my earnest en- 
 treaty, procured me intelligence of Lord William ; 
 but I would not say wherefore I inquired so 
 anxiously of the fate of Douglas. I saw he had 
 some curiosity to fathom my secret, and took a 
 pleasure in baffling all his attempts to discover it. — 
 But, fair coz, do you mew yourself up here in your 
 chamber all day long ? If Lord William were to 
 see these pale cheeks, I should not wonder that he 
 recalled his homage, and left you to wear the wil- 
 low ; — all men are fickle and faithless." 
 
 ** Say not so," replied Maude, with warmth ;
 
 THE THREE KINGS. ST 
 
 " never will lie change — I would pawn my life on 
 his honour." 
 
 ** Every damsel believes the same at some pe- 
 riod or other ; I myself was once so foolish." 
 
 "Ah, Dorothea," replied Maude, '' is it always 
 the fault of the other sex when hearts are estran- 
 ged ? are we never to blame ? What has become of 
 Lord Maxwell ?" 
 
 " In sooth I know not; he chose to make him- 
 self miserable, because, forsooth, I whispered James 
 Erskine concerning your affair ; and scarcely was 
 this brule past, when he took deep offence at my 
 dancing a measure with the gallant Rothes, He 
 vanished, and no one knows what has become of 
 him. Some say he is in Fairy Land, but that I 
 doubt ; there is too much dancing there to suit his 
 taste. I did shed half a dozen tears the first week 
 of his disappearance, sighed all the next, then the 
 turn of smiles came round again." 
 
 " So you lack a lover, fair cousin ?" 
 
 ** Ay, truly I do. Is there any chance of pick- 
 ing up a stray one here ?" 
 
 " What say you to our cousin Grahame ?" 
 
 " Name him not ; I would rather take up my 
 abode in his dog-kennel — but now I mind me, that 
 would not do, for he scarcely lives out of it."
 
 38 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Does the young Laird of Arral please you ?" 
 
 " Out upon him for a bold and hardened vil- 
 lain, who would cut a man's throat one hour, and 
 the next sit down to breakfast yv^ith unwashen 
 hands — I'll none of him." 
 
 " I spoke but in sport," replied Maude, " for, 
 in good truth, you cannot loathe him more deeply 
 than I do." 
 
 " Comes he often here ?" 
 
 *' More frequently than I wish. I know not 
 whether the father or son is most hateful to me. 
 They are lawless and turbulent men, who are al- 
 ways engaged in bold and daring enterprises, and 
 are continually embroiling themselves with their 
 neighbours; indeed, their reputation for rapine 
 and bloodshed is so well known, that when any 
 broils occur, and we wish to know who is engaged 
 in them, the usual question is, ' Who beside the 
 Arrals?' for no fray ever happens here without 
 their being engaged in it. But courage, cousin, 
 we are near enough the Castle of Stirling, to 
 hope that chance may throw a stray knight in our 
 way. I hear that James holds rcA^els there with 
 his lords ; I pray Heaven that he keep within the 
 bounds of Stirling. I could not support the sight 
 of the implacable tyrant."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 39 
 
 " You are less than just, fair cousin, and make 
 not sufficient allowance for the irritated feelings of 
 James. Bethink you how much he has suffered 
 from the thraldom of Angus. But time will ap- 
 pease his wrath. Implacable tyrant ! — sweet coz 
 — there is no gallant of his court who knows bet- 
 ter how to win a woman's heart — nay, in spite of 
 all your love for Douglas, I would tremble for 
 him, did his princely master enter the lists against 
 him. Believe me, James is as bland and cour- 
 teous in a lady's presence, as he is bold in the field 
 and stern in the council." 
 
 " Dorothea, but that I know you are in jest, 
 that speech would lose you my love for ever. But, 
 dear cousin, I pray you, glance not that way 
 again." 
 
 " Nay," replied Dorothea, " your rebuke shall 
 not be unheeded — my heart smites me for my 
 thoughtless folly. Forgive me, I meant not to 
 offend." 
 
 " Think no more of it," replied Maude ; " for- 
 get every word which gives you pain. We shall 
 love each other no less for this passing cloud." 
 
 " I trust so ; and yet I think that awful frown 
 has scarcely left your brow. I knew not that you 
 were made of such stern stuff. Sir John himself,
 
 4.0 TllK TilllEE KINGS. 
 
 in his fiercest moods, never caused me to quail as 
 you have done. How is this ?" 
 
 " Perhaps," replied Maude, " because your con- 
 science was arrayed against you — but let us drop 
 the subject. Your enlivening presence and cheer- 
 ing intelligence have given me new strength ; as- 
 sured of the safety of Lord William, I shall bear 
 cheerfully his absence. And now that my mind is 
 relieved of its deepest anxiety, I shall do my best 
 to show my sense of your kindness, although I 
 fear I shall find it difficult to provide amusement 
 for you." 
 
 " Give yourself no trouble about the matter," 
 replied Lady Dorothea, " for I generally contrive 
 to cut out amusement for myself. But I hope you 
 mean to grace the board to-day — I am not ambi- 
 tious for a tete-a-tete with Sir John." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Maude ; " and as the din- 
 ner hour approaches, let me conduct you to your 
 chamber, and call my attendant to assist in disen- 
 cumbering you of your riding dress." 
 
 Sir John Buchanan gave Lady Dorothea a rough 
 but kind welcome to Arnprior ; and as he attribu- 
 ted Maude's recovered health and spirits to her 
 influence, he exerted himself to procure her every 
 amusement within their reach. Fleet horses were
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 41 
 
 at tlieir command, and well trained hawks were 
 carried out, when the ladies wished to take this 
 sport. Nothing, however, gave Maude and her 
 merry cousin so much amusement as exploring 
 the hidden and remote beauties of the country, or 
 cantering their horses over the barren moor. In 
 these exercises, Maude gradually regained her 
 health, and the rose again revisited her pale 
 cheek. 
 
 *' It is really provoking, cousin," said the Lady 
 Dorothea to Maude, as they slowly paced the ter- 
 raced roof of the castle, — " it is really provoking, 
 that in all our rides and excursions we have never 
 met with anything more interesting than a bunch 
 of cloud-berries, or maybe a shrill plover scream- 
 ing overhead. May I never smile more if I do 
 not ride to-morrow towards Stirling, and see if I 
 cannot meet some of those gallants, who seem 
 more fond of playing the courtier near our merry 
 monarch, tlian of brushing the dew from our 
 mountain paths." 
 
 " In your enumeration," replied Maude, smi- 
 ling, " you have forgot to add the plant called the 
 great sundew, which, you know, spreads out its 
 leaves to catch flics, and then crushes them to
 
 42 THE THKEE KINGS. 
 
 death. See .you any resemblance here of your 
 pursuits, fair cousin ?" 
 
 " Not the slightest, Maude ; for the sundew en- 
 snares its captives only to destroy : I enslave for 
 the purpose of cherishing, pleasing " 
 
 " And teazing," interrupted Maude. 
 
 " Ah, cousin," replied Lady Dorothea, " I fear 
 me all the dear delights of coquetry are fast va- 
 nishing away. I confess^ with shame and confu- 
 sion, that I care not to reign in any heart but 
 that of the dear youth who has conquered mine ; 
 I have staked my all of happiness on one die. 
 Tell me, Maude, did you ever think to see my 
 giddy spirit so tamed ? do you not pity me ?" 
 
 " No, truly," replied Maude; " I rather rejoice 
 that you are caught in Cupid's silken fetters. But 
 tell me, dearest cousin, who has had the glory of 
 touching your proud heart ?" 
 
 " The Master of Mar is the wretch who has 
 deprived me of my boasted freedom ; but our at- 
 tachment is kept a secret from the world at pre- 
 sent, as he suspects that the Earl has other views 
 for him." 
 
 " I am charmed to hear that you have made 
 such an excellent choice; I cannot wish you a 
 better lot than that of passing your life with the
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 4-3 
 
 Master of Mar, and I sincerely trust that nothing 
 will occur to cloud your happy prospects. — But 
 who comes here ? — Look, Dorothea, at that caval- 
 cade approaching. Is Lord William there? yet 
 surely that is impossible ; a mist comes over my 
 eyes. Look, dear cousin, and tell me what all 
 this means." 
 
 " Truly the mist must be thick, indeed, when 
 you cannot see that the lawless Laird of Arral is 
 wending his way hither. Can you guess his er- 
 rand, Maude ? It must be a peaceful one ; for his 
 train is slender, and he looks less the ruffian than 
 usual." 
 
 "The Laird of Arral !" replied Maude in sur- 
 prise ; " what can bring that man of blood here ? 
 I shudder at his sight ; for well do I know that 
 murder and rapine are dearer to him than the 
 light of the blessed sun. See, he alights in the 
 court ; and there comes old Simon to usher him 
 to Sir John. Do you observe, Dorothea, that his 
 people remain on horseback, and seem earnestly 
 to watch for his re-appearance ? did I not know 
 that my father is always armed, I would be un- 
 easy at this interview. It is evident, however, 
 that his intentions at present are not hostile — he 
 is but slightly attended and armed — but this ap-
 
 44 THE THRliE KINGS. 
 
 pearaiice of security and carelessness may ])cr- 
 haps be intended to throw us off our guard. I 
 pray Heaven that no mischief may ensue." 
 
 " In faith, Maude, I am so thoroughly weary of 
 our quiet mode of life, that I could almost be 
 wicked enough to wish for a little mischief, just 
 to vary the scene." 
 
 " Nay," said Maude, becoming very pale, *' I 
 fear you will have your wishes gratified ; do you 
 hear those sounds ?" as the voices of Sir John and 
 his visitor were heard in loud debate, 
 
 *' In sooth," replied Lady Dorothea, " we can- 
 not now complain of the quietness of our abode. 
 Why, Sir John and his amiable guest seem pos- 
 sessed by the very spirit of discord. Only hear 
 how they shout and bellow ! The conference is 
 certainly not intended to be a private one — But 
 look, Maude, look, there is Arral striding through 
 the court. Do you see how hurriedly he throws 
 himself on his horse — mark you the sullen fire of 
 his eye. There they all go — how furiously they 
 ply the whip and spur — beshrew me, but they ride 
 as if a coming thunderbolt were in their rear." 
 
 At this moment Sir John rushed into the court, 
 crying, "' To horse, to horse !" He was instantly 
 obovcd ; and, before the cousins had recovered
 
 THE THREE KINCxH. 45 
 
 from their surprise, lie had mounted his strong 
 black steed, and, followed by his people, he rapidly 
 pursued the road taken by Arral, and who was 
 now completely out of sight. 
 
 " Oh, my lady," exclaimed Eppie, bursting into 
 the apartment, " heard ye exer the like o' yon ! I 
 thought they would hae throttled ane anither. 
 There would hae been nae great matter if Arral 
 had got his deadle, but we could ill spare Sir John 
 in thae troublous times, when sae mony folks are 
 fighting about ye." 
 
 " About me, Eppie ? what do ye mean ?" 
 
 '* Ye see, my lady, when Arral was ta'en in to 
 Sir John, I thought I would like to ken what ho 
 was wanting ; so I derned myself into a canny 
 hole, and heard every word ; and what do ye 
 think the auld reiver came about ? Nae less than 
 to ask you for a wife to his son." 
 
 " Impossible !" replied Maude. 
 
 " Nae wonder than ye think it impossible; I 
 couldna maist believe that I heard him right ; set 
 Arral's son up with such a wife ! him that's no fit 
 to wipe your ladyship's shoe. My faith, if Sir 
 John didna gie him a screed o' his mind ! he didna 
 scruple to let the reiver ken what he thought o' his 
 impudence in speaking o' his son to ane that liatl
 
 46 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 the blood o* the Duke of Albany in her veins : and 
 so Sir John blazed away about your grand kith 
 and kin, and cast up to Arral that he was nae- 
 thing but a reiver and a robber, living on other 
 men's goods. I'll ne'er forget Arral's look as long 
 as I live, when Sir John was abusing him for a' 
 his misdeeds. He grew black in the face with 
 evendown rage ; then he gi'ew white ; his een 
 glanced like twa lighted candles ; and, before Sir 
 John could turn himself, Arral felled him down 
 as he would hae done an ox." 
 
 " Good Heavens," cried Maude, " is my father 
 hurt?" 
 
 " Dinna be sae feared, my lady ; he's no a hair 
 the waur ; for though he fell down with an unco 
 sod, and neither moved hand nor foot, he was soon 
 on his legs again, and after Arral like a fire- 
 flaught ; my certie, if Sir John comes up with 
 him, his life's no worth a bodle." 
 
 " I hope in Heaven they may not meet !" said 
 Maude anxiously ; " Arral is a bold and desperate 
 man." 
 
 " Nay, never fear, dear Maude," said Lady 
 Dorothea; " trust me, they will not meet ; why, 
 Arral was flying like a frightened deer. He will
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 47 
 
 reach some of his fastnesses ere Sir John can 
 come up with him." 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Maude, " hut I shall he 
 miserable till my father returns. I am grieved 
 that he has incurred the enmity of Arral, who is 
 not a man to forgive an offence, or he contented 
 without a deep revenge." 
 
 Anxiously did the cousins watch for many weary 
 hours; hut it was long after sunset before they 
 descried the welcome sight of Sir John and his 
 attendants returning to the castle. 
 
 Maude hastened down, and, throwing herself 
 into his arms, hurst into tears. " How now, 
 wench ?" exclaimed Sir John ; " what is all this 
 about ?" 
 
 " Dearest father, are you hurt ?" 
 
 " Hurt ! no, by the mass, there is nothing hurt 
 but my good sword, which is somewhat injured 
 by the vehemence with which I chastised that 
 knave." 
 
 " Is Arral then dead?" 
 
 " By our Lady, I staid not to see ; but 'tis more 
 than likely, as he moved not on the turf when I 
 touched him with my foot. His people threw him 
 across his saddle, and I doubt not, his base blood 
 will track their way. The knave — the robl)er, to
 
 48 THE TlfREE KINGS. 
 
 dare to aspire to ally his house with mine ! No, 
 no, Maude ; we promise you a higher destiny. 
 You shall have a fitter mate than eitlier a base 
 reiver, or a ruined noble. But go, child, go to 
 your chamber, and think no more of the matter. 
 The knave who insulted you, has been severely 
 punished for his temerity, and that is enough." 
 
 Maude withdrew in silence; but her father's 
 words alarmed her. It was evident that his de- 
 termination, that she never should wed Lord Wil- 
 liam, was unshaken. To add to her distress, she 
 had now too much cause to fear that he meant to 
 propose to her another suitor; and althougli she 
 was firmly resolved to keep inviolate the faith she 
 liad plighted to Lord William, yet knowing, as 
 she did, the austere and violent character of her 
 father, her heart sunk as she thought of the trials 
 she would have to endure. Determined, how- 
 ever, not to give way to despondency, nor to allow 
 her mind to dwell on evils which might never ar- 
 rive, Maude, grateful for the unwearied kindness 
 of Lady Dorothea, exerted herself to make the 
 time pass pleasantly away. In this she was as- 
 sisted by the Master of Mar, who, having accom- 
 panied the Earl to Alloa Tower, took advantage 
 of its vicinity to Arnprior, to pay frequent visits
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 49 
 
 to his lively mistress; and Sir John, believing 
 that Maude was the object of attraction, saw, with 
 pleasure, an intercourse established, which pro- 
 mised a result so flattering to his ambition. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 50 THF THT^F.F, KINGS, 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen, 
 But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, 
 Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, 
 For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be ; 
 It was only to hear the yorlln sing, 
 And pu* the cress-flower round the spriti;,', 
 The scarlet hypp, and the hindberrye, 
 And the nut that hang frae the hazel tree. 
 
 The Qi/cr>i\« IVahe. 
 
 " Where shall we ride to-day, Dorothea?" said 
 Maude, as the cousins prepared to set forth on one 
 of their excursions. 
 
 " In truth/* replied Lady Dorothea, " it is a 
 matter of perfect indifference to me where we di- 
 rect our steps. Suppose we leave our palfreys to 
 choose for us? — but pray, Maude, what is the 
 meaning of our being followed by so many at- 
 tendants ? — why, even old Simon is mounted." 
 
 " Such is my father's pleasure," replied Maude ;
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 51 
 
 ** he has heard that Arral has recovered, and per- 
 haps he apprehends some attempt to be revenged 
 for the chastisement he received. I understand, 
 too, that several men have been observed lurking 
 in the wood, and who have eluded all search ; we 
 shall, therefore, if you please, avoid that direc- 
 tion." 
 
 " Deed, you're no far wrang, my lady," said 
 Eppie, giving her active shelty a stroke with her 
 whip, and bringing him close behind the palfrey 
 of her mistress, as the cavalcade issued from the 
 castle gates, — " for, as sure as my name is Eppie 
 Donaldson, there are some uncanny folks ower 
 near us. I got an unco fright twa nights since, 
 when I was coming doun the glen, with a grewsome 
 carl o' a gipsy, muffled up in an auld cloak, wha 
 speeled down a tree like a very cat, and was after 
 me in a jiffy, and shouting to me to stop ; but, for 
 as fast as he ran, I ran faster, crying for help a' the 
 road. But maybe the tinkler might hae come up 
 with me, and got my bonny silver brooch, if Rory 
 hadna come in sight, when the thief ran back into 
 the wood, and I saw nae mair o' him," 
 
 " Now, by my faith," said Lady Dorothea, " I 
 am bent on riding that way, since there seems 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 ,)2 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 some liope of an adventure awaiting us. You can- 
 not dread anything serious;, attended and guarded 
 as we are. In all probability, we shall see nothing 
 more formidable than an encampment of gipsies. 
 Do let us go to the wood, cousin ; I should so like 
 to have my fortune told." And Lady Dorothea 
 continued her entreaties and persuasions, till 
 Maude, unwilling to disappoint her, yielded the 
 point, and the party took the road which skirted 
 the wood. 
 
 " Aweel, my Lady Dorothea," said Eppie, " I 
 wish ye mayna repent o' this day's wark ; but, oh, 
 send some o' the men before ye, to look that nae 
 ill happens to the Lady Maude, and I'll gang and 
 ricle beside Simon Brodie. My heart misgies me, 
 and I canna help thinking that some mischief will 
 come o' this ploy." — So saying, the damsel turned 
 her pony, and, riding to the rear of the party, join- 
 ed Simon Brodie, who paced leisurely along, while 
 his young mistress and her companions advanced 
 rapidly. 
 
 " It's an unco thing," said Eppie to Simon, 
 *' that young folks will no take ad^dce. I canna 
 think Avhat has come ower Lady Maude — she'll no 
 hear reason."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 53 
 
 *' That's nae ferlie in ane o' her kind," retorted 
 Simon. 
 
 " My certie," replied the damsel, " it's nae se- 
 cret whatfor ye hae such an ill will to women, 
 and that's just because there's no ane will look the 
 road ye are on ; and nae great wonder, for ye are 
 weel kent through the country for an auld, cank- 
 ered, doited carl, and muckle are ye to trust to ; 
 grand care ye take o' the Lady Maude, who is 
 maist out o' sight by this time. Ride faster, ye 
 dour auld deevil." 
 
 " And so I will. Mistress Eppie ; I wish you 
 much good of your company," said Simon, point- 
 ting to a man who was lurking behind some thick 
 bushes ; and striking spurs into his horse's sides, 
 he rode hastily on, while the gipsy, bursting 
 from his concealment, crossed the road, and seized 
 the bridle of her pony. 
 
 The terrified damsel rent the air with her 
 screams. — " Help, Simon, dear, good, kind Si- 
 mon — help, for the love of heaven !" But Simon, 
 lending a deaf ear to her cries, pursued his way. 
 
 On a sudden, the shrieks of Eppie ceased, and 
 she was bending over her saddle, listening with 
 open eyes and mouth to the gipsy, wlicn Rory, 
 who had heard her cries for help, appeared in
 
 54 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 view, spurring on his steed to her rescue. At 
 this sight, Eppie redouhled her screams, and tear- 
 ing the bridle from the hand of the gipsy, who 
 instantly plunged into the wood, she hastened to 
 meet Rory. 
 
 " Oh, Rory, man, I am maist deleerit with 
 fright ! Did you see yon grewsome gipsy ?'* 
 
 " Sure enough I saw him," replied Rory ; " and 
 I shall touch him, too — stay here till I come 
 back." 
 
 " Ye maunna leave me, dear Rory," replied 
 Eppie. " I'm shaking like a leaf, and dinna think 
 o' going after him, for he has a knife at his side, 
 as lang as my arm ; and I would be wac, if ony 
 ill come ower ye," she said, with one of her sweet- 
 est smiles. " Let us rather ride on, and get the 
 Lady Maude to gang hame again, for this place is 
 no canny." 
 
 To this Rory having assented, they put their 
 horses to their utmost speed, and soon joined the 
 party, when Eppie appeared so distracted with 
 alarm, that Maude and Lady Dorothea good-na- 
 turedly consented to shorten their excursion, and 
 return to Arnprior. 
 
 No sooner were they alone, than Eppie burst 
 forth with—*' Oh, mv lady, what a blessed thing
 
 X 
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 55 
 
 it was that I affronted auld Simon, and made him 
 rideawa' in the dorts — my head's in the mirlegoes, 
 and I dinna ken whether I should laugh or greet." 
 
 " Indeed, my poor Eppie," replied Maude, " you 
 seem scarcely to have recovered from your alarm. 
 I shall dispense with your attendance ; so you may 
 go to bed, and keep yourself quiet for a few hours." 
 
 " Gang to my bed !" exclaimed Eppie ; " there's 
 nae sleep in my head, and there will be as little in 
 yours, when I tell you what yon gipsy said to me. 
 But what makes me haver about a gipsy, when 1 
 ken a' this time that it was nae other than Bonny- 
 blink himsell — Oh, dinna look sae white and fright- 
 ed, my lady, for he brings nae ill news o' Lord 
 William, who is wearying sair to see you again." 
 
 " Where is Lord William ?" asked Maude, in a 
 voice tremulous from agitation. 
 
 " Where should he be," replied the damsel, 
 " but hid in some canny place in the wood ? and 
 he and Bonnyblink . hae been watching mony a 
 long day, to let us ken they were there ; but wc 
 had aye sae mony folks with us, that they didna 
 dare to come near us. At last Bonnyblink dress- 
 ed himsell up as a gipsy, and keepit watch near 
 the glen, and he told me it was him that chased 
 me the other night — little did I think who I wass
 
 56 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 running awa* frae sae fast. Weel, my lady, auld 
 Simon and I had a cast-out the day, and nae soon- 
 er had he ridden awa' than Bonnyblink jumped 
 over the bushes ; but I, like a gowk, set up such a 
 skirl, before I kent him, as brought Rory back ; 
 so we had little time to settle what to do ; but I 
 promised that ye would meet Lord William at my 
 father's the night. I'll contrive to get our horses 
 out o' the stable — there's braw moonlight, and 
 we'll ride across the moor in nae time." 
 
 " Oh, Dorothea," said Maude, " what shall I 
 do ! counsel me, dear cousin." 
 
 " Do !" replied Lady Dorothea, " why, give 
 him the meeting, to be sure. He has periled life 
 itself to see you again, and well he deserves your 
 favour." 
 
 " Why was he so rash?" said Maude, pacing the 
 apartment; " what could prompt him to leave a 
 place of safety, and venture here, where, if disco- 
 vered, certain death will be his doom ?" 
 
 " Well," said Lady Dorothea, " for my part I 
 honour his rashness and bold spirit — Would I had 
 such a lover ! Confess now, Maude, are you not 
 secretly pleased to find that he loves you more 
 than life ? — is your womanly vanity not gratified 
 by the very imprudence you seem to condemn?"
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 57 
 
 " No," answered Maude, firmly ; " my feelings 
 are those of unmixed regret and apprehension. My 
 reliance on his love was unshaken — I required not 
 this dangerous proof of his attachment. But we 
 waste time ; let us now consider how the meeting 
 may be accomplished, with as little risk as may be 
 to his safety." 
 
 " If you can fully trust your damsel, I know of 
 no better plan than the one she has proposed." 
 
 " I could trust her with my life," replied 
 Maude. 
 
 '* That ye may, my lady," said Eppie : " I would 
 lay mine down before a hair of your head should 
 be hurt, and I'll answer for my father and mo- 
 ther." 
 
 " Whereabouts do they live?" asked Lady Do- 
 rothea. 
 
 " On the moor which forms a part of the Earl of 
 Mar's estate," replied Maude; " John Donaldson is 
 gamekeeper there — the distance is considerable, 
 but I trust we may traverse it in safety. — Will you 
 not be afraid, Eppie, when you find yourself on 
 the barren moor, with no companion but my- 
 self?" 
 
 " Ne'er a bit," replied Eppie: " I wish we were 
 cantering there this very minute; but wc maun
 
 58 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 wait till a* in the castle are in their beds, and the 
 bonny moon shows her face. But, oh, my lady, 
 try and look as blythe as ye can, in case Sir John 
 should jalouse anything, for he'll be crying for 
 you in no time." 
 
 " I shall do my best,'* replied Maude; " and do 
 you, dear Dorothea, assist me, for I feel but little 
 able to support conversation on indijfFerent sub- 
 jects." 
 
 " Never fear," replied Lady Dorothea ; " I will 
 supply all your deficiencies in the way of speech — 
 you know I have a gift that way." 
 
 *' Go then, Eppie," said Maude, " and make all 
 necessary preparations, while we pass some hours 
 below with Sir John ;" — and the cousins descend- 
 ed to the knight, while Eppie hurried to arrange 
 matters for their nocturnal adventure. 
 
 Her blandishments soon prevailed on Rory, one 
 of the grooms, and her warm admirer, to leave 
 open the door of the stable, so that she could take 
 out her mistress's palfrey and her own spirited 
 little shelty, when wanted. 
 
 On going his rounds, however, old Simon ob- 
 served that the door was unfastened ; and giving 
 Rory a severe reprimand, ordered him to lock it, 
 and bring him the key ; and this Rory ])romiscd
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 59 
 
 to tlo when he had suppered tlie horses. As soon 
 as Simon left him, Rory slipped in to consult Ep- 
 pie how he was to act in this dilemma. 
 
 " Take out the Lady Maude's palfrey and the 
 shelty, and tie them to the white thorn at the cor- 
 ner o' the wood, and gi'e the auld gowk the key." 
 " But, Eppie, how will the horses get in ?" 
 " Never ye mind, Rory, I'll see to that ;" — 
 and, unahle to disappoint his pretty mistress, Ro- 
 ry, although by no means easy as to the conse- 
 quences of his compliance, hastened to obey her 
 directions.
 
 60 THE THREE KlJSG.b. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 'Tis Simon's house ; please to step in. 
 
 And vissy't round and round ; 
 Tliere's nought superfluous to be seen, 
 
 Or costly to be found. 
 Vet all is clean ; a clear peat ingle 
 
 Glances amidst the floor : 
 The green horn-spoons, beech luggies mingle, 
 
 On skelfs foregainst the door. 
 
 The Gentle Hhqihcid. 
 
 His amber-colour'd locks in ringlets run, 
 With graceful negligence, and shone against the sun ; 
 His nose was aquiline, his eyes wei'e blue. 
 Ruddy his lips, and fresh and fair his hue. 
 
 Palamon and Anitc. 
 
 " What are ye yelp, yelping at ?" said honest 
 John Donaldson, as his dog pricked up his cars, 
 and began to bark loudly. " Fm sure there's nac- 
 body coming here at this time o' night." 
 
 " Whisht, brute !" said Maggie, — " I declare vvc 
 can hardly hear oursells speak for your din." 
 
 But Maggie's admonition, although enforced by 
 the stroke of a heavy rung, had no effect. The
 
 THE THEEF. KINGS. 61 
 
 dog continued to bark, and in a few moments after 
 the tramp of a horse was heard on the turf. 
 
 " The beast is right, after a'," said John, whom 
 a loud knock at the door drew from his comfort- 
 able station near a rousing peat-fire. " Who is 
 there ?" he demanded. 
 
 " One who craves a night's lodging," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Be ye gentle, or be ye semple, ye will get 
 that," said John, as he lifted the latch. " Maggie, 
 woman, fling on twa or three mair peats. — Come 
 in to the fire, and welcome." 
 
 " With your leave, friend," replied the stran- 
 ger, " I will first see my good steed put up. We 
 have both had a hard day's work. I lost my way 
 in the moors, and but for the friendly light in your 
 cottage window, might have been wandering there 
 yet. For myself, I care not — a bed of heather, 
 with the starry sky for a canopy, would please me 
 better than a tapestried chamber in a royal palace ; 
 but my good steed is spent with travel, and lacks 
 food, which I pray you to bestow." 
 
 " That I shall," said John ; and taking up a 
 lighted peat, he led the way to the stable. The 
 stranger followed, leading his horse. " Troth, 
 friend," said .John, looking with admiration at the
 
 62 THE THUEE KINGS. 
 
 fine animal, " your horse is weel wordie being taen 
 care o\ My faith, he*s as black as a craw, and as 
 sleek as a moudiewart.'* 
 
 " He is not amiss," said the stranger, taking off 
 the saddle. 
 
 " No amiss !" retorted John ; " by my fey, ye 
 maun be ill to please if that is a' ye hae to say o' 
 such a grand beast. I dinna think he has his mar- 
 row within the bounds o' Stirling, unless maybe 
 in the King's stables, wha folks say kens a gude 
 horse, hawk, and hound, as weel as ony o' his sub- 
 jects." 
 
 " So I have heard," replied the stranger ; " but 
 people do not scruple to say it would be better if 
 lie hunted and hawked less, for his nobles require 
 looking after." 
 
 " And whatfor shouldna he take his diversion 
 as weel as the lave o' them ? There canna be a 
 mair healthful thing than scouring ower the moors 
 in a caller harvest day. I wish the King may 
 never do waur." 
 
 " It's a good wish, friend ; and I join in it 
 heartily. But now that Rayner is properly cared 
 for, I will be glad to rest myself in your hospitable 
 dwelling." 
 
 " Come your ways, then," said John, as he
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 63 
 
 ushered his guest into the kitchen. " And now, 
 gndewife," continued John, " gang ye to the bank, 
 and thraw the neck o' the best hen there, and let 
 us hae it to our supper." 
 
 " Troth I'll do that wi' right gude will," said 
 Maggie, as she gazed on the handsome stranger. 
 " Ye shall hae the best cheer that I can set before 
 ye, and welcome." 
 
 While Maggie was engaged in preparing the re- 
 past, John and the stranger, drawing their chairs 
 close to the fire, continued their conversation. 
 
 " You seem to have a comfortable dwelling 
 here." 
 
 ** It's a bit decent howff enough," replied John. 
 " Ye maun ken, friend, that I belang to a kind 
 master, the Earl o' Mar. I look after the game, 
 and tak tent o' the moors ; and ye may weel be- 
 lieve that I'm no idle, for there are ower mony 
 reivers and lifters in the country, wha think nae- 
 thing o' helping themselves to other folk's gear." 
 
 " Have you no sons to assist you ?" 
 
 " Atweel no— I hae naething but a deil's buckie o' 
 a lassie, that winna bide awa frae the Lady Maude, 
 Buchanan o' Arnprior's dochter. Our Eppie is 
 just daft about her ; so we let her stay at Arn prior 
 and please hersell. Wo miss her sair, for she is u
 
 64 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 blytbe bit lassie ; but we get a gliff o' ber now and 
 tben. There's a sough in the country that the 
 Master o' Mar is unco taen up with Lady Maude. 
 If it should be sae, I'se warrant he'lt no want the 
 King's gude word with Sir John ; for his Grace is 
 A^ery couthy with our Earl, wha was sae keen to 
 get him out o' the hands o' the Douglasses." 
 
 " I have heard that the Earl is in great favour 
 with the King ; but what say you hereabouts touch- 
 ing his banishing the Douglasses ?" 
 
 " Troth," replied John, « I'm thinking that the 
 King might hae had a thought mair mercy to that 
 ancient house." 
 
 " How !" replied the stranger. " Has not James 
 had deep cause for wrath? Did not they usurp 
 his authority, oppress his people, strip his fair 
 palaces and castles, and keep even himself a pri- 
 soner ? Have they not been a powerful and rebel- 
 lious race from time immemorial ?" 
 
 " Nae doubt," replied John, " there has been 
 baith bad and gude amang them ; but if the Queen 
 had keepit hersell a douce quiet widow, the Earl 
 maybe would ne'er hae gotten sae muckle o' his 
 ain way. Maist feck o' folk say he has got nae 
 mair than his deserts ; but there's a sair lament 
 made for Lord William,, wha they say had nae
 
 THE THREE KINGS. G5 
 
 hand in keeping the King in jeopardy ; but the 
 clatter o' the country goes, that the King is just as 
 dour against him as he is against the rest. Now 
 this is no right ; he should make a distinction." 
 
 " If Lord William were really less guilty than 
 others of his house, do you not think that some of 
 his friends would have interceded for him, and 
 have obtained his pardon ?" 
 
 " I dinna ken — I'm no that muckle skilled in 
 courts, but I hae heard tell that there's no ane o' 
 the courtiers daur sae muckle as name the name 
 o' Douglas in the King's hearing — they're feared 
 to anger him ; and ye see " 
 
 John's speech was interrupted by Maggie, who 
 said — " John, man, ye maun gang to the laft and 
 bring down some hay for the cow." 
 
 *' Can ye no gang up yoursell, Maggie ?" replied 
 John. 
 
 " Deed no, I'm thrang pooking the hen ; so take 
 the light, John, for it's time the beast had her sup- 
 per." 
 
 As there was no disputing this fact, John went 
 off on this mission, and Maggie also absenting her- 
 self on some household avocation, the stranger was 
 left alone. His meditations, however, were quick- 
 ly broken— a small white hand was laid on his 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 slioulcler, and a voice sweet as tlie shepherd's pipe, 
 said, " Ah, dearest William, do we then meet 
 again !'* 
 
 The stranger, thns addressed, turned hastily- 
 round to the speaker. On discovering her mistake, 
 Maude, uttering a faint exclamation, shrunk be- 
 hind Eppie, who, nothing daunted, returned the 
 stranger gaze for gaze. 
 
 " Two pretty maids, by the mass," said he, ri- 
 sing and approaching them. " Nay," continued he, 
 observing Maude's hurried endeavour to draw her 
 plaid over her head, " why will you hide those 
 beauteous flaxen tresses? — I pray you, pretty 
 maiden '* 
 
 " My certie, friend," interrupted Eppie, " but 
 ye're no blate to speak that gate." 
 
 " Hush, Eppie," whispered Maude ; " the fault 
 was mine — I mistook him for William." 
 
 " Perhaps, sweet damsel," said the stranger, 
 " my name may be William also." 
 
 " What's that to us ?" replied Eppie ; " we care- 
 na a bodle what they ca' ye ; but I wonder what 
 right ye hae to be sitting sae crously at my father's 
 ingle-cheek." 
 
 *' There is room for us all, my dear," said the 
 j?tranger-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 67 
 
 " Dinna dear me," retorted Eppie. 
 
 " Silence, Eppie," said Maude, " and let us to 
 the spence ;" and in another instant they disap- 
 peared from the admiring gaze of the stranger, 
 who muttered — " Friend John, thou hast more 
 game to look after than I dreamt of; but Fll see 
 the end of this." 
 
 When John returned, he found that his guest 
 had altered his position, and now sat facing the 
 door of the spence, as if expecting some one to is- 
 sue from it. 
 
 *' I wonder what's come o' Maggie," said John ; 
 " she might hae pookit six hens by this time." 
 
 " Come ben this way, gudeman," cried Maggie, 
 from the spence ; " here's Eppie come ower to see 
 us." 
 
 " Come ower to see us !" exclaimed John, as he 
 rose from his chair and proceeded to the spence ; 
 ** is the lassie daft, to come ower the moor at this 
 time o' night?" 
 
 The stranger listened attentively, but as the par- 
 ty within conversed in a low whisper, his curiosity 
 as to the subject of their discourse remained un- 
 gratified. John re-appeared in a short time, say- 
 ing, " That glaiket thing Eppie, and a friend o' 
 hers, liae come ower to see us — I was feared Lady
 
 fiS THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 Maude would miss her and be angry ; but she said 
 she had her leave to come, so there's nae harm 
 done." 
 
 *' Why, Eppie," said Maude, as soon as they 
 reached the spence, " why did you speak so sharp- 
 ly to the stranger ?" 
 
 " My word," retorted the damsel, " he got far 
 less than he deserved — he glowered at us as if we 
 had been twa worricows, and spoke as free to your 
 ladyship as if ye had been a cottar's dochter. If 
 Lord William had seen him, he would have thought 
 little to hae put his dirk in him." 
 
 " I charge you, Eppic, as you value my favour, 
 mention him not to Lord William — We must keep 
 them from meeting — the stranger is no mean per- 
 son, and perhaps may recognise and betray Lord 
 William." 
 
 " I canna think he is ony great things," replied 
 Eppie ; " a grey doublet and mantle is fit neither 
 for lord nor knight. I trow he's but a weel-faured 
 serving-man, wha has gotten a gliif o' gentility 
 with copying his master. Saw ye ever such a pair 
 o' blue een ? — and, oh, but he has a frank, winsome 
 smile ! I couldna find in my heart to be angry with 
 him even when I was pretending to scold him. 
 But I'll awa and get a bit fire, for this place is unco
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 69 
 
 cauld, and I maun try and get Lord William 
 through the kitchen without being seen by that 
 man's gleg een ;" and away went Eppie to the 
 kitchen. — " I think," said she, in a coaxing tone 
 to the stranger, " you would be mair comfortable 
 ower here," placing, as she spoke, a chair with its 
 back to the spence. 
 
 " I thank you, my pretty damsel, I sit very well ; 
 but pray, what have you done with your compa- 
 nion ? there seems to be something extraordinary 
 going on here to-night." 
 
 " Ay, ay, mair than the King kens," replied 
 Eppie, gaily, as she scooped away half of the fire 
 with an old shovel, and walked off with her prize. 
 She returned in a few moments, and throwing on 
 fresh fuel, put the bellows into the stranger's 
 hand and coolly bid him " gie the fire a bit 
 blaw." 
 
 " By our Lady," said the stranger, " but thou 
 art a smart wench ; but I'll do thy bidding for love 
 of your merry eye." 
 
 " Dear me, Eppie," said Maggie, " ye havena 
 left as muckle fire as will roast a sparrow, far less 
 a gude fat hen." 
 
 " Never mind, dame," said the stranger, good- 
 humourcdly, and plying the bellows, " I will do
 
 70 THE TIJREE KINGS. 
 
 my best to make your fire burn as brightly as 
 ever.'' 
 
 But the stranger paid dearly for his courtesy, 
 for, while engaged in repairing the devastations 
 of Eppie, that expert damsel had hung her cloak 
 across the rantle-tree, and under cover of its 
 friendly shade, some one stole quickly into the 
 spence. The stranger started and looked round, 
 but the cloak hung so low as to screen entirely the 
 person of the intruder, except the booted leg and 
 spur. The stranger cast a searching glance at 
 Eppie, who returned it with a saucy smile, and a 
 look of perfect coolness and composure, although 
 internally far from easy on finding every word 
 and motion closely watched by their unwelcome 
 guest ; and being apprehensive that he might over- 
 hear the conference of her lady and Lord William, 
 she, under pretence of assisting in the preparations 
 for supper, raised such a clatter among the dishes 
 as effectually drowned all other sounds. The 
 stranger looked equally provoked and diverted, 
 and appeared to derive much amusement from 
 watching the manoeuvres of Eppie, who no sooner 
 saw them all seated round the board, than, hasten- 
 ing into the spence, she whispered to Maude, — 
 *« Oh, my lady, for the love o' Heaven, let us get
 
 THE thrii:e kings. 71 
 
 Lord William out o* this house — I'm certain sure 
 that young deevil in the kitchen is bent on finding 
 out baith wha ye are, and what brings you here — 
 lie watches the door of the s|)ence like a cat watch- 
 ing a mouse ; and if he should see Lord William, 
 there's nae saying what may happen." 
 
 " What can be done, Eppie ?" asked Maude ; 
 *' I am in agonies how to prevent a meeting be- 
 tween them." 
 
 *' I think we had best make for hame as fast as 
 we can ; Bonnyblink is handing our horses and 
 Lord William's, at the back of the dyke ; so we'll 
 a' just slip out at the window, and be off before 
 we can be missed — I told my mother what 1 fear- 
 ed, and bid her keep him at his supper as long as 
 she could." 
 
 Unwilling as the lovers were to part, they were 
 too well aware of the danger with which a disco- 
 very would be attended, to hesitate as to the course 
 to be pursued. Lord William leaped lightly from 
 tbe window, softly assisted Maude, and, follow- 
 ed by Eppie, they stole to the place where wait- 
 ed Bonnyblink with the steeds, and mounting 
 hastily, they rapidly pursued their way. Cautious, 
 however, as were their movements, the quick ear 
 of the stranger had delected the sound of their
 
 7.2 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 flight, and he fancied he heard a horse*s tramp ; 
 but concealing his feelings, he affected to be over- 
 powered with sleep and fatigue, and requested to 
 be shown to his bed-chamber, to which he was ac- 
 companied by honest John, who, after wishing him 
 a comfortable sleep, left him to his repose. The 
 instant he found himself alone, the stranger ad- 
 vanced to the window, and looked eagerly on the 
 moor. A dense and black cloud was slov/ly rolling 
 over the face of the moon ; the stranger watched 
 its heavy and tardy progress ; it passed away, and 
 Dian's crescent again shone forth, " I was right," 
 he exclaimed, as his eye followed the fugitives — 
 " I was right; but, by the mass, they shall not 
 baffle me thus." 
 
 To resolve, with him, was to execute. He pla- 
 ced a rose noble on the table, stole softly from 
 the chamber, saddled and brought out his steed, 
 and spurred across the moor. The stranger was 
 an excellent horseman, and his mettlesome steed, 
 now rested and refreshed, bore him swiftly on, 
 and he was rapidly gaining on the fugitives, of 
 whom his view was imobscured. Not a tree, not 
 a bush wfts in sight to assist escape or baffle pur- 
 suit. In an agony of fear, Maude urged on her 
 palfrey, and, accompanied by Lord William, and
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 73 
 
 closely followed by Eppie and Bonnyblink, quick- 
 ly gained a rising ground in the moors, dashed 
 down on the other side, and hurried on. The 
 stranger plied whip and spur, and he also gain- 
 ed the summit, where he reined up his steed, 
 and gazed with mixed vexation and surprise on a 
 wooded dell, in whose gloomy intricacies the fair 
 object of his admiration had found shelter. Un- 
 willing to believe that she had escaped him, he 
 forced his courser down the descent, and rode to 
 the verge of the wood, which he found traversed 
 by many different paths ; and, wholly at a loss 
 which to choose, he laid the bridle on his horse's 
 neck. " Take thine own way, Rayner, for, by the 
 mass, I know not whether to turn to right or left." 
 Rayner quickly settled the matter, and the horse 
 and his rider quickly disappeared in the recesses 
 of the forest. Happily for the fugitives, a fortu- 
 nate chance directed the course of their pursuer in 
 an opposite direction to that which they travelled, 
 and in safety the lovers reached the domain of 
 Arnprior, when, after arranging how their future 
 meetings were to be accomplished, the lovers part- 
 ed, Lord William returning to the cave in the 
 wood, which afforded him concealment and shel- 
 ter, while Maude retraced her steps to the castle
 
 71< . THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 of licr proud and imperious father, into wliicli slie 
 effected her entrance by a small window, which 
 Eppie had previously unfastened ; but as all the art 
 of this damsel to smuggle in the horses was una- 
 vailing, there was nothing to be done but turn 
 them loose, and leave the consequences to chance. 
 
 On reaching her apartment, Maude found her 
 cousin anxiously awaiting her return, and to whom 
 she related her rencontre with the handsome stran- 
 ger, his evident desire to penetrate her disguise, 
 and his pursuit of Lord William and herself. " It 
 is very hard, Maude," said Lady Dorothea, " that 
 all strange adventures fall to your lot, who care 
 not for them ; while I, who am dying to be invol- 
 ved in some romantic exploit, am condemned to 
 spend my life in tiresome sameness and security.'* 
 
 " I wish," replied Maude, " that I could vievv^ 
 this adventure in the light you do ; but having such 
 deep cause to dread the discovery of Lord Wil- 
 liam's retreat, I am uneasy at having drawn on me 
 the observation of one, who, if his looks do not belie 
 him, will not be easily baffled. Short as was my 
 interview with him, I saw at a glance that grace 
 and elegance which marks its possessor as one 
 who has mingled in courtly scenes, and I dread 
 lest he may be one of the cuemics of Douglas."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 75 
 
 " We must endeavour to find out who the hand- 
 some vagrant is. James Erskine, perhaps, may he 
 ahle to enlighten us on the suhject. We shall 
 scarcely apply to Lord William, — heshrew me if I 
 think he would relish hearing your minute descrip- 
 tion of this gallant knight.*' 
 
 " Nay," replied Maude, " Lord William need 
 fear comparison with no one; but a truce with 
 your raillery, dear cousin, and let us to rest." 
 
 " Agreed," replied Lady Dorothea ; " but take 
 care you do not dream of the handsome stranger. 
 Good-night." 
 
 " Dear me," said Eppie, next morning, to one of 
 the domestics, on hearing old Simon and Rory in 
 loud dispute in the hall, " what new hobbleshow 
 is this that Simon's raising ?" 
 
 " Troth, '' replied her companion, " he's going 
 on at a dreadfu' rate about the Lady Maude's fa- 
 vourite palfrey being found this morning at the 
 stable door covered wi' glaur, and the shelty beside 
 it, and he is raging on Rory, and says he will tell 
 Sir John." 
 
 This intelligence quickened Eppie's steps to the 
 scene of action. 
 
 " This is past a'," said the enraged Major Dome ; 
 " Sir John maun ken o' this."
 
 76 THE TllllEK KINGS. 
 
 ** What's the matter, Maister Simon ?" said Ep- 
 pie ; " ye seem to be in an unco curfuffle." 
 
 " Is there ony* wonder at that, when the Lady 
 Maude's horse has amaist been ridden to death ? — 
 as for the other brute, I'm no caring about it." 
 
 " Na, the like o' that !" said Eppie, with well- 
 affected surprise ; " it's no canny." 
 
 " I'm free to take my oath," replied Rory, " that 
 I locked the stable-door with my own hands, and 
 brought you the key, Maister Simon." 
 
 " And so ye did — I canna deny that ; and the 
 door was fast this morning ; so how the horses got 
 out is past my kenning." 
 
 " I ken, though," replied Eppie, confidently, 
 while Rory stood aghast at her treachery. 
 
 *' Will ye tell me, Maister Simon," continued 
 she, in a solemn tone, " will ye tell me whether or 
 no ye had the wit to put a branch o' the rowan- 
 tree above the stable-door, to keep the witches frae 
 the cattle?" 
 
 " No," said Simon, in a rage ; " I think a gude 
 lock and key should keep them safer than a' the 
 rowan-trees in Scotland." 
 
 " Ye havena just found that, my man," retorted 
 the damsel ; " and if ye would take a friend's ad- 
 vice, ye would gang this minute and pull a bunch 
 o' rowans."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 77 
 
 " Gang and pu' a bunch of rowans ! Na, na, my 
 woman. I'll gang this blessed moment and tell 
 Sir John." 
 
 " Just as ye like," replied the damsel, with an 
 air of indifference ; " but ye ken as well as me that 
 if once Sir John gets an inkling o' the business, 
 ye'll may be no come aff as scaithless as ye expect. 
 Ye ken he looks to you to see a' things right. 
 Did ye look to see if the horses were in the stable 
 when Rory brought ye the key ?" 
 
 " No, Mistress Eppie," replied Simon, lowering 
 his tone, " such a thing never came into my head." 
 
 " Aweel," replied Eppie, " every ane kens their 
 ain business best ; but if I was you I wouldna be 
 fashing Sir John about the matter. I think he 
 looks awfu' dour the day — I wonder what has put 
 him in such an ill mood." 
 
 " I ken as little as ye do what ails him," replied 
 Simon ; "but he was like to throttle me for speak- 
 ing anent the feast that we are to make ready next 
 week for the Earl of Mar, the Master o' Mar, and 
 gude kens how mony other knights and nobles. I 
 just said to him we were in sair want o' deli- 
 cates, for that I could get naething frae the car- 
 riers, wha take everything past us on to Stirling to 
 plenish the King's board, when Sir John gied the
 
 78 THE THREE KIXGS. 
 
 table a kick that sent it to the other side o* the 
 chamber, cursed me for a drivelling knave, and bid 
 me help myself in spite o' a' the kings in Christen- 
 dom.'* 
 
 " Weel," said Eppie, " if Sir John is in that 
 awfu' state, ye had better no meddle with him — - 
 but do as ye like, ye may be dinna mind him." 
 
 " Mind him !" retorted Simon, " faith he makes 
 us a* mind him ; so, for ance, my woman, I'll take 
 your advice, though I jalouse ye hae your ain rea- 
 sons for being sae keen to keep a calm sough." 
 
 "Reasons!" retorted the damsel, "I'm sure I 
 hae nae reasons, but just having a kind o' liking 
 for you. I would be wae to see you get into ony 
 mischief with Sir John." 
 
 " Humph! " replied Simon ; and after casting a 
 very suspicious glance at Eppie and her accom- 
 plice, he strode out of the hall, leaving them to en- 
 joy a hearty laugh at the expense of the puzzled 
 Seneschal. 
 
 On the succeeding day the fair cousins encoun- 
 tered the Master of Mar riding towards Arnprior, 
 and Lady Dorothea, impatient to have her curio- 
 sity gratified, scarcely allowed the common saluta- 
 tions to pass before she commenced her inquiries : 
 — " Pray, good youth," she asked, " know you of
 
 THE TIIKEE KINGS. 79 
 
 any noblej kmglit, or squire, who answers this de- 
 8<;ription — A handsome form, manly, yet g-raeeful, 
 an oval face, blue eyes full of vivacity and mis- 
 chief, an aquiline nose, and a mouth from which 
 proceeds such honied sounds, as to captivate the 
 heart through the ear ? — Heigh-ho, I wonder who 
 he can be," she continued, affecting to sigh deeply. 
 
 " 'Tis a pity," replied the Master of Mar, in a 
 tone of pique, " that such a paragon should have 
 left you in ignorance of his name and race." 
 
 " A pity !" retorted Lady Dorothea; " His a 
 crime which I cannot pardon. But as I have some 
 little curiosity on the subject, I beg you will be 
 so obliging as to endeavour to learn the name of 
 this wandering knight." 
 
 " You must permit me to decline that honour," 
 replied he coldly ; " you will please to find some 
 other means to inform this gallant stranger of the 
 interest he has been so fortunate as to excite ;" — 
 and turning from her in anger, he rode close by 
 Maude, who, A^exed to see the fire of jealousy burn- 
 ing on his cheek, hastened to disperse his painful 
 feelings. 
 
 *' Heed her not," said Maude, kindly ; " you 
 know that she takes a pleasure in teazing those she 
 loves best. She but jests with you ; and I pledge
 
 80 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 my word, that she has seen no youth such as she 
 describes ; and I will tell you the motive of her 
 questions." 
 
 As Maude related her meeting with the stran- 
 ger, and the reasons which led them to wish to 
 discover him, the Master's countenance cleared ; 
 and relieved from his jealous fears, he entered 
 with friendly kindness into her feelings, and pro- 
 fessed himself ready to devote himself to her ser- 
 vice. 
 
 " Ay," said Lady Dorothea, " that you shall, if 
 you hope to keep my favour. Now, hear what is 
 required of you. You are not to rest till you have 
 found out the name of the youth who has occasion- 
 ed you these jealous freaks ; then you are to inter- 
 cede for Douglas with the King, and do not fail 
 to he eloquent ; for I vow I shall wed with no one 
 till the prospects of my dear cousin brighten." 
 
 " Did I lack a motive for serving this fair dam- 
 sel," replied he, " you have given me one which 
 will secure my best endeavours. The attempt to 
 soften the King towards Douglas is not without 
 danger ; but it shall be made. As to the other part 
 of your order, I think I can satisfy you. I be- 
 lieve the youthful stranger is the Lord Lyle. He 
 is at present absent from the court ; and as his 
 13
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 8^1 
 
 fondness for the chace is well known, I consider 
 it more than probable that it was he who so alarm- 
 ed our fair Maude. But I will instantly to Stir- 
 ling, and try to ascertain how the King now stands 
 affected towards Lord William ; and I trust I may 
 bring your sweet cousin some comfort." 
 
 '' Generous youth," said Maude, with glisten- 
 ing eyes, " how shall I thank you for your kind- 
 ness ?" 
 
 " Nay, never trouble yourself," replied Lady Do- 
 rothea. " Away with you, then, to Stirling, and 
 see that you bring us back good tidings." 
 
 " I live but to obey you, fair tyrant," replied 
 he; and bidding adieu to the fair cousins, the 
 Master of Mar quickly departed on his embassy. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 82 THE THREE KINGS, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Fal. Now, Master Shallow, yoti'll complain of me to the king? 
 Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and 
 broke open my lodge. 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Aware that he would be supported by his mas- 
 ter in the act which he meditated, Simon arranged 
 his phm, and accompanied by three sturdy retain- 
 ers, next day took his station on the road to Stir- 
 ling, where he had not waited long when he des- 
 cried a carrier driving three horses, loaded with 
 well-stufFed paniers, up the hill. 
 
 " Gude day to ye, friend," said Simon ; " long 
 looked for come at last. What hae ye got in your 
 creels ?" and as he spoke, he thrust his hand into 
 one of the paniers. 
 
 " Cocks ?.re free o* horses' corn," replied the 
 carrier, gruffly. " I hae naething to spare for you 
 or yours ; so take out your hand this moment." 
 
 " Do ye think Fm gaun to steal, that you're sae
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 83 
 
 dorty ?" replied Simon ,* " nae, nae, ye'll get a rea- 
 sonable price for your goods." 
 
 " Ance for a'," answered the carrier, " I tell 
 ye I can gie ye nane o* my load ; so let's hae nae 
 mair words about it." 
 
 ^' If we hae words, friend," said Simon, coolly, 
 '^ that's your fault and no mine ; but I let ye ken, 
 that we maun hae provision, either by fair means 
 or foul ; so ye may take your choice." 
 
 " Heard ever anybody the like o' that ! Do ye 
 mean to rob me ?" 
 
 " Nae, nae ; tell truth, man, and shame the 
 deil. I said I would pay ye for what I took. See 
 that it's no a paid skin ye get for your uncivil 
 language. — Here, Rory and Duncan, come and 
 baud the horse's head." 
 
 " Ken ye wha I belang to ?" roared the carrier, 
 attempting to drag the paniers from Simon's 
 clutches. " Ken ye, I say, wha I belang to ?" 
 
 " Feint a bit o' me kens," retorted Simon ; 
 *' and as little do I care." 
 
 " I belang to the King ; and a' that provender 
 is gaun up to the Castle, for the use o' his Grace." 
 
 " It's weel to be him," answered Simon, as he 
 dived down among the ducks, turkeys, and capons. 
 
 " Did ye liear mc toll yc. yo auld shameless
 
 84j the three kings. 
 
 reiver, that the delicates were for my master, the 
 King o' Scotland T' 
 
 " It may be sae," answered Simon ; " but if 
 your master be King o' Scotlandy mine is King o* 
 Kippen ; and now, my man, let's see what I should 
 gie ye — Four capons, three hams " 
 
 " Hae ye got a' that ye want ?" hastily inter- 
 rupted the carrier. 
 
 " I think sae," rejoined Simon. 
 
 " Then put up your siller, for this day's work 
 will cost ye dear enough." And in high indigna- 
 tion the carrier pursued the road to the Castle, 
 where the scantiness of his load caused great con- 
 sternation to the clerk of the kitchen. Master 
 Robin Powfowls, who, having trusted to a full sup- 
 ply of provisions from the carrier, found himself 
 reduced to place a very meagre repast before the 
 King and the nobles whom he had drawn around 
 him, and who encouraged James to forget his late 
 bondage in wassail and revelry. 
 
 " By the mass," — said James, looking round, — 
 " by the mass, but our board is furnished too 
 scantily; — our clerk of the kitchen forgets his 
 duty. The varlet thinks, perhaps, that because we 
 have not been out to-day with hawk and hound, 
 that this is a fitting repast. We must dismiss the
 
 THE THREE KIIS'GS. 85 
 
 careless knave, and appoint a better purveyor. 
 But, gallants, we must e'en make the best of 
 what is set before us — bad luck now, better an- 
 other time." 
 
 " May it please your Grace,'* said Lord Lyle, 
 *' Master Robin Powfowls is not to blame in this 
 matter, for I heard, scarce an hour since, that your 
 Grace's carriers have been robbed on the road, 
 and the provisions intended for your Grace's board 
 have been taken from them by force." 
 
 " Now, by'r Lady," said the King, " this must 
 be seen too — they must be bold rogues truly, to 
 beard us at our very threshold. The villains shait 
 swing for it — By my faith, we will have to hang 
 one half of our subjects for a warning to the other." 
 
 " It was no common knave, your Grace," re- 
 plied Lord Lyle, " who was engaged in this ex- 
 ploit, but Sir John Buchanan of Arnprior, com- 
 monly called the King of Kippen ; ay, and thinks 
 himself as good a monarch as your Grace." 
 
 " By mine honour," exclaimed James, " but 
 this is strange news. We thought not we had a 
 brother king so near us. Know you aught, gal- 
 lants, of this burly knigh* who makes so free with 
 our property ?" 
 
 " Report," answered Lord Lyle, " speaks of
 
 86 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 him as a bold and bluff knight, who cares little for 
 either king or kaiser ; — certain it is, that he keeps 
 strict rule within his bounds," 
 
 '' Say you so ?" replied the King, — " then, may- 
 hap, we may go and take a lesson in the art of go- 
 verning from this despotic sovereign. What say 
 you, gallants ? shall we visit Arnprior, and help its 
 master to discuss the viands he has purloined from 
 us with so little ceremony ?" 
 
 " I beseech your Grace,'' said the Master of 
 Kilmaurs, " to let me be of your train when you 
 visit Arnprior." 
 
 " Give us first thy reason, man," said James, 
 ** ere we grant the boon." 
 
 *' Oh, I have none but a wish to see the knight." 
 
 <* Nay, Kilmaurs," answered Lyle, " think you 
 that we do not all know as well as thou, that Sir 
 John has good broad lands, and a fair daughter to 
 inherit theni ? — Please your Grace, let Kilmaurs 
 have no advantage over us." 
 
 *' Who amongst you, gallants, has seen the dam- 
 sel ?" asked the King. 
 
 ** I have, your Grace," answered Lord Lyle, 
 with animation. 
 
 *' Canst give us, then," said James, " a por- 
 traiture of this peerless beauty ?"
 
 THE THREE KIKGS. 8T 
 
 " Can I !" said Lyle; " who that has once seen 
 Maude Buchanan, can ever forget her ? But I lack 
 eloquence to pourtray her charms, to describe her 
 matchless form, her lovely countenance, her sun- 
 ny ringlets." 
 
 " Beshrew me, my lord," said James, " your 
 discourse savours of the folly of love. We knew 
 not that so fair a gem lay hid so near us." 
 
 " How !" asked Kilmaurs ; " has the Master 
 of Mar never named Maude Buchanan to your 
 Grace ? Why, he almost lives at Arnprior." 
 
 " No, by the mass," replied the King, " this is 
 the first time I have heard speak of the damsel." 
 
 " Without doubt, he had his reasons," replied 
 Kilmaurs. 
 
 " And if I had," retorted the Master of Mar, 
 with warmth, " I am not bound to submit them 
 to thee." 
 
 " How, man, James Erskine," replied the King, 
 " may Kilmaurs not speak of a fair damsel, but 
 thou must breathe defiance ? Hear me, my lords 
 — The Lady Maude shall be the prize of him who 
 loves her best. Who that may be, time will show 
 — A health, gallants, — a health to the fair ^T nde, 
 and let him who wins her wear her ;" and in mirth 
 and revelry so passed the night.
 
 88 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 True to his promise, the Master of Mar boldly 
 interceded for Lord William Douglas, but had the 
 mortification to find James inflexible in his resent- 
 ment. " By the mass, James Erskine," said the 
 King, his brow growing dark with passion, " it 
 stirs my blood to find one hardy enough even to 
 name any of the traitors. We marvel you have 
 dared to tamper with our just anger. As you 
 value our favour, let this attempt be your last." 
 
 In deep displeasm-e the King turned away, and 
 Erskine, grieved at his want of success, quickly 
 left the palace, and returned to Alloa Tower, to 
 reflect on what steps should next be pursued, and 
 what means should be adopted to break his pain- 
 ful intelligence to the fair Maude.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 89 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 I'll gie thee jewels, an' I'll gie thee rings, 
 
 I'il gie thee pearls, an' many fine things,— 
 
 I'll gie thee silk petticoats fringed to the knee. 
 
 If thou'lt lea'e father and mother and marry wi' me. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the fair Maude Buchanan 
 sought not the admiration of king or courtier, but 
 happy in the love of one noble heart, disdained all 
 other homage, nor would she have exchanged an 
 hour's sweet converse with Douglas in the green- 
 wood shade, for a year passed in a royal palace. 
 It was, however, her fate to attract the love of one 
 who was but too well versed in the art of gaining 
 the favour of the fair dames of Scotland; and 
 whose winning speech, frank courtesy, and gal- 
 lant bearing, forced even the coldest hearts to own 
 his power to enchant and fascinate. Such was ho- 
 nest John Donaldson's stranger guest, who, struck
 
 90 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 with sudden admiration of tlie beautiful and en- 
 gaging Maude Buchanan, whose disguise he had 
 penetrated, resolved to watch her steps, and to let 
 no opportunity escape of pleading his love. 
 
 It was in the narrow valley of Strathhlane, 
 through which she was returning from Mugdock 
 Castle, whither she had been sent by Sir John to 
 bid its noble owners to the approaching feast, that 
 Maude Buchanan again met her unknown lover. 
 Startled at his sight, she hastily drew her blue silk 
 hood over her face ; in doing this, she dropt the 
 bridle rein, which entangling in the feet of her 
 palfrey, the spirited animal suddenly reared and 
 plunged. The attendants of Maude spurred on to 
 her relief; but before they could reach her, the 
 handsome stranger sprung from his horse, seized 
 with a strong hand the fractious steed, and, with 
 gentle force, disengaged Maude, and placed her in 
 safety on the ground. 
 
 Although Maude regretted the chance which had 
 made her a debtor to the courtesy of the stranger, 
 she proffered her thanks with a graceful modesty 
 which riveted still more firmly her empire over 
 his heart. " Spare me your thanks, fair lady," 
 replied he; " it is I who owe a deep debt of gra- 
 titude to fortune, for guiding my steps into your
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 1)1 
 
 beauteous presence. I pray you, sweet damsel, 
 undo this envious hood, and let the balmy sum- 
 mer-breeze stray among your clustering ringlets, 
 and kiss the rose into your cheek, which, I fear 
 me, alarm has banished." 
 
 " Nay," replied Maude, " I am not so very a 
 coward. I was but a moment startled, and now 
 that I see my palfrey has recovered his temper, I 
 no longer fear to mount him again. — Simon, lead 
 him hither." 
 
 Simon rode up, leading the now quiet steed. 
 
 " Let me have the honour of assisting you," said 
 the stranger ; and, suiting the action to the word, 
 Maude found herself remounted ere she had time 
 to assent or object to receive the services of her 
 devoted squire. In some confusion, Maude, then 
 averting her eyes from the stranger, said — 
 
 " Before we part. Sir Knight, permit me once 
 more to tender you my thanks for your courte- 
 sy." 
 
 " Part !>" replied he, with animation ; " think 
 you that I will allow you to traverse the country 
 with no better guard than a few dastardly me- 
 nials ? I know my duty better. We part not till 
 you are in safety. Nay, you will not surely deny me 
 the boon I crave? — You cannot fear injury from
 
 92 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 one who would with transport sacrifice his life in 
 your defence ? But, oh," he added in a lower tone, 
 ** how blest would he be, dared he to hope that he 
 might spend his life in promoting the happiness of 
 yours !" 
 
 Maude, finding the stranger determined not to 
 leave her, acceded to his request with the best 
 grace she could assume ; and accompanied by him, 
 and followed by her attendants, she pursued her 
 way to Arn prior. 
 
 " Think not, fair lady," said he, with frank 
 courtesy, " that in thus almost forcing my pre- 
 sence on you, I am actuated solely by a selfish de- 
 sire of enjoying, even for a brief space, your co- 
 veted society. In truth, I like not the appearance 
 of the weather, nor the aspect of these clouds which 
 are lowering on the hills. Would that you were 
 near some place of shelter !" 
 
 " Fear not for me, kind stranger," replied 
 Maude ; " I am no courtly dame, to shrink at a 
 summer shower, or tremble at a breeze, but a rus- 
 tic maiden, who has witnessed, ere now, the gran- 
 deur and sublimity of a mountain storm. But see, 
 there is the sun bursting through the clouds — we 
 shall have no storm to-day." 
 
 " Be not too confident, sweet maiden ; fairer
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 93 
 
 skies than these have heen shrouded by storms and 
 tempests. — Down,Luath — still thy yelling, Fruth; 
 their noise almost drowns thy soft speech. I pray 
 your permission to place them under the care of 
 your people — they can follow with them." 
 
 The stranger turned his horse's head, and, ri- 
 ding hastily back to the attendants, gave the leash 
 of the hounds into Simon's hand ; and, after ex- 
 changing a few brief sentences with the old man, 
 quickly resumed his place by the side of Maude, 
 and taking the rein of her palfrey, led it gently 
 along, catching from time to time a glance of 
 Maude's glowing cheek, as the wind, now rising 
 in sudden gusts, displaced the hood with which 
 she endeavoured to shade her face from his enrap- 
 tured gaze. Anxious to escape from his open ad- 
 miration, Maude hurried on, and interrupted the 
 strain of gallantry in which he addressed her by 
 enlarging on the beauty of the scenery. 
 
 " If you are a stranger in this part of the coun- 
 try," said Maude, " you will be delighted with the 
 scenery we are approaching. This stream, the 
 banks of which we now traverse, is the Blane, 
 which rises in the highest of that range of hills ; 
 and a little way from this, we shall meet with that
 
 91 THE THREE KINGS, 
 
 beautiful cascade called the Spout of Ballaggan, 
 with which I am sure you will be charmed." 
 
 " Frequently, very frequently, have I wandered 
 with hawk and hound OA^er the Lennox Hills, but 
 never was I so charmed before," replied the stran- 
 ger with animation. 
 
 Maude would not understand him, and affect- 
 ing to take his speech literally, continued her dis- 
 course till they came within view of the cascade, 
 which, precipitatiflg itself from the height, falls, 
 amidst rocks and stones, with a deafening sound, 
 into a deep cavity hollowed out by the force of the 
 ever-rushing waters. 
 
 " Is it not beautiful ?" said Maude, turning to 
 her companion. 
 
 *' Fair Maude," replied the stranger, " ask me 
 not to gaze on any beauty but that which now 
 leads me a willing captive to your charms. Oh, 
 tell me, may I hope to win an interest in your 
 gentle heart?" 
 
 " Sir Knight," said Maude, while a flush of an- 
 ger crossed her brow, " it is not fittng that Maude 
 Buchanan should listen to such language from 
 an unknown stranger ; — your presumption offends 
 me." 
 
 <* Hear mc, dearest Maude," replied her com-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 95 
 
 paiiion, " and, before you condemn me, listen to 
 the motives by which I have been actuated : — From 
 the first moment in which I beheld you in the cot- 
 tage, I loved you — passionately loved you. Judge 
 then of my consternation, on hearing many of the 
 nobles who surround our youthful monarch con- 
 tending for your hand, and entreating the King to 
 dispose of you in marriage without delay." 
 
 " What said the King ?'* asked Maude, in breath- 
 less terror. 
 
 " That he would bestow you on him that loved 
 you best." 
 
 " Has he then some touch of compassion left? 
 Are not then all generous feelings dead within 
 him ?" 
 
 " No, by Heavens ! if you have heard so, believe 
 me he has been most foully slandered. But why 
 speak of him ? Listen to me, dearest Maude : I 
 enjoy the confidence of the King, by whose com- 
 mand I lay aside all external marks of rank and 
 fortune, when absent on the missions with which 
 he intrusts me ; wealth far beyond what you can 
 covet I will lay at your feet. Deign, then, beau- 
 teous Maude, to give me hope, that my ardent pas- 
 sion may move your gentle heart to love." 
 
 " Never," replied Maude, " never can I be
 
 96 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 yours — ^Your passion has been hastily conceived, 
 let it be as quickly effaced. Think me not harsh 
 and ungrateful — it is surely the truest kindness 
 to deal sincerely with you; and I would justly de- 
 serve to forfeit your esteem, did I delude you with 
 false hopes." 
 
 " Why do you so decidedly reject my suit, sweet 
 Maude?" replied the knight. " Permit me at 
 least to try to create an interest in your affec- 
 tions." 
 
 " I pray you cease your entreaties," replied 
 Maude : " It cannot be. Return, then, return 
 to the princely halls of Stirling, and forget me." 
 
 " Ah, Maude !" exclaimed the knight, " what 
 a bitter task you have assigned me ! and in addi- 
 tion to this severe blow, other thoughts afflict me. 
 James will see you— love you. I dread that he 
 may gain your love, and be blessed with your 
 smiles." 
 
 '« No, no, no !" exclaimed Maude with vehe- 
 mence, — " I abhor, I detest him. Sooner than 
 listen to his love, I would plunge into the abyss of 
 dark waters at our feet. Name him not." 
 
 " How !" rejoined the knight, with a gesture of 
 surprise. " What has the King done to merit such 
 deep displeasure ?" 
 
 13
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 97 
 
 " It matters not," replied Maude. " Do not urge 
 this subject, I command you." 
 
 ^' You shall be obeyed, beloved Maude ; to eve- 
 ry command but that of forgetting you, I shall 
 yield a ready obedience. Will you forgive me if I 
 ask if your heart is alike insensible to every one, 
 or does it beat for another ?" 
 
 A burning blush lived for a brief space on 
 Maude^s cheek, then left it wan as clay, as she en- 
 countered the searching gaze of the knight, whose 
 eye glanced fire as he exclaimed, " 'Tis as I 
 thought. The Master of Mar has gained your love ; 
 he shall buy it dear." 
 
 " Sir Knight," answered Maude, " you have 
 ungenerously surprised my secret. Yes, I own 
 that my heart is no longer mine ; but the Master 
 of Mar is not its possessor. I love one, from whom 
 an adverse fate separates me. His state is, alas ! 
 past hope, past help." And here a passionate burst 
 of tears interrupted her speech. 
 
 «« Forgive me, dearest Maude ; these tears too 
 keenly reproach me. — Heavenly powers ! what 
 sound is that ?" 
 
 Deeply engrossed by their own feelings, Maude 
 and the knight had riot observed the indica- 
 tions of the storm till it burst over them with 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 sudden fury. The wind now raved in fitful blasts 
 — the rain fell in torrents, and the increasing roar 
 of the cascade became every moment more and 
 more appalling. 
 
 " Look there — look there !" exclaimed Maude, 
 pointing to the hill called the EarPs Seat, and from 
 which the Blane descends. 
 
 The knight gazed on the terrific scene. " It is 
 the bursting of a water-spout — the stream swells 
 fearfully. Fly, dear Maude, fly !" 
 
 " It is in vain ; we are lost !" And she covered 
 her eyes with her hands. Her fears seemed but 
 too prophetic. The river, swoln by the torrent, 
 suddenly burst its banks, carrying with it ruin and 
 devastation ; large trees torn up by the roots ; 
 gigantic masses of stones and rocks were hurried 
 along, and thundering down the fall, gave added 
 horror to the scene. Every passing moment in- 
 creased the violence of the cascade ; and the boil- 
 ing flood, rapidly extending, bore havoc and de- 
 struction into the peaceful valley, 
 
 " Maude," said the knight, in tremulous accents, 
 *' can you forgive me?' It is I who, anxious to 
 plead my love without interruption from your peo- 
 ple, commanded them in your name to pursue a 
 different route, but appointing a place to meet
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 99 
 
 them. By this mad folly I have deprived you of 
 all succour, and you must perish. O, heavenly 
 powers, save her, and let me be the only victim !" 
 
 " I forgive you," said Maude. " Nay, grieve 
 not so deeply — I resign myself to my doom. But 
 why should your life also be sacrificed ? Your 
 horse is fleet, and may outstrip the fast spreading 
 deluge. Leave me, I implore you." 
 
 " No, by Heavens ! We shall be saved together, 
 or together perish. We are in extreme peril ; but 
 take courage, dear Maude, and with the blessing 
 of Heaven, we may yet escape a dreadful death." 
 
 And as Maude thought of Douglas, his grief and 
 despair should she meet such a doom as seemed 
 too surely to await her if she yielded to despond- 
 ency, her courage returned, and she resolved to 
 make one desperate struggle to preserve a life 
 which was so dear to him. 
 
 The knight grasped the rein of her palfrey, and 
 burying his spurs in his horse's sides, the steeds 
 sprung forward with the speed of light. But be- 
 hind them came the rushing waters, tearing up 
 everything which impeded its course, overwhelm- 
 ing alike the lowly cottage and the fertile fields, 
 and lashing on in one wide sheet of foam, forced
 
 100 THE THREE KINGS, 
 
 itself a channel even in the road the travellers were 
 traversing, and evidently was gaining on them. The 
 deep-toned thunder, heard faintly at first amongst 
 the hills, noAV approachuig nearer and nearer, burst 
 in loud peals above their heads. The wind raved 
 around them, and the forked lightning, flashing 
 in awful brightness, startled the affrighted steeds, 
 which, amazed and bewildered by such fearful 
 sights and sounds, became suddenly unmanage- 
 able, and when urged forward, reared and plunged, 
 and with open nostrils, fire-flashing eyes, and 
 bristling manes, impatiently tore up the ground. 
 
 The paleness of death overspread the counte- 
 nance of Maude as she looked on the awful scene. 
 Behind them raved the raging torrent, sweeping fu- 
 riously over the low grounds, and whose boiling 
 waves were fast chasing the fugitives, and gaining 
 on their steps. On either hand precipitous rocks, 
 untrodden by the foot of man, and accessible only 
 to the ptarmigan or eagle, reared themselves up 
 on high, and barred their passage. The knight also 
 looked around, and gazed till cold drops bedewed 
 his brow. He turned to Maude — " I have braved 
 death ere now, and could now calmly meet it ; but 
 how shall I bear to see thee perish — thee whom I 
 would die to save !'•
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 101 
 
 " My strength is exhausted," replied Maude, in 
 a faint voice. " Here I will lay me down and die. 
 Leave me to my fate. Fly, you may yet escape." 
 
 " Perish the thought !" replied the knight, with 
 vehemence. " Maude, dearest Maude, revive — 
 look up — make one more effort, and we may yet 
 be saved." 
 
 The knight lifted Maude from her palfrey, and 
 placed her before him ; then burying his spurs in 
 the panting sides of his horse, the noble animal, as 
 if conscious that the life of his master was at stake, 
 exerted his utmost speed ; but when the cry of the 
 drowning palfrey, now struggling with the waters, 
 reached him, he staggered ; his eyes and nostrils 
 were distended, and his trembling limbs appeared 
 scarcely able to support him. The waves came 
 nearer and nearer, mingling their wild uproar with 
 the sound of the warring elements. The knight in 
 despair again struck the bleeding sides of his horse, 
 which reared violently ; then bounding forward, he 
 outstripped the raging waters, cleared the ravine, 
 and rushed on, till, on reaching a rising ground 
 which gave them safety from the torrent, his mas- 
 ter's hand curbed his rapid speed. 
 
 The knight laid Maude on the smooth turf, and 
 kneeling beside her, poured out a fervent thanks-
 
 102 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 giving for their miraculous preservation. That 
 sacred duty performed, he raised Maude in his 
 arms, rested her drooping head on his breast, and 
 by his tender cares soon recalled her to conscious- 
 ness and life, when her burst of gratitude to her 
 generous preserver deeply moved him, and he turn- 
 ed aside and dashed away a tear. But this was no 
 time for the indulgence of emotion. Spent with 
 fatigue and anxiety, dreary and long did the way 
 appear to Maude, who hailed with joy the appear- 
 ance of her people, who, ignorant of her danger, 
 had waited patiently until she should rejoin them. 
 Maude's adieus to the stranger were made with 
 faltering speech and glistening eyes. He kissed 
 with devoted fondness her extended hand, and thus 
 they parted.
 
 THE THREE KINGS, lOa' 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 '* The death-bell rung and wide were flung: 
 
 The castle gates amain ; 
 While hurry out the armed rout, 
 
 And marshal on the plain." 
 
 As Maude entered the domain of Arn prior, she 
 was suddenly overtaken by Sir John, who was 
 riding furiously towards the castle, accompanied 
 by many of his followers, in the midst of whom 
 rode a man bound and pinioned, and whose dark 
 eyes flashed their lurid fire on the men whose na- 
 ked weapons were pointed at his breast. In the 
 countenance of the prisoner Maude discovered those 
 features which so distinctly mark the gipsy race, 
 and she turned aside from the glance of his bold 
 and reckless eye. 
 
 " How now, Maude ?" said Sir John ; " what 
 has chased the colour from your cheeks ? has a hare 
 run across your path, or a raven croaked over 
 head ?"
 
 104 THE THKE£ KINGS. 
 
 « Not SO, dear father," said Maude, " but I 
 have been in peril, and " 
 
 " I shall hear thy story, Maude, when I have 
 dispatched that dark villain to the other world." 
 
 *< Alas, father, that is a dreadful doom ; perhaps 
 he merits it not." 
 
 " Not merit it ! now, by'r Lady, if he had fif- 
 ty lives, they are forfeited. The half of my cattle 
 has been carried off by him and his confederates. 
 They all escaped me but this villain. Nay, more, 
 Arral and his followers, it is said, are lurking in 
 the wood. They are probably lying in wait for an 
 opportunity of revenging the chastisement I be- 
 stowed on their chief; and I have no doubt that 
 this wretch was engaged to assist their schemes. — 
 Kuffian, robber, speak ! tell me ; were I in thy 
 place, and thou in mine, what wouldst thou do ?" 
 The gipsy answered freely and fearlessly, " I 
 would lead thee to the greenwood glade, and make 
 thee choose the tree on which I would hang thee." 
 " By the mass, thou speakest well and boldly ; 
 it shall be as thou hast said ; and, by to-morrow's 
 dawn, your vile carcase shall be quivering in the 
 blast. We defer our revenge, to make it taste the 
 sweeter — lead him to the lowest dungeon, and, on 
 your lives, guard him safely. — ^Now, Maude, fol-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 105- 
 
 low me." And Sir Jolm, accompanied by his 
 daughter, hastily entered the castle. 
 
 Sir John feared, and but too truly, that this 
 would not be the last attempt of Arral. He was too 
 much occupied in putting the castle in a state of 
 defence, to bestow any attention on his daughter, 
 whom he shortly dismissed to her chamber, where, 
 in the warm interest and sympathy Dorothea show- 
 ed at the relation of her late danger, she found con- 
 solation for the indifference and disregard of her 
 father. Her faithful attendant Eppie cried and 
 laughed alternately, at the narration of the peril 
 and deliverance of her fair mistress ; nor would 
 she rest till Maude consented to change her ap- 
 parel, after which she was ordered to withdraw, 
 and the cousins were left alone. 
 
 Scarcely had an hour elapsed, when she again 
 crept into the chamber, with a face pale as ashes. 
 " What is the matter, Eppie ?" said Maude, start- 
 ing from the couch. 
 
 "Oh, my lady," answered she, holding out a 
 
 ring as she spoke, " do ye ken whose ring this is ?" 
 
 Maude snatched it from her. " This ring was 
 
 Lord William's — where, in Heaven's name, did you 
 
 obtain it ?" asked Maude, deeply agitated.
 
 106 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 ** I said it was his," rejoined Eppie, " and loath 
 was I to bring it to you, for fear o' your thinking 
 that ony mischance had come ower him, but the 
 man said he maun see you on a matter o' life and 
 death." 
 
 " What man ? speak, I command you." 
 
 " Oh, dinna look sae feared, and I'll tell you a* 
 about it ; and the tale maun be a short one, for the 
 night's wearing away. — Ye maun ken, then, that 
 Rory was set to guard the dungeon where the 
 gipsy is shut up, who spoke through the door to 
 Rory, and, by some jukery-pakery, he got Rory to 
 open the door and take that ring, and made him 
 promise to get it conveyed by me to your ladyship, 
 with a message, that he had something to say to 
 you, which would not bide delay, and that he 
 maun hae instant speech o' you — ^lie said you would 
 ken the token he sent." 
 
 " I will go this moment," exclaimed Maude ; 
 " Douglas may be in peril, and sends to us for 
 aid." 
 
 " Ye canna gang just yet, my lady ; for Sir 
 John is rampaging through the castle at an awfu' 
 rate. Ye maun wait a wee till he settles, and I'll 
 go and watch till a' is quiet, and then come back 
 for you. Rory is aye guarding the door yet, and
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 107 
 
 lias promised to let us in to the prisoner." — And 
 away went Eppie. 
 
 In an agony of impatience, Maude counted the 
 lagging hours. In vain did her cousin exert her- 
 self to cheer and reassure her. Images of horror 
 filled her mind — her imagination painted to her 
 every possible calamity to which her lover was ex- 
 posed, and so vividly, that by the time Eppie came 
 to conduct her to the prisoner, she could with 
 difficulty drag herself along. 
 
 On arriving at the dungeon, Rory softly un- 
 fastened the massive door, motioned them to en- 
 ter, and then resumed his' station without. The 
 light which Eppie carried fell on the ferocious 
 countenance of the gipsy ; and when Maude re- 
 collected that it was her stern father who had 
 doomed him to die a shameful death, a suspicion 
 crossed her mind that she was lured there to be 
 sacrificed to his revenge, and she involuntarily 
 shrunk back ; but anxiety to learn tidings of Lord 
 William arrested her steps, and she faltered out, 
 " Where is he who gave you that token ? Is he 
 in peril ? Does he lack aid or succour ? Speak 
 thy message, be it for good or evil." 
 
 " The owner of this ring," replied the gipsy, 
 " once stood my friend when my life was menaced.
 
 108 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 In his fallen state I have had an opportunity of 
 showing him the gratitude I feel. I discovered to 
 him a cave, where he and his follower might con- 
 ceal themselves during the day, and I kept his re- 
 treat a secret even from my own people. The no- 
 ble youth bestowed on me this jewel, and I used 
 it to draw you hither. Lady, you must grant me 
 a boon.'* 
 
 " Grateful as I feel for the succour you have 
 afforded one who is so dear to me," replied Maude, 
 " it grieves me that I am powerless to assist you. 
 Exasperated as my father is at your participation 
 in ArraVs schemes of revenge, intercession would 
 be worse than useless." 
 
 " I swear," replied the gipsy, " that I am not 
 leagued with Arral. We have lurked in the woods 
 of Arnprior, to conceal ourselves from those whom 
 King James has empowered to seize and deliver 
 us to the Lord of Little Egypt. Scruple not, 
 therefore, to grant my boon." 
 
 " Alas !'* said Maude, " every passage is guard- 
 ed. Escape is impossible — human help cannot 
 save you." 
 
 ** Hope of escape," replied the prisoner, " I have 
 none. All that I ask is, that you will get this 
 writing deposited in the hollow of the ancient oak
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 109 
 
 tree at the entrance of the wood. _ Let this be 
 done speedily, and I am your slave — neglect it, 
 and " 
 
 The prisoner paused, but his threatening looks 
 were sufficiently intelligible. 
 
 " Oh, my lady,'' said Eppie, " take the writing, 
 and let us awa' out o' this grewsome hole ; for Si- 
 mon is to be here soon to take Rory's place at the 
 door, and there would be an unco stramash if we 
 were found here. I'll make Rory do this man's 
 bidding. Oh, come awa' : you're shakin' like an 
 aspin leaf." 
 
 " Unhappy man," said Maude, " and must you 
 die ? No, no — I will kneel to my father, and beg 
 your life." 
 
 '* Lady," answered the prisoner, " it is in vain 
 that you would generously intercede for me. Sir 
 John thirsts for my blood, and that alone will ap- 
 pease his wrath. I know my doom — seek not to 
 move his pity. I would not accept of life from his 
 hands." 
 
 *' Aweel," said Eppie, " this beats a'. I won- 
 der you're sae keen to be strapped up in a tow. 
 But, gude guide us, I'm thinking I hear Simon 
 coming. Let us out, Rory man, if you would 
 keep your head on your shouthers. What would
 
 110 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 Sir Joliii say if he foimcl us consorting with this 
 dour carle, whose face is as yellow as a kite's claw ? 
 Oh, haste ye, my lady !" And Maude and her 
 attendant having hastily left the dungeon, the door 
 was again closed on the prisoner. 
 
 At the earliest dawn of the succeeding day, and 
 while the dew still glittered on leaf and flower, the 
 Castle of Arnprior resounded with the din of pre- 
 paration, and shortly after. Sir John issued from 
 the gate, followed by a small number of attend- 
 ants, fully armed, amongst whom rode the gipsy, 
 who, although journeying to meet his death, pre- 
 served an air of indomitable courage, and his eye 
 quailed not, even when they reached the verge of 
 the fatal wood. 
 
 " Vile wretch, robber, thief," shouted Sir John, 
 *^ the time is come when thou shalt receive meet 
 punishment for thy deeds of blood and rapine ! 
 Choose, then, on which of these trees thy carcase 
 shall be suspended. By the mass, the carrion- 
 crows shall soon have a feast ! Here is a sturdy 
 oak that may serve the turn." 
 
 " Not so," said the gipsy; " you promised mc 
 my choice, and my choice I will have." 
 
 " Have it then, in the fiend's name," retorted 
 Sir John ; " but be speedy, for I long to rid the 
 earth of such a bold villain as thou art."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. Ill 
 
 The gipsy spoke not, but casting a wrathful 
 glance on the knight, rode deeper into the wood, 
 examining the trees with scrutinizing looks, and 
 muttering to himself, " The ash — no, no. Too 
 often have I sat beneath its shade with her that I 
 shall see no more. Neither shall the dark fir of 
 this detested country bear my corpse. Shall the 
 beech, then " 
 
 " By the mass," exclaimed Sir John, " I lack 
 patience for this foolery. Bring hither the rope." 
 
 '' I am ready," shouted the gipsy, as a band of 
 his confederates burst from their ambush, and sur- 
 rounding Sir John and his attendants, commenced a 
 furious attack, while the gipsy nearest the prison- 
 er hastily cut the cords by which he was bound. 
 No sooner did he find himself at liberty, than 
 snatching a weapon, he threw himself on the 
 knight, and assaulted him with fury, while the 
 dark fire of revenge burned in his cheek and eye. 
 The suddenness of this rencontre deprived Sir 
 John for an instant of his self-possession ; but, 
 quickly rallying, he showered his blows on his 
 antagonist with such good- will, that the blood 
 streamed from several deep wounds, and there 
 seemed every chance of tlie sword doing the duty 
 assigned to the rope, wlien the gipsy, by a dexte-
 
 112 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 rous movement, at once parried a fierce blow, and 
 pierced with his long knife the sword arm of the 
 knight, whose weapon dropped from his powerless 
 hand, and his antagonist was about to repeat the 
 stroke, when Sir John's attendants, hurrying to the 
 rescue, rushed between the combatants, and while 
 some of them engaged the assailants, the others, 
 seizing the bridle of his horse, fled hastily through 
 the wood, to the verge of which they were hotly 
 pursued by the infuriated band, but who not da- 
 ring to venture into the open plain, here stopped 
 the chase, and dived again into the recesses of the 
 wood. 
 
 The termination of this exploit deeply wounded 
 the pride of Sir John, who, chafed and irritated, 
 returned to Arnprior in such a savage temper 
 of mind, that his menials dared scarcely enter his 
 presence ; and he repulsed Maude's tender cares 
 with a harshness which cut her to the heart, and 
 sent her to her chamber to give vent to her fast 
 gathering tears. 
 
 Fully aware now of the lawless band which 
 lurked near the castle. Sir John redoubled his 
 precautions, and enforced some regulations which 
 did not by any means meet the approbation of 
 Eppie. 
 
 15
 
 T'llE THREE KlNllS. 113 
 
 *' Oh, my lady," said that faithful abigail, boun- 
 cing into Maude's apartment tlie day after the af- 
 fray, " hae ye heard the dreadfu' news ?" 
 
 " What news ?" exclaimed Maude. " Is my fa- 
 ther worse — Does not his wound heal ?" 
 
 " Wound !'' retorted Eppie, in high disdain. " I 
 iloubt there's little the matter with him. He is 
 ranging through the whole castle, stopping up 
 every hole and bore ; and I hear tell that we are 
 no to be allowed to gang beyond the castle walls. 
 It's a black burning shame to think that we are a' 
 to be shut up like sae mony mice in a trap, be- 
 cause he's got a bit slash frae a tinkler's knife." 
 
 " Hush, Eppie," replied Maude ; " you must 
 speak of my father with more respect." 
 
 " Ye maunna be angry with me," rejoined the 
 damsel ; " for I'm just driven deleerit with think- 
 ing how we are to get word o' this to Lord Wil- 
 liam. There's naebody in the castle ye would like 
 to trust to gang to the cave, and nae doubt but he 
 and Bonny blink will wonder sair what has come 
 ower us." 
 
 " This is indeed sad news," said Maude. " Some 
 means must be found to apprise Lord William of 
 this unforeseen obstacle to our meetings." 
 
 " Make yourself eiisy, cousin," replied Lady 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 Ill THE TlIUEi: Kl^JGS. 
 
 Dorothea ; " you have an auxiliary in this nimblc- 
 witted damsel, who, without doubt, will find a 
 way to obviate every difficulty." 
 
 " If I had young men to deal with," answered 
 Eppie, " I might come some speed ; but that auld 
 dour sorra, Simon Brodie, maist waurs me a'the- 
 gither. — Gude preserve us, if there's no Sir John 
 crying for your ladyship ; he's like to ding down 
 the castle walls with his din. For ony sake, gang 
 to him." And Maude, somewhat startled, hastily 
 obeyed Sir John's loud summons. 
 
 " Hark ye, Maude," said the knight ; " thou 
 knowcst that the day of the feast is fast approach- 
 ing. See that you bring a more cheerful counte- 
 nance to the board. I like not that cloudy brow." 
 
 " 'Tis an arduous task, father," replied Maude, 
 gently, '* to wear a smiling aspect when the heart 
 *8 ill at ease." 
 
 "Dost bandy words with me, wench?" said Sir 
 John, angrily. " I tell thee that looks, words, ay, 
 and actions too, shall be fashioned to my liking. 
 Go and prepare your best array, and dress your 
 face with smiles, for the Master of Mar is soon to 
 be my guest. The Earl of Mar has asked thy hand 
 for his son, and I have given my consent." 
 
 " There is yet one thing he lacketh," replied 
 Maude, with spirit.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 115 
 
 "And what is that, minion ?" asked the knight. 
 
 " My consent, father, which I vow he shall 
 never have," 
 
 " How ! this to me ? Wilt thou dare to dispute 
 my will ? Why dost thou scorn James Erskine's 
 hand ?" 
 
 " Because I love another. Oh, my dear father, 
 can you think the nohle Douglas is so soon for- 
 got? Have patience, I implore you. The dis- 
 pleasure of the King may pass away, and all will 
 again be well." 
 
 " Put that folly from your mind, Maude. The 
 house of Douglas has fallen, never to rise again; 
 and, by the mass, you shall never wed with one of 
 a ruined race." 
 
 " Then, never will I be a bride," said Maude, 
 firmly. 
 
 " You shall wed with James Erskine. I swear 
 this, by all the saints. Means shall be found to 
 tame thy proud spirit. You pass not these walls 
 but as the wife of the Master of Mar. — Silence, I 
 command thee ! Didst thou speak till doomsday, 
 thou wouldst not turn me from my purpose. To 
 your chamber, wench — to your chamber, and stir 
 not from it till you know your duty better." 
 
 In silence Maude withdrew to her chamber,
 
 116 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 from the window of which she soon after saw Sir 
 John stride into the court, throw himself on his 
 horse, and, followed by a number of his retainers, 
 ride quickly from the castle gate.
 
 THE TTTREF KINGS. 117 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 Max.— But where delays she still ? golden time 
 Of travel, when each rising sun united, 
 And nought but latest night divided us ! 
 Then ran no sand — then knell'd no hour for us ! 
 It seem'd as if excess of happiness 
 Had made th' eternal wheels of Time stand still ! 
 Yes, he hath fall'n from out his heaven of bliss. 
 That can descend to think of changing hours : 
 No clock strikes for the happy. 
 
 ScillLLER. 
 
 Rod. — What, ho! Brabantio! Signor Brabantio, ho ! 
 
 lago. — Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thievCvS! 
 Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! 
 Thieves! thieves' 
 
 Ofkcih. 
 
 " What has vexed you, Maude ?" said Lady Do- 
 rothea, as her cousin entered her chamber. — "You 
 look disturbed, has anything happened to distress 
 you?* 
 
 " Yes," replied Maude, " I have just left my 
 father, who has commanded me to prepare to re- 
 ceive one to wliom he has promised my hand/'
 
 lis THE THREE KTNGS,it^, 
 
 '^ And pray, who may this favoured mortal be ?*' 
 Maude hesitated. " Is this a secret, fair cousin ?" 
 said Lady Dorothea. 
 
 " No," replied Maude, " and yet I know not 
 how to tell you that he has bid me look on the 
 Master of Mar as my future husband." 
 
 " The Master of Mar !" exclaimed Lady Doro- 
 thea, while the colour mounted to her cheek. 
 " Has he been so base as to sue for your hand?" 
 " Nay, cousin, be not thus concerned." 
 *' Concerned, good sooth ! would it not move 
 any woman, who has a spark of feeling, to learn 
 that one whom she has esteemed a true knight, 
 should prove a base deceiver ?" 
 
 '* You blame him most unjustly," replied Maude. 
 '' James Erskine is guiltless of falsehood and de- 
 ceit. I am certain that this matter has been ar- 
 ranged by the Earl and my father without the know- 
 ledge of the Master of Mar. You are too rash, Do- 
 rothea — you ought not to condemn, unheard, one 
 who has given you so many proofs of the most 
 devoted affection." 
 
 " You are right, Maude. James Erskine de- 
 serves my fullest confidence, and I will wait pa- 
 tiently till I hear from him the explanation of this 
 sad affair." 
 
 " I feel certain that no blame attaches to him ;
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 119 
 
 -*• 
 
 but, dearest cousin, my heart sinks when I think 
 of the stern character of my father ; he cannot 
 brook opposition to his will — how shall I support 
 his threats and reproaches ?'* 
 
 " Do not despond, Maude ; we may yet find a 
 way to avert the evils which threaten us. Would 
 to Heaven that the Master of Mar were here to 
 advise us what steps to pursue !" 
 
 In vain did Dorothea strive to raise Maude's 
 drooping spirits ; a presentiment of evil oppressed 
 her mind, and her clouded imagination painted 
 the future in the darkest colours. 
 
 " Dear me," said Eppie, breaking in upon their 
 conference," but this day has been like a year, — 
 sae dull and drumly, it's enough to gie a body the 
 mirlegoes. I've been fighting and flyting with auld 
 Simon just to keep me frae wearying. The lock- 
 ing o' the gates has driven me doited, and I'm 
 feared, if we dinna soon manage to let Lord Wil- 
 liam ken whatfor we canna meet him in the glen, 
 I'm thinking if we dinna gang to him, he'll come 
 to us." 
 
 " Don't speak of such a thing, Eppie," replied 
 Maude ; " surely he will never be so rash." 
 
 *' Deed," replied the damsel, " there's nae say- 
 ing what a man in love will do; gay daftlike things,
 
 120 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 if a' tales be true ; but I'll gang and try to fleech 
 that auld carl to let me out for half an hour, I 
 eould easily rin up the glen, and back again, in 
 that time;" and away went Eppie to the hall, where 
 she found Simon and several other domestics va- 
 riously employed. 
 
 " What makes ye sae restless, Mistress Eppie ?'* 
 said Rory ; " ye hae been out and in twenty times 
 within this ten minutes." 
 
 " Just because I canna keep awa frae you and 
 Simon," she replied with a roguish smile. 
 
 " Dinna lippen to her, Rory," said Simon ; "she's 
 a perfect wolf in sheep's clothing. I'll wager a 
 rose noble to a bodle that she's ettling at some- 
 thing or other ; but I'm up to her cantrips now — 
 she canna cheat me," continued he, with great self- 
 sufficiency. 
 
 " You're no worth the cheating, man," replied 
 the damsel, tossing her head; " there would be 
 little to brag o', to make an auld haverel like you 
 believe that black was white ; but gude be thankit, 
 I want naething but what is reasonable, and that's 
 |ust to gang ower the moor to see my father and 
 miiher. I had an awfu' dream about them last 
 night, and I canna get no rest till I ken that they 
 arc week I dreamed. Master Simon, that I saw
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 121 
 
 my father gang whistling ower the moor with his 
 gun in his hand, and the dog running at his foot ; 
 but he hadna gane a hundred steps when he plash- 
 ed up to his neck in the middle o* a slough that 
 he hadna noticed ; and my mither hearing the dog 
 youffing, and him roaring for help, ran out to him ; 
 but in trying to get him out — I grew yet to think 
 o* it, for I saw it as plain as a pike- staff, Master 
 Simon — she fell in on the top o' him. I gied an 
 awfu' skreigh and waukened in a fright; and ye see 
 I canna rest, night or day, till I ken they are in 
 life ; so you'll just open the gate and let me out 
 to see them. I'll no stay a minute." 
 
 ** Aweel, Mistress Eppie," replied Simon, coolly, 
 " I hae nae objections to let you out ; but deil be 
 in my fingers if I let you in again. This is Sir 
 John's orders, and I'm thinking he'll be weel quit 
 o' ye ; for I jalouse ye egg up the Lady Maude to 
 sneeze at her father's commands. A' parents arena 
 blessed with such gude bairns as ye are, Eppie," 
 continued Simon, with a grin; " so gang your ways 
 hame, and see if they be to the fore yet, for, if your 
 dream be true, they're in gay cauld quarters.'' 
 
 *' If I am no to be let in again, I'll gang on nae 
 such errand," retorted the damsel ; " as they baith 
 fell in, they may help ane another out. Na, na : I
 
 122 THE TIIT^EE KINGS. 
 
 canna leave the Lady Maude, poor lamb, among 
 sucli dour carles as Sir John and the like o' him." 
 
 '' Hout, fye, Eppic," said Simon, jeeringly, "it's 
 A^ery ill done in you to leave your father and mo- 
 ther up to the neck in a bog ; gang awa, my wo- 
 man, and fleech them, if ye like, for ye canna 
 fleech Simon Brodie.'* 
 
 " And who but you obliges me to fleech?" re- 
 torted Eppie; "do ye no think we would take the 
 strong hand if we could ?" 
 
 " Deed," said another damsel, " I dinna like 
 this new fashion o' keeping the gates shut like 
 grim death; a body might just as wecl be in a pri- 
 son." 
 
 " Crack awa, lasses," replied Simon; " we maun 
 let them speak, poor things, — it's a' they can do ;'* 
 and Eppie, in despair, retired to her little dormi- 
 tory to invent some plan to let Lord William know 
 of their state of thraldom. She sat herself down 
 at the grated window, but in the next moment 
 started up in joyful surprise, as she recognised the 
 voice of Bonnyblink softly calling on her name. 
 
 " Gude preserve us a', Bonnyblink, is that you ? 
 You're a bold man to venture yourself here." 
 
 " I must have speech of Lady Maude," replied 
 ho ; " Lord William has heard that Sir John has 
 
 10
 
 THE TUREF, KIXGS. 123 
 
 betrothed her to the Master of Mar, and he's like 
 to gang out o' his judgment. I had to gang douu 
 on my bended knees to hinder him frae coming 
 here himsell ; — but let me see the Lady Maude, 
 for I swore to bring him word from her ain mouth 
 how it stands with her." 
 
 " Deed," said Eppie, " that's easier said than 
 done. But stop a wee ; I think this will do," she 
 continued, poking through the small window her 
 tartan cloak, a gown, petticoat, and bonnet, in 
 which he quickly attired himself. " Now, lad," 
 said she, " mind that ye are a lassie wanting some 
 wine for a sick mither ; step round and knock 
 boldly at the yett, and I'll run to the hall ;" into 
 Avhich she entered with a slow step and demure 
 look, and seating herself near Simon, began busily 
 to knit her stocking. 
 
 '^ I think I hear an unco rapping at the yett," 
 said Rory. 
 
 "A rapping at the yett ?" rejoined Eppie ; " wha 
 can it be at this time o' night ? Dinna ye rise, Si- 
 mon; I'll gang mysell, and see what they want." 
 Eppie left the hall, and quickly returning, said^ 
 " There's a bit lassie at the yett asking for a drap 
 o' wine for a sick body, who is na expected to live.'^ 
 *« I winna open the yett for sick body or halc^" 
 said Simon, peevishly.
 
 124 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Did ever mortal hear the like o' that ?" replied 
 Eppie. " Did ye no hear me tell ye it was for a 
 woman at death's door ?" 
 
 *« Aweel," retorted Simon, " if she has got that 
 length, wine winna do her ony good." 
 
 " Troth, Simon," said Eppie, '' this is no like 
 you; take pity on the poor lassie, and just open tlu^ 
 yett ; I'll gie ye nae mair trouhle, for I'll take her 
 up to my room, and get what she wants frae Lady 
 Maude." 
 
 " Hand that lang tongue o' yours, Eppie," re- 
 plied Simon, " for I'm wearied with your din, and 
 dinna be blawing in my lug, for the yett shall not 
 be opened this blessed night, if a' the auld wives 
 in the parish were in the dead-thraw." 
 
 " Hech, sirs," retorted the abigail, '' it's an aw- 
 fu' thing to hear ye speak that gate ; it's hard to 
 say how soon the youngest and strongest o' us a' 
 may be brought to death's-door, far less them that 
 hae three score o' years upon their head-" 
 
 *' It's nane o' your business whether I hae three 
 score or six score on my head — ye mislear't tink- 
 ler." 
 
 " Aweel, Simon Brodie," replied the damsel, 
 ** see if ye dinna repent o' this night's wark. 
 Ye ken as weel as I do, that it would anger the
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 125 
 
 Lady Maude sair, to hear that ony poor hodie had 
 been sae ill guided ; and I'm thinking that she and 
 Sir John will soon he as couthy as ever together, 
 for she has a notion now o' the Master o' Mar ; and 
 when she has the upper hand, see if ye dinna get 
 your paiks for this." 
 
 " I daresay ye are telling a wheen lees, lassie,'* 
 said Simon, rising slowly; " hut I'll e'en gang 
 and see the woman my sell ;" but his motions were 
 accelerated on hearing a trampling of horses' feet, 
 and the loud voice of Sir John demanding admit- 
 tance. 
 
 In dismay, Eppie run to her little room ; but 
 her fears were allayed on finding Bonnyblink 
 safe under her window, he having fled round to 
 that side of the castle, on hearing the approach of 
 the knight ; and Eppie, alarmed at their recent 
 danger, after promising that Lady Maude would 
 visit the glen on the ensuing night, hurried him 
 away. 
 
 " What can be done, Dorothea ?" said Maude, 
 after listening to Eppie's account of her brief con- 
 versation with Bonnyblink. " I am in agonies 
 lest Douglas's jealous fears of the Master of Mai' 
 should drive him to take some desperate step; 
 and if he learns James Erskine's visit here before
 
 126 THE THREE KIN<iS. 
 
 I can sec him, and assure him of my fidelity to 
 my vows, I know not what may be the conse- 
 quence." 
 
 " Keep up your heart, my dear young lady," 
 said Eppie, " for if we tine hope we tine a'. The 
 Lady Dorothea will maybe help us yet to cheat Sir 
 John." 
 
 " Dearest Maude," replied her lively cousin, 
 " what could tempt you to undertake to act the 
 heroine ? By that varying cheek I vow you lack 
 the qualifications necessary for such a part." 
 
 " No, cousin," replied Maude, with spirit; " I 
 lack not patience to endure suffering, fortitude to 
 bear trials, or courage to pursue that path my 
 heart and conscience approve. But I confess I 
 lack invention ; I am a novice in deceit, and my 
 mind revolts at dissimulation and falsehood." 
 
 " It is well spoken, Maude ; but, nevertheless, 
 as there is a necessity for your seeing Lord Wil- 
 liam, you must stoop to a little harmless deceit." 
 
 *' Harmless deceit !" rejoined Maude; " what a 
 perversion of words. Yet such is the urgency of 
 the case, I yield to it, even against my better 
 judgment." 
 
 "Well, then," said Dorothea, " hear my plan. I 
 shall to-morrow lake a high tone with Sir John,
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 127 
 
 remonstrate on the hardship of being shut up like 
 a prisoner, and flatly tell him that I will either 
 have free egress and ingress to the castle, or leave 
 it ; and as he is anxious that the approaching feast 
 should be enlivened by my delightful presence, I 
 am sure he will give his consent ; and this obtain- 
 ed, you shall muffle yourself up in my attire, and 
 sally forth at evening to the glen, while I shall 
 occupy your chamber and couch, and be too ill to 
 admit any one." 
 
 This plan was adopted ; and, in pursuance of it, 
 Lady Dorothea, next morning, remonstrated so 
 firmly with the knight, that he was forced to yield 
 the point ; and orders were given to Simon to per- 
 mit her to pass and repass the castle gates at her 
 will and pleasure. Long and tedious did the day 
 appear to Maude, who anxiously counted the 
 slowly passing hours. 
 
 " Nay, look not so sad, dear cousin," said Doro- 
 thea, as she drew Maude to the window of her 
 chamber ; " see, the sun is sinking rapidly in the 
 west : I doubt not that Lord William thinks he 
 lags too long like your fair self." 
 
 '' I have no heart for this enterprise," replied 
 Maude ; " I feel an unspeakable reluctance to visit 
 the glen to-night."
 
 128 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 ** Go to, silly thing — put away these gloomy 
 fancies — what do you fear ?" 
 
 " In sooth, I know not; but my mind misgives 
 me sadly. Perhaps it is a consciousness of deceit 
 which oppresses me.'* 
 
 " Your conscience, my dear cousin, is far too 
 tender for one in love. That wayward passion 
 too often leads us from the narrow path of inte- 
 grity. But a truce to moralizing— here is my hood 
 and mantle — nay, carry yourself more jauntily, I 
 pray; that pensive step does not belong to me." 
 
 " ril rin before," said Eppie, " and make Si- 
 mon open the yett, so that ye needna speak to 
 him;" — and Maude, preceded by Eppie, passed 
 quickly on to the court of the castle. 
 
 " Here, Simon," cried Eppie, " come and let 
 out the Lady Dorothea, she wants to get a gliff o' 
 the caller air ; it's weel with her no to be keepit 
 aye between stane and lime. I'm clean dazed 
 mysell with this locking-in fashion — ay, that will 
 do — ye needna stand there waiting till she gangs 
 past ; but ye maun come this very minute and gie 
 me some sack for a posset for Lady Maude ; poor 
 thing, she has taken an unco cluttering and sha- 
 king, and I hae persuaded her to lie down for a 
 wee ; come awa', man, do ye hear me speaking to 
 ye?"
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 129 
 
 " Bravvly, Mistress Eppie ; but ye maun just 
 wait a wee." 
 
 " I'll no wait anitlier minute ; but if ye dinna 
 like to gang, just gie me the key o' the buttery, 
 and I'll help mysell." 
 
 " I dinna misdoubt ye," retorted Simon, with a 
 grin. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Simon Brodie — if ye dinna 
 come this .precious minute, and gie me what my 
 lady wants, I'll complain to Sir John — and ye ken 
 weel that he will let naebody thwart her but him- 
 sell ; and if she disna get the posset, and is no able 
 to be at the feast the morn, I wouldna be in your 
 skin for a ladlefu' o' gold — are ye coming or no ?" 
 And Simon, finding it no longer safe to contest the 
 point, proceeded to the buttery, followed by Ep- 
 pie, while Maude passed out of the castle gates, 
 and, with hurried and faltering steps, took her 
 way up the glen. 
 
 In the meanwhile Dorothea, in the character 
 of Maude, kept close in her chamber ; and Ep- 
 pie, by way of passing the time, tormented Simon, 
 by interrupting him in his busiest moments, by 
 feigning innumerable messages from Maude for 
 all sorts of condiments. 
 
 " The sorra's in your lady," said Simon, in a 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 130 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 rage ; " if slie gangs on at this rate, we'll be scjtnt 
 o' comfitcd things for the feast the morn; she 
 didna use to be sae fashious." 
 
 " Oh, but ye see, Simon, sick folks " 
 
 *' Sick folks !'* retorted Simon ; " she has 
 eaten more this night than she has done for a 
 week past. It's no natural ; gang ye and get her 
 away to her bed ; a sound sleep will do her muckle 
 gude — it's an awfu'-like thing to hear her crying 
 for capon and moorcock at this time o' night— 
 Hand out o' my gate, I tell ye ;" — and Simon hui'- 
 ried to the buttery, while Eppie returned to divert 
 the solitude of Lady Dorothea with an account of 
 her projects to annoy him, and keep him from 
 observing the prolonged absence of the pretended 
 Lady Dorothea. But when hour after hour passed 
 away, and still Maude came not, Lady Dorothea 
 became alarmed. 
 
 ** It is very late," said Lady Dorothea ; " I wish 
 my dear cousin were safe home again." 
 
 " Deed," replied Eppie, " I begin to take a 
 thought about her mysell ; it's no like her to taigle 
 sae lang; but, uae doubt, lovers hae aye sae 
 muckle to say to ane anither, that they dinna no- 
 tice how the time slips by — But whisht — is that a 
 din at the yett ? No, no ; it's Sir John snoring ; he's
 
 THK THREE KINGS. 131 
 
 gane soon to his bed, as he is to be up by skreigli 
 o' day, to get a' in order for tlie feast." 
 
 " Look out, Eppie, and see if she is not coming 
 down the glen." 
 
 " There is no appearance o' her," replied the 
 damsel ; " and I'm feared that, if she disna come 
 soon, Simon will be away to his bed, and the 
 stramash o' getting him up may waken Sir John. 
 I can thole this no longer. I'll be out o' this win- 
 dow, as sure as my name is Eppie Donaldson." 
 
 " Impossible," replied Lady Dorothea; " you 
 have forgot how far it is from the ground." 
 
 " rU try it, however," said the damsel ; and 
 snatching the sheets from Maude's bed, she fas- 
 tened them to the window, dexterously slid down, 
 and reached the ground in safety. Assisted by 
 the light of a clear moon, she quickly gained the 
 path leading to the glen, where she found Bonny- 
 blink stationed. 
 
 " Where is the Lady Maude ?" cried she, as he 
 hastened to meet her ; " it's no discreet in Lord 
 William to taigle her so long — Do ye ken what 
 time o' night it is, Maister Bonnyblink ?" 
 
 At this moment Lord William appeared. — 
 " Where is your lady ?" asked he, hastily. " Can 
 she not, or will she not meet me ?"
 
 132 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Where is my lady ?" said Eppie, " Is she no 
 here ? She left the castle in the gloaming ; I watch- 
 ed her my sell frae the window." 
 
 " Heaven and earth ! say est thou that the Lady 
 Maude left the castle to meet me ?'* 
 
 " I'll swear to it," cried Eppie, wringing her 
 hands ; " and what has become o* her, gude only 
 kens !" 
 
 *' My lord," said Bonnyblink, " I fear Lady 
 Maude has been carried off by Arral's clan ; I saw 
 several of them lurking about Arnprior no later 
 than last night." 
 
 *' Villain !" exclaimed Lord William, " why did 
 you not tell me this ? Think you that I would have 
 periled Lady Maude's safety by entreating her to 
 come here ?" 
 
 *' Oh, my lord," cried Eppie, " dinna be staying 
 to flyte on poor Bonnyblink, but let us gang back 
 and search every foot of the road she came." 
 
 This suggestion was instantly acted upon, and 
 at the entrance to the glen they discovered the 
 turf torn up, as if trampled by a large body of 
 horsemen. " I shall yet trace the villains," ex- 
 claimed Douglas, as he grasped his dirk. 
 
 " Gude preserve us a'," said Eppie, " are ye de- 
 leerit to think o' fleeing through the country ? — it
 
 THE THREE KINGS. ISS 
 
 will be broad day- light in nae time. — For ony sake 
 gang back to your cave and hide yoursell, for if 
 ye were taken and had your head chapped off, I*m 
 certain sure the Lady Maude would die o* grief." 
 
 " This disguise," answered Lord William, " will 
 enable me to traverse the country in safety ; but 
 even were it not so, think you that I would remain 
 in cowardly security, while Maude is in peril? 
 Hie thee to Arnprior, arouse Sir John, and bid 
 him hasten to the rescue," 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed the weeping damsel, " how 
 am I to face Sir John ? I weel deserve his anger 
 for carrying on such hiddling work — dear is the 
 day for my poor lady, who I'm wae to think o*. 
 And are ye gaeing off too, Bonnyblink ?" 
 
 " Dinna greet, Eppie," replied he; " ye ken I 
 canna desert my master in his utmost need ; keep 
 a gude heart, and nae fear but we'll soon bring the 
 Lady Maude back again." And in another mo- 
 ment Eppie found herself alone in the silent glen. 
 
 Blinded with tears, she hastily retraced her 
 steps; and losing all fear of punishment in her 
 anxiety to procure help for her young mistress, 
 she knocked loudly at the gate, crying — " Rise, 
 Simon, rise, ye auld sorra, and let me in ; I say, 
 get out o' your bed, ye lazy loon; weel does it be- 
 come you to be sleeping and snoring there, when
 
 134 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 the Lady Maude is in peril. Rise, I say, ye auld, 
 deaf, doited liaverel !'* 
 
 Simon, thus suddenly awakened from a pro- 
 found slumber, hastily arose, and opening a small 
 turret window, angrily demanded — " Who is 
 there ? and what's a' this din about ?" 
 
 " What's a' this din about ?" retorted Eppie ; 
 " rise and ye'll see ; open the yett this minute, 
 on life and death.'' 
 
 " And who are ye that crack sae crouse ?" re- 
 torted Simon. 
 
 " Who am I, truly ? Your cowl maun be di*awn 
 weel ower your lang lugs, if ye diina ken it's Ep- 
 pie Donaldson that's speaking to ye." 
 
 '* Ye needna expect to cheat me," said Simon, 
 coolly; " think ye I will believe that a decent las- 
 sie like Eppie Donaldson would be scouring the 
 country at this time o' night ? Gang about your 
 business, ye randy tinkler ; like enough ye belang 
 to some o' the ne'er-do-weel gipsies that are har- 
 bouring about. Ye hae nae doubt heard o' the 
 feast the morn." 
 
 " Speak na o' feasts, ye doited gomeril; there 
 will be little but wailing in the castle the morn." 
 
 *' Nae doubt it would be sae, if you and your 
 band had your will ; but, my woman ♦ we hae yjc 
 out, and we'll keep ye out."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 135 
 
 " Simon Brodie/' exclaimed Eppie, in despair, 
 " I tell you the Lady Maude has been carried awa' 
 by wild reivers, and if ye dinna waken Sir John, 
 and send him after them, Fll strangle ye with my 
 ain hands." 
 
 " By my faith," said Simon, giving a hoarse 
 laugh, " but this beats a* ; see, my woman, and 
 contrive a better lee the next time ye want to get 
 to a weel-fiUed buttery. The Lady Maude hasna 
 been out o' her chamber the day, and maun be 
 sound sleeping by this time, — at least if she drank 
 a' the sack posset I sent her; and how would Ep- 
 pie get out, tl^nk ye, when I hae the key o* the 
 castle yetts below my head ?" 
 
 " Do ye want to tU'ive me deleerit, ye auld dec- 
 vil ?" retorted Eppie ; " I tell you it was the Lady 
 Maude that gaed out in Lady Dorothea's mantle 
 and hood, and I slipped down frae a window after 
 her." 
 
 '< Gude guide us a', if this should be true. Mis- 
 tress Eppie, ye hae slipped your neck into a noose 
 that will baud ye fast enough ; ye'Il no find it easy 
 to deal with Sir John anent this matter." 
 
 " I carena what becomes o' me, so that there's 
 help got for Lady Maude. Open the yett, then, Si- 
 mon, and dinna bring Sir John's anger on you for 
 keeping mc frac telling him the waefu' news,"
 
 136 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Faith, there's reason in that," replied Simon; 
 and hurrying on his clothes, he quickly descend- 
 ed, and admitted the weeping damsel, on whom he 
 showered a torrent of invective. — " And how are 
 ye to face Sir John, ye leeing sorra ? do ye no 
 hear him swearing and crying to ken what this din 
 is about ? If he would take my advice, he would 
 make ye shorter by the head." 
 
 '* How now, varlets !" shouted the knight ; " art 
 drunk or frantic, that there is such an uproar? 
 Come hither, Simon," The old man obeyed — 
 " What means this din ?" asked Sir John ; " and 
 who knocked so boldly at the gat^^" 
 
 *' It was Eppie, Sir John," replied Simon, in a 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 ^' How ! what does my daughter's menial out 
 of the castle at this time of night ? By my fey, she 
 shall be scourged for it by the dawn. Get you 
 gone, knave, and if you value your head, look bet- 
 ter to watch and ward." 
 
 *^ May it please you. Sir John," responded Si- 
 mon, " to let the damsel hae speech o' you : she 
 says something o' the Lady Maude having been 
 carried away in the night." 
 
 " You dream, old dotard ! But I'll see the wench 
 myself," said Sir John, striding into the hall —
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 137 
 
 " What means all this disturbance?" asked the 
 knight, looking sternly at Eppie. 
 
 ^' Oh, uncle," said Lady Dorothea, " be not so 
 severe. Speak, Eppie, what has happened ? Oh, 
 my dearest Maude, if any ill has befallen thee, I'll 
 never know happiness again !" 
 
 " You here, Dorothea ?" replied the knight ; 
 " truly, my household seem to have lost their wits. 
 But speak, minion, what sayest thou of my daugh- 
 ter — where is Maude ?" 
 
 « Oh, that I could tell !" replied Eppie; « but 
 she has been carried awa' this night." 
 
 " You lie," cj;ied Sir John, fiercely. " What ! 
 dost think to make me believe that any one could 
 take Maude out of the castle without being heard ? 
 If you value your life, tell the truth, or, by the 
 mass, I will make short work with you." 
 
 " She wasna just taken out o' the castle," sob- 
 bed Eppie; " for I persuaded her to gang down 
 the glen." 
 • ** For what purpose ?" 
 
 "Just to meet, for twa or three minutes, with — ^" 
 
 " With whom ?" said Sir John, in a voice of 
 thunder. 
 
 " With Lord William," — and here Eppie drop- 
 ped on her knees, and her sobs redoubled.
 
 138 THE THllEE KINGS. 
 
 " Vile wretch !" exclaimed tlie knight, as he 
 spurned her with his foot; " out of my sight, ere 
 I trample thee to death ! Rouse the men ! — To 
 horse — to horse !'* — Then snatching up his sword, 
 and placing his pistols in his belt, he rushed into 
 the court, where his people being quickly assem- 
 bled and mounted, the party rode furiously from 
 the castle gate, and gradually the clatter of the 
 horses* hoofs died away in the distance. 
 
 Lady Dorothea's grief at the sudden disappear- 
 ance of her cousin, was deep and sincere ; but after 
 hearing from Eppie a distinct account of every 
 circumstance attending her flight, she cherished a 
 hope that Lord William would succeed in rescuing 
 her from the lawless men, into whose hands she 
 liad unhappily fallen. Eppie, unable to rest in 
 any place, rambled all night through the castle, 
 meeting, occasionally, in her peregrinations, with 
 Simon, who let no opportunity escape of descant- 
 ing on the enormity of her offences. 
 
 " Ye may weel greet, ye Jezebel, that I should 
 ban ; but whatfor. Mistress Eppie, did ye no gang 
 with them? Ye had sma' sense to come back 
 here to be hanged, as nae doubt ye will be in 
 gude time. This comes o* your hiddling work. 
 Hech, sirs, to think o' the Lady Maude rinning
 
 THE THREE KINGS. • ,139 
 
 avva with the bhick Douglas, aiie that has neither 
 house, lands, nor country, as a body may say !'* 
 
 ** It's a base lie," retorted Eppie ; " Lord Wil- 
 liam is like a man beside himsell — he kens nae 
 mair where the Lady Maude is than yoursell. Do 
 ye think I would greet, if she was with him ? I'm 
 no such a gowk as that comes to. But you're no 
 worth speaking to." And Eppie once more re- 
 sumed her wanderings through the now deserted 
 castle. 
 
 Unwilling as James Erskine was to inform 
 Maude of the bad success of his mission, he found 
 further delay impossible ; and taking his way to 
 Arnprior, was surprised, on arriving there, at the 
 silence and quietness which prevailed. After 
 many attempts to gain admittance, the gate was 
 slowly opened by Simon, and close behind him 
 stood Eppie, weeping bitterly. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," said Erskine, " tell me 
 what has happened ; — who is ill ?" 
 
 " We are a' weel in health, your honour," re- 
 plied Simon, in a doleful tone ; " but sair grieved 
 in spirit." 
 
 " Hand out o' the gate," said Eppie, impatient- 
 ly, " and let me get speech o' the Master, — Oh, 
 hae ye got ony tidings o' her ?"
 
 140 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 ^' Of whom, my good girl ?" asked he, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Hae ye no heard that the Lady Maude has 
 been carried awa by the auld reiver, Arral ? Sir 
 John and a' his folk are awa after him, and " 
 
 " Where is the Lady Dorothea?" said he,— 
 " lead me to her without delay." 
 
 Eppie hastened to obey him ; and Lady Dorothea, 
 with pale cheeks and quivering lips, advanced to 
 meet him. 
 
 " Bring you any intelligence of Maude, dear 
 James ?" 
 
 " I gi-leve to say, I do not ; in truth, I knew 
 not of this sad affair till this instant. Tell me, 
 dearest Dorothea, how all this has happened ?'* 
 
 Lady Dorothea briefly related all that had pass- 
 ed since they last met ; and it was some allevia- 
 tion to her distress to find the faith and constancy 
 of her lover was unshaken. 
 
 '* This is, indeed, most unwelcome news," he 
 replied; " but trust me, nothing shall be wanting 
 on my part to restore our sweet Maude. I will 
 go instantly to raise my people, — no time should 
 be lost in tracing the villains." And taking a 
 lover's farewell, the Master of Mar vaulted lightly 
 on his saddle, and was soon out of sight.
 
 I. 
 
 THE THREE KINGS* Ml 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The King leans from his chamber, from his balcony on hijjh, 
 ** What means this furious clamour my palace porch so nigh ?" 
 
 Spanish Ballads, 
 
 It was yet early dawn when Sir John and hivS 
 followers spurred rapidly up the steep ascent lead- 
 ing to the palace of Stirling. The noise of the 
 horsemen drew the inhahitants to their doors. 
 
 " I wonder what new stramash this is," said an 
 old burgess of that ancient city to his neighbour, 
 ^' I wish a' may be right ; but I dinna like this 
 riding and ringing through the town — Gude for- 
 fend us a' frae the black Douglasses !" 
 
 " We winna be fashed with them ony langer," 
 was the response ; " for every mother's son o' 
 them, with their kith, kin, and allies, are put to 
 the horn." 
 
 " He is a dour-looking carle that gangs fore- 
 
 15
 
 I 12 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 most," said the first speaker, looking after Sir Jolin ; 
 ** he lias taken the road to the palace. I doubt if 
 the nobles are stirring yet, for the King had a 
 grand splore last night. Folks say that he and his 
 lords keep a fu' house — My word, he is making up 
 for the time he was keepit in jeopardy by the Earl 
 o' Angus." 
 
 " He maun hae his play-time," rejoined his 
 companion ; " but when once he gets ower his 
 daffing, I'se warrant he will make a right gude 
 king, and bring the realm into strict govern- 
 ance." 
 
 " The sooner the better," replied the other, 
 " for it's thought there will be an outbreak among 
 the Arrals ; they were handing a gathering last 
 night, so we will no be lang o' hearing o* some 
 affray; but I doubt the King is mair taken up 
 thinking o' the grand hunting match that he is 
 going to in Athole, than with seeing his subjects 
 righted. There's a great sough in the country 
 about the fair palace that the Earl has biggit for 
 the King to take the diversion o' hunting — they 
 say it*s decoired like anc o' the royal palaces. The 
 falconers passed out yesterday with the hawks ; so 
 I fancy the King will no stay long behind them." 
 
 Sir John, meanwhile, had reached the palace.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 1 13 
 
 and Jcmandiiig to see the Earl of Cassilis, he 
 was soon joined by that nobleman, whose appejir- 
 ance testified that the preceding night had been 
 spent in revelry. 
 
 " Welcome to Stirling palace, Sir John," said 
 the Earl ; " comest thou to attend our monarch 
 to Athole, whither he wends to-day ? By my faith, 
 your early journey hither, should shame us all, 
 laggards as we are.'* 
 
 " No, by the mass !" retorted Sir John ; " I 
 come not here for pastime or carouse, but on a 
 matter which will not brook delay. I must have 
 speech of the King, and that speedily ; so call his 
 chamber chiels, Gilbert Kennedy, and see if he 
 may be spoken with." 
 
 " I know not," rejoined Cassilis, " if I may in- 
 trude on him at this early hour." 
 
 " Not intrude?" said Sir John; " now, by our 
 Lady, the King's ears should be open, by night 
 or by day, to the complaints of his people — Not 
 intrude, forsooth ! this comes of midnight carou- 
 sals. But since the King will not right me, by 
 Heavens, I'll right myself !" 
 
 " Nay, Sir John," replied Cassilis, " I pray you 
 have patience, and -" 
 
 ** Patience, Cassilis ?" said the knight, — « dost
 
 Hi THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 dare to preach patience to me, wlio have such a 
 matter in hand ? But I have staid here too long 
 bandying words, which is likely all that I will 
 get." 
 
 " Stay one moment. Sir John," said the Earl, 
 " and as the afFair seems pressing, I will do your 
 bidding to the King." 
 
 " Be speedy, Cassilis,'' said the knight, " for I 
 will not tarry," 
 
 The Earl passed on to the chamber of the King, 
 and struck gently on the door. " Who is there ?'* 
 cried James in an impatient tone. " In the fiend's 
 name, come in. By the mass, Gibby Kennedy," 
 continued he, as the Earl entered, " thinkest thou 
 that we can carouse all night, and yet rise at the 
 first blush of the dawn ? We set not forth for 
 Athole till midday — Faith, we will have another 
 hour's sleep, if all the saints in Christendom were 
 to bid us rise — that malvasy swims still in my 
 head — Prithee, man, tell thy errand and begone." 
 
 " Please your Grace," replied Cassilis, " here 
 is the Knight of Arnprior, who craves an audience 
 on affairs of deep importance." 
 
 " Ay, to him, perchance," replied the youthful 
 Monarch ; " a herd of cattle driven away, or some 
 brawl with his unruly neighbours. Go, bring us 
 some tidings of his business ere we rise."
 
 THE THUEE KINGS. 145 
 
 The Earl now returned to Sir John, whom he 
 found impatiently pacing the apartment ; but on 
 desiring Sir John, either to relate his business to 
 him, or wait the leisure of the King, the knight's 
 wrath burst forth. 
 
 " Is it come to this ? will not James lose an 
 hour's rest to right his subjects? Tell him that 
 my daughter, that Maude Buchanan has been 
 stolen from me — But what will he care for that ? 
 No, tell him that which will scare his slumbers, 
 — shout in his ear that the Black Douglas is the 
 robber, who, braving his power, and defying his 
 menaces, has audaciously committed this outrage 
 even at the mouth of the lion's den. Let James 
 Stuart look to himself — I scorn his aid — I'll right 
 myself, by heavens ! — To horse !" cried Sir John, 
 as, with a dark frown and flushed brow, he strode 
 out of the apartment, unheeding the Earl's at- 
 tempts to detain him. 
 
 " Well, Gibby," said the King, raising himself 
 >n his elbow on seeing Cassilis enter the cham- 
 ber, " what says the knight ?" 
 
 " Please you," replied the Earl, " he cried to 
 horse, and is off, because he had not instant speech 
 of your Grace." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " By my faith, he is an uncourtly loon, not to 
 wait our leisure. — But what wanted he ?" 
 
 " He brought news your Grace will but ill like 
 to hear. Lord William Douglas has been lurking 
 near this for a space, and has carried off the Lady 
 Maude Buchanan." 
 
 A glow of fierce anger rushed to the face of the 
 King, fire sparkled in his eye, and with one bound 
 he sprung out of bed, and exclaimed, " After him, 
 Cassilis ; bring him back, I charge you ! Command 
 our warders to bar his passage. He leaves not 
 this till we have spoken with him — He may per- 
 haps enable us to track this bold traitor — By 
 heavens, his audacity stirs my blood ! — Bring the 
 knight hither, Cassilis, and that speedily." 
 
 The Earl hastened from the chamber, and James, 
 having completed a hurried toilet, strode impa- 
 tiently through the apartment. After a brief 
 space, Cassilis again appeared, followed by Sir 
 John, whose dark cheek still retained its angry 
 flush as he stalked haughtily forward. 
 
 " Faith, sir knight," said the King, frankly ad- 
 vancing to meet him, ** you have some reason to be 
 vexed with us ; but 'tis all the fault of that bungler, 
 Cassilis, who was too slow in telling thy errand. 
 Have you certain assurance that it is the traitor
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 147 
 
 Douglas, who has committed this outrage? We 
 can scarce believe that he would venture into the 
 bounds of Scotland.'* 
 
 " By Saint Andi-ew," exclaimed the knight, " he 
 has not only been within the bounds of Scotland, 
 but at the very verge of your highness' court ! And 
 last night," he continued, while he dashed away a 
 tear, " he dared to carry away my daughter, my 
 poor Maude, and I came here to ask for aid to 
 rescue her." 
 
 " If they are above ground," replied James, 
 " they shall be found. But have you no clew to 
 guide your search ? To what place, thinkest thou, 
 has he carried the fair Maude ?" 
 
 " To Tantallon Castle, I fear me," replied Sir 
 John. 
 
 " Tantallon Castle !" said James, hastily; " now, 
 by our Lady, if it prove so, we shall level the trai- 
 tor's stronghold in the dust. But perhaps they may 
 be overtaken ere they reach that fortress. Cas- 
 silis, you will accompany the knight ; take with 
 you a body of archers, and let the pursuit be hot. 
 By Heavens, we will neither know rest nor peace 
 till the daughter of this good old knight is restored 
 to him. And, Cassilis, proclaim a princely reward 
 to him who shall achieve the deed. By the mass,
 
 M8 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 were it not for our kingly state, we would our- 
 self lead the chase. We long to measure swords 
 with Douglas. By mine honour, in such a cause, 
 the clash of arms would sound to us more sweet 
 than the note of the cushat dove — But it may not 
 be. Hie thee, Cassilis, and order out the troops. 
 Farewell ; may success attend thee." 
 
 " Now, by Heavens," exclaimed the knight, stri- 
 king his sword, " I will cut the weasand of him 
 who dares to say that thou art less than king ! 
 Here is an arm which will ever be raised in your 
 defence, as long as this old carcase is above ground. 
 Pardon my rough and brief speech. I lack court- 
 ly arts, and cannot stay to learn them." 
 
 " Our Lady speed you," replied the King ; and 
 the Earl and his companion hastily left the cham- 
 ber. The hurried arrival of Sir John and his fol- 
 lowers, his interview with the King, and subse- 
 quent departure, accompanied by a large body of 
 archers, caused a considerable sensation in the 
 town of Stirling. Some said that the clans in 
 the west were rising — others maintained that the 
 troops were sent to intercept the Earl of Angus, 
 who was advancing on Stirling, with the view of 
 seizing on the King's person ; and the honest bur- 
 gesses were still engaged discussing these and
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 149 
 
 many other conflicting reports, when James and 
 a princely train of nobles issued from the castle 
 gate, and passing swiftly through the town, the 
 youthful Monarch checked not his speed to receive 
 the homage of the citizens, who failed not to re- 
 mark those traces of recent agitation which he in 
 vain laboured to conceal, as he bent his head over 
 his saddle-bow, and pressing onwards, was soon 
 lost to their gaze.
 
 150 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 They hadna ridden in tiie bonnie green wood, 
 
 Na, not a mile, but barely ane, 
 When there came fifteen o* the boldest knights, 
 
 That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane. 
 
 But up then spoke the second knight, 
 
 I wat he spoke right boustouslie, 
 " Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright, 
 
 Or here the tane of us sliall die." 
 
 Erlinion, 
 
 He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And himself on a dapple grey. 
 With a bugelet horn hung down by his side. 
 
 And lightly they rode away. 
 
 Tfte Douglas Tragedy. 
 
 Let us now turn awhile from Sir John and his 
 companions, to trace the steps of the stranger 
 knight, who, loving Maude with deep and devoted 
 tenderness, had heard of her sudden disappearance 
 with grief and dismay. 
 
 He too kept up a hot pursuit of the fugitives, 
 and insensible to fatigue, thought not of rest or
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 151 
 
 shelter, till the trembling limbs and flagging 
 gait of his horse, reminded him of the distance he 
 had travelled. Compassionating the state of the 
 noble animal, the knight relaxed his speed, and 
 looked around for a place capable of affording re- 
 freshment and shelter for the night, which was 
 rapidly drawing on. The knight had now entered 
 a deep dell, where the elm, the mountain-ash, 
 Scottish pine, and holly, were beautifully mingled 
 with the willow, weeping birch, and arbutus, which 
 surmounted the precipices that rose on each side 
 of the narrow way, which seemed to be cut out of 
 the solid rock, or formed, perchance, by some great 
 convulsion of nature, which had rent asunder the 
 frowning mountains. 
 
 The knight looked anxiously round, but could 
 descry nought which betokened the vicinity of man. 
 Most gladly would he have welcomed the sight of 
 the smoke of a cottar's chimney, or the bark of the 
 shepherd's dog, but he saw nothing save wood and 
 sky, heard nothing but the shrill scream j)f the 
 plover, and the wind sighing through the pine-tree 
 tops. 
 
 " I'faith, Rayner," said the knight, stroking 
 gently the neck of his favourite courser, " I fear me 
 you and T must })e content to take up our quarters
 
 15S THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 in one of these deep caves wliicli yawn in the moun- 
 tain side ; and yet, I like it not, danger may lurk 
 in their dark recesses — no, no ; let us keep on in 
 the open way, and soon shall ample food and rest 
 reward your toil.'* 
 
 The knight then gently urged on his panting 
 horse, and had reached the entrance to the cavern, 
 which he was just ahout to pass, when a ruffian 
 rushed from it, and seizing his bridle rein with one 
 hand, and presenting his weapon with the other, 
 commanded him with oaths and execrations to sur- 
 render his gold. The knight, startled by the sud- 
 denness of the attack, paused for an instant, then 
 collecting his strength, he with one stroke of his 
 dagger severed the hand which grasped the bridle, 
 and the ruffian with a yell of despair, then fled 
 into the cavern. 
 
 " By mine honour," ejaculated the knight, " this 
 is an adventure I looked not for — Beshrew me," he 
 continued, on seeing some one stealing softly 
 through the coppice ; " beshrew me, but this seems 
 the devil's own den — villain, advance not on your 
 life." 
 
 The person thus addressed leapt boldly into the 
 road, and approaching the knight with an intrepid 
 step and fearless aspect, exclaimed, " Fear no harm
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 153 
 
 from me, sir kniglit ; I was accidentally passing this 
 way to my home when I saw you beset, and has- 
 tened to give you that aid which your own valour 
 has rendered unnecessary.*' 
 
 " You speak fair, my friend," replied the knight ; 
 " but how do I know that you are not a confede- 
 rate of the ruffian who has hied him to his bloody 
 lair ?" 
 
 " By this token," replied the man, " that I know 
 this mountain path so well, I could tread it blind- 
 fold, and that had I meditated evil tagainst you, I 
 would have chosen for my purpose a spot where 
 even your valour would not haveavailed you." 
 
 " And wherefore didst thou not meditate evil 
 against me ? You are of a race," he continued, as 
 he glanced at the swarthy cheek and dark flashing 
 eyes of the speaker, ** who are not over scrupulous 
 in helping themselves to other men's goods. Why, 
 I pray you, have I found so much favour in your 
 sight?" 
 
 " Why, but that I love your bold speech and un- 
 daunted mien. This blade," he added, suddenly 
 pulling a long knife from his bosom, " has let out 
 the base blood of a craven before now ; but you are 
 of better mettle — and yet I know not, in the fiend's
 
 154 THE THREF, KINGS. 
 
 name, wliy I should wish to spare you, for yon are 
 courtly in your mien though hlunt in speech, and 
 are perchance one of those empowered by the King 
 to hunt us through wood and glade, to deliver us 
 up to the tyranny of the Lord of Little Egypt." 
 
 " Aha," replied the knight, " then thou art one 
 of those gipsies who have disobeyed and deserted 
 their leader. *Twould be a good deed to deliver 
 you to him you are bound to obey." 
 
 " Meddle thou not in this matter," replied the 
 gipsy, " but rather look after thine own safety, 
 which is deeply periled by tarrying here. Know 
 you not that this cave communicates with a castle 
 up the glen, and which belongs to the lawless clan 
 of the Arrals, who lie in wait at the mouth of the 
 cave to rob and murder unwary travellers ?" 
 
 " By mine honour," exclaimed the knight, " 'tis 
 a foul blot on James of Scotland, that he roots not 
 out such a villainous brood; but perchance he knows 
 not of the deep misrule which prevails. I will carry 
 him this bloody token of the disorders which afflict 
 his subjects, and arouse him to redress their wrongs." 
 And the knight lifted up the still warm and bleed- 
 ing hand of the robber. 
 
 " Ride on then and that quickly," said the gip-
 
 THE TTIREF, KINGS. 155 
 
 sy, " before your assailant has time to bring down 
 his confederates from the castle." 
 
 " Faith," replied the knight, " I am a stranger 
 in these parts, and know not where to obtain shel- 
 ter. Canst help me, man ? for I will frankly trust 
 thee, despite of thy lawless life." 
 
 The gipsy answered promptly, " Swear to me 
 by the honour of a knight, that you will not betray 
 our place of concealment, and I will give you food 
 and shelter." 
 
 " I swear," said he, kissing the cross of his dag- 
 ger. 
 
 '* Then follow me," replied the gipsy, as he 
 preceded the knight with light and active steps. 
 
 In silent haste they traversed the glen, nor did 
 they slacken their pace till they penetrated into a 
 thick forest, where the tangled brushwood retard- 
 ed their steps, and almost arrested their progress. 
 
 The moon had not yet risen, and the faint star- 
 light scarce penetrated the gloomy forest, but the 
 gipsy boldly and fearlessly threaded the mazes 
 of the wood, the silence of which was unbroken 
 save by the crashingof the underwood, as theknight 
 forced his steed through the narrow path, and dived 
 deeper into the recesses of the wood. On a s^d- 
 den, the breeze brought to them sounds of mirth
 
 156 THE THREE KINGS, 
 
 and revelry, and Ihe knigJit, listening attentively, 
 lieard the following stanzas sung by a jovial, yet 
 rude and untutored voice : — 
 
 We live by day, we live by night, 
 We live by fraud, we live by light ; 
 The lightnings flash, the thunders roll, 
 But still we stir the flowing bowl ; 
 For what for hurricanes care we. 
 Who spend our lives right joyously, 
 Beneath the shade of greenwood tree ? 
 
 We meet our prey, we bid him stand : 
 He yields, — if not, we use our brand ; 
 He dies, we thrust him in a hole. 
 And then we stir the flowing bowl ; 
 For what's his death to such as we, 
 Who spend our lives right joyously, 
 Beneath the shade of greenwood tree ? 
 
 A comrade falls, or Carl or John, 
 We dig a trench, we plant a stone ; 
 We say good journey to his soul. 
 And then we stir the flowing bowl. 
 Of bug-bear death, how careless we, 
 Who spend our lives right joyously, 
 Beneath the shade of greenwood tree ! 
 
 By the close of the last stanza, the knight and 
 his guide had reached a small open glade; the 
 gipsy then desired the knight to alight, who, after 
 fastening his horse to a tree, followed his con-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 15T 
 
 ductor, who, forcing asunder some thick bushes, 
 discovered the entrance of a spacious cavern, 
 brightly illuminated by a blazing wood fire, whose 
 flickering light fell on a party of gipsies, who 
 seemed in deep carousal, and who welcomed with 
 loud shouts the return of their associate. 
 
 " A good song, by my faith," said the knight, 
 as he stept boldly into the cavern. On hearing 
 the voice of the stranger, the gipsies started to their 
 feet, and drawing their knives, glared upon him 
 with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Stand back, Nona Finco, stand back," said the 
 stranger's guide ; " put up your knife, Anteane 
 Donea, this bold youth has ventured here on the 
 faith of my word, and ye shall not touch a hair of 
 his head." 
 
 " Ye take too much upon ye, Demeo Matskal- 
 la," replied the first speaker ; " wherefore dost 
 thou betray our retreat to those who may give 
 James' bloodhounds the scent of our hiding-place ? 
 An I thought this springald were come to spy 
 our company, I would drive this through his base 
 heart." And the gipsy brandished his weapon. 
 The knight looked on him with an undaunted eye, 
 and the colour left not his cheek, even on seeing 
 the danger into which his rash confidence had be- 
 trayed him. He fearlessly and promptly replied.
 
 1^8 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " By my honour, friend, your secret is safe 
 with me — I am here a trespasser on your hospita- 
 lity for food and shelter, and far from me he the 
 base thought of requiting it with treachery. Away 
 with mistrust and doubt, pass the drinking horn, 
 and shout forth another stave of the merry song." 
 
 " You crow boldly," said Nona Finco, " but—" 
 
 " He does so," said Demeo Matskalla, " and well 
 he may, for my life is pledged for his safety ; he 
 rests here till dawn, and shall depart scatheless, 
 
 or " And a menacing gesture filled up the 
 
 pause. " How now," he continued, looking to a 
 dark corner of the cave, where lay a man enve- 
 loped in a large cloak, — " Whom have we here ?" 
 
 " A prisoner," replied the gipsy, " whom we 
 met near the forest. He was riding as if chased by 
 the devil ; we beset him, dragged him off his 
 horse, lightened him of his purse, and brought 
 him here to prevent him from giving an alarm. He 
 fought like an incarnate fiend, and so did his fol- 
 lower, to whom I gave a taste of my knife, that 
 sent him backwards over his horse. This has been 
 our employment, while you, in place of gaining 
 gold or provisions, bring hither benighted travel- 
 lers, forsooth, to eat up the little that is left." 
 
 " And eat he shall," replied his protector.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 159 
 
 " Clear thy brow, Nona, and let us make a merry 
 night of it, for we must shift quarters with the 
 dawn, before your bloody deed brings our enemies 
 here to drag us to the scaifold." 
 
 " Take thy own way," retorted Nona ; " but I 
 swear this shall be less than a mirthful night to 
 some of us ;" and the three gipsies suddenly left 
 the cavern. Demeo then placed some coarse pro- 
 visions before the knight, who cheerfully betook 
 himself to the repast. 
 
 "I have little to offer you," said the gipsy; 
 " our meals are few and scanty enough ; we, who 
 lead a wandering and unsettled life, must suffer 
 many hardships ; but that we live in freedom com- 
 pensates well for all." 
 
 " And by my troth," said the stranger, " I doubt 
 not you have your hours of mirth in a summer's 
 day under the greenwood tree ; faith, I like my- 
 self to wander uncontrolled save by my own hu- 
 mour. It is a pastime which has just danger 
 enough to give it some degree of interest. Small 
 thanks to Arral that I sit here in safety : I thought 
 that bold reiver harboured near Stirling." 
 
 " He does so commonly," replied the gipsy; 
 " but he has a fortalice up the glen, which he 
 visits from time to time, when he has any villainy 
 in hand, which 1 guess to be the case now."
 
 160 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 ** When came he here?'* 
 
 " Scarce twenty hours since, and he had an un- 
 willing traveller in his company, if one may judge 
 by her cries for help." 
 
 " What say you ?" eagerly said the knight, — 
 " heard you a woman's voice ?" 
 
 " Ay, that I did, but they quickly muffled up 
 her head, and I saw nought save the long fair hair 
 which streamed over her shoulder. She rode be- 
 tween Arral and his son ; but I knew by her sobs 
 she would rather have been laid in the deepest 
 pool of the Carron." 
 
 " Now, by the mass !" exclaimed the knight, 
 starting to his feet, " this can be no other than 
 Maude Buchanan. Heard you not that she has 
 been carried off from her father's hall, and, it was 
 believed, by the traitor Douglas, whom the King 
 has sworn to hang as high as Haman ? — and James 
 has also promised a purse of gold to him who re- 
 stores the damsel." 
 
 " How !" replied the gipsy ; " has that gene- 
 rous maiden fallen into ArraFs hands ? We must 
 hasten to her rescue; but the enterprise is not 
 without danger." 
 
 " Talk not to me of danger," returned the 
 knight; " I would peril both soul and body (o
 
 THK THREE KINGS. 161 
 
 rescue lier. Oh ! for twenty stout archers at my 
 back ; but we lack time to summon help. Stretch 
 thy invention, good Demeo, assist me to save the 
 lovely Maude, and when I hold her in safety in 
 my arms, I will double, ay triple, the reward 
 promised by the King. — Knowest thou of any in- 
 let to the castle ?" 
 
 *' There is one way,** answered the gipsy, " but 
 which is all but inaccessible to the foot of man." 
 
 *' In such a cause, methinks, I could scale a 
 precipice — Say on." 
 
 " In former times the castle was a place of great 
 strength, being built on a steep rock, and surround- 
 ed by a deep fosse. In the precipitous side of the 
 rock there was cut a secret stair, by which the in- 
 habitants of the castle could, when besieged, sup- 
 ply themselves with water from the rivulet below. 
 The castle is now scarcely habitable, and from 
 neglect, the stair is nearly filled up with earth. It 
 is by this way alone that we can hope to deliver 
 the lady, for the passage through the cave is 
 guarded by night and by day." 
 
 " In Heaven's name, let us essay the adventure. 
 I am ready to set forth on the instant." 
 
 " Nay," replied the gipsy, " that must not be ; 
 let us wait till the moon is up, we shall require 
 
 VOL, I. L
 
 162 THE TllllEE KINCSS. 
 
 her light to enable us to scale the ascent. But If 
 you have not a bold heart, an agile foot, and an 
 eye which can look unmoved on extreme peril, ye 
 lack what is necessary for accomplishing the ad- 
 venture." 
 
 " I shall let my actions answer for me," replied 
 the knight. 
 
 " Good," answered the gipsy. " Rest yourself 
 here, then, while I take food to your horse ; his ut- 
 most speed will be required to carry the lady out 
 of the reach of pursuit, should her flight be soon 
 discovered." 
 
 " I am not without hope of meeting other aid 
 also," said the knight. " But when we do gain an 
 entrance into the castle, how shall we discover the 
 part where the fair damsel is confined ?" 
 
 " Faith," replied the gipsy, " we must e'en 
 trust to chance for that — however, this much I 
 know, that it is the western side alone which is 
 habitable ; and there we must direct our search." 
 
 " We waste time," replied the knight ; " hie ye 
 on your mission, and let the thoughts of the rich 
 reward awaiting you, stimulate your courage." 
 
 The gipsy departed, and the knight, impatient 
 of delay, began hastily to pace the spacious cavern, 
 through which the half-consumed brands shed a
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 163 
 
 dim and fitful light, which glanced on the jewelled 
 dagger and silver- tipped bugelet liorn of the stran- 
 ger. The richness of the jewels having excited the 
 cupidity of the three other gipsies who had oppo- 
 sed his reception into the cavern, they seized the 
 opportunity of Demeo's absence to plunder their 
 unsuspecting guest, and rushing into the cave, two 
 of them threw themselves on the knight and point- 
 ed their knives at his breast, while the third snatch- 
 ed the dagger from his belt, and then endeavoured 
 to detach the hunting-horn from his neck. The 
 knight struggled fiercely with his assailants, and 
 getting one hand at liberty, with a single blow he 
 stretched one of the gipsies on the ground, where 
 he lay without sense or motion. 
 
 " Stab him, cut his weazand !" shouted the gip- 
 sies, and the stranger believed his last hour was 
 come. 
 
 At this instant, the person who had been recli- 
 ning in a corner of the cave seemingly unconscious 
 of all that was passing, suddenly sprung up, and 
 seizing one of the gipsies in his powerful grasp, 
 hurled him to the earth — the gipsy aimed a blow 
 with his knife — his antagonist snatched up the 
 dagger of the knight which lay near him, and 
 drove it up to its hilt into the heart of the robber>
 
 164- THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 when seeing the stranger deprived of his arms and 
 ahout to fall a sacrifice to the fury of the other as- 
 sassin, he hastily drew out the dagger, and the 
 blood spouted up, and stained with crimson spots 
 the roof of the cave. At this sight, the gipsy 
 who still struggled with the knight, suddenly re- 
 linquished the combat, and fled from the cavern. 
 
 " Generous stranger !" said the knight, with 
 warmth, " but for your timely aid I would have 
 fallen in an ignoble combat ; for this, accept my 
 thanks, and I trust the time will come when I 
 shall be able to prove my gratitude by something 
 more than empty words ; but we are surrounded 
 by treachery, and have scarce light to distinguish 
 friend from foe;" and the knight stirred the slug- 
 gish brands till the red blaze burst forth, and illu- 
 minating every part of the cavern, gave to view 
 his preserver gazing on him with eyes which spark- 
 led with resentful fire, while a deep glow of in- 
 dignation suffused his cheek and brow. 
 
 " How !" exclaimed the knight, starting in min- 
 gled anger and surprise ; " am I so unhappy as to 
 owe my life to thee f* 
 
 " Let not that disturb you," replied Lord Wil- 
 liam ; " I am ready to obliterate the obligation at 
 the sword's point, unless you relinquish instantly
 
 THE TFIRKE KINGS. 165 
 
 your base designs on Maude Buchanan, and swear 
 never to see her more.'* 
 
 " Now, by our Lady," exclaimed the knight, 
 '' 'twould foully stain mine honour, were I to cease 
 to press my love-suit to the damsel at thy com- 
 mand. I tell thee frankly, I love Maude Buchanan, 
 and will win her love or die !" 
 
 " Die, then !" exclaimed Douglas, rushing for- 
 ward as he spoke. 
 
 " Stay thy hand, Douglas," said the knight, 
 *' and listen to me — Our hearts are full of hatred 
 and revenge — one of us must fall — but let not a 
 robber's cave be the scene of our death-strife — Fol- 
 low me to the greenwood glade, where we shall 
 find a more fitting place for our mortal combat, 
 and there shall one of us breathe his last sigh un- 
 der the canopy of heaven, and moisten the turf 
 with his blood." 
 
 " Be it so," replied Douglas, as he followed the 
 knight, who, after possessing himself of his wea- 
 pons, pressed hastily on, the tangled brake crash- 
 ing at every tread. 
 
 In a brief space Douglas and the knight reached 
 a scene which might have inspired feelings of gen- 
 tleness and peace in any breasts but those which 
 were so soon to be opposed in deadly strife. They
 
 160 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 stood in the midst of a mossy dell embosomed in 
 the wood, where the flexible birch, the golden la- 
 burnum, and the drooping willow, seemed to twine 
 together their luxuriant branches to bar all passage 
 to creatures of this earth, and to preserve the turfy 
 amphitheatre for those fairy beings, whose tiny 
 feet had traced innumerable circles on the daisied 
 sward of this their favourite haunt. Around this 
 spot of tranquil beauty, rose gently swelling hills, 
 clothed to their summit with verdant wood, from 
 whose deepest recesses issued the wailing note of 
 the wood-pigeon, and the melancholy hooting of 
 the owl. The silver moon now appeared, pursu- 
 ing in silent majesty her path through the clear 
 blue heavens; and the wavy birch and tremulous 
 aspin, stirred by the night breeze, quivered and 
 danced in her bright beams, and threw on the 
 flowery turf an ever-changing picture of radiant 
 beauty. 
 
 As the knight gazed on the sweet sequestered 
 spot, something perchance of the softness of the 
 scene, stole over his mind, and his tone had in it 
 less of pride and command, as he turned to Dou- 
 glas, and said, " Why will you force me to raise 
 my hand against one, who, at the risk of his own 
 life, has saved mine? Let us part here — Choose
 
 THE THREE KINOj<. 16T 
 
 your own path, and go in peace and safety ; you 
 have nothing to fear from me." 
 
 " Fear /'* retorted Lord William, with scorn ; 
 " it is for the foes of Douglas to fear. Though 
 exiled and proscribed, they yet have power to re- 
 press injustice and revenge injury. Yet if you 
 scruple to wrong me in my love, to inflict on me 
 a cureless wound, I forgive your meditated base- 
 ness." 
 
 " How !" exclaimed the knight, striking violent- 
 ly the hilt of his dagger — " Forgive — baseness !" 
 — -He paused on a sudden, as the trampling of 
 horses' feet was heard. — " If it should be so — " 
 He raised his bugelet-horn to his lips, sounded 
 three distinct notes, and the next instant half a 
 score of huntsmen, armed with bow and blade, 
 burst through the trees, and the fiery hoofs of their 
 mettled steeds quickly laid waste the perfumed or- 
 naments of the glade. 
 
 " How now, my masters ?" said the knight, as 
 the horsemen drew around him — " You have tar- 
 ried long. Faith, I have found in this sylvan spot 
 more game than ye wot of." 
 
 " We lost your track," replied one of the horse- 
 men, " and have wandered " 
 
 " Nay, stay not for ex])lanation ; but "
 
 188 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 Her« the knight wliispered a few words to his 
 companion, who passed the order to the rest ; and 
 while three of the horsemen remained by the 
 knight, the others, rushing on Douglas, disarmed 
 him ; and forcing him to mount on horseback, in 
 another instant they and their struggling captive 
 disappeared from view. The knight as quickly 
 left the vale ; and desiring the huntsmen to follow 
 him, he sought the gipsy, whom he found near 
 where his steed v/as resting from its toils. 
 
 " Who are these ?' said the gipsy, bending an 
 angry scowl on the new associates of the knight. 
 
 " Only brother sportsmen," he replied ; " but 
 they crave a share in our adventure. We shall not 
 need their aid to release the fair damsel ; but they 
 may be useful should we be surprised and attack- 
 ed in our retreat. Lead on, my friend, and let 
 the splendid guerdon you are about to merit, in- 
 spire you with unconquerable courage." 
 
 " Forward, then," said the gipsy; and the knight, 
 vaulting lightly on his steed, followed his conduct- 
 or through the mazes of the wood. 
 
 On arriving near the cave where Arral, or one 
 of his band, had rushed out to attack the knight, 
 the party trod softly, and preserved a perfect si- 
 lence, but no one appeared to intercept their pro-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 169 
 
 gress; and hailing the happy omen, the knight 
 and his companion pressed onward with renovated 
 hopes. As they wound on, the way became more 
 steep at every step, and at intervals their passage 
 was nearly barred by large fragments of rock, 
 which, torn perhaps from the overhanging moun- 
 tains, by some winter tempest, and hurled from 
 above, lay in enormous masses on the narrow path. 
 These difficulties, however, were no sooner en- 
 countered than overcome ; and the party undaunt- 
 edly pressed forward, till, skirting the hill, a sud- 
 den turn brought the fortress full in view. The 
 knight reined up his horse, and gazed on the mag- 
 nificent scene. 
 
 On a wild, rugged, and almost inaccessible rock^ 
 stood the castle, which, grand even in decay, rear- 
 ed proudly its time-worn battlements against the 
 sky. A vast amphitheatre of wild and desolate 
 hills rose immediately behind the castle, and form- 
 ing a magnificent skreen, appeared to close round, 
 and to guard the abode of some powerful enchanter, 
 who from thence could summon the spirits of the 
 wood and of the fell to obey his unhallowed man- 
 dates. 
 
 But this was no time for the indulgence of fiin- 
 ciful reveries ; and the knight, springing from his
 
 170 THE TIf«EE KINGS. 
 
 liorsc, and tlirowing tlie rein to tlic huntsmen, 
 wliom he ordered to remain helow, began the pe- 
 rilous ascent. To attempt the less steep, but guard- 
 ed entrance, the knight knew would be a wanton 
 and useless sacrifice of life ; it was, therefore, ne- 
 cessary to direct his efforts to gain an entrance by 
 that side of the castle which its inmates deemed 
 better guarded by its precipitous cliifs, than if 
 watched by warder. 
 
 The knight paused but to examine his weapons, 
 and then, followed by the gipsy, began the steej) 
 ascent. Toilsome and slow was his progress. The 
 steps, which were cut in the face of the cliff, had 
 never been deep, and now were almost choked up 
 with earth. But the difficulty and danger of the 
 enterprise only stimulated the ardour of the knight, 
 who, with a light but firm foot, pressed steadily on, 
 clutching at times at the ivy which shagged the 
 precipice, from the crevices of which the perfumed 
 violet peeped out, and the wild rose sent forth her 
 buds of beauty. The noise of his ascent disturbed 
 innumerable daws and kites, which, issuing from 
 their nests in the fissures of the rock, wheeled 
 round the bold intruder on their haunts, and fill- 
 ed the air with their complaints. 
 
 " But I shall not be your prey," muttered the
 
 THE THREE KINGS. Itl 
 
 knight ; " and yet a step missed, a broken brancli, 
 and I lie in the ravine a mangled corse. But some- 
 thing within tells me it shall not be so." 
 
 ' And the knight spoke not again, looked not 
 around, till he stood in safety under the crumbling 
 and broken wall of the castle. The knight remained 
 motionless for a brief space, and drew a long and 
 deep breath ; but a slight shudder ran through his 
 frame as he looked down the dark precipice, and 
 thought that he must retrace the dangerous way. 
 But the recollection of the beautiful Maude infu- 
 sed new courage into his ardent soul, and he men- 
 tally vowed to save her, or perish in the attempt. 
 In an instant he vaulted over the wall, which on 
 this side was low ; and stealing softly along, re- 
 connoitred the castle, where all seemed buried in 
 profound repose. Not a sound was heard, not a 
 light was seen, in the gloomy edifice, which seemed 
 to be a fitting habitation only for the daw and the 
 owl. The knight cautiously proceeded onwards, 
 till he stood beneath a low grated window. He list« 
 ened attentively, but all was silent as the grave. He 
 passed to another, — the same stillness reigned ; to 
 a third, and here he caught the sound of coarse 
 revelry. Its inmates seemed to be rejoicing over 
 the success of some exploit ; and what it was that
 
 1T2 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 called forth their shouts of rude merriment, the 
 knight too well knew ; and his anxiety to deliver 
 the loved maiden from such rough associates, deep- 
 ened with every passing moment. The gipsy had 
 declared this to be the only habitable part of the 
 castle ; and the knight had lingered beneath each 
 window, yet had failed to discover any sight or 
 sound to guide his search. He hastily retraced 
 his steps to the window which had first attracted 
 his attention. 
 
 " This may be the silence of despair," said the 
 knight ; and placing himself under the casement, 
 softly pronounced her name. A faint shriek was 
 the answer. In a tumult of joy the knight again 
 whispered, " Maude, dearest Maude !" 
 
 " Heavenly powers, who calls ?" and Maude 
 herself, pale as the virgin lily, her eyes filled with 
 tears, her fair hair hanging loose and dishevelled, 
 stood at the grated window. On perceiving the 
 knight, a suppressed cry burst from her lips. 
 
 " Oh, welcome sight !" exclaimed Maude, as she 
 passed her hand between the bars. " Welcome, a 
 thousand times welcome, generous stranger ! Al- 
 ready do I feel myself in safety. Oh, take me from 
 this hateful place !" 
 
 " For that purpose alone did I come hither,
 
 THE THREE KINGS. ITS 
 
 dearest Maude," replied the knight ; " but the 
 manner of your escape is not without danger." 
 
 " I will brave danger in any shape but that of 
 remaining here." 
 
 " This, then, must be the first step towards 
 your deliverance," said the knight, as he essayed 
 to remove the grating from the window. 
 
 Happily, for the fair prisoner, the mirth of her 
 jailors becoming every instant more and more 
 boisterous, completely drowned the noise made by 
 her deliverer, as, with a powerful grasp, he wrench- 
 ed the grating from the window, and in another 
 instant received Maude in his arms. 
 
 " Lead on," said Maude, in breathless terror, as 
 her ear caught the loud laugh of Arral, and his 
 ruffian band. 
 
 " I have discovered a secret passage," replied the 
 knight ; " but as it is somewhat steep, its appear- 
 ance may startle you. Let me place this bandage 
 over your eyes— nay, do not deny me — our safety 
 requires it." 
 
 Maude yielded, and the knight, throwing his 
 arms round her, supported her to the edge of the 
 cliff. Here he paused an instant, breathed a short 
 prayer, then commending his precious burden to 
 Heaven, he pressed her more closely to his breast,
 
 174- THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 and began the fearful descent. But bold as he 
 was, even he dared not to cast his eyes downwards 
 from his dizzy height, but kept his eyes resolute- 
 ly fixed on the broken steps. One by one they 
 are passed, and in a brief space Maude and her 
 generous preserver stood in safety at the foot of 
 the savage rock. 
 
 " You are safe, dear Maude — you are safe !'' 
 exclaimed the knight, in a transport of joy. 
 
 Maude tore the bandage from her eyes, and 
 looked around. " Where are we ? — how came 
 we here ?" 
 
 " We are beyond the precincts of the castle," 
 replied the knight ; " and as to our way, look 
 there.*' 
 
 Maude's eyes followed his glance, and as she 
 looked on the scene of their late fearful peril, a 
 cold shudder ran through her frame. The hunts- 
 men and gipsy, who had watched their descent 
 with intense interest, now crowded round them ; 
 but the knight was too much occupied with Maude 
 to attend to their congratulations ; and yielding to 
 her eagerness to hasten from the place before their 
 flight could be discovered, the party quickly mount- 
 ed, and rapidly pursued their journey. 
 
 When day began to break, the knight with con-
 
 THE THREE KINGS. IT5 
 
 cern observed that Maude was so wholly exhaust- 
 ed as to be scarce able to hold the reins of her 
 horse ; and he looked anxiously round for a place 
 of shelter. They had now wound high up among 
 bleak and barren hills, where human habitation 
 there was none, save a shepherd's sheiling, perch- 
 ed on a rocky cliff, and to this they directed their 
 steps. But no one was within, its solitary inmate 
 having led forth his flock while the dews of night 
 yet gemmed the blooming heather. The knight 
 lifted Maude from her horse, carried her into the 
 hut, where happily they found a store of milk and 
 brown bread, which served to recruit their droop- 
 ing strength. 
 
 With brotherly kindness did the knight tend on 
 Maude, watching her every look and word ; and 
 seeing how much she stood in need of rest, he 
 withdrew, and throwing himself on the turf at the 
 door of the hut, he was soon buried in profound 
 repose. 
 
 After a lapse of some hours, he was awakened 
 by the bright rays of an unclouded sun, when, 
 starting from his heathery bed, he aroused the 
 huntsmen, and taking two of them apart, held a 
 short converse ; immediately after which, the gal- 
 lant sportsmen mounted their horses, and rode off
 
 176 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 by different ways. The noise of their departure 
 having broken Maude's deep slumber, she arose, 
 and hastily left the hut, at the door of which she 
 was met by the knight, who rejoiced to see that 
 the languor and paleness which had overspread 
 her countenance had now given place to a vivid 
 glow, and the gratitude which beamed from her 
 beautiful eyes repaid him a thousand fold for the 
 dangers which for her sake he had braved. The 
 knight and his fair companion were soon mount- 
 ed; one huntsman and the gipsy only attended 
 them ; but as they were now so far from ArraVs 
 stronghold, they dismissed all fear of pursuit, and 
 after leaving a piece of gold for their unknown 
 host, rode leisurely on, through an ever-varying 
 scene of fertile strath and barren hill. 
 
 Impressed with tlie liveliest gratitude towards 
 lier preserver, Maude expressed her feelings with 
 animation and vivacity ; and as the knight gazed 
 on her speaking countenance, his dark blue eye 
 sparkled with brighter lustre. But some internal 
 feeling seemed to check the expression of that ad- 
 miration and love which he in vain endeavoured 
 to conceal. 
 
 " There is yet one thing you must do for me,'* 
 
 said Maude. 
 
 10 -
 
 THE THREE KINGS. '^^'^^ 
 
 w 
 
 ** Name it, sweet maiden," he replied. 
 
 " Carry me to my father." 
 
 " By the honour of a knight, I swear that we 
 are journeying now to him. I have certain infor- 
 mation that he has joined the King at Athole, 
 where James is now enjoying the amusements of 
 the chase. Thither my duty calls me also ; and 
 there will you meet with one, in whose heart your 
 loved image reigns." 
 
 " No," answered Maude, deeply sighing ; " that 
 cannot be. He whom I love will not be found in 
 the courtly circle which surrounds our Monarch. 
 Yet James's kingly halls hold not a more noble 
 youth than he whom a hard fate forces to wander 
 unhoused, and pillow his head beneath the green- 
 wood tree. Yet never, even while the star of his 
 princely house shone brightest, did I love him 
 with that devoted love which now fills my heart." 
 " By mine honour," said the knight, " the man 
 who can excite such tenderness in a heart like 
 yours, sweet Maude, cannot be destitute of merit. 
 His is a fate which kings might envy." And tlie 
 knight sighed heavily. 
 
 VOL. T, m
 
 1T8 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Mar. Confusion seize the knave ! Darest thou call me traitor ? 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 They have lighted frae their milk-white steeds, 
 And saftly enter'd in. 
 
 Bone the Red and IMiile Lily. 
 
 Let us now return to the Knight of Arn prior, 
 who, eagerly bent on the recovery of his daughter, 
 spared neither man nor horse in the hot pursuit. 
 With considerable difficulty did Cassilis succeed in 
 persuading him to allow the archers to stop occa- 
 sionally for rest and refreshment. This indulgence 
 he granted as seldom as possible ; and unable t6 
 curb his impatience, would startle them from their 
 brief slumber, with the cry of " To horse ! to 
 horse, and away !" 
 
 But speedily as he travelled, his journey was 
 little more than half completed, when the whole 
 troop made a sudden stop.
 
 THE THREE KINGS, 179 
 
 « What halt ye for, ye knaves ?'^ exclaimed the 
 knight. 
 
 *» Be not so hasty, Sir John," said Cassilis. 
 " See you not that horseman coming down the hill 
 at speed, making signals for us to stop? Mark 
 you how he spurs his panting horse." 
 
 " Let him spur on," retorted the knight. '^ I 
 see not why we must lag for him; if he wants 
 speech of us, let him overtake us. On, archers, 
 on!" 
 
 *' Nay," replied Cassilis, " wait but a few mo- 
 ments, and when once we set forward, I promise 
 you we shall make up for lost time. By my faith, 
 the horseman is no other than Lord Rothes, and 
 he rides as if on a matter of life and death. — How 
 now, my lord ?" continued Cassilis, as the Earl 
 checked his foaming steed. " Wherefore this 
 haste ? — I trust you bear no ill tidings." 
 
 " My mission is a painful one," replied Lord 
 Rothes. " I bear the King's command to arrest 
 Sir John Buchanan on a charge of high treason, 
 and to bring him instantly before his Grace." 
 
 " Now, by the mass," shouted Sir John, " I 
 shall cleave to the saddle-bow the man who dares 
 to call me traitor." And he rushed on Lord 
 Rothes sword in hand.
 
 180 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " Nay," cried Cassilis, throwing himself be- 
 tween them ; " put up your sword, Sir John, If 
 Lord Rothes is acting by our King's commands, 
 myself and my archers must aid him in the exe- 
 cution of his duty ; but we will examine into his 
 credentials. — My Lord of Rothes, please you to 
 give us some testimonials that his Grace has 
 charged you with this mission." 
 
 " This must witness for me," replied Rothes, 
 putting a ring into Cassilis* hand. 
 
 " The King's signet," said Cassilis, with a trou- 
 bled look, 
 
 " Even so," replied Rothes ; *' and I charge ye 
 all, in his name, to aid me in securing the Knight 
 of Arnprior. His Grace's commands are peremp- 
 tory, that he be carried instantly before him." 
 
 " Now, by Heavens !" cried Sir John, " I will 
 smite to death the first man who dares to lay 
 hands on me. What ! think ye to stop a father on 
 such an errand as mine ? — Back, I say — back, on 
 your lives !" 
 
 " Sir John," said Lord Rothes, " I am commis- 
 sioned by the King to tell you, that in this matter 
 Lord William Douglas has been unjustly suspect- 
 ed ; the Lady Maude is not within the walls of 
 Tantallon Castle."
 
 m^ THREE KINGS. 181 
 
 " You lie in your throat !" cried Sir John, trans- 
 ported by passion, and aiming a blow at Rothes. 
 
 " Now," exclaimed Rothes, " were it not for 
 your grey hairs, for that word I would slay you 
 where you stand." 
 
 " Rothes," said Cassilis, interposing, " forgive 
 him ; he knows not what he says ; the loss of his 
 daughter has nearly distracted him." 
 
 " You speak truly," replied Rothes; " and 
 therefore will I forget his injurious words. — Yield 
 thee, then. Sir John. Time presses, and we must 
 hasten to the King." 
 
 " Ye may return as ye came, Rothes," said Sir 
 John ; " but for me, I will not abandon the search 
 for Maude at the command either of king or kai- 
 ser. But hark ye ; tell James from me, that when 
 I have found my daughter I will seek his €Ourt, 
 and proclaim there that the man who calls me 
 traitor, lies most foully, were it the King himself 
 who said it. — Now take your way, gallants, and 
 I will take mine." And the knight turned his 
 horse's head. 
 
 " Nay," said Rothes, ^* this must not be. Arch- 
 ers, do your duty !" 
 
 " Stir not, at your peril !" exclaimed Sir John, 
 brandishing his sword. But his resistance was
 
 182 Tilli THREE KINGS. 
 
 vain. The archers closed round him, and dex- 
 terously parrying the blows which he dealt with 
 unsparing hand, deprived him of his weapon, and 
 placing him in the midst of the troop, the whole 
 party set off at a round pace. 
 
 Meanwhile Maude and her gallant preserver 
 were journeying on, stopping occasionally at some 
 lone dwelling to rest their wearied steeds. The 
 sun had long since sunk behind the hills, but the 
 rays of the pale moon lighted their path, and shed 
 a mild radiance on the scene. The savage subli- 
 mity of the country through which they passed had 
 often called forth the admiration of the travellers 
 as they wound up rocky defiles, where hill rising 
 above hill, seemed to oppose their progress : or 
 while they trod some mountain pass, known per- 
 haps only to the bold hunter or fearless shepherd. 
 But on reaching the summit of a steep hill, a scene 
 of surpassing loveliness burst on their sight. From 
 the height on which they stood, the travellers look- 
 ed down upon an extensive vale, rich in wood and 
 stream. In the midst of the plain was seen a state- 
 ly palace, which seemed reared for the sylvan deity 
 of the place. This fair dwelling was spacious and 
 lofty — at every corner arose a high tower. There 
 lacked not bartizan or fosse, drawbridge and port-
 
 THfi THREE KINGS. 183 
 
 cullis ; but these warlike appearances seemed to be 
 assumed but in sport, and more in character with 
 the peaceful scene were the lovely green birks witli 
 which every part of this sylvan palace was en- 
 twined. 
 
 " Here ends our journey, fair Maude," said the 
 knight ; " and here, I trust, will commence a hap- 
 piness which I hope will never cease but with your 
 life. In the palace before us, James holds his 
 court. Permit that I ride on to secure you fitting 
 welcome. I would not that you should be seen by 
 the King or any of his youthful nobles, till I have 
 prepared them to render due respect to the love- 
 liest of her sex. This gallant huntsman will guide 
 you to the palace — our good friend Demeo, too, 
 will remain to guard you. Farewellj we shall soon 
 meet again." 
 
 " Farewell," answered Maude, as the knight, 
 bending to his saddle-bow, struck spurs into his 
 horse, and passed swiftly on; while Maude and 
 her attendants pursued more leisurely his track. 
 Maude attentively watched the progress of the 
 knight ; nor could she refuse her admiration to his 
 graceful form and gallant bearing, as he swept 
 across the plain. As he approached the palace, he 
 raised his bugelet-horn, and at the sound the draw-
 
 184 THE THREE KIKGS. 
 
 bridge was instantly lowered, the gates flew open, 
 and the hounds yelled loud and long. 
 
 In silence Maude rode through the rich strath, 
 clothed with ancient wood. She also reached the 
 drawbridge which still remained lowered, and the 
 gate open. Her conductor, with an air of deep re- 
 spect, took the rein of her palfrey, and led her into 
 the court of the palace. Confused by the blaze of 
 torches, and bewildered by the singularity of her 
 situation, Maude drew her silk hood close over her 
 face, and followed her conductors ; nor did she once 
 raise her eyes till she found herself alone in an 
 apartment apparently prepared for her reception. 
 The walls were hung with the finest tapestry ; the 
 floor was covered with scarets, medwarts, and 
 flowers, forming a rich and fragrant carpet, from 
 which Maude's light step pressed out the sweetest 
 perfume. Fatigued and exhausted by the violent 
 emotions she had so recently experienced, Maude 
 sunk on a couch, from which in the next moment 
 she started up in joyful amazement to throw her- 
 self into the arms of Lady Dorothea, who hastily 
 entered the room, followed by the faithful Eppie. 
 
 ** Maude, dearest Maude, how much you have 
 suffered since we parted ! — You look pale, dearest 
 cousin. — Tell me by what magic you are restored
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 185 
 
 to US — How did you escape from Arral and his 
 odious crew ?" 
 
 Before, however, Maude could reply, Eppie in- 
 terrupted the discourse. " Gude guide and pre- 
 serve us a' ! How muckle we hae to be thankfu* 
 for. May the muckle deil take that wild reiver, 
 Arral, that I should ban. If the King doesna hang 
 him up in a tow, he'll no be worth a bodle — Hech 
 sirs, I'm like to greet — my heart's sair to see you 
 sae disjasket, and your bonny hair, that used to be 
 like threads o' goold, a' tangled that gate, and your 
 bonnie blue een looking sae drumly and dowie.'* 
 
 " Never fear, Eppie," said Lady Dorothea, " but 
 your lady's eyes and tresses will shine again in all 
 their lustre. Now, dear coz, I beseech you to re- 
 late your adventures. I die with curiosity to knoW 
 who is the enchanter, who, by a stroke of his wand, 
 has brought you here." 
 
 " Nay," answered Maude, " tell me first, how 
 and why you came hither ?" 
 
 " For the how," replied Lady Dorothea, " I 
 rode your pretty palfrey ; — the why will cost me 
 more words. I will not vex you by describing our 
 grief and consternation at your disappearance, nor 
 the rage of Sir John, who instantly set out in pur- 
 suit of his runaway daughter, leaving poor Eppie
 
 186 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 and mc to wander through the castle, weeping and 
 lamenting your loss. Ah ! how I wished to be a 
 man, that I might arm myself with sword and dag- 
 ger, and ride in chase of the miscreants. You will 
 easily imagine with what joy I welcomed the Mas- 
 ter of Erskine, and listened to his exculpation of 
 the crime I was so unjust as to charge him with. 
 His explanation was brief, and he hurried away 
 to raise his people to pursue the daring villains 
 who had carried you off; and I presume he is 
 still engaged in this bootless chase. After he left 
 us, many hours passed heavily away. No tidings 
 reached us — not a soul approached the castle, and 
 I was on the point of giving way to despair, when 
 lo ! the gallant Master of Kilmaurs broke in on 
 my solitude, bearing the joyful tidings of your 
 safety, and an order to travel hither without de- 
 lay, I forthwith summoned Eppie and Simon to 
 attend me. Kilmaurs rode at my saddle bow, and 
 here I am." 
 
 " This is a singular affair. Did you not try to 
 learn from the Master of Kilmaurs how he knew 
 of my being rescued from Arral ?" 
 
 " In sooth, dear coz, I tried every means to 
 draw the secret from him. I smiled, frowned, 
 coaxed, and threatened by turns, but in vain;
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 18TI 
 
 he either could not, or would not tell me more 
 than that you were in safety. On arriving here, 
 I was placed under the care of Lady Athole, who 
 conducted me to a splendid chamber, where I was 
 served with every refreshment. Nothing, how- 
 ever, could be extracted from her stately ladyship, 
 so I was forced to be contented with her promise 
 that I should be taken to you the instant you 
 arrived. But now for your adventures, fair coz." 
 
 Maude hastened to gratify the curiosity of her 
 auditors, and as she proceeded in her narrative, 
 many were their exclamations of wonder and Sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " It is most provoking, dear Maude," said Lady 
 Dorothea, *' that you do not know the name of 
 your deliverer.*' 
 
 " It will gang hard wi* me," exclaimed Eppie, 
 " if I dinna find him out. Could ye no gie me a 
 notion, my lady, what like he is ?" 
 
 " Have you forgotten, Eppie," said Maude, " the 
 handsome stranger who sought shelter at your fa- 
 ther's cottage the night I met Lord William there?" 
 
 '' Gude safe us ! is't him? My certie, he was 
 as weel-faured a loon as a body would wish to see 
 in a summer's day, and heartsome and blythc be- 
 sides. Take my vvord for it, I'll find him out, if
 
 VSS THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 he harbours about this place. For, though Mr 
 Robin Powfowls bids me gang and sit in my 
 lady's chamber, and he would send up a' sorts o* 
 delicates, Vm never gaun to mind him, and will 
 soon slip awa down amang the serving-men, and 
 hear their cracks. There's an unco feck o' lords 
 and ladies here, forbye their ser\itors. There's 
 the Lord Rothes has, they say, nae less than fifty 
 men ruffling in his livery ; and liOrd Argyll, his 
 men are past counting ; and " 
 
 " Come, Eppie," said Lady Dorothea, " you 
 must postpone this enumeration till some more 
 fitting season. Your lady stands much in need of 
 repose." 
 
 " That's weel thought o'," responded Eppie, 
 who hung over her young mistress with warm 
 affection ; " a gude sound sleep and a sack posset 
 will no be amiss — and I'll gang this minute and 
 make Mr Robert Powfowls gie me some o' the 
 fine things that he has such walth o' in the but- 
 tery ;" — and away went Eppie. 
 
 " Let us see where this door leads to," said 
 Lady Dorothea, opening a door at the extremity 
 of the chamber. ** Come hither, Maude. — Look," 
 continued she, as Maude obeyed her call — " look 
 what splendour is here ! Beshrew mc, coz, but you
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 189 
 
 have some powerful friend in this sylvan palace. 
 Damask bed-hangings, pillows of scarlet broad- 
 cloth, coverlet tawney velvet. Why, Maude, you 
 have a princely chamber to rest in." 
 
 " Speak not to me of rest," replied Maude-; 
 " my heart is sad, dear Dorothea, when I think 
 what my father and Lord William are now suffer- 
 ing from uncertainty of my fate,'* 
 
 " But," asked Lady Dorothea, " did not your 
 gallant deliverer say that you would meet your fa- 
 ther here ?" 
 
 " He did, and surely he could not mean to de- 
 ceive ; he seemed to speak with sincerity and truth. 
 Yet, if my father is here, why am I not taken to 
 him ? — wherefore all this secrecy and mystery ?" 
 
 " For that I can render you no reason," replied 
 Lady Dorothea ; " but my heart tells me all will be 
 well. Cheer up, dear Maude ; bethink you that we 
 shall probably mingle with the gay circle here. 
 The King, they say, is hourly expected, and a 
 bevy of noble barons and knights are already as- 
 sembled to wait his coming. Who knows what 
 havock your charms and mine may make among 
 them ? but perhaps you are content with the ho- 
 mage of your unknown preserver. Ah, Maude ! 
 I fear me that a ray from his bright blue eye has 
 pierced your fickle heart."
 
 190 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 " No," said Maude ; " my brave deliverer has 
 my esteem, my warmest gratitude, but no love, 
 dear cousin." 
 
 " Well, well ; we shall not argue the point. 
 Get you to bed, and rest that drooping head." 
 
 *' I will," replied Maude, " if you will agree to 
 share my apartment." 
 
 " With all my heart. I have no objection to 
 participate in the enjoyments which your good ge- 
 nius has provided for you. — Look, Maude, I vow 
 this cabinet is filled with costly female attire ! 
 Your faithful sprite performs his part well. But 
 here comes Eppie, and apparently full, of news." 
 
 " Indeed," said Eppie, " your ladyship is no far 
 wrang ; for I fell in wi' a young chiel I kent lang 
 syne. He's now a follower o' the Lord Eglin- 
 toun, and we got unco thick cracking about auld 
 stories ; so I described the stranger that took you 
 out o' Arral's hands, and he's positive sure it can 
 be no other than the Lord Lyle ; ' for,' says he, 
 * Eppie, there's no a mair gallant youth among the 
 nobles. He lives mostly on his saddle, or roams 
 about wi' hawk and hound ; he has ablythe smile, 
 but a glozing tongue, so take tent o' him.' And 
 besides a' this, he came here no mony hours ago ; 
 so ye sec, ray lady, it maun just be him ; but I
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 191 
 
 doubt there's little chance o' my seeing him, for I 
 met Mr Robin Powfowls, and he was unco ill 
 pleased to see me, and said I was on no account 
 to roam through the gallery, for he had got strict 
 orders to see that we got everything we wanted ; 
 and he was just coming up wi* a' kinds o* delicates 
 for my lady. Indeed, for that matter, he's at the 
 back o' the door wi' a server fu* o' capon and man- 
 chets, forby muscadel, and gude kens what a'. Til 
 bring it here in a minute." 
 
 Eppie soon returned, and Maude having parta- 
 ken of some refreshment, retired to rest; and soon 
 after, to the great joy of Lady Dorothea and Eppie^ 
 she fell into a profound slumber*
 
 192 THE THTIUE KING-S. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ** One boon I crave." — " Speak freely out." 
 
 " One only boon crave I : 
 Strike off the young Earl's chains ; about 
 
 Thy gold I do not sigh." 
 " If so the Earl's life touches thee, 
 
 Thy voice hath earn'd it well ; 
 To freedom's light restored, shall he 
 
 To thee his glad thanks tell." 
 
 Swedish Popular Poetry, 
 
 The rays of a brilliant sun darting into the 
 chamber, the tread of many feet passing through 
 the corridor, the baying and yelling of the hounds, 
 and the noise and bustle consequent on the pre- 
 parations for, the chase, quickly aroused our fair 
 heroines from their repose. Eppie was delighted 
 at being once more employed in arranging the 
 sunny tresses of her young mistress ; and spread- 
 ing out the contents of the cabinet, she selected 
 the most costly apparel for her use ; but, to her 
 great mortification, Maude desired her to replace 
 
 10
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 193 
 
 the splendid robes, and attired herself in a simple 
 white boddice and light-green kirtle. 
 
 " Aweel," said Eppie, " it's a true saying, that 
 a bonnie bride is soon buskit. You're no like the 
 same creature ye were last night ; that fine sound 
 sleep has brought back the light to your eye, and 
 the colour to your saft cheeks. I would be real 
 sorry to hear the court dames sneezing at my la- 
 dy, and looking ower their noses at her, when, 
 after a', there maybe wouldna be ane o' them to 
 compare wi' her, if the mounting were taken aff 
 them." 
 
 " Why, in good truth, Eppie," said Lady Doro- 
 thea, " I think there is little chance of our being 
 ashamed of this fair damsel. I never saw her look 
 more touchingly beautiful." 
 
 " Ye may say that," retorted Eppie ; " she's 
 just like a new-blown rose. Now, my lady, when 
 ye are in the King's company, as nae doubt ye'U 
 soon be, what will hinder you to ask a quiet word 
 o' him, and just to tell him the plain truth, that 
 Lord William has been sair misca'd among them ? 
 and I'm thinking, that if he gives Lord William back 
 his gear. Sir John will be blythe to dance at your 
 wedding wi' him. And see that ye make the King 
 say ay, or no, and dinna be feared for him ; for 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 lO^ THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 what is he, after a', but a man ? My certle, I 
 ne'er was frighted for ane o' his kind, and a' his 
 folks hereabouts are muckle taken up wi' him ; 
 and the bit cottar bodies ca' him the King o' the 
 Poor, and threep that his like hasna been seen for 
 hundreds o' years . But now that ye are a' sorted, 
 I will gang awa' and see if I can fa' in wi' my 
 Lord Lyle, and tell him that ye are wearying sair 
 to see him, and that ye dinna like to be mewed up 
 here ony langer." 
 
 " You are over forward, Eppie," replied Maude, 
 " and must carry no such message to the Lord 
 Lyle ; but go seek him, and say, that if it suits 
 with his convenience, I will be glad to converse 
 with him for a brief space; but be discreet and 
 prudent, my good girl." 
 
 And Eppie, having promised to observe the 
 strictest decorum, departed on her mission. The 
 cousins whiled away the time of her absence in 
 discussing the late surprising events, and in con- 
 jecturing what would be the issue of their adven- 
 tures, when their discourse was interrupted by the 
 return of Eppie, who, with eyes starting from their 
 sockets, pale cheeks, and colourless lips, rushed 
 into the room. 
 
 " Good Heavens !" exclaimed Maude, in alarm, 
 '* what is the matter ?"
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 195 
 
 " Oh, Bonnyblink and Lord William — Bonny- 
 blink and Lord William ! How can I ever tell my 
 lady ?" answered poor Eppie, bursting into tears. 
 
 Maude stood in mute affright. 
 
 " For the love of Heaven, tell us what has hap- 
 pened !" said Lady Dorothea. 
 
 " Wae's me that I should live to see this day !'* 
 sobbed Eppie. 
 
 " Compose yourself, my good girl," said Lady 
 Dorothea, " and tell us what new misfortune has 
 befallen us — Your lady is suffering all the agonies 
 of suspense." 
 
 " I hae that to tell," answered Eppie, " which 
 will bring her muckle grief and dolour ; but Til 
 make my sorrowfu* tale a short ane, for we maun 
 seek for the King, and gang on our bended knees 
 to him to spare their lives." 
 
 " What is that you say, Eppie ?" said Maude, 
 in a tremulous voice ; " who are in danger ?" 
 
 " Them that we couldna bide to see cut their 
 wee finger, far less hae their heads chapped off — 
 But I'll tell ye a* about it. Ye maun ken that 
 when I was ranging through the palace, seeking 
 for the Lord Lyle, as I went past a wee bit low 
 door, I heard somebody groaning and moaning, 
 and so I thought to mysell here is some poor sick
 
 19C) THE TilllEE KINGS. 
 
 body wanting something, and lie has been clean 
 forgotten in this hobbleshow about the hunting. 
 I'll see what I can do for him ; so I tirled at the 
 door, and getting nae answer but another groan, 
 I e'en lifted the latch and went in, — and what think 
 ye I saw? Poor Bonnyblink in a bed, lying on 
 the braid o' his back, wi' a face like paper, a muc- 
 kle gash in his neck, and anither in his leg, and 
 no able to stir hand nor foot ! I gied an awfu' 
 skreigh when I saw him — he told me he was 
 amaist killed dead in a fight wi' some robbers in 
 a wood, who set upon Lord William and him, 
 when they were seeking for you, my lady; and 
 after Bonnyblink was knocked oiF his horse, he 
 kent naething o' what was done wi' him, till he 
 found himsell in a horse litter travelling here, 
 where he was put to his bed, and his wounds dress- 
 ed. But this is no the worst — Oh, my dear lady, 
 some folks o' the palace hae told him that Lord 
 William Douglas was brought here a prisoner, and 
 that he is shut up in ane o' the round towers ; and 
 mair than this, that I dinna ken how many men 
 hae been working since break o' day setting up a 
 gallows in the North Wood there. Oh, what will 
 become of us !" And a fresh burst of tears inter- 
 rupted her speech, while Maude, pale as deaths 
 sunk into a scat.
 
 THE TIIRKE KINGS. 197 
 
 ** Cheer up, dearest Maude," said Lady Doro- , 
 tliea ; " do not, I implore you, give way to de- 
 spair, when, if the damsePs news be true, there is 
 such a direful necessity for exertion ; yet I can 
 scarcely persuade myself to believe this tale." 
 
 <' Oh, wae's the day, my lady, it's ower true. 
 I'm no feared for Bonnyblink, for readily the King 
 will no think it worth his while to meddle wi' a 
 poor serving lad ; but now that he has got baud o' 
 Lord William, I'm thinking he'll no let go the 
 grip. Yet he'll surely no chap off his head before 
 sae mony lords and ladies, and in the midst o' sae 
 muckle daffing, no to speak o' hunting and hawk- 
 ing ; — but I jalouse Lord William will get his 
 doom ere long if somebody doesna speak for him 
 to the King.'* 
 
 " I will speak for him," replied Maude, starting 
 from her seat ; " yes, at the feet of James I will 
 plead for his life — this is no time for maiden bash- 
 fulness. Alas, alas ! can it be that among all the 
 knights and barons whom the Douglasses have 
 loaded with benefits, there cannot one be found to 
 intercede for this noble scion of their house ? — can 
 it be that nothing intervenes between him and 
 death, but the tears of a helpless maiden ? Go," 
 continued she, " fly, and say to the Lord Lyle,
 
 198 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 that I must see him on the instant on a matter of 
 life and death — he must lead me to the King, and 
 join his supplications to mine for mercy — mercy, 
 did I say? — for justice." 
 
 And Eppie, awed by the passionate earnestness 
 of Maude, obeyed in silence, and leaving the apart- 
 ment, she hastened to seek for the clerk of the 
 kitchen, with whom she knew herself to be in 
 high favour. 
 
 " What brings you here, Eppie ?" said he ; " have 
 I not told you twenty times over that it's no for a 
 bonny lassie like you to be stravaiging down here 
 among sae mony men folks ?" when, observing her 
 watery eyes, he added, " but I dinna mean to put 
 ony affront on you, Iny bairn, so take my advice 
 kindly." 
 
 *' I'm muckle obliged to you, Mr Powfowls," 
 replied Eppie, half sobbing ; " but if ye hae the 
 heart o' a Christian, bring me to the speech o' the 
 Lord Lyle." 
 
 " Lord Lyle !" retorted he, in high dudgeon ; 
 " and what has the like o' you to do with Lord 
 Lyle ? I'll gang on no such errand, n^y woman." 
 
 " But you maun do my bidding," replied Ep- 
 pie. " I dinna care a bodle for Lord Lyle, but he 
 can serve ane for whose sake I would gang through 
 fire and water."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 199 
 
 *' Are ye speaking- the truth, Eppie ?" asked 
 Master Robin, looking very suspiciously at the 
 damsel. 
 
 " That I am, as sure as death." 
 
 " Weel," replied the old man, " gang awa' back 
 to your lady's chamber, and stay there till I find 
 out where he is — I doubt he's aff amang the rest to 
 look at some grand greyhounds that I heard the 
 huntsmen cracking about — but I will try and get 
 speech o' him." 
 
 And away went Master Robin, while Eppie, 
 unwilling to return to her lady without being able 
 to carry her some comfort, wandered from place 
 to place, till she suddenly found herself in a splen- 
 did gallery, from which several passages branched 
 off on either side. Being aware, from the magni- 
 ficence of the corridors, that she was now in the 
 very focus of grandeur, and afraid of the conse- 
 quences of her presumption, she was about to 
 make a retreat, when the noise of an opening door 
 at the further end of the gallery, hastened her 
 movements, and taking to flight, she turned into 
 one of the cross passages, and blinded by haste 
 and terror, ran right against a handsome youth, 
 who at that moment was issuing from an adjoin- 
 ing apartment.
 
 SOO THE TIIKEE KINGS. 
 
 " How now. Mistress Eppie," said he, with a 
 merry smile ; " on what errand of mischief are 
 you bound ?" 
 
 " Gude preserve us a', my lord, is this you ? — it*s 
 wonderful to think o' my luck in meeting you 
 here. Master Robin Powfowls is ranging about 
 seeking ye ; but I shouldna put aif time havering, 
 — ye maun come with me to my lady this very mi- 
 nute — I darena go back without you ; the Lady 
 Dorothea is trying to comfort her, but I ken she'll 
 liae nae peace till she sees you — she says naebody 
 but your lordship can do her ony good." 
 " What has happened, my pretty damsel ?" 
 *' She will tell you hersell — I dinna like to be 
 speaking about it here. Tm thinking we are 
 ower near the King's howff — black be his fa' — he 
 maun hae a heart like a whinstanc." 
 
 " Hush, hush, my good girl — 'Tis dangerous to 
 hold such language here. Hie away to your lady 
 — present to her my respectful homage, and en- 
 treat her to meet me alone, in the apartment of 
 Lady Athole, half an hour hence. I meant to 
 have craved the favour of an interview long since, 
 but was engaged in special business with the King. 
 Now hasten to the Lady Maude, and say that my 
 best services are at her command.'^
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 201 
 
 ** I could have sworn to that ; and I hope," con- 
 tinued Eppie, " you will forgie my want o' man- 
 ners at my father's cottage. Little did I think 
 that I was setting a lord to blaw the fire.'* 
 
 " I wishs pretty damsel," he replied, " that I 
 may never be worse employed." 
 
 " Deed, ye may say that," responded Eppie, as 
 she hastily took her way to her lady's chamber, 
 where her tidings of the Lord Lyle's kindness 
 and zeal dissipated in part Maude's despair, and, 
 with something like hope in her heart, she, at the 
 appointed time, entered the apartment of Lady 
 Athole — it was empty. Another instant passed, 
 and her deliverer stood before her. 
 
 ** Fairest Maude," said he, as he gracefully 
 approached and took her hand in his, " I grieve 
 to see you thus distressed. What has happened 
 to drive the life-blood from your cheek ?" 
 
 " Brave knight," replied Maude, in deep emo- 
 tion, " I am consumed with mortal anguish by 
 the threatened approach of an overwhelming cala- 
 mity. Should this affliction befall me, better would 
 it have been for me if you had thrown me from 
 the precipice, rather than have preserved me for 
 a life of misery." 
 
 " Wherefore this passionate grief, dearest
 
 S02 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 Maude ? Deign to confide in me, and, by the 
 honour of a knight, I swear it shall not be in 
 vain.'* 
 
 " Alas !'* replied Maude, " when I reflect that 
 it has been my fate to inspire you with an un- 
 happy passion, I fear that I task even your noble 
 nature too severely in imploring you to save the 
 life of a rival. — Nay, start not thus away, but hear 
 me. While in the height of his princely fortune, 
 Lord William Douglas sought and won my love. 
 I knew not then that my affection could admit 
 of increase. But when sudden ruin fell on his 
 house — when cast down from his high estate, an 
 exile from his country — then did my heart glow 
 with a deeper and more tender devotion. He is 
 innocent of the violence used towards the King by 
 his kinsmen — often has he lamented to me the 
 bondage in which they kept the youthful Mo- 
 narch — a disloyal thought never found admit- 
 tance to his upright mind. But, alas ! there is no 
 distinction made between the innocent and the 
 guilty — it is enough that he is a Douglas. He 
 has fallen into the hands of the King. Oh, join 
 with me in supplicating James to avert his doom!" 
 
 " Maude, what is it you ask ? Know you not 
 that a deadly feud exists between his house and
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 203 
 
 mine ? Can you expect me to save one who lias 
 crossed me in love and in fortune ?" 
 
 *' I am lost !" exclaimed Maude, as she covered 
 her face with her hands, to hide her streaming 
 eyes and quivering lips. 
 
 " Not so, not so," he exclaimed with warmth ; 
 *' forgive me these cruel words — nay, take com- 
 fort ; these tears reproach me too bitterly. Lis- 
 ten to me, sweet Maude. A brief space since, 
 my life was in extreme peril. Douglas witnessed 
 my danger. He had but to stand aloof, and see 
 his deadliest foe fall by an assassin's hand. He 
 generously sprung to my aid ; and to his daunt- 
 less bravery do I owe my life. I have just seen 
 Douglas — our mortal resentment is appeased, and 
 our feud is extinguished." 
 
 " Alas !" said Maude, " and must such honour 
 perish ?*' 
 
 " No — by heavens, he shall not die !" he ex- 
 claimed. " We will seek James, and intercede 
 for the gallant youth. If he has one spark of ge- 
 nerosity in his nature, he will grant the boon. 
 But I have yet another and a severer task to 
 perform, Maude," continued he, dropping on one 
 knee, " what could life avail Lord William, if I 
 strove to take from him the treasure of your love ?
 
 20i THE THREE ICINGS. 
 
 My own heart can best answer that question ; and 
 here at your feet I renounce all hope of winning 
 your affection. Rigid and stern honour commands 
 me to make that sacrifice — I bow to her decree. 
 Say but that you pity and forgive me, and I will 
 strive to be content.** 
 
 " Rise, noble youth, rise," said Maude, while 
 her warm tears dropped on his hand ; " ever wJU 
 your generosity live in my remembrance. Never 
 shall I forget the vast debt I owe you." 
 
 " Not so," replied the knight, " rather blot the 
 past from your memory — let it be to you as a mid- 
 night dream. Think only of the future — I trust 
 I may say the happy future." 
 
 " Heaven grant it !" replied Maude. " But 
 when shall I see the King ? I long for, yet dread 
 the interview." ^ 
 
 " He is now in his private chamber. Let us 
 seek him before he goes forth to the chase. Nay, 
 tremble not — something tells me that your prayers 
 and tears will prevail." 
 
 " Oh, that it may be so ! But my mind is in tu- 
 mults. What would become of me without your 
 friendly aid ! Where is my father ? Did you not 
 promise that I should meet him here ?" 
 
 *^ Sir John is expected every instant, T trust
 
 THE THREE KINGS# r305 
 
 lie will soon arrive. Lean on me,'* said the knight, 
 as, tenderly cheering and supporting her, he led 
 her from the apartment, and, traversing a long 
 gallery, arrived at the chamher of the King. As 
 the knight laid his hand on the door, Maude started 
 convulsively, and grasped his arm ; ^ whispered 
 a few words of encouragement, and they entered 
 an apartment dimly lighted hy several high win- 
 dows. 
 
 Maude, half fainting with agitation, scarcely 
 raised her eyes to a princely-looking youth, who 
 hastily advanced to meet her, clasped her in his 
 arms, and kissed her pale cheek, while the knight 
 retreated and leant against the casement. Maude 
 struggled indignantly. 
 
 " Am I brought here hut to meet with insult ? 
 Unhand me instantly." 
 
 " Maude !" said a voice which penetrated to 
 her heart. 
 
 " Who speaks ?" she wildly exclaimed — " Did 
 I not hear the voice of Douglas ?" 
 
 " Yes, dearest Maude, it is he who presses you to 
 his heart — the now happy Douglas, who, restored 
 to the favour of his sovereign, and permitted to 
 clasp you as his bride, scarcely knows how to sup- 
 port this weight of felicity.'* 
 
 Maude threw herself into his arms ; he parted
 
 206 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 her sunny ringlets, and kissed the tears from her 
 quivering lids, and the stranger knight passed his 
 hand hastily across his eyes. 
 
 " Can this bliss be real !" exclaimed Maude— 
 " Ah, I feared it would be my hard fate to weep 
 your loss. To whom do we owe all this happiness ? 
 — Teach me where to tender my heartfelt grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " This is my preserver," said Lord William, 
 leading her to the knight, who stepped gracefully 
 forward to meet them. " Here pay your thanks and 
 homage to Scotland's noble King." 
 
 Lord William bent his knee to his Prince ; 
 Maude, bewildered and amazed, threw herself at 
 his feet. 
 
 With grave courtesy the King raised her up, 
 imprinted a kiss on her fair forehead, then placed 
 her in Lord William's arms. 
 
 " Douglas," he said, " I restore to you your ho- 
 nours and possessions ; but well do I know they 
 would be valueless, did 1 not add this fair maid to 
 the gift. Take her, then, cherish her as the bright- 
 est gem of your house, and may the blessing of 
 Heaven rest on your union !" 
 
 The lovers knelt at his feet, and when they look- 
 ed up they were alone.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 20'7 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 And some had tyres of gold sae rare, 
 
 And pendants eight or nine ; 
 And she, wi' but her gowden hair, 
 
 Did a' the rest outshine. 
 
 And some, wi' costly diamonds sheen, 
 
 Did warriors' hearts assail, 
 But she, wi' her twa sparkling een. 
 
 Pierced through the thickest mail. 
 
 The Murder of Caerlaveroc, 
 
 Then they have ta'en them to the holy chapelle, 
 
 And there had fair wedding ; 
 And when they cam to the king's court, 
 
 For joy the bells did ring. 
 
 Rose the Red and White Lily, 
 
 Considering the circumstances of the case, it 
 will scarcely create wonder that some hours elap- 
 sed before Maude sought her chamber to commu- 
 nicate to her cousin the joyful intelligence of the 
 safety of Lord William, and his restoration to fa- 
 vour. 
 
 " All happiness attend you, dearest Maude," said 
 Lady Dorothea. "I shall rejoice most truly to 
 greet you as the bride of Douglas. He is one of
 
 SOS THE thuee kings. 
 
 the few men worth the trouble of loving. You are 
 far gone in the tender passion, may Heaven help 
 
 you !" 
 
 "lam not, however, without companions in mis- 
 fortune," replied Maude, archly smiling. "The 
 Master of Mar little knows how many sighs his ab- 
 sence has occasioned. I trust, dear Dorothea, that 
 the Earl will yet be propitious to your mutual 
 affection." 
 
 The faithful Eppie was in ecstasies at this happy 
 turn of fortune. 
 
 " And do ye ken, my lady," said she, " that the 
 Arrals were brought here to-day and carried be- 
 fore the King ? and Mr Robin told me a long story 
 about a bloody hand, but I was ower muckle taken 
 up with our ain matters to heed what he was say- 
 ing, but it is certain that the Arrals were hanged 
 this very day on the gallows in the North Wood 
 that we got such a fright about. And besides a' 
 this, my honest father is here in the train o' the 
 Earl of Mar. Mr Powfowls is very kind to him ; 
 but I must gang awa' now, and tell Bonnyblink 
 the news." And away went Eppie. 
 
 The day was far advanced before the King and 
 his band of gallant barons were seen returning 
 from the chase, which James had enjoyed with 
 15
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 209 
 
 unwonted spirit. The light of an approving con- 
 science sparkled in his eye as he rode up to the 
 sylvan palace, followed by his train, bearing the 
 spoils of the chase ; the jaded horsemen and limp- 
 ing hounds bringing up the rear. 
 
 On the evening of this eventful day the rays of 
 the moon were paled by the brilliancy of the scene 
 on which they glanced. In the midst of a splen- 
 did hall, blazing with innumerable torches, stood 
 the youthful King. A jacket of cloth of gold, 
 doublet of violet satin, and scarlet hose, showed 
 to advantage his princely form ; an embroidered 
 baldric supported his sword, and he wore the 
 knightly spur ; a small black velvet hat, over 
 which waved gracefully one long ostrich feather, 
 completed his costume. James was surrounded 
 by a bevy of fair dames and gallant nobles, who 
 with bright smiles and mirthful words height- 
 ened the gaiety of the King. 
 
 *' Has Sir John arrived, Athole ?" asked the 
 King. 
 
 " Not yet, your Grace ; but I look for him every 
 moment." 
 
 " Go, then, meanwhile, and inquire among the 
 Earl of Mar's followers for an old man called Jolin 
 Donaldson, and bring him before us. We owe hinj 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 210 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 thanks for his frank hospitality, and for which we 
 must find some reward." 
 
 In a short time Athole returned, followed by 
 John Donaldson, who, with his eyes fixed on the 
 ground, made his obeisance to the King, and ex- 
 pecting some discourse on hawks and hounds, 
 awaited in silence the King's commands. Eppie, 
 always on the alert, had heard that her father had 
 been summoned before the King ; and curious to 
 know what had obtained him this high honour, 
 she stole into the hall, and placed herself behind a 
 colossal piper, whose broad and waving tartans 
 completely screened her from observation. Un- 
 fortunately, however, for Eppie, her station was 
 near the door at the extremity of the hall, and the 
 noise occasioned by the passing and repassing of 
 the nobles, prevented her from hearing the con- 
 versation between the King and her father. Her 
 ears, therefore, being of no use to her, she was for- 
 ced to content herself with watching every move- 
 ment and gesture of the merry monarch. 
 
 ^' Ah, friend John," said the King to his host, 
 " how fares it with you and your good old dame ? 
 By my fey, you may tell Maggie, that we have not 
 seen such another fat hen since the night we lodged 
 with you on the moors."
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 211 
 
 At the sound of his voice the old man stared 
 at the speaker, and stood rooted to the spot, on dis- 
 covering his unknown guest in the person of the 
 King. 
 
 " By mine honour," continued James, " we had 
 a merry night of it. Your life is not so solitary 
 as one might suppose ; the passing stranger often 
 enlivens your lonely dwelling. If our memory 
 does not play us false, you had more guests than 
 one that night. You kindly sheltered a fair doe, 
 and for that you merit our thanks. Kneel down, 
 old man — A sword, my lords, a sword." 
 
 Atliole presented his, and James seizing the wea- 
 pon, prepared to strike, when at this moment a 
 loud shriek was heard, and Eppie, bursting from 
 her concealment, rushed up the hall, and throwing 
 her arms round her father's neck, cried out, " Oh, 
 gracious King, hae mercy on an auld man. Na, 
 haud awa your sword ; for Fll no let ane o' his 
 grey hairs be touched. Would ye hae the heart to 
 slay the auld man ? How could he tell whether ye 
 were a king or a cadger ? He made ye welcome 
 to the best in his house, and he could do nae mair. 
 But if ye are sae sair affronted at being made to 
 blaw the fire, that nactliing but blood will pacify 
 ye, take mine, for it was mo that bid ye ; but yc
 
 212 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 shall tear mc to pieces wi' wild horses, before ye 
 shall harm my honest father." 
 
 " How now, Mistress Eppie !" said James, with 
 a good-humoured smile — " Where hast thou come 
 froifl ? By my fey, you do us less than justice in 
 believing we would so requite the kindness of our 
 worthy host. Stand aside, my pretty damsel." 
 
 Thus admonished, Eppie released her father; 
 the glittering weapon descended on his shoulder, 
 and James exclaimed with a loud voice, " Rise, 
 John Donaldson, King of the Moors !" 
 
 Surprise kept honest John mute ; but Eppie gave 
 audible vent to her amazement — " Gude guide us 
 a', what will this world come to ! — John Donald- 
 son a king ! — Weel, after that ony thing." 
 
 " As he will require an increase of revenue to 
 support his new dignity, see, Athole," said the 
 King, " that our treasurer furnishes him with 
 fifty rose nobles to carry home with him. — And 
 now, my pretty damsel, take your father down 
 to the buttery, and see that he gets good cheer. 
 Faith, we fear that your scarlet kirtle and brown 
 hose will make sad work among our servitors ; but 
 they must e'en take their chance. — You may now 
 retire." And Eppie, followed by her father, quick- 
 ly withdrew.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 213 
 
 " May it please your Grace," said the Earl of 
 Athole, " we have just heard that Sir John has 
 arrived, and is safely lodged in the tower." 
 
 " Is all prepared ?" whispered James ; " does 
 the fair Maude wait in the adjoining chamher ?" 
 
 " She does, so please your Grace." 
 
 " Go," said James aloud, " go, Athole, and 
 bring hither Sir John Buchanan, to answer before 
 us to the charge of high treason." 
 
 " Faith, and please your Grace, I wish I may 
 return skaithless ; 'tis scarcely safe to meddle with 
 the burly knight." 
 
 " We shall make it our business to tame him," 
 replied the King ; " so hie thee to his den, Athole, 
 for we have much to do, and the night wears 
 apace." 
 
 When the Earl entered the chamber where Sir 
 John was held a strict prisoner, he found the 
 knight foaming with rage. 
 
 " How now, my lord ?" said he ; " things are 
 come to a strange pass in this realm, when faith- 
 ful and loyal subjects are treated like thieves or 
 robbers. Canst tell me, man, how this has fallen 
 out?" 
 
 " In sooth. Sir John," replied Athole gravely, 
 " I grieve to say that your loyalty seems more
 
 214 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 than questionable — there are serious charges 
 against you. If all be true that is said, I would 
 scruple to stand this day in your place." 
 
 " Whoever he be who has branded me with dis- 
 loyalty, lies most villainously," vociferated the 
 Knight — " and I will prove my innocence with 
 my good sword." 
 
 " The King is graciously pleased to allow you 
 an audience ; I have his commands to bring you 
 before him." 
 
 " In the fiend^s name, let us go then," said the 
 Knight, as he followed the Earl, and strode up 
 the hall, the ladies and barons hastily making 
 way for him, as he passed onwards to the King. 
 
 " How, now. Sir Knight?" said the King, 
 frowning on Sir John ; " you bear yourself some- 
 what too boldly for one who stands arraigned of 
 the heavy crime of high treason." 
 
 " I deny the charge," retorted the Knight ; " I 
 am as loyal a subject as any in broad Scotland. 
 In this matter I have been most foully slandered." 
 
 " That remains to be proved," answered James, 
 in a severe tone ; " your honour at present is 
 deeply stained, and you must answer to the 
 i'harge." 
 
 *' Let him that says it prove it," said Sir John,
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 215 
 
 proudly ; " I defy him. There lies my glove — let 
 my accuser take it up." 
 
 With grave dignity the King stepped from the 
 brilliant circle, and lifted the glove. 
 
 " We accept the challenge," said James. — " My 
 lords and knights, we pray your serious attention 
 while we discuss this matter. — Sir John Buchanan, 
 is it fitting that Scotland should have two kings ? 
 Answer truly on your life." 
 
 " By the mass," retorted the Knight, " I wish 
 we may not find one more than enough," 
 
 " And yet," resumed the King, " we have in- 
 dubitable proof that nothing less than a crown will 
 satisfy your ambition ; that you have seized on 
 our revenues, and usurped our state ; — what can 
 you say to this accusation ?" 
 
 " Shortly, that it is a base falsehood ; and that 
 I will make the villainous lurdane eat his slan- 
 derous words." 
 
 " Less violence, Sir Knight, would better be- 
 come the presence in which you stand ; but wc 
 shall quickly bring this matter to a conclusion. 
 Tell me, on the faith and honour of a knight, do 
 you not take on yourself the state, ay, and title 
 of a king ? In a word, are you not he whom men 
 call the King of Kippcn ? — and did not some of
 
 216 THE THREE KINGS. 
 
 your audacious subjects rob our royal purveyors 
 in the face of open day, and assert, to boot, that 
 you were as much a sovereign as ourself ? — An- 
 swer, we command you." 
 
 At this mirthful turn to an affair which promi- 
 sed such different consequences, the courtiers 
 laughed outright, and even James could not re- 
 strain a smile. Sir John, however, was by no 
 means disposed to enter into their gaiety ; and, en- 
 raged at having been made the jest of the couit, 
 his wrath blazed fiercely out. 
 
 " How now, James of Scotland, couldst thou 
 find no one but the Knight of Arnprior to be the 
 subject of thy scurvy jests? Wherefore hast thou 
 so far forgot thy noble nature as to force me from 
 the pursuit of my lost daughter, and bring me hi- 
 ther to make sport for thy ribald courtiers ?'* 
 
 " Nay, chafe not thus. Sir John," said the King ; 
 " but take our harmless pleasantry in good part ; — 
 and for bringing you here, we will presently offer 
 you a fair excuse. — Athole, do your duty." 
 
 The Earl disappeared through a door close to 
 which James stood, and returned the next instant 
 leading in Maude, who, springing forward, threw 
 her arms round Sir John's neck. 
 
 *' You accept my excuse, then ?" said James with 
 iimcrrv smile.
 
 THE THREE KINGS. 217 
 
 " By the mass," shouted the knight, " this is 
 surely glamour ! your Grace must deal in the black 
 art. — Where hast thou been, Maude, and with 
 whom ?" 
 
 " Of that hereafter," said the King. « But, Sir 
 John, what say you to giving this fair damsel to 
 a husband's keeping? We have chosen for the 
 lovely Maude such a mate as the proudest of our 
 dames might envy. — Douglas, come forth." 
 
 Lord William advanced and bent his knee to his 
 Prince. 
 
 " Rise, Douglas," said the King ; " and rather 
 pay your homage at this fair shrine. Be this our 
 office," he continued, joining their hands. " Youi* 
 blessing, Sir John, on the betrothed. In brief space 
 we shall wend to Stirling Palace and celebrate 
 the bridal. Meanwhile, my lords and nobles, let 
 mirth and revelry rule the night, till the braes of 
 Athole echo with the joyful merriment of The 
 Three Kings."
 
 I
 
 THE RESCUE.
 
 THE RESCUE. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF DORING, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Masaniello. (With frightful composure. J It is resolved ! 
 
 Now do I know the path which I must climb. 
 
 Laura. Why glare thine eyes so fiercely ? Oh, be calm : 
 Why clench thy hand and knit thy brows so sternly ? 
 What wouldst thou do ? These men, indeed, were hirelings, 
 And but fulfill 'd their duty. 
 
 Masaniello. 
 
 " W ILL this midnight journey never have an end?" 
 said the young Adeline, in a complaining voice, to 
 her moody, silent uncle Morelli, as a violent jolt 
 of the carriage, on a rugged mountain path, nearly 
 shook the travellers to pieces. " I cannot much 
 longer endure this fatigue," continued the gentle 
 girl, almost weeping. " To be suddenly awakened 
 in the middle of the night, and be forced, at a 
 moment's warning, to quit Paris, and hurry
 
 222 THE RESCUE. 
 
 through France and Germany, as if we were cri- 
 minals escaping from justice, is a thing which 
 cannot be calmly endured. My whole frame sut- 
 fers. Is it not possible to rest, were it but for 
 a couple of hours, in some peasant's cottage ?'* 
 
 The howling of the storm, which raged fear- 
 fully in the mountains of the Black Forest, and 
 the torrents of rain which descended from the 
 Heavens, and lashed against the carriage, nearly 
 drowned the complaints of the maiden. As to 
 Morelli, he heard not one word of Adeline's speech ; 
 for in spite of the tempest, he let down the win- 
 dow on his side of the carriage, and leaning half 
 out of it, watched other sounds which broke upon 
 his ear, but which, however, were too distant and 
 too confused, even for the most attentive listener 
 to distinguish their cause. 
 
 " It is nothing. I have been deceived," said the 
 gloomy old man half aloud, as he again drew up 
 the window. Then turning to his trembling niece, 
 whose complaining voice he had heard, though 
 he did not give himself the trouble to listen to 
 one word she had uttered, said, in a cutting and 
 severe tone — " What dost thou complain of? — 
 If you had any feeling for the fate of your near- 
 est living relation, who supplies a father's place
 
 THE RESCUE, 223 
 
 to you, you would willingly bear every hardship, 
 every fatigue, to which even he, at his advanced 
 age, is forced to expose himself. But to thy 
 heart thy mother's brother is a stranger : it grieves 
 only at its separation from that silly fool Reinhold, 
 from whom you have suddenly vanished, with- 
 out his knowing where or wherefore — The block- 
 head," muttered Morelli to himself, with an iron- 
 ical smile, " might have plucked the fruit, if he 
 had had courage sufficient to throw the restraints 
 of honour from him. Now I have what I wish, 
 and he goes empty away. This is the consequence 
 of a childish respect for the opinion of the world." 
 " You err, uncle, if you imagine that the re- 
 membrance of Reinhold is the cause of my com- 
 plaints," replied Adeline, to whom the last words 
 of Morelli were wholly unintelligible. " What I 
 at this moment complain of is real bodily suffer- 
 ing. How can you expect that I should feel anxi- 
 ous on account of a danger which threatens you, 
 of which I know nothing — and the nature of which 
 I cannot even divine ? Wliat do you apprehend ? 
 What is the danger which demands the sacrifice 
 of your health and comfort ? We live a peaceful 
 retired life, we offend no one, and never interfere 
 with political affairs."
 
 224 THE RESCUE. 
 
 " Silence !" exclaimed the old man, in so loud 
 and vehement a tone, that Adeline started. 
 
 However severely Morelli treated the maiden, 
 yet a passionate mode of speaking was not his 
 usual manner towards her. It was more his cus- 
 tom, when he thought he had reason to load her 
 with reproaches, to do it in a suppressed, slow, 
 disagreeable sort of sarcastic tone. So that, from 
 his present unusual heat, Adeline knew that some- 
 thing extraordinary must have greatly disturbed 
 him. 
 
 " What knowest thou?'' continued he more calm- 
 ly. " Dost thou think thy uncle so pusillani- 
 mous, that for a slight danger, he would choose 
 the night-time for flight, and hurry through the 
 almost impassable mountains of the Black Forest, 
 without even allowing himself breathing time? 
 No, no, child, 'tis no slight danger that makes 
 Morelli tremble. I bear a treasure about me, 
 above all earthly price, for on it hangs the fate of 
 thousands. Life and death, joy and despair. Ha 
 — ha — ha ! How has the insignificant Morelli over- 
 reached the ablest diplomatist in the world ! But, 
 child, here is the rub. This said great man has sent 
 liis spies to watch mc, and should they get me in 
 their power, a few ounces of lead will only make 
 
 12
 
 THE RESCUE. 225 
 
 my skull a little heavier; or perhaps, as a very 
 great favour, I may obtain a gratuitous employ- 
 ment during life in the gallies; but in either 
 case, thou, my Linchen, hast had the most charm- 
 ing uncle in the world." 
 
 Adeline shuddered at these words. Morelli ut- 
 tered the last part of his speech with a certain 
 grinning simper, which was even more hateful to 
 her than his usual harsh behaviour. 
 
 "So we are now in the Black Forest," she 
 said, after a pause, to herself, while she drew her 
 silk cloak closer around her frozen limbs. " I am 
 at ease now. Here is Reinhold's home — here he 
 spent his childhood — his footsteps have perhaps 
 trod these very paths through which I now tra- 
 vel. How often has he talked to me of these 
 heaven-reaching mountains, — how vividly he de- 
 picted these rocky valleys, — the rushing waters, 
 and the steep winding paths of these wooded hills ! 
 Oh, blessed chance, which leads us to his pa- 
 rental home ! His mother still lives, whom he re- 
 veres and loves with his whole soul ; and his bro- 
 ther, too, who, even when a boy, was a wild and 
 bold hunter. How can I behold these beloved 
 objects with delight, if I dare not spejik of Iiim 
 who is dearer to me than all ?" 
 
 VOL. r. p
 
 226 THE RESCUE. 
 
 At this moment a violent jolt of the carriage 
 broke the thread of Adeline's reflections, and the 
 vehicle suddenly rolled to the side of a yawning 
 precipice, so that the travellers could with difficulty 
 retain their seats. The curses of the coachman 
 sounded through the storm of the night, and it 
 was only after great exertions that he at length 
 got his drenched horses to stand. Their appre- 
 hensions of any serious accident were now remo- 
 ved, hut a new obstacle to their journey arose — 
 the coachman declared it was impossible to pro- 
 ceed, as he had long lost the right way, and that 
 in such a night, and among such mountains, he 
 could not hope to regain it ; and besides all this, 
 he averred they were surrounded by a thousand 
 yawning gulfs, which threatened their destruction; 
 he therefore insisted on taking the horses from 
 the carriage, and waiting there until break of 
 day. 
 
 " Not so, fellow," replied Morelli, in a tone 
 which Adeline knew indicated his internal rage ; 
 " you must travel during the whole of the night. 
 Such were the terms of my agreement ; and if it 
 pleases me to break neck and bones in your thou- 
 sand yawning gulfs, presume not to breathe a word 
 against it ; we shall at least bre.ak them in com-"
 
 THE RESCUE. 227 
 
 pany. Forward, and not another word. I enga- 
 ged you to drive, and not to argue with me." 
 
 Surprised at this hold speech, for a few mo- 
 ments the man was silent, but he soon began anew : 
 *'The gulfs and abysses are not what frighten me 
 just now ; for even in a case of need, I could find 
 my way in the darkness, and my horses are steady ; 
 but, sir, a much greater evil threatens us if we 
 continue our journey. We are, as I know well, 
 approaching the neighbourhood of the noted lake 
 of the Mummelsee, where the water-nymphs play 
 their pranks, particularly in such dark and stormy 
 nights ; and woe be to him who disturbs them in 
 their secret pleasures ! The most holy life cannot 
 protect him, for these sprites have power to de- 
 stroy the body, but luckily they must resign the 
 soul to its guardian angel. Let us take warning 
 and remain where we are." 
 
 " Superstitious idiot !" exclaimed Morelli, at 
 the same time ordering him instantly to proceed. 
 
 During a moment's pause of the storm, a con- 
 fused sound of voices, and the clang of armed 
 men, reached Morelli's ear. — " Satan is at my 
 heels !" exclaimed the furious old man, and pull- 
 ing out a loaded pistol, he continued in a voice of 
 thunder ; " On, scoundrel ! and put your horses to
 
 228 THE RESCUE. 
 
 tlieir utmost speed, or I shall send a bullet througli 
 your heart." 
 
 " For God's sake," cried the agitated Adeline, 
 seizing his arm, " what can be the cause of your 
 terror ?" 
 
 " Distract me not !" he replied, while he rudely 
 repulsed her. " Here must be no delay ; swift and 
 determined resolution alone can save us." 
 
 The threats of Morel li completely overcame the 
 coachman's fear of the water sprites, and he had 
 just flourished his whip, to put his horses into a 
 hard trot, when suddenly a glimmering light broke 
 upon them from both sides of the wooded path, 
 and a rough voice greeted the travellers with a 
 *' Qui Vive f 
 
 " I am lost," groaned Morelli, dashing down 
 the pistol ; and hastily taking a large pocketbook 
 from his bosom, with a convulsive gesture, he 
 threw it with all his force from the carriage win- 
 dow into the neighbouring bushes. " Away, thou 
 cause of so much care and disquiet," he muttered 
 with a smile — " Away, 'tis fortunate for me that 
 I have extracted thy kernel — that at least no man 
 can take from me." 
 
 " But, uncle, I cannot comprehend — ^" faltered 
 Adeline.
 
 THE RESCUE. 22[) 
 
 " Silence," interrupted he. " Now let tliem 
 come ! — The bird is flown — the nest is empty." 
 
 Meanwhile those who had stopped the travel- 
 lers on their journey now drew near. Several of 
 them carried small lanterns, whose dim flame 
 threw a pale light upon the surrounding woods, 
 as well as upon their own figures. Morelli and 
 Adeline knew not that they had a troop of French 
 soldiers before them ; who, enveloped in their large 
 military cloaks, instantly surrounded the carriage, 
 and seized the horses* reins. 
 
 Adeline's fear of robbers, which the first tumult 
 had given rise to, now quickly vanished, and she 
 became more tranquil and composed. Even Mo- 
 relli had smoothed his countenance to an expression 
 of placidity, and he looked at the surrounding sol- 
 diers with a smiling aspect. But this did not 
 deceive Adeline ; she knew her uncle well enough 
 to discover, that, under his present mask of calm- 
 ness and equanimity, the storm of disquiet and 
 passion raged in his inmost soul. After a few mo- 
 ments of suspense, a French officer stepped from 
 among the troop, which still preserved an extraor- 
 dinary silence, and violently pushing open the 
 door ol' the carriage, with the assistance of a lamp 
 which he carried in his hand, he narrowly cxami-
 
 230 THE RESCUE. 
 
 ned first Adeline, and then her uncle. The gold 
 ornamented hat, and the long military feather, 
 which the wind swung to and fro, showed him to 
 be an officer of high rank. His countenance was 
 youthful, and he possessed a noble deportment. Yet 
 strong passions, or perhaps acute sufferings, had 
 left deep traces behind them. Adeline could not 
 deny that the stranger was indeed a very interest- 
 ing man, and a slight resemblance in the feature 
 of the mouth, reminded her of her dear Reinhold. 
 Still the furrows in the brow, and the wild and 
 dissipated character of the whole countenance, 
 created a feeling of dislike, which the bold and li- 
 bertine expression of the stranger's glowing eyes 
 did not tend to diminish. Having finished his 
 scrutiny of Adeline, he again turned his inquiring 
 looks towards Morelli, as if waiting for him to 
 break the silence which still reigned. At length 
 he said, in a rough, deep-toned voice : " It is ra- 
 ther unusual in this remote forest, and at this late 
 hour of the night, to meet travellers. I have been 
 posted here for many months, and never till now 
 have met with any strangers. What accident has 
 brought you here in such a night of storm as 
 this?" 
 
 Adeline was surprised to hear these words from
 
 THE RESCUE. 231 
 
 the mouth of a French officer, in fluent German, 
 which, however, was not entirely free from a pro- 
 vincial accent. Morelli replied, with a pleasant 
 smile, to this question, that business of the ut- 
 most importance had forced him to travel during 
 the night ; that, through the coachman's ignorance 
 of the roads, they had lost their way, and wander- 
 ed in the forest. " I shall feel much obliged," he 
 continued, " if you will allow one of your people 
 to put us on the right road, and I shall willingly 
 remunerate him." 
 
 During this speech, the officer gazed on Ade- 
 line with looks of such ardent admiration, that 
 she modestly threw down her eyes, while her heart 
 began to beat violently. 
 
 He now turned from her to Morelli, and with a 
 dark frown and knit eye-brows, said, in a stern 
 and serious tone, " Your passport, mein Herr. I 
 have strict injunctions to stop all suspicious travel- 
 lers, and your midnight journey in this remote 
 forest certainly brings you under that denomina- 
 tion." 
 
 On hearing this speech, the countenance of Mo- 
 relli betrayed some emotion, and in silence he pre- 
 sented his passport to the officer. 
 
 <•' Mechanic Morelli!" he exclaimed, as he
 
 ^32 THE RESCUE. 
 
 tlK)iightfully put bis hand to his forehead, and 
 slowly perused the unfolded paper. " How is this ? 
 If I am not mistaken, I yesterday received orders, 
 that if a very dangerous man of this name came 
 in my way, I was instantly to secure him, and 
 give information of it." 
 
 " There must be some error here," said Morelli 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Silence, sir," replied the officer coldly. " It 
 would be no great wonder if I did sometimes err, 
 I have so much of this sort of business in hand. 
 But in this case it is impossible to go wrong. It 
 will therefore be necessary to conduct you to my 
 station ; and the moment I return from transact- 
 ing some urgent business which now calls me 
 away, the matter shall be inquired into." 
 
 At these words Morelli changed countenance, 
 and convulsively pressed Adeline's hand. 
 
 " For God's sake," cried the maiden, " what 
 is the meaning of all this ? what will become of 
 us!" 
 
 " Be not afraid, my pretty child," said the offi- 
 cer, softening the rough tones of his voice as much 
 as possible ; " I hope that everything will be sa- 
 tisfactorily explained, and that I shall hear from 
 that lovely mouth, that you forgive this short in- 
 terruption of your journey."
 
 THE RESCUE. 233 
 
 " You will surely also '* said Morelli, address- 
 ing the officer, who, however, did not reply, but 
 stepped aside and spoke to the soldiers ; two of 
 whom, armed with sabres, seated themselves in 
 the carriage opposite the travellers, while a third 
 placed himself on the box beside the coachman. 
 The stranger, having bowed with cold politeness, 
 departed, and the soldier, who had previously re- 
 ceived his instructions, having taken the manage- 
 ment of the reins, they again proceeded on their 
 journey.
 
 2H THE RESCUE, 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Oaze round thee, stranger, 'tis a hallow'd spot, 
 To Love and Beauty hallow'd ; the old woods 
 A sacred gloom breathe forth ; and like the ribs 
 Of cloistral roof, the beechen boughs above 
 Their glossy leaves commingle, the gay sun 
 Of summer keeping out, and through the noon 
 Yielding a cool retreat and shadowy haunt, 
 
 British Ecloguvs, 
 
 The storm had now passed over, the rain had 
 ceased, and a few stars twinkled in the heavens ; 
 the tempest no longer howled through the forest, 
 and in the distance were distinctly heard the har- 
 monious hells of the flocks. But no ray of peace 
 penetrated Adeline's anxious hreast ; and the tem- 
 pest which raged in Morelli's hosom was only 
 equalled by the storm which had so lately raved 
 around them. The fear of a discovery of his se- 
 cret machinations, and the probability of his suf- 
 fering the disgraceful death of a malefactor, stood 
 with soul-harrowing vividness befoi'c him.
 
 THE RESCUE, 235 
 
 The tempest of the night was followed by a serene 
 and beautiful morning. Already had the sun dart- 
 ed his friendly rays through the tops of the tall firs 
 down upon the plain below, at the extremity of 
 which stood Frau Martha's solitary dwelling. At 
 this moment, Else, Frau Martha's orphan niece, 
 issued with a light step from the door of the house, 
 and proceeded to the trough, into which she emp- 
 tied her pitchers, which were filled with new milk. 
 The roses of health glowed on the cheeks of the 
 maiden ; her dark eyes sparkled like diamonds 
 from under her coal-black eyebrows ; and the 
 loose folds of her dress imparted a singular grace 
 to her slender and youthful form. " Holy Saint 
 Anthony !" she exclaimed in admiration, as her 
 eyes fell upon the grotesque and gigantic figures 
 which the ascending mists formed around the sum- 
 mit of the opposite mountain. " Only see how re- 
 spectfully the Katzenkopf takes off his cap of 
 clouds to salute the young morning sun. And see 
 how its warm beams dispel the fogs from the 
 Mummel lake. That betokens fine weather after 
 the storm of the night, which gave me no small 
 alarm." 
 
 After Else had carefully filled the trough with 
 the foaming milk, she stepped to the fountain and
 
 236 THE RESCUE. 
 
 bathed her lovely face in the sparkling waters of 
 the mountain stream. She then returned to the 
 house, and seating herself at a little corner win- 
 dow, looked thoughtfully out upon the valley ; her 
 view of which was partly obstructed by the pro- 
 jecting and sloping roof of the dwelling. 
 
 ^ The night is past, and still Ehrenfried has not 
 returned," she said in a low voice to herself. 
 " What can be this mysterious business, which oc- 
 cupies him during those hours which ought to be 
 dedicated to repose ? — Who can those wild compa- 
 nions be who steal here in the twilight, and after 
 being shut up for hours together, all go off, and re- 
 turn not for many nights and days ? — Ah, he knows 
 not the grief this gives the good aunt and me, else 
 he would forbear. Can Frau Martha be as igno- 
 rant of her son's transactions as I am? — I can- 
 not believe it. She must certainly have her con- 
 jectures, though she does not say so, but shuts up 
 her grief in her own heart." 
 
 All was now alive in the farm-yard, and from 
 the inside of the house a woman's voice was heard 
 — " Else, my child ! where art thou ? Dost thou not 
 hear a strange noise, like the trampling of horses, 
 and the rolling of a carriage ?" 
 
 The train of her reflections being thus interrupt-
 
 THE RESCUE. 237 
 
 ed, the maiden, at the first call of her aunt, has- 
 tened to the door of the house, to learn the pur- 
 port of her speech, part of which only she had 
 heard ; and having done so, she remained atten- 
 tively listening to the approaching sounds. "Truly, 
 aunt," she replied, after a few moments, "it does 
 appear like the tramp of horses and the rolling of 
 a carriage down the steep hill of Rosenstein. That 
 is an unusual sound in our valley. Now they have 
 rounded the cliff ; they are almost upon us. Oh, 
 Heaven ! Soldiers are with them ; and a noble- 
 man's carriage is driving straight up to the house." 
 
 With these words the terrified Else fled into the 
 house, and fastened the strong wooden bolt of the 
 door. 
 
 Whilst the maiden was thus employed, Frau 
 Martha, with her slight figure and pale counte- 
 nance, stepped from the adjoining apartment, say- 
 ing, " Ah, Else ! what dost thou ? They are pro- 
 bably travellers who have lost their way ; and from 
 Martha's house shall no wanderers be inhospitably 
 turned away." 
 
 " But the soldiers — they are French !" replied 
 the maiden, with a shudder. 
 
 " So much the better," rejoined the old woman ; 
 " they come with no evil intention. Tlioir Empe-
 
 238 THE RESCUE. 
 
 ror is an ally of our Prince, therefore we have no- 
 thing to fear from them ; so open the door, and 
 deny no one admittance." 
 
 Else had no sooner obeyed the command of her 
 aunt, and removed the bar of wood from the door, 
 than she took to flight, and sheltered herself in a 
 small inner apartment belonging to Frau Martha, 
 who calmly remained standing at the door, to see 
 how this matter would terminate, and await the 
 arrival of the travellers. 
 
 Meanwhile the carriage rolled down the moun- 
 tain path into the valley, and stopped before Mar- 
 tha's door. A man in a military dress sprung out 
 of it, and with quick steps entered the house. As 
 he approached the widow, a dark cloud overspread 
 her countenance, and she knit her pale brows to- 
 gether. " What is the meining of this disguise, 
 Thomas ?" she said, as he approached. " You can- 
 not deceive me ; for even under these garments I 
 know you for the wicked accomplice of my delu- 
 ded son, whom, under the secresy of night, you se- 
 duce to actions which will prove his ruin. Why 
 are you not rather in the GoUesgrube,'^ among the 
 honest miners ? or have you renounced that busi- 
 
 * A mine in iho Black Forcf^t, near the villjigc JVilttc/irit.
 
 THE RESCUE. 239 
 
 ness, and come above ground to abuse the good- 
 ness of the Lord in pursuing this criminal mode 
 of life?" 
 
 " You seem inclined to jest and make game of me 
 this morning," he replied, with a sneering laugh. 
 ** But what I am now after is of more value than 
 anything I can find in the mines ; and secretly ac- 
 quired treasure gives just as much satisfaction as 
 any other. The principal thing is to have it. But, 
 joking apart, I come with an important message 
 from your son Ehrenfried. He greets you by me." 
 
 " Speak, then, thou enemy to all peace !" inter- 
 rupted Frau Martha. 
 
 " Well, then," said Thomas, " he desires that 
 the two travellers now in the carriage, an old gen- 
 tleman and his niece, be concealed here until liis 
 return. His safety, nay, even his life, depends upon 
 their detention ; and upon no account must they 
 learn by whom they were made prisoners. My 
 comrades and myself shall take care that none of 
 them shall escape ; but over you and your people 
 we have no command. You must take the bridle 
 in your own hands." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed she, angrily, " do you 
 think that I shall take any part in such a suspicious 
 enterprise ? What right have you to detain the
 
 240 THE RESCUE. 
 
 old man and the maiden liere against their will ? 
 You must instantly tell me the whole truth, or my 
 doors shall be shut against you and your compa- 
 nions." 
 
 " Do as you please," surlily gi'owled Thomas ; 
 " but if by your means Ehrenfried should orna- 
 ment a gibbet, or perhaps fall under the axe of 
 the un polite guillotine, you must answer for it, and 
 not I." 
 
 " What sayest thou ?" whispered Frau Martha, 
 while a violent trembling seized her, which forced 
 her to take hold of the wooden banister. " Sure- 
 ly such a fate cannot overtake him ?" 
 
 " Such a fate will certainly overtake him," re- 
 plied the ci'devant miner, with decision, " if you 
 deny him this favour. *Tis all one to me. I shall 
 soon provide for my own safety ; and for the rest, 
 I wash my hands of it." 
 
 " Dear aunt, how can you hesitate ?" said Else, 
 in an imploring voice, as she issued from her con- 
 cealment behind the door, where she had over- 
 heard all. " I hear this concerns the life of Ehren- 
 fried ; and surely the saints themselves do not ask 
 of us more than our duty. They must be very 
 wicked men from whom our Ehrenfried has any- 
 thing to fear." 
 
 12
 
 THE RESCUE. 241 
 
 " Right, Jungfer Else," said Thomas, with a 
 hoarse laugh ; " I knew well you would not leave 
 Ehrenfried in the mire." 
 
 The maiden hlushed deeply, while Frau Martha 
 said, with a sigh, "Be it so. A mother's heart 
 is a weak thing. But what can be dearer than the 
 life of a child ? Take the strangers up to Ehren- 
 fried's room ; nothing shall harm them while under 
 my roof. May God so grant me a peaceful and 
 blessed death-bed !" 
 
 Thomas now hastened back to the carriage, the 
 step of which he let down. Adeline and her uncle, 
 who, from anxiety and apprehension, had passed 
 a most uncomfortable night, the desagremens of 
 which the presence of their armed companions did 
 not tend to diminish, now alighted, followed by 
 the soldier, who, along with Thomas, had occupied 
 the carriage. 
 
 Adeline attentively examined the dwelling before 
 which she now stood ; the singular construction of 
 which excited her curiosity. The building was 
 low, but extensive. Under the projecting roof 
 there ran a wooden gallery of rugged trunks of 
 trees, artfully grooved into each other, and which 
 appeared to be the receptacle for all kinds of 
 household lumber. Everything seemed kept in 
 
 VOL. I, O
 
 242 THE RESCUE. 
 
 the nicest order ; and tlie house, with its little 
 wing, had so neat an appearance, that the maiden 
 could scarcely turn her eyes away from it. 
 
 But this scene had no attractions for Morelli ; 
 he measured Thomas with scrutinizing and gloomy 
 looks, who now for the first time broke the silence 
 which he and his companions had hitherto obser- 
 ved; and who fluently, in the dialect of the Black 
 Forest, invited the travellers to enter the house, 
 where rest and refreshment awaited them. 
 
 Morelli did not deign a reply to this invitation ; 
 but, after a short pause, during which he closely 
 examined both his guards, turning to Thomas, he 
 said, with a scornful smile, " Indeed ! are you 
 then one of those heroes of the great army who 
 fought in Russia? and did your buttons lose their 
 eagles there, so that they now resemble nothing 
 in the world but defaced copper pennies ? — And I 
 perceive also that the frost has so crumpled the 
 doth of your uniform, that one would take it for 
 nothing but dingy linen. Your sabres, too, seem 
 to have dwindled into woodman's knives, and your 
 muskets into pocket-pistols — Am I right, friend ? 
 Do you belong to these heroes ?" 
 
 Thomas replied to this speech with a loud laugh ; 
 then said, with the most undaunted impudence,
 
 THE RESCUE. 243 
 
 " Have you discovered at last, then, tliat we arc 
 neither Frenchmen nor soldiers ? Truly, clear 
 daylight is not the time to look at us ; for the fox 
 in the wolf's skin is not then to be mistaken. But, 
 mein Herr, in the night, the thing may pass well 
 enough, as you know by experience; then, the 
 linen uniform, with the copper penny upon it, 
 the woodman's knife, and the small fowling-piece, 
 have assisted to accomplish a scheme which may 
 enrich us all the rest of our lives. However, let 
 us waste no more time in useless talk. Come with 
 me to your apartment, where your niece can make 
 up for the rest she lost last night." 
 
 " I stir not from this spot till I know who you 
 are, and by what right you detain me here," said 
 Morelli, in a determined tone. " I shall waste no 
 more words upon you. If my arms had not been 
 taken from me, I would have treated you as daring 
 vagabonds, who, without law or justice, take upon 
 yourselves, at your own will and pleasure, to stop 
 travellers on their way. But enough — Instantly 
 allow me to continue my journey, or I shall give 
 information to the next magistrate, and bring such 
 a storm upon your head, as shall make you trem- 
 ble." 
 
 ** Old gentleman, vou seem in an a])usive mood ;
 
 244 THE RESCUE. 
 
 but that does not in the least disturb me/* replied 
 Thomas, coolly, as he filled his pipe. " Please to 
 reflect that you are at this moment in our power ; 
 and that, on a signal from me, twenty armed men 
 would spring forward, one of whom would be suf- 
 ficient to cool your boiling rage. Make no more 
 resistance, but follow me. I act for anotlier, whose 
 will and pleasure it is, that you remain in quiet 
 submission here till his return, when he himself 
 will dispose of you." 
 
 " And who is this other," said the old man, sup- 
 pressing his rage, as he saw that here his prayers 
 and his threats were alike useless, " whose orders 
 you obey so strictly ?" 
 
 " Oh, his profession is highly respectable, and 
 his name is a very honourable one," said Tho- 
 mas, with shouts of laughter, in which he was 
 joined by his companions. " But it is better," con- 
 tinued the miner, '* that he himself should tell you 
 his name and his business when he returns. Now, 
 forward without more delay." 
 
 Adeline listened with deep anxiety to Morelli's 
 conference with their bold companion ; and the 
 dread of having fallen into the hands of robbers, 
 who had now brought her to their retreat, where 
 tliey carried on tlicir secret crimes, momentarily
 
 THE RESCUE. ^45 
 
 increased. At this instant a little corner window 
 of the house was suddenly opened, and there ap- 
 peared at it the pale but benevolent countenance 
 of an old woman, who said in a serious, but mild 
 tone, " Be not afraid, but step fearlessly into this 
 dwelling. I cannot prevent your being detained 
 here for a short time ; but there shall not a hair 
 of your head be injured — No thing shall harm you 
 while under my roof. May the Lord so give me 
 his help and blessing." 
 
 Adeline thought she heard the voice of an angel. 
 In a transport of joy, she raised her agitated looks 
 to the speaker, whose benevolent expression of 
 countenance, even more than her words, soon re- 
 assured and composed her. 
 
 " No," she said to herself, *' in this countenance 
 there is no deceit. On her pale face, I trace the 
 marks of grief, but crime is not there — Yes, I will 
 confide in her words, even though the conduct of 
 her friends contradicts her promises." 
 
 Morelli, who had viewed the widow with doubt 
 and distrust, was just about to address her, when 
 the casement was closed, and the speaker vanished. 
 He bit his lips angrily, then seizing the hand of 
 his niece, he led her into the dwelling. 
 
 " The old fellow cannot leave off prating," mut-
 
 246 THE RESCUE. 
 
 tered Thomas to himself, while he motioned to his 
 companion to secure the coachman and horses. 
 " I shall take care, however, that he shall hear no- 
 thing from me that he can blab." And he quickly 
 followed the travellers into the house. 
 
 The chamber into which the forester conduct- 
 ed Adeline and Morelli, the door of which he 
 carefully locked as he withdrew, surprised the 
 maiden by its singular appearance. 
 
 Around every part of the dark wainscotted walls 
 fresh green boughs were entwined, between which 
 were placed large white baskets, filled with earth, 
 containing the fragrant rose, the lily, narcissus, 
 and pink, whose graceful heads, waving upon their 
 long stalks, seemed, on the entrance of the travel- 
 ler, to bend in friendly greeting. A merry host of 
 tame birds carolled amongst the leafy branches ; 
 and while some of them chirped and twittered, 
 and looked down with an inquiring eye on the 
 strangers, others wheeled gaily around, and seem- 
 ed to wish to claim familiar acquaintance with 
 them. Here the voice of the lark pealed forth her 
 song of joy — the thrush raised her shrill cry — the 
 nightingale breathed her sweet complaints — and 
 the cuckoo raised its notes of mockery. 
 
 ^' Cursed screamers !" growled Morelli? as he
 
 THE RESCUE. 24-7 
 
 gloomily threw himself upon a couch which stood 
 near — " As if the extraordinary events of the past 
 night were not enough to turn one's head, but we 
 must also be deafened by this infernal noise ! — • 
 Speak, Adeline, what dost thou think of all this ?" 
 
 " Oh, I am rejoiced," replied Adeline, as she 
 opened the window to view the surrounding coun- 
 try — " quite rejoiced, since I heard the consoling 
 words of the pale old woman, and entered this 
 chamber, where we see only the most charming 
 ^objects of nature, and where no trace of evil seems 
 to dwell." 
 
 " Foolish babble ! romantic folly !" said Mo- 
 relli, while Adeline contemplated with delight the 
 magnificent spectacle which now met her view, as 
 she looked through the wired grating which pre- 
 vented the feathered songsters from escaping to 
 their sylvan homes. 
 
 The swelling hills gently sloped down into the 
 serene and peaceful valleys, which, like a lovely 
 green tapestry, lay before her. Above the spread- 
 ing vineyards towered the gloomy firs, which were 
 reflected in the limpid water of the little brook, 
 which flowed with a sweet murmuring sound. In 
 the distance, steep mountains and rugged cliffs
 
 248 THE RESCUE. 
 
 reared themselves aloft, and the extensive amphi- 
 theatre was completely encircled and shut in by 
 huge masses of projecting rocks, whose dark and 
 gloomy summits were lost in the golden clouds of 
 the dawning morn. Here sounded the harmoni- 
 ous notes of the shepherds' pipe, joyfully greeting 
 the young morning with their melodious tones, as 
 they led their flocks to the margin of the moun- 
 tain brooks. All spoke of peace and happiness in 
 God's glorious world, which his power created, and 
 his wisdom governs. 
 
 Sad and touching feelings now filled the heart 
 of Adeline, to whom the voice of memory brought 
 back many sweet though indistinct remembrances, 
 ^^ How !" she exclaimed to herself in surprise, 
 *' have I then dreamt of this place, and of all that 
 now surrounds me ? or perhaps in early child- 
 hood I may have visited this spot, and the pleasing 
 fantasy of my early years now stands in power- 
 ful reality before me ? No, oh, no — now I see it 
 all. It is distinctly reflected in the mirror of my 
 soul. Often has Reinhold told me of a place such 
 as this, and called it his home. Thus stood it 
 depicted to my mind's eye, when he described 
 the rushing brooks, the grazing flocks, and the
 
 THE RESCUE. 249 
 
 green valley, where, when a boy, he played with 
 his bold and dauntless brother. The lovely vine- 
 yards, the dark and gloomy mountains, and the 
 rugged cliffs are all before me. Wonderful en- 
 chantment ! Ah ! the apartment, too, which Rein- 
 hold and his brother inhabited was ornamented 
 with green boughs and fragrant flowers, and the 
 lively feathered tribe, with their variegated plu- 
 mage, and their merry notes, raised their songs 
 of joy amidst foliage and bright blossoms. Often 
 would he sit in such a green solitude as this, and 
 grieve that he had no opportunity of acquiring 
 more knowledge than was possessed by the school- 
 master of the neighbouring village. After the 
 death of his father, whom various misfortunes and 
 disappointments had sent to an early grave, and 
 who had awakened the feelings of ambition and 
 a love of learning in the breast of the boy, Rein- 
 hold's passionate desire of knowledge could not be 
 restrained, and his good mother sent him to the 
 next town, in order that he might fully indulge 
 his thirst for learning. He had never seen her 
 since that period ; but with what devotion did he 
 worship her in absence ! And was not Reinhold's 
 mother deserving of this love ? Why have I no
 
 250 THE RESCUE. 
 
 mother ? I lament the deprivation. My uncle has 
 no kind feelings towards me. I am ill — my pulse 
 beats with fever. How would a mother's presence 
 rejoice me, and chase away every pain and every 
 sorrow ! Ha ! what thoughts flash like lightning 
 through my soul ! If Reinhold's mother — If the 
 pale old woman " 
 
 At this moment the door of the apartment was 
 opened, and Adeline's glowing looks rested upon 
 the anxious countenance of Frau Martha, as, rush- 
 ing forward, she threw herself at the feet of the 
 astonished widow, exclaiming — " Thou art Rein- 
 hold's mother : Oh, be also mine !" 
 
 Amazed, and almost terrified, Frau Martha look- 
 ed at the kneeling maiden. Thomas, who had ex- 
 changed his soldier's dress for a peasant's jacket, 
 now made his appearance, and said, " Be not de- 
 ceived, they are dissemblers ; and the old man, as 
 well as the maiden, have both planned the destruc- 
 tion of your son." 
 
 " She raves !" exclaimed Morelli, as he hastily 
 sprung from his bed, and with the assistance of 
 Thomas bore the fainting Adeline to the nearest 
 couch ; and having requested the widow to pro- 
 cure some restoratives, he then desired her to leave
 
 THE RESCUE. 251 
 
 the care of lils niece, who, he said, required no- 
 thing but rest and quiet, to himself. Thomas 
 joined in this request; and, at their urgent en- 
 treaties, Frau Martha quitted the apartment, but 
 not without casting upon them looks of suspicion 
 and distrust. The situation of the poor maid- 
 en awakened her whole sympathy, for she could 
 not believe her to be the dissembler that Thomas 
 represented. From Adeline's lips a name had fall- 
 en dearer to her than the whole world, and to hear 
 which from the mouth of a stranger, appeared to 
 her a most wonderful occurrence. As soon as the 
 widow had sent the necessary restoratives to the 
 apartment of the invalid, she related to her niece 
 the extraordinary interview she had had with the 
 strangers, and how much she participated in the 
 sufferings of Adeline. 
 
 " Do not let them deceive you," said Else, 
 warmly, in great alarm at their designs against 
 her dear Ehrenfried ; " if this old man, with his 
 malicious watchful looks, and the maiden with 
 her strange behaviour, have any wicked intentions 
 against Ehrenfried, they would take good care to 
 procure accurate information regarding you and 
 your household. Trust them not. I agree with
 
 252 THE RESCUE. 
 
 Thomas, and think it best that we should follow 
 his counsel." 
 
 Frau Martha shook her head incredulously, al- 
 though she felt deep anxiety respecting Ehren- 
 fried, whose secret enterprises she knew to be full 
 of danger, even should he escape the arm of the 
 law. She sighed deeply, and then said, " The 
 mischief which now threatens him is the fruit of 
 his own guilt ; but the poor sick maiden certainly 
 bears no malice towards any one in her heart. The 
 old man I myself would not trust ; but she shall 
 not be the less attended to on that account.'* 
 
 As often as the widow attempted in the course 
 of the day to gain admittance to the invalid, she 
 was either prevented by Thomas, who kept watch 
 before the apartment, or by Morelli himself, with 
 the excuse that Adeline slept, and that as her ill- 
 ness was entirely occasioned by fatigue, quietness 
 and rest were the best medicine ; and therefore he 
 would not allow her to be disturbed. With this 
 answer she was forced to be content, and afraid of 
 increasing the indisposition of the invalid, she de- 
 sisted from her importunities to be admitted to her 
 chamber. But the name which had escaped from 
 the lips of the stranger continually rung in her
 
 THE RESCUE. 253 
 
 ears, and she found it impossible to throw off the 
 disquiet which from that moment had settled on 
 her soul.
 
 254 TTIF I^F^CUE, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Geo. HoAv's this ? 
 
 li/ch. Drawn swords — that's all. 
 
 KORNER. 
 
 Towards the evening of the same day, an un- 
 usual crowd from Kehl and Strasburg assembled 
 upon the Bridge of the Rhine. Knights, soldiers, 
 citizens, and persons of all ranks and denomina- 
 tions, thronged the extensive bridge, under which 
 the majestic river rolled its foaming waves. This 
 moving multitude appeared to be attracted to the 
 same spot by some object of curiosity. All rushed 
 to the German side of the bridge, where they re- 
 mained assembled, and turned their anxious looks 
 in the direction of Kehl, to watch the appearance 
 of the long expected funeral procession of the 
 French Field-Mar cchal, who had fallen in one of
 
 THE RESCUE. 255 
 
 the late battles, and whose body they were now 
 carrying to France for interment in the family 
 burying-ground. 
 
 But when the good citizens of Strasburg, who 
 had come out to meet the body of their late Field- 
 Marechal, saw the domes of their gigantic Min- 
 sters sparkling in the golden rays of the setting 
 sun, they thought it most prudent instantly to 
 return home, lest, peradventure, they should find 
 the gates of the fortress shut against them, and 
 so be forced to seek a lodging by starlight with- 
 out the walls. 
 
 Twilight now gradually approached, and spread 
 her dark mantle over the foaming waves and the 
 peaceful land, and still no procession appeared. 
 
 All was now quiet on the bridge — a few solitary 
 loiterers alone remained, who had not yet lost hope 
 of the appearance of the procession, and who had 
 determined to show their respect to the deceased, 
 by accompanying him part of the way to his last 
 earthly home. The guard of honour, which, by 
 order of the Commander, was stationed on the 
 German side of the bridge, tired with the weari- 
 some delay of the procession, laid aside their arms 
 and assembled round the grey-bearded drummer,
 
 2jG the rescue. 
 
 who had made a campaign in Egypt, and who, 
 seated on a muffled drum, was relating wonderful 
 things of the secrets of the Pyramids. The ap- 
 proach to the bridge, and the bridge itself, was 
 illuminated on both sides by torches of pitch, 
 whose lurid and flickering flames were reflected 
 in the agitated waves which rolled beneath. 
 
 " As I was telling you," continued the talkative 
 drummer, " there are at least a thousand casks 
 filled with gold Napoleons concealed in the cata- 
 combs of the Pyramids, just where the old Egyp- 
 tian kings buried them, and which would be a glo- 
 rious prize to him who is bold enough to search 
 for them." 
 
 This speech was suddenly interrupted by a call 
 of the sentinels, and the clash of arms, which an- 
 nounced the approach of the procession with the 
 body of the Field-Mar echal. The command was 
 given ; in a moment the guard stood under arms ; 
 and the hollow sound of the veteran's drum now 
 rolled as incessantly as his tongue had done a 
 short time before in recounting his often-repeat- 
 ed adventures. The funeral procession, which was 
 now so near as to be distinctly seen by the light 
 of the torches, did not advance at that slow and 
 
 15
 
 THE RESCUE. 257 
 
 dignified pace which the solemnity of the occasion 
 demanded ; but to the astonishment of the spec- 
 tators, approached with extraordinary rapidity. 
 An officer rode before, who, with his hat pulled 
 over his face, galloped up to the captain of the 
 guard, and after a few words, presented his pass- 
 j)ort, the tenor of which was, that he, Adjutant 
 Delolay, was ordered to accompany the body of 
 the deceased Marechal to his family burying- 
 ground, and to pay him the last military honours. 
 After this conference, on a sign from the officer on 
 guard, the drums were silenced, and without even 
 waiting for the salute of honour, the procession 
 hurried forward. 
 
 " This is not the way to treat a French Mare- 
 chal, at least if they mean to pay him military ho- 
 nours," muttered the old drummer to his com- 
 rade ; " it would break the hero's heart were he to 
 see what pains they take to get the business over 
 as quickly as possible ! Sacre nom de Dieu — I 
 knew him well ; I have beat my drum by his side 
 at Austerlitz and Eylau." 
 
 " It may be so," interrupted his companion ; 
 " but he must have been of a most enormous corpu- 
 lence, it is no wonder that the first cannon ball 
 found it easy to hit him — only look at the size of 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 THE RESCUE. 
 
 the bier, and how high the body seems to rise un- 
 der the black pall. On my soul, one would think 
 there were six Field-Marechals there in place of 
 one/V 
 
 At this moment the leader of the procession 
 dashed past at full gallop — the long plume of his 
 hat waved gracefully in the light of the torches, a 
 scornful smile passed over his countenance, and 
 his expression of triumph and delight spoke of 
 some enterprise successfully accomplished. He 
 soon reached the soldiers, who, with their arms 
 reversed, and in solemn silence, hastily followed 
 the body. The procession had scarcely gained the 
 middle of the bridge, when, to the amazement 
 of the spectators, the officer, who now seemed in 
 greater haste than ever, gave the horses a smart 
 blow with the but-end of a carabine, which in- 
 stantly set them off at a hard trot, while he him- 
 self followed at a rapid pace, that he might not 
 let the precious corpse out of his sight. So soon 
 as the procession and its leader had passed, the 
 guard of honour at the entrance of the bridge dis- 
 persed, to make way for the douaniers, who gene- 
 rally were stationed there, but whose place, upon 
 this particular occasion, was supplied by soldiers 
 of the line.
 
 THE RESCUE. 259 
 
 Suddenly the clash of arms was again heard, 
 and a rushing sound as of approaching horsemen. 
 The challenge of the sentinel was replied to in a 
 loud, impatient, and eager voice ; and an officer, 
 whose richly embroidered uniform was covered 
 with orders, rode up with the speed of lightning 
 on a black charger, followed by two gendarmes. 
 
 " What is that ?" said the stranger, in a haugh- 
 ty and commanding tone to the officer on guard, 
 " what is that dark moving mass upon the bridge ?" 
 
 The officer, drawing near, informed the inquirer 
 that it was the body of the late Field-Marechal 
 who was killed in the last battle, and which, un- 
 der the command of the Adjutant Delolay, they 
 were conducting to be interred in the burying- 
 ground of the deceased. 
 
 " The devil !" said the officer, unsheathing his 
 sword, " this is some infamous deception — the 
 procession follows me — I am the Adjutant Delo- 
 lay !" And with these words he struck his spurs 
 deep in his horse's sides, and flew, followed by 
 his attendants, after the procession. 
 
 The douaniers at once perceived the cheat that 
 had been practised upon them, and that by this 
 contrivance a rich booty had escaped their harpy- 
 claws.
 
 260 THE RESCUE. 
 
 " This is a trick of the smugglers," they ex- 
 claimed, as they rushed upon the bridge after the 
 gendarmes. 
 
 *' Sacre nom !" exclaimed the veteran of Egypt 
 " did I not tell you that they knew not how to 
 show funeral honours to a Marechal of the great 
 army ? Now, you see I am right, they are no sol- 
 diers, but rogues; and the pretended Marechal 
 turns out to be neither more nor less than a bale 
 of tobacco." 
 
 All laughed, but the officer commanded silence, 
 as he did not think it consistent with his dignity 
 to take part in the concerns of the douaniers ; 
 however, he thought it as well, under the present 
 circumstances, to remain at his post, and there 
 await the termination of the affair. Whilst this 
 took place on the bank, the procession on the 
 bridge continued its way as quickly as possible, 
 but it was still a considerable distance from the 
 opposite side, when the hollow echoing gallop of 
 approaching horsemen, and the shouts of the en- 
 raged douaniers, reached the ear of its conductor. 
 
 " Confound it !" said he to himself, with sup- 
 pressed rage, " to be so near the harbour, and yet 
 be shipwrecked." 
 
 He now endeavoured to beat the horses into a
 
 THE RESCUE. 261 
 
 trot ; but all his exertions to force tliem to accele- 
 rate their speed proved fruitless. The officer now 
 approached at full gallop, followed by the gen- 
 darmes, and a crowd of furious douaniers; and 
 the leader of the mock procession now saw that 
 his well-concerted enterprise had failed, and that 
 it was time for him to think of his own safety. 
 
 " All is lost !" he exclaimed to his companions ; 
 " but the blood-hounds shall not be benefited by 
 it, and their noses shall in vain try to discover the 
 scent. Cut the traces," he exclaimed, " and throw 
 the carriage, with all its contents, into the stream ; 
 and," he continued, with a scornful laugh, " let 
 the fishes feast on the corpulent body of his Ex- 
 cellency the Field-Marechal." 
 
 The good people who followed the spectacle 
 along the banks of the river, were lost in amaze- 
 ment at this extraordinary order, which was in- 
 stantly obeyed. The horses, freed from their 
 traces, rushed at full speed to the opposite bank. 
 Every exertion was made to push the heavily laden 
 carriage to the edge of the bridge, in order to 
 throw it over into the river, but the pursuers were 
 already on the spot, the gendarmes, at full gal- 
 lop, dispersed the people who \Vere busied about 
 the carriage ; the douaniers stormed and threat-
 
 262 THE RESCUE. 
 
 ened, while, from the other side of the bridge, to 
 which the pursued had escaped, there issued a 
 hollow murmur, 
 
 " Is it even so ?" muttered the captain of the 
 smugglers, as he raised himself in the saddle, and 
 beheld the dangerous situation in which he was 
 placed. " And so the valuable goods will fall in- 
 to the hands of the rascals after all ! Nothing now 
 remains but to give my friends the signal to the 
 rescue. Cursed disaster ! devilish accident ! which 
 has overturned so deep-laid a plan." 
 
 At the same moment there was heard a peculiar 
 whistle, which the douaniers immediately knew 
 to be the smuggler's usual signal when forced to, 
 retreat, and which gave notice to his people that 
 their assistance was required to rescue him from 
 some imminent danger. 
 
 With the speed of lightning he instantly threw 
 off his military hat and cloak, by which he might 
 be recognised ; and in the dress of a citizen, which 
 he wore under his uniform, he dashed at full gallop 
 among the astonished crowd, to gain a certain 
 point of the bridge, where several boats lay unob- 
 served, and where he knew he would instantly 
 find a refuge. But while he was straining every 
 nerve to reach his destination, the officer in the
 
 THE REkSCUE. 263 
 
 embroidered uniform sprung upon liim, and stop- 
 ped him in the way. 
 
 " Are you the scoundrel," he exclaimed, with 
 irrepressible fury, " who presumes to pass himself 
 off for the Adjutant Delolay ? Instantly dismount, 
 kneel in the dust-; tremble, miserable cheat — I 
 myself am Delolay !" 
 
 At these opprobrious epithets, the stormy blush 
 of passion glowed on the countenance of him who 
 now played the part of captain of the smugglers. 
 In his hand glanced the polished steel, which he 
 held aloft, prepared equally for attack or defence. 
 " It is you who are the scoundrel !" he replied, with 
 furious rage, to the Adjutant ; " the slave of a ty- 
 rant, and the miserable instrument of injustice ! 
 Dost thou think that I would venture my life for 
 a couple of wretched dollars ? — No — to the cause 
 of freedom alone I devote my services, and shall 
 meet oppression with cunning or with force." 
 
 Delolay foamed with rage. For some time 
 words were denied him, and with much difficulty 
 he at length broke forth, " Contemptible worm ! 
 Dost thou dare to blaspheme my Emperor ?" He 
 raised his sword, and aimed a furious blow at the 
 breast of his antagonist, which the latter parried 
 with great dexterity.
 
 264) THE RESCUE. 
 
 " Have it, then !" cried the smuggler, who, 
 burning to revenge the insult he had received, for- 
 got all thoughts of his own safety, and brandish- 
 ing his weapon in the air, it fell with a violent 
 stroke upon the head of the officer, whose hat, cleft 
 in two, rolled on the ground, and scarcely able to 
 retain his seat, he reeled in the saddle. 
 
 " Ehrenfried ! — Brother ! — For God^s sake, 
 what are you about ?" cried a well-known voice to 
 the smuggler. 
 
 With a countenance pale as death, the latter 
 looked at the traveller, who at that moment sprung 
 from a post-chariot, whose progress had been ar- 
 rested by the crowd. " Ah ! what has brought 
 you here at this unlucky moment?" he replied 
 with bitterness. " Begone ! I will not acknowledge 
 thee — and who ever recognises me here, betrays 
 me." 
 
 But several of the approaching douaniers had al- 
 ready heard the speech of the traveller. TJiey had 
 seen the well-known bold and cunning smuggler 
 leave his people, and now thought to make him an 
 easy capture. Many shots were discharged at him, 
 and the bullets whizzed around his head. The 
 smuggler now saw, that only a few moments for 
 escape remained, and that a disgraceful punish-
 
 THE RESCUE, 263 
 
 ment, or perhaps a sliameful death, would follow 
 the least delay. 
 
 With a powerful jerk he wheeled round, and 
 striking his spurs into his horse's sides, with one 
 spring he plunged from the edge of the bridge in- 
 to the foaming waves. 
 
 " He is lost !" exclaimed the traveller, as he 
 pressed towards the place from which the smug- 
 gler had leapt so undauntedly. 
 
 Another shower of bullets was sent after him, 
 but all missed their aim ; and, to their great dis- 
 appointment, the douaniers saw their enemy reach 
 unhurt the boat in which his companions awaited 
 him, and into which he threw himself, leaving his 
 horse, that, till now, had carried him, to the mer- 
 cy of the waves. The curses and abuse of his pur- 
 suers resounded on all sides ; but this was only an- 
 swered by a shout of triumph from the smugglers. 
 
 The escape of the captain of the smugglers re- 
 moved a weight from the breast of the traveller, 
 and he breathed more freely. He now turned to 
 the Adjutant Delolay, who, stunned by the blows 
 he had received, had fallen from his horse, and lay 
 insensible upon the ground. His face was covered 
 with blood, and there were several deep wounds 
 on his head.
 
 266 THE RESCUE. 
 
 Seeing the situation of the officer, the traveller 
 hastened to the carriage to procure some restora- 
 tives, when his progress was suddenly stopped by 
 one of the gendarmes, who arrested him on the 
 suspicion of his being in league with the smug- 
 glers. In vain he showed his passport, which repre- 
 sented him as in the service of the Secretary of 
 the French Ambassador, upon whose affairs he 
 now travelled ; and assured him, that his commis- 
 sion was of the utmost importance, and would 
 brook no delay. The gendarme declared, that 
 these considerations were nothing to him ; and 
 that he must obey the orders he had received. The 
 traveller now saw himself placed under the dis- 
 agreeable necessity of again ascending the carriage, 
 in which the still insensible Delolay was also pla- 
 ced, and under the escort of several of the gen- 
 darmes, they returned to Strasburg. 
 
 Whilst the traveller was reflecting upon the ma- 
 nifold accidents which had so unexpectedly over- 
 turned all his plans, the douaniers, who had found 
 in the pretended hearse, a most enormous booty, 
 were busily employed in carrying the valuable 
 goods to a place of safety, and this lucrative prize 
 amply consoled them for the escape of the smug- 
 gler. As they approached the guard on the bridge, 
 11
 
 THE RESCUE. 26T 
 
 the grey-bearclecl drummer said, with a smile, 
 " Good, my boys, this is the first Marechal that 
 has fallen into your hands ; hold him fast, and do 
 not give him his freedom on parole ; for a hero 
 who is sold by measure and weight, cannot know 
 much of the laws of war and honour.'*
 
 268 THE RESCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The sound of the gentle rills, that tinkle 
 
 Adown their pebbly beds ; 
 The aspect of the stars that twinkle, 
 
 The azure gloom that spreads, 
 Soften the troubled heart, and soothe 
 The waves of the spirit, till all is smooth. 
 
 Moods of the Mind, 
 Jaromir. What do I hear ? 
 
 My Bertha's looks are turn'd on me again ; 
 Her voice recalls me, and on golden wings 
 Brings back my life. 
 
 Grillparzer. 
 
 It was midnight when Adeline awoke from a 
 deep and refreshing slumber. With surprise she 
 looked at the dim-burning night-lamp, which shed 
 a languid light through the apartment, and it was 
 some time before she could remember the cause 
 of her being there. Her uncle lay extended upon 
 a chair, on which he had thrown himself from 
 mere exhaustion ; and his deep breathing testified 
 that he too had felt the effects of their fatiguing 
 journey. His slumbers, however, wore disturl)-
 
 THE RESCUE. 269 
 
 ed, and some terrific dream appeared to disquiet 
 him ; for hollow, unintelligible sounds, from time 
 to time, issued from his lips. His sharp features 
 were painfully distorted, and the deep wrinkles 
 of his ghastly countenance imparted to him a look 
 of horror, at which Adeline inwardly trembled. 
 She could not love one who evinced towards her 
 nothing but cold repulsiveness or bitter scorn, 
 and who acknowledged no law save that of his own 
 will, and invariably punished those who were bold 
 enough to dispute his sway. But although Ade- 
 line could not love him, gratitude bound her to 
 him, for having, when an orphan, rescued her from 
 poverty and wretchedness. As she gazed on him 
 with looks of sympathy, she said to herself, " What 
 mighty power has sleep, which through the fan- 
 tasy of a dream can shake and agitate that har- 
 dened heart, and pierce that breast, which never 
 yet was touched with one feeling of tenderness or 
 pity ! True, he is my««ncle, and the only relative 
 whom death has left me ; but to me he will always 
 be a stranger. He compels me like a slave to follow 
 his unsettled and wandering life, and I must obey 
 his will, even against the dearest wishes and feel- 
 ings of my heart." 
 
 A heavy sigh relieved her, and her eyes filled
 
 270 THE RESCUE. 
 
 with tears. She was still lost in deep reflection, 
 when a noise under the window of her apartment 
 broke the current of her thoughts, and the sup- 
 pressed voice of a man repeatedly called the name 
 of Thomas ; but as no answer followed, he at last 
 added, " Have you all lost your hearing, ye dor- 
 mice ? And will you dream on till the constable 
 comes to waken you with a vengeance, and walk 
 you all off to the House of Correction ?" 
 
 Adeline listened attentively. A noise was heard 
 at the door of the apartment, and in the next mo- 
 ment she saw the figure of a man steal from the 
 house. This increased her anxiety ; and all the 
 horrors of her situation rushed upon her. " Is it 
 possible," she said to herself, " that we have fallen 
 into the hands of robbers ? Among wretches, who, 
 afraid of the discovery of their crimes, have deter- 
 mined on our death ?" Adeline hesitated what 
 steps to pursue in this fearful crisis. To awaken 
 her uncle would be useless, for what defence could 
 a weak old man, and unarmed too, oppose to their 
 assailants ? She stepped softly to the window, 
 which she cautiously opened ; and at the same 
 moment she heard another casement near her un- 
 closed, from which the man who had brought them
 
 THE RESCUE. 271 
 
 there in the morning looked out, and said, in a 
 smothered tone, " Devil roast you ! What do you 
 make such a noise about ? Do you wish to fright- 
 en the game that I watch here for that mad rogue 
 Fred? Speak softly, and say what is the matter. 
 Have they brought everything safe into the French 
 nest ? Does the fire-signal from the hills confirm 
 the good news ?" 
 
 " No, no," replied the voice from without — " all 
 must have failed, for there is no fire-signal far or 
 near. I have just come from the hills ; and unless 
 my eyes deceive me, there is not a light to be seen 
 round the whole neighbourhood. Everything is 
 dark on the heights ; and no sky-rockets were 
 let off in the valley, which would have been the 
 case if that rogue's plot had succeeded. Depend 
 upon it, all is discovered, and they themselves 
 tightly peppered. Take care that the constable is 
 not here before evening, to march the whole nest 
 off to prison. As for me, I shall save myself in 
 time, and shall descend fifty fathom deep into 
 the Gottesgruhe, where no Christian soul shall get 
 sight of me ; and I advise you to follow my exam- 
 ple." 
 
 " Then I should be a fool," replied the other. 
 
 ■^^iM^
 
 272 THE RESCUE. 
 
 " I suppose you have been dipping too deep in ttie 
 brandy bottle, and on that account cannot see what 
 is close before your nose. It is rather too much 
 to expect that I should give credit to the words of 
 a rascal like you, who sits the whole day over his 
 brandy-flask, and believe that the well-laid plot of 
 that rogue is unsuccessful. I won't so easily re- 
 linquish my share of the booty ; and I shall, there- 
 fore, remain here until the moon shows itself over 
 the tops of the Forest. It will then be time enough 
 to take refuge in the thickets, where I shall just 
 be as safe as you in the bottom of the Gottes- 
 gruhe" 
 
 " Do as you please," called the other from be- 
 low ; " but I have taken my resolution, and shall 
 keep it." 
 
 Here the conference ended. Adeline observed 
 that the last speaker went off, while the other shut 
 down the window. For a few moments she ho- 
 ped they had nothing to fear ; but again the words 
 which had dropt from her guard filled her with 
 fearful forebodings ; and she anxiously looked for 
 the arrival of the person who appeared to har- 
 bour such evil designs against them. 
 
 The cold night air began to chill her ; she
 
 THE RESCUE. 273 
 
 gently closed the window, and softly stole to her 
 coucli, when she heard Thomas return to his post, 
 and lay himself down before the door of the apart- 
 ment. With a mind torn with doubt, Adeline lis- 
 tened to every noise. What could be the meaning 
 of all these mysterious circumstances ? — At this 
 moment the shrill cry of the cuckoo resounded 
 through the arbour, while at the same time the 
 soft notes of a flute breathed forth its pleasing me- 
 lody. This sudden and unexpected sound, which 
 appeared to her like a warning voice, threw Ade- 
 line into great alarm. A violent giddiness seized 
 her ; and to save herself from falling, she caught 
 hold of one of the branches with which the room 
 was ornamented, and the awakened feathered tribe 
 filled the apartment with their shrill screams. 
 
 " Are they there ?" exclaimed the startled Mo- 
 relli, as he sprung to his feet, and with a counte- 
 nance distorted with horror, stood staring at Ade- 
 line. " Will they carry me to the sand-hill, that 
 it may drink my blood ; and will they seize the 
 corpse of the old Morel li ? — Fools, idiots ! they 
 must first prove my guilt ; and the pocket-book lies 
 securely hidden in the Black Forest, where it never 
 will be found unless Satan himself guides them to 
 it.'* 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 274 THE RESCUE. 
 
 Tlic sweet tones of the flute, which still conti- 
 nued, brought peace and hope to the heart of the 
 maiden, and she now recovered her composure. 
 The old man listened for a while in deep attention 
 to the sound ; but as soon as he recovered himself, 
 and his features had resumed their usual severe 
 and cold expression, turning to Adeline, he said, 
 " Ah ! you appear to have quite regained your 
 health ; but did it never occur to you when you 
 chose to play the night-wanderer, and in your mad 
 frolic set up these screaming wretches, that it would 
 disturb the rest of your old uncle ?" 
 
 Without returning any reply to the unmerited 
 reproaches which these words conveyed, Adeline 
 informed him of all that had happened. With ap- 
 parent indifference, the old man listened to her re- 
 lation, while he paced the chamber. When she had 
 brought her narrative to a close, he again threw 
 himself carelessly upon a seat, while he said, with 
 a cold smile, " And what can this mighty matter 
 signify? — That the people are engaged in some 
 secret and suspicious business is certain; but I 
 cannot think they have any designs against us. 
 Had they harboured any intention to rob us, I 
 scarcely think they would have troubled them- 
 selves to bring us here, where so many eyes are
 
 THE KESCUE. 275 
 
 upon them, when tlicy could have completed then 
 business with so much more safety under the veil 
 of night, in the Forest. No, no — the fear of rob- 
 bery is both needless and laughable. Another de- 
 sign, which I cannot yet unriddle, lies at the bot= 
 tom of our detention ; evil it cannot be, but the de- 
 lay of our journey is vexatious and provoking. 
 What now comes of the warning of your precious 
 cuckoo, and the silly notes of the flute, which, to 
 my comfort, have ceased at last ? You should re= 
 collect that you are in the Black Forest, where, in 
 every peasant's hut, particularly at the hour of the 
 cuckoo, you will hear this flute business going on. 
 But enough. Now away and sleep off the remains 
 of your illness. This uncertainty cannot last much 
 longer, and we shall soon again set out on our 
 journey." 
 
 Morelli had no sooner thrown himself on his 
 couch, than he again fell into the unquiet slum- 
 ber from which Adeline had so lately aroused him. 
 But sleep fled from her eyes, and she numbered 
 every hour until the break of morn, when, as for- 
 merly, the cuckoo's call, and the notes of the flute, 
 were again repeated. At length the day dawned, 
 and the young morning sun greeted the anxious 
 maiden with his bright beams ; the lai ks and lin=
 
 276 THE RESCUE. 
 
 nets raised a joyful song ; and a female voice was 
 heard singing a cheerful ballad. Adeline knew 
 the song : it brought sweet recollections to her 
 mind, and filled her soul with the most delicious 
 images. Reinhold had often sung it — Reinhold, 
 whose love was the most invaluable treasure of 
 her heart. She hastily approached the window, 
 and saw a blooming maiden drawing water from a 
 well before the house. Adeline opened the win- 
 dow and smiled to her. On turning round at this 
 noise, and perceiving the stranger. Else stopped 
 her song, and with a look full of suspicion and 
 distrust, fled into the house. Adeline sighed, and 
 said to herself, " What strange suspicion can they 
 have of me, which makes me an, object of terror 
 and dislike to all around ?" She sunk into deep 
 thought, while her eyes rested on the mountains, 
 from whose tops the grey mists of morning were 
 fast departing, leaving disclosed their lofty sum- 
 mits, crowned with gigantic pines, and at whose 
 base lay the extensive meadows, whose fragrant 
 flowers scented the morning air. 
 
 The unquiet slumber of Morelli still continued ; 
 and scarcely conscious of what she was doing, Ade- 
 line remained standing at the window. At this 
 moment the pale old woman stepped from the
 
 THE RESCUE. 27T 
 
 house, and rjiising her pensive eyes to Adeline, she 
 said, " Why do you remain in your dull apartment 
 when the magnificent scene around invites you to 
 walk ? — Come with me, A stroll among our hills 
 will refresh hoth body and mind." 
 
 Adeline, surprised, hesitated what to reply, but 
 after a pause, she said, " I dare not — my uncle 
 would be displeased." 
 
 " If duty restrains you," rejoined the widow, 
 " I shall not urge you. I thought that perhaps 
 you feared the guard before your door, whose 
 harshness I would soon have softened." And with 
 these words Frau Martha set out on her way to the 
 mountains. 
 
 Adeline had no sooner declined this invitation 
 than she repented of it. Again the idea rushed 
 into her thoughts, that perhaps this gentle and sor- 
 rowful old woman was the mother of her Reinhold, 
 and that fate had brought her there, and had at last 
 given her a friend to whom she might impart the 
 grief that oppressed her, and whose sweet parti- 
 cipation in her sorrow would awaken new trust 
 and consolation in her soul. " Perhaps," said the 
 maiden, " Frau Martha may have been sent to 
 console me in my affliction. Ah ! what precious 
 moments I have lost ! what an opportunity I have 
 neglected !"
 
 2*78 THE RESCUE. 
 
 A melancholy foreboding that this opportunity 
 would never return, and that now all was lost, took 
 possession of her. She sought her couch, and hid 
 her tearful countenance in the pillow. When Mo- 
 relli awoke and found his niece in this situation, 
 far from participating in her grief, he said to him- 
 self, " Silly, childish humours !" And although 
 internally tortured by the most dreadful feelings, 
 yet neither by word nor gesture did he betray what 
 was passing within. The dread of death had sei- 
 zed upon his heart, and he had reason to tremble, 
 for he had staked his life upon a desperate game. 
 
 Thomas now brought some refreshments into 
 the apartment of the prisoners. In moody silence 
 he stepped to the window, and looked anxiously to- 
 wards the road over which they had so lately tra- 
 velled. With a countenance pale from terror he 
 suddenly retreated. 
 
 " The devil !" he exclaimed ; " so it is no lie ! 
 and money and goods are gone, and all is disco- 
 vered !" 
 
 Adeline looked at him with affright, while the 
 astonished Morelli approached the window, which 
 the other at that moment hastily opened. 
 
 " Fred, is this you ?" said Thomas, to a man 
 who approached wrapped in a coarse great- coat.
 
 THE RESCUE. 279 
 
 and who, in breathless haste, had now reached the 
 house. Morelli knew the man to be the same who 
 had stopped their carriage the previous evening, 
 and who had sent them to their present abode ; for, 
 although he formerly wore a rich military uni- 
 form, this did not prevent Morelli from recogni- 
 sing his features, which were too deeply impress- 
 ed upon his memory to be easily forgotten. 
 
 " Is everything lost, then ?*' continued Thomas ; 
 " and have you brought nothing away ? — neither 
 the splendid embroidery, nor the valuable point- 
 lace ?" 
 
 " It was a foolish aifair," replied the other, for- 
 cing a laugh ; " but we have rescued our own 
 worthy persons, which is somewhat wonderful, 
 for, in the space of ten minutes, there was more 
 powder puffed on the Bridge of the Rhine than 
 would last for a year. His Highness himself, the 
 Adjutant Delolay, attempted to arrest me ; but I 
 declined the honour in a manner which he will re- 
 member for some time. — Quick, fellow," he added, 
 addressing Morelli's coachman, who stood staring 
 at them in amazement ; " put the horses to the 
 carriage, and see you don't lose a moment, for we 
 must now set out on our journey. — And you, old 
 gentleman," he called to Morelli, *' make ready —
 
 280 TTTE TIFSCUE. 
 
 you have as much reason to fear the officers of jus- 
 tice as I have ; and before half an hour is past, 
 they will be here — You must make room for me 
 in your carriage, were it only in gratitude for my 
 being your preserver, of which you must now be 
 aware." 
 
 ** By all that is sacred, Ehrenfried, what is the 
 matter?" said the pale old woman, as she approach- 
 ed the speakers on her return from her walk among 
 the hills. 
 
 " Nothing, mother," he replied, " but that the 
 air here does not agree with me, and I must go 
 where I can breathe more freely." 
 
 " What, wilt thou go away so soon again ?" said 
 Else, in a complaining tone, who, on hearing his 
 voice, had hastily approached him. " By the holy 
 Saint Anthony, I will not bear this." 
 
 " Oh, there is much more than this to bear in 
 the world, my dear," replied Ehrenfried, with a 
 wild laugh. " What is the great affair ? another 
 town, another maiden, and you too will soon find 
 another bridegroom ; and then the unmanageable 
 rogue who cannotdeport himself to your mind, will 
 soon be forgotten." 
 
 With these words he rushed into the house, 
 into which ho was followed by Else and his sor-
 
 THE RESCUE. 281 
 
 rowful mother. Morclli witli a joyful vsmile step- 
 ped back from the window, while Thomas with 
 curses quitted the apartment. 
 
 " Thou hearest," said Morelli to Adeline, " we 
 are instantly to continue our journey. Get every- 
 thing prepared, so that there may be no delay on 
 our part.** 
 
 " How, my uncle," exclaimed Adeline in sur- 
 prise, "will you travel with these suspicious men? 
 will you trust yourself with such wicked and law- 
 less people?" 
 
 " They won't harm us," replied Morelli, with a 
 peculiar smile ; " that I know well enough, and 
 from this man we have nothing to fear." 
 
 " Do you know him ?" said the astonished Ade- 
 line, as she hastily rose from her couch ; " then 
 say what is his occupation ? Who is he ?" 
 
 " Nothing so very extraordinary as thou seem- 
 cst to believe, child," replied Morelli ; " he is 
 what is commonly called a smuggler ; a man who 
 wages petty warfare against the laws of the great 
 Emperor, — a daring spirit, who generously dis- 
 penses in bushels what the great nation measures 
 out in spoonfulls ; but in every respect a man of 
 honour, and one who merits your highest esteem." 
 
 At this intelligence Adeline became almost
 
 282 THE RESCUE. 
 
 Speechless, and her sadness deepened as she re- 
 flected that she was about to be still farther sepa- 
 rated from her dear Reinhold, and that they were 
 on their journey to a foreign country, where an 
 unknown destiny awaited her ; for her fate hung 
 upon the will of the stern man into whose power 
 her evil lot had thrown her ; but with pious resig- 
 nation she ejaculated, " God's will be done." 
 
 The carriage being now ready, Morelli led his 
 niece down stairs, where Ehrenfried, who had ex- 
 changed his peasant's jacket for a neat travelling 
 dress, stood ready to receive them. He greeted 
 Adeline with respect, but her uncle with easy fa- 
 miliarity. Else stood on one side weeping violent- 
 ly ; but Frau Martha was nowhere to be seen. In 
 silence Morelli and his niece took their places in 
 the carriage ; and Ehrenfried, who had thrown the 
 coachman a small portmanteau, was just about to 
 follow, when his progress was arrested by Thomas, 
 who with a sullen countenance stepped up to him, 
 and said in an insolent tone, " I shall plainly 
 ask you, if you think that I am to believe your 
 story, that there has been nothing gained, and if 
 you expect that I am to remain inactive here on 
 your business, and to guard your chickens with- 
 out any recompense? This I will not do, Fredel,
 
 THE RESCUE, 283 
 
 and yon must now settle honestly with mc, before 
 I will allow you to go quietly away." 
 
 " As if I needed thy permission ! Why, I have 
 half a mind to chastise you for your boldness — but 
 as you are a poor devil, here is an alms for you," 
 said Ehrenfried, as he contemptuously threw him 
 a couple of gold pieces, which Thomas greedily 
 seized. 
 
 " Many thanks," replied the ci-devant miner, 
 with a sneer ; " money is money, and whether it 
 be called an alms, or a reward, is all one to me. 
 But something moves yonder in the thicket, and 
 before you can escape from this, they will be at 
 your heels." 
 
 With these words Thomas suddenly disappear- 
 ed, and flew with the speed of lightning into the 
 neighbouring wood, whilst Ehrenfried's quick eyes 
 soon discovered that the horseman, who approach- 
 ed from the heights at full speed, was neither an 
 officer nor a gendarme. 
 
 " Don't be uneasy," said he to the anxious 
 Morelli ; " Thomas is a coward, and has taken a 
 gnat for an elephant ; the rider who approaches I 
 know well, he comes as a friend, and not as an 
 enemy." 
 
 Morelli, however, notwithstanding this assu-
 
 284 THE RESCUE. 
 
 ranee, did not venture to look out of the carriage ; 
 and Adeline sat lost in deep thought, without par- 
 ticipating in the slightest degree in what was pass- 
 ing around her. Meanwhile the rider, who had 
 now reached the yard, quickly sprung from his 
 horse, which, completely exhausted by its exer- 
 tions, sunk powerless on the ground. 
 
 "Brother — Ehrenfried, save thyself!" exclaim- 
 ed the stranger, with breathless haste ; " thy pur- 
 suers are at hand — not a moment must be lost. 
 I shall remain behind to protect our mother." 
 
 The sound of this voice awakened Adeline from 
 her mournful reverie. These words were surely 
 spoken by him whose image reigned triumphant in 
 her soul. 
 
 " Reinhold, my own Reinhold !" she exclaimed, 
 as she attempted to throw herself from the car- 
 riage. 
 
 " Move not," whispered Morelli in her ear, 
 while he harshly pulled her back. Ehrenfried now 
 hastily sprung into the carriage, and the coach- 
 man set off at full speed. In vain were the com- 
 plaints of the miserable Adeline, in vain she im- 
 plored her stern uncle for but one moment's de- 
 lay ; — he coldly admonished her to be quiet ; whilst 
 Ehrenfried, who still continued to wave his hand
 
 JHE RESCUE. 285 
 
 in token of farewell to those lie had left behind, ob- 
 served nothing of what was passing in the carriage. 
 " What was that ?" said the stranger, as he ga- 
 zed after the vehicle, which at this moment turned 
 a corner of the wood. " Surely Adeline called my 
 name ? — her cry of anguish still sounds in my ear 
 — Is it possible? — can she be in that carriage which 
 has just driven from me, and which has already 
 vanished from my sight ?" 
 
 Frau Martha, who now came weeping from the 
 house, on seeing the stranger, extended her arms, 
 and said, with deep emotion — " Blessed be my 
 Reinhold ! Come to the heart of thy mother, who, 
 in losing a disobedient child, has gained a dutiful 
 and pious son — Heaven itself has led you hither 
 at this hour." 
 
 Hastily disengaging himself from his mother's 
 embrace, Reinhold assailed her with questions re- 
 specting Ehrenfried's travelling companions ; and 
 from the information which Frau Martha gave 
 him, he became convinced that it was indeed Mo- 
 relli and his niece, who, as Ehrenfried's prisoners, 
 had been detained beneath his mother's roof. With 
 ardent longing he looked towards the skirts of the 
 wood, behind which the travellers had vanished. 
 Ah, how did his heart powerfully urge him to lose 
 11
 
 286 THE RESCUE. 
 
 no time in following this much-loved one — and 
 what ardent desire assailed his inmost soul to ac- 
 complish his wishes ; — but a sacred duty withheld 
 him. 
 
 After the adventure upon the Rhine Bridge, 
 Reinhold was carried before the Prefect at Stras- 
 burg ; but upon showing his papers, and informing 
 him of his diplomatic character, he soon obtained 
 his freedom. But he learnt that an imminent dan- 
 ger threatened his family. Ehrenfried was too well 
 known to the douaniers, as a most expert and da- 
 ring smuggler, for them to have any doubts in re- 
 gard to his person. The last bold attempt upon the 
 Rhine Bridge had exposed the danger of the smug- 
 gler's adventure in its fullest extent. No time was 
 lost in applying to a magistrate for a warrant to 
 seize his person, and make strict search for the con- 
 traband goods at his abode. Both were granted, 
 and a detachment of gendarmes, accompanied 
 by a number of douaniers, were immediately dis- 
 patched to the retired dwelling of Frau Martha. 
 
 Reinhold now perceived that, under these cir- 
 cumstances, not only Ehrenfried, but also the pro- 
 perty of his mother, was in danger ; and, from her 
 great age and delicacy of health, he feared the 
 consequences might even prove fatal to her. He
 
 THE RESCUE. 28T 
 
 therefore applied for, and succeeded in obtaining, 
 a counter order, which limited the first. The cap- 
 tain of the smugglers was alone to be apprehended, 
 and the search for the contraband goods was re- 
 linquished. By a short path through the moun- 
 tains, he outstripped the detachment, and reach- 
 ed his mother's dwelling just in time to hasten 
 the flight of his proscribed brother, and to gain a 
 trace of his beloved Adeline, who, with her uncle, 
 had so unexpectedly vanished from Paris, where 
 Reinhold's employment at that time detained him. 
 He pretty well guessed the reasons which induced 
 Morelli to quit the capital in such mysterious haste ; 
 indeed, Morelli himself, while urging him to a 
 breach of duty, for which treachery the possession 
 of Adeline was the promised reward, had given him 
 a distinct view of the dangerous and dishonour- 
 able business in which he had embarked. His pro- 
 posals, however, Reinhold most decidedly decli- 
 ned, which so enraged Morelli, that he forbid him 
 to enter his house ; and, not satisfied with this, he 
 commanded Adeline to break off all intercourse with 
 him. But what can oppose the subtilty of love ? 
 Adeline and Reinhold saw each other in secret, 
 and exchanged vows of eternal constancy. But 
 when the beloved of his youl was so buddcnly torn
 
 28S THE UESCUE. 
 
 from him, he resolved to quit Paris ; and having 
 obtained from his ambassador leave to travel into 
 'Germany, where he suspected Morelli had gone, 
 he, with the view of accelerating his journey, 
 provided himself with the pass of a courier, and 
 hastily set off. We have seen how the strange oc- 
 currence upon the Rhine Bridge put a stop to his 
 hasty journey, and how he found his Adeline only 
 to lose her again. For some moments Reinhold, 
 irresolute what course to pursue, stood by the side 
 of his mother, who still tenderly held his hand; 
 but as his eyes fell upon his horse, which now lay 
 dying on the ground, he sighed, and said, — " And 
 even were I willing to leave my mother, now that 
 I have happily obtained a letter of protection for 
 her property, the thing is impossible." And, re- 
 turning the caresses of Frau Martha with all his 
 former affection, he stepped with her into their 
 peaceful dwelling, where a tliousand sweet and 
 consoling recollections of his childhood were awa- 
 kened.
 
 THE RESCUE. 2S0 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 My soul, they say, Is hard and oohl, 
 
 And nought can move me ; 
 Perchance 'tis so 'midst life's wild whirl- 
 But, oh, on Beauty's lips, my girl, 
 'Twill melt like Cleopatra's pearl ; — 
 
 Then love me — love me. Henry Njckt.f. 
 
 The first moment in which Morelll and Ehren- 
 fried found themselves alone upon their journey, 
 the latter seized the opportunity of entering into a 
 conference with the former, the purport of which 
 was to Morel li as unexpected as important. 
 
 " Mein Herr Morelli," Ehrenfried began, with 
 a peculiar smile, " I have remarked, during the 
 short period that I have had the honour of your 
 acquaintance, that you seem gifted with a most 
 uncommon degree of penetration ; for I observe 
 that you have already discovered that 3'our travel- 
 ling companion is neither more nor less than a smug- 
 gler, who now finds himself in the agreeable situa- 
 tion of an outlaw. But if you imagine that 1 have 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 THE RESCUE. 
 
 any doubts as to your profession, you are wrong. 
 Look, if you please, at these charming documents, 
 vvliich on the first night of our acquaintance you 
 threw from you with such scornful contempt, with 
 the intention, however, of regaining them ; and, 
 from the circumstance of their being now in my 
 possession, you may be convinced that I have a per- 
 fect knowledge of the nature of your services." 
 
 Morelli hastily seized the well-known pocket- 
 book which the forester presented to him. He in- 
 stantly opened it, and whilst he glanced OA^er the 
 contents, he said, with the greatest indifference of 
 voice and manner, — " Mere trifles — unimportant 
 memoranda belonging to my private affairs. It 
 must have fallen from the carriage without my ob- 
 serving it ; but, at any rate, I am very much obli- 
 ged for its being returned." 
 
 " Fallen from the carriage !" replied Ehren- 
 fried, while he fixed his eyes significantly upon 
 Morelli. " Truly," continued he, ironically, after 
 a short silence, during which Morelli secured the 
 pocket-book, and then looked at the forester with 
 apparent tranquillity, — " truly, it is a very likely 
 thing, that a pocket-book with such contents as 
 these, should fall from the carriage ; and also, that 
 a faithful servant of the invincible Emperor should
 
 THE RESCUE. 291 
 
 not take better care of it. But, mein Herr Morcl- 
 li, 'tis in vain you play this farce with me ; for al- 
 though the ciphers conceal many of the secrets of 
 your little book, yet the rest of the papers make it 
 clear enough, that if either of us have cause to 
 be ashamed of the company of the other, it is not 
 
 you." 
 
 <* What do you mean by that ?" replied Morelli, 
 in a cold but surprised tone. " How dare you 
 speak in so insulting a manner to me ? You, whom 
 a word from my mouth would consign to the pu- 
 nishment of the law, to shame, and to misery ?" 
 
 " Oh, what laughable generosity," interrupted 
 Ebrenfried, " which would throw away a dollar 
 to gain a louis-d'or ! I know the fate which awaits 
 me, should I fall into the hands of my enemies. 
 A thousand times have I reflected upon it ; a thou- 
 sand times has it presented itself to my imagina- 
 tion. The life of a galley-slave is dreadful ; but 
 a powerful mind, supported by its own principles, 
 can both endure and overcome. You, mein Herr 
 Morelli, think you can inform against me, and pre- 
 sume upon it ; but a rope for the neck of the spy, 
 as the proverb goes — and up with him to the 
 first tree which is strong enough to bear the 
 weight of his sins. — Oh, do you grow pale ? Do
 
 292 THE RESCUS. 
 
 you tremble ? Where is now your boasted compo- 
 sure ? Where the contempt with which you look- 
 ed down upon me ? But fear nothing ; it will give 
 me little pleasure to bring you to the rope, and 
 myself to the galleys. A smuggler and a spy are 
 excellent company for each other, although they 
 are not alike in all cases — and least of all in ours." 
 
 The paleness of death overspread the counte- 
 nance of Morelli — his limbs shook under him, and 
 he was obliged to sit down for some moments to 
 recover himself. After a short rest, which ap- 
 peared to restore his self-possession, he took seve- 
 ral turns through the apartment, and then placing 
 himself close before the forester, he said, — " Be- 
 lieve what you will, — but now learn from myself 
 that I am what you have named. We have nothing 
 to fear from each other — our exchange of confi- 
 dence will secure our mutual silence. But what 
 makes you entertain the absurd idea that your pro- 
 fession is more honourable than that of a spy ?" 
 
 " Do you wish an explanation ?" said Ehen- 
 fried ; " well, here it is : For the sake of paltry 
 gain, you serve the designs of others ; deceive and 
 abuse the confidence of those who trust in you ; 
 seek by bribery and deceit to seduce others from 
 their duty ; and, by giving imperfect informatiwi
 
 TME RESCUE. 293 
 
 to your employers, the peace and happiness of in- 
 numerable families, and the lives of thousands of 
 innocent persons, are sacrificed. Is not, then, your 
 profession one of destruction and treachery against 
 the whole human race ? What have I in common 
 with all this ?'* continued the forester, while he 
 proudly drew himself up. " I wage open war 
 against oppressive laws — against a detested power, 
 which alone I oppose, whilst I benefit thousands 
 wlio bleed under its scourge — nor have I ever 
 stained my hands with the gains which my enter- 
 prises brought. I conducted everything, but my 
 companions reaped the fruits of it ; for I had no 
 other motives for my actions than hatred and re- 
 venge. I was the assistant of a rich merchant in 
 a large town on the Rhine. In consequence of a 
 new regulation regarding commerce, the man who 
 loved me as a father became a beggar, and did not 
 long survive this misfortune. Then I stood upon 
 his grave, and solemnly vowed to effect the ruin of 
 his destroyers. To accomplish this as a soldier, 
 appeared to me impossible. War, at this time, 
 raged in Russia and on the borders of Portugal ; 
 and having little choice, I adopted that plan which 
 appeared most likely to facilitate my views, and be- 
 came the leader of a band of bold and enterprising
 
 2\)']! THE RESCUE. 
 
 smugglers. Of my deeds I shall not boast ; but 
 this war which I waged, sometimes with cunning, 
 sometimes with force, appeared to me as just as 
 any other. Again I assert, that I have never touch- 
 ed the smallest part of the booty ; and should the 
 world rank me as a criminal, and brand me as a 
 transgressor against the laws, yet still I bear about 
 me a proud consciousness of rectitude and ho- 
 nour." 
 
 In proportion as Ehrenfried's vehemence increa- 
 sed, the usual coldness and composure of Morelli 
 returned. " You please yourself with a strange 
 fancy, my young friend," said he, with a smile ; 
 " and we seem to entertain very opposite opinions. 
 You feel too deeply, but that is a fault which time 
 will rectify ; and," continued he, as he took the 
 hand of the forester, " I hope, when you have 
 overcome this foolish whim, to see you at some fu- 
 ture period become an able and a cunning spy !" 
 
 Ehrenfried indignantly snatched his hand from 
 that of his companion, and with one glance of 
 contempt at Morelli, he quitted the apartment, 
 without even deigning a reply. 
 
 Adeline bore the fatigues of their hurried jour- 
 ney, which was continued without interruption, 
 with patience and submission. From the moment
 
 THE RESCUE. 295 
 
 she discovered that Ehrenfried was the brother of 
 her dear Reinhold, she became more cheerful, and 
 regarded her travelling companion not only with- 
 out fear, but even with delight. A secret influence 
 seemed to attract her towards Ehrenfried, and to 
 unite her more closely to her beloved, from whom 
 she was separated. In the features of her compa- 
 nion she found a strong resemblance to Reinhold, 
 and she gazed on Ehrenfried till she fancied that 
 his dark cheek had assumed a brighter tint ; that 
 the bold and reckless expression of his eyes had 
 changed to a look of mildness and benignity, and 
 that it was indeed her own Reinhold who sat be- 
 side her; and that in a peaceful and happy union 
 they journeyed together through life. 
 
 Who shall presume to smile at the self-decep- 
 tion of the poor maiden, to whom the reality of 
 bliss was denied — to whom nothing but the delu- 
 sive pictures of her own imagination remained to 
 console her for the disappointment of every earth- 
 ly hope ? Adeline became more cheerful as she 
 thought of intrusting the lately dreaded Ehrenfried 
 with the secrets of her heart. During their jour- 
 ney, he treated her with respectful attention, and 
 frequently protected her from the severity of Mo- 
 relli, over whom he exercised an influence totally
 
 296 TilK RESCUE. 
 
 incomprehensible to her. For the first time, she 
 now felt herself freed from that restraint which 
 the presence of Morelli had hitherto imposed; and 
 she only now perceived the extent of the authori- 
 ty which he had usurped over her. A young man 
 of Ehrenfried's feelings and disposition, could not 
 long be in the society of such a lovely being as 
 Adeline without experiencing the power of her 
 charms. He rpure and innocent mind excited an 
 admiration which soon ripened into a glowing and 
 ardent affection. His wild and unsettled life had 
 hitherto prevented him from thinking deeply of 
 love ; for although he had plighted his faith to his 
 cousin Else, it was more the power of habit than 
 a deep and ardent attachment which bound him 
 to her. True, he intended to marry her, but he 
 did not consider himself obliged upon that account 
 to deny himself any pleasure which came in his 
 way — more especially as his prospect of becoming 
 a domestic husband was so distant and uncertain. 
 Besides, Adeline's friendly behaviour towards him, 
 and her looks, which often unconsciously rested 
 upon him, confirmed him in the pleasing delusion 
 that he was not indifferent to her, and he thought 
 \w would be a great fool not to take advantage of
 
 THE HIlSCUK. 2dl 
 
 the affection of his beautiful companion. The tra- 
 vellers now reached a small cheerful village of 
 Franconia, where, as no post-horses could be ob- 
 tained, they were forced to remain some hours. 
 
 Morelli gloomily seated himself at a window of 
 the little inn, and looked carelessly at the opposite 
 houses, while the beauty of the day tempted Ade- 
 line to the adjoining flower-garden, where she 
 could dwell on the remembrance of her beloved 
 and absent Reinhold. She felt more than usually 
 disposed to melancholy, and struggled in vain 
 against the sadness that oppressed her, and which 
 at length broke forth in an uncontrollable burst of 
 grief. Tears still dimmed her eyes, and slowly 
 rolled down her pale cheeks, when Ehrenfried un- 
 expectedly approached her from a neighbouring 
 arbour, 
 
 " Do you weep, Adeline ?*' said he, with a gen- 
 tleness of tone which strongly reminded the maid- 
 en of her Reinhold, whose soft and tender voice 
 she thought had again penetrated her heart ; " who 
 is so cruel as to cause those tears to flow ? Would 
 your uncle," he continued, with vehemence, 
 *' again tyrannize over you — is it he who disturbs 
 your tranquillity ? Tell me, dearest Adeline, for I
 
 298 THE RESCUE. 
 
 have the power of preventing him from harming 
 you !" 
 
 " You err," replied Adeline, drying her tears ; 
 " the grief which I feel is not new — the sorrow 
 which oppresses my heart has long heen its guest, 
 and is now fast destroying my peace, my happi- 
 ness, my life." 
 
 " That shall not he !" exclaimed Ehrenfried with 
 indignant vehemence. — " No, maiden," he conti- 
 nued in a softer tone, and looking tenderly at Ade- 
 line, " thy life shall not be poisoned through the 
 wickedness of others — trust yourself to me — no- 
 thing is too great, too dangerous for me to accom- 
 plish for you — I will shield thee from every evil 
 — I will tame your wicked uncle, and bring him 
 under subjection. I will destroy every weed which 
 obstructs your path, and will strew thy way with 
 blossoms of peace and happiness. — Yes, maiden, 
 trust me, and be mine !" 
 
 With these words he threw his arms around 
 Adeline, who, pale as death, and hardly trusting 
 her senses, stood gazing at him. " Do you think," 
 lie continued, while he pressed her to his heart, 
 " that your uncle will oppose my wishes ? Oh, 
 no — ^he knows his own interest, and dare not — 
 his dangerous occupation is well known to mc. I
 
 THE RESCUE. 299 
 
 have held a mirror before him, in which he with 
 horror viewed his own picture, and which filled 
 the heart of this grey-haired sinner with terror and 
 dismay. I tell you he must, he shall " 
 
 " And what is it you think of my uncle ?" fal- 
 tered Adeline ; " of what designs do you suspect 
 him ?" 
 
 " Oh, I am aware of the nature of his designs ; 
 and were you, charming maiden, kept in ignorance 
 of his plots? Had you never the least suspicion, 
 that, as a spy of a power at war with France, he 
 lived in the capital, where he spared no means to 
 accomplish his designs, and that, with important 
 documents, he is now on his return to his em- 
 ployer, where he hopes to reap a rich harvest ?" 
 
 " Hold !" interrupted Adeline, while she impe- 
 tuously disengaged herself from his arms; " I know 
 enough — I know all ! Oh, Heavens ! is the pro- 
 found mystery, which, as a threatening phantom, 
 hovered over me, at length disclosed ! Now it is 
 clear that my fate hangs on the will of a man whom 
 I abhor, and whom I must despise ! Now I know 
 also that I was the price at which my uncle would 
 have purchased your brother's treachery ! Now I 
 know why Reinhold is separated from me, and 
 why my uncle hates him ! The web of treachery
 
 300 THK RESCUE. 
 
 and deceit which encircled me is now unfolded, 
 and now only do I discover that I have been a help- 
 less instrument in the hands of a " Here sobs 
 
 and tears choked her utterance. 
 
 Astonished and amazed, Ehrenfried for some time 
 regarded her in silence, then gently taking her 
 hand, and raising it to his lips, he said, " Unfor- 
 tunate maiden, had I but known that a merciful 
 veil concealed from you the real character of your 
 relation, I would not have withdrawn it. But did 
 you not speak of my brother ? You named Rein- 
 hold — you say your uncle hates him, and has se- 
 parated him from you — What extraordinary cir- 
 cumstances still remain concealed?" 
 
 " You shall, you must learn everything," said 
 Adeline, as she dried her tears. " In Paris, I be- 
 came acquainted with Reinhold. My uncle him- 
 self brought him to our house, as he probably 
 thought, that under the mask of friendship he 
 might insinuate himself into his confidence, and by 
 these means obtain a knowledge of the affairs of 
 the ambassador, which he could not hope to pur- 
 chase from the honourable Reinhold with gold. 
 His penetration soon discovered the situation of 
 our hearts, and tliat we lived for each other ; and
 
 THE RESCUE. 301 
 
 he appeared to sanction our affection. Many a long 
 and peaceful hour have I spent with Reinhold — 
 Often has he told me of his home, of his excellent 
 mother, and of his wild, but good-hearted Ehren- 
 fried. Then Ave consulted about our future union, 
 and talked of making preparations for our domestic 
 life, and vowed to live and die together. Of my 
 uncle's consent we had no doubt; and it was de- 
 termined that Reinhold should ask my hand from 
 him. The result of their interview, and the reasons 
 which made my uncle the determined enemy of 
 Reinhold, your dreadful disclosure has, for the first 
 time, informed me of. To suffice, my uncle coldly 
 signified to me, that Reinhold should never again 
 cross his threshold ; and that I must break off all 
 intercourse with him, as he never should be mine. 
 My tears were answered with a laugh of scorn, 
 and my prayers and entreaties with deep- wounding 
 mockery, so that by his cruel and harsh behaviour, 
 he has destroyed all the affection which I ought to 
 feel for so near a relation. Reinhold entreated a 
 secret interview. He would not confess to me the 
 reason of my uncle's sudden opposition to our union, 
 nor even allow me to suspect that he had relin- 
 quished the dearest object upon earth, rather than 
 owe his happiness to a breach of duty. We had ar-
 
 302 THE RESCUE. 
 
 ranged our future interviews, and consoled our- 
 selves with new hopes ; when my uncle one night 
 suddenly awakened me, and ordered me instantly 
 to prepare to set out on an immediate journey. 
 The feelings with which I quitted Paris I cannot 
 describe. How we came into your mother's house, 
 you best know ; but a sweet foreboding took pos- 
 session of my soul, v/hen I found myself in her 
 friendly neighbourhood ; and when I remembered 
 what my beloved had told me of his mother and 
 his home, I felt as if all were indeed realized ; and 
 when I heard Heinhold's well-known voice, ur- 
 ging his brother to save himself by flight, and that 
 he would remain behind and protect his mother, 
 then the truth burst upon my soul, — it was to me, 
 however, but a moment of joy, which quickly pass- 
 ed away. I have now unveiled my inmost soul to 
 the brother of my Reinhold ; he is the only con- 
 fidant of my love, and surely he will not betray it." 
 Ehrenfried listened with the deepest attention 
 to the speech of the maiden ; but when she related 
 to him the ties which united her to his brother, 
 he allowed her hand to drop from his ; and his 
 eyes sought the ground. A short struggle arose in 
 his breast, but it was soon decided ; and turning 
 with animated looks towards the anxious Adeline,
 
 THE RESCUE. 303 
 
 he said, "And by Heaven, Adeline, you shall not 
 be deceived in me. Strange and wild Ehrcnfried 
 has been, but never base. Poor brother !*' he con- 
 tinued to himself, " thou wert near the chosen of 
 thy heart, and knew it not ; and had you seized 
 this opportunity, which chance had so luckily 
 thrown in your way, you might have regained 
 her." 
 
 " Believe me," said Adeline, earnestly, " he 
 knew my voice, and that I was in the carriage that 
 drove from him ; but the fulfilment of a sacred 
 duty prevented him from following. The senti- 
 ments which prompted this conduct I honour ; it 
 is for these feelings that I love him, and which are 
 the only secure basis of a true and lasting affec- 
 tion." 
 
 " It may be as you say," said the forester, half 
 aloud. " He repairs what I destroy ; he protects 
 what I endanger. Yes, he is what I am not — a 
 good son, a friend of peace, a promoter of happi- 
 ness ; therefore, Adeline, he deserves you ; and as 
 surely as I shall in future be a better man than I 
 have hitherto been, you shall be his. Yes, I am 
 resolved to accomplish your union with my bro- 
 ther, and thus requite him in some degree for his 
 generous forbearance and kindness towards me."
 
 304 TIIK T^ESCUE. 
 
 At this moment Morelli stepped from behind a 
 tree, where he had overheard their conference. 
 
 " And is the uncle's consent of no consequence ?" 
 said he, with a scornful laugh to Ehrenfried. — 
 " Truly, you think you have played a clever game ; 
 but the old man may yet turn up a trump, and 
 spoil all. You have miscalculated, how easily a 
 thoughtless youth may be outwitted in his plans." 
 
 Adeline averted her face from the man, to whose 
 conduct she was no longer a stranger, and who 
 now stood unveiled before her. When Ehrenfried 
 perceived him, he stood erect ; and whilst he look* 
 ed at him with the most sovereign contempt, re- 
 plied, with all the haughtiness of voice and ges- 
 ture which he could assume, — 
 
 " You have again missed your aim, my worthy 
 gentleman. Do you not believe that it is in my 
 power to bring you to the gibbet, and to procure 
 for my brother, who stands as much above you as 
 an honourable man stands above a scoundrel, that 
 happiness which he so richly deserves, and which 
 you would disturb ? You see it is not prudent to 
 provoke me, and I command you from this mo- 
 ment to consider and treat Adeline as the bride of 
 my brother ; and as such I know how to protect 
 her against every one." 
 12
 
 THE RESCUE. 305 
 
 With these words he seized the hand of the si- 
 lent Adeline, and led her to the carriage, which 
 stood in readiness at the door of the inn ; whilst 
 with a hell in his bosom, and looks which threat- 
 ened a tempest, Morelli slowly followed. 
 
 VOL. J.
 
 300 THE RESeUF. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 How long wilt thou continue to take pleasure in sin ? 
 Repentance is not unpalatable — taste it. 
 
 Persian Poetry, 
 
 The travellers continued their journey without 
 interruption. Morelli's pass was in the proper 
 form ; and before the bold attempt on the Rhine 
 Bridge, Ehrenfried had provided himself with the 
 necessary papers, to prevent detection on that side 
 of the Rhine. From the time at which Ehrenfried 
 informed Morelli, that he considered Adeline the 
 bride of his brother, the intercourse betwixt the 
 travellers assumed quite a different character. For- 
 merly, Morelli ordered everything ; but now Eh- 
 renfried took upon himself that charge. Adeline 
 was treated by the brother of her Reinhold with 
 the most marked respect ; and she now enjoyed a 
 freedom which she had never before known. But 
 towards her uncle, the forester assumed a tone of 
 superiority, to which Morelli quietly submitted ; for
 
 THE RESCUE. SO'T 
 
 in the dangerous situation in which he found him- 
 self, he was too cautious and too prudent to irritate 
 a character such as Ehrenfried. 
 
 It was Ehrenfried's wish to reach a division of 
 the Allied army, which, on the termination of the 
 truce of 1813, was assemhling on the frontiers of 
 Bohemia, for the purpose of acting against the 
 common enemy. 
 
 He then designed to enter the army, and cared 
 little under what banner he served, provided he 
 were opposed to the French. These intentions 
 were known to Morelli, who said to himself, " So 
 much the better for me ; I shall soon be freed from 
 his control ; and then the happy dreams of this silly 
 child shall have an end, and the privileges which 
 this fiery youth has usurped shall be restored to me. 
 No, no, mein Herr Reinhold, Adeline shall never 
 be your wife. Do you think that I have forgot the 
 thousand louis-d'ors which I was forced to pay for 
 secrets which I in vain endeavoured to obtain from 
 you ? Can you imagine that the remembrance of 
 the disdain with which you looked down upon me, 
 when I was fool enough to believe that you were 
 worthy of my confidence, is effaced from my soul ? 
 You are mistaken. I remain your mortal enemy, 
 and the time will come when I shall throw off this
 
 308 TUF. RFSCC'K. 
 
 tiresome mask, and show your insolent brother, 
 that I am again master of my own will and ac- 
 tions." 
 
 In consequence of these reflections, Morelli con- 
 ducted himself towards both* Adeline and Ehren- 
 fried with so much kindness and condescension, 
 as induced the former to believe that he had no 
 longer any hostility against Reinhold, and that he 
 now thought it best to sanction a union on which 
 her happiness depended. But Ehrenfried was not 
 so easily deceived ; he had long discovered Morel- 
 li's character, and suspected that his apparent soft- 
 ness was only assumed to conceal his inveterate 
 malice ; and that, und^r the mask of friendship and 
 condescension, he tried to hide his treacherous in- 
 tention of overturning his plan for his brother's 
 happiness. But fortunately the forester had a pro- 
 ject in contemplation, the success of which would 
 completely counteract the plots of Morelli. 
 
 Morelli found that the company of such a spirit- 
 ed youth as Ehrenfried, was of infinite use to them 
 in travelling on the route of the French army, va- 
 rious divisions of which were now hastening to- 
 wards the Elbe ; and it is difficult to say what tlie 
 consequences might have been to both, had not 
 Ehrenfried returned bold and confident replies to
 
 Tin: uEscui:. 309 
 
 the innumerable interrogations with which he was 
 assailed. He well knew the arts of conciliation ; 
 and his agreeable and lively manners seldom failed 
 to make a favourable impression on all those with 
 whotn he came in contact. The travellers had now 
 reached a small village in Saxony where they de- 
 termined to remain for the present, as the army 
 of the enemy was in the neighbourhood, and the 
 French commander had issued orders to detain all 
 travellers. The battles of Dresden, Katzbach, 
 Dennewitz, and Culm, were fought ; but although 
 the great army proclaimed all these victories, yet 
 no one knew to which side the palm of triumph 
 belonged. 
 
 In restless anxiety, Morelli strolled through the 
 village, listened and inquired on all sides, but could 
 obtain no certain intelligence of the real state of 
 affairs ; till at length, by the merest accident, he 
 learnt that a detachment of the enemy's troops 
 was posted on the other side of the mountains, 
 iind not more than ^ day's journey from the vil- 
 lage. From this moment he spared no exertions 
 to procure a faithful messenger, whom he could 
 dispatch to the commander of the post ; and after 
 much trouble, he at length found one that he 
 thought would suit his puipose. This person was
 
 310 THE RESCUE. 
 
 well acquainted with the neighbourhood, and pro- 
 mised to deliver the letter with which he was in- 
 trusted, and assured Morelli that he would take 
 a by-path over the mountains, which he knew to 
 be open, and near which he was certain none of 
 the French soldiers were quartered. In spite of 
 his great age and the difficulties of the under- 
 taking, Morelli himself would have attempted 
 to reach his friends, had he not been afraid to 
 leave Adeline wholly in the power of Ehrenfried, 
 who, he was convinced, would gladly seize this 
 opportunity of uniting her to his brother. But 
 however secretly Morelli had dispatched his mes- 
 senger, the occurrence was suspected by Ehren- 
 fried, who warned him of the danger into which 
 he was running, and represented to him, that al- 
 though they were near the accomplishment of their 
 wishes, yet they ought to be cautious, as the slight- 
 est imprudence would inevitably plunge them in 
 destruction. But Morelli denied everything, told 
 Ehrenfried he was alarmed by a shadow, and at 
 last succeeded in laughing him out of his fears. 
 
 Meanwhile, Adeline became from day to day 
 more confidential with the brother of her Reinhold* 
 The inactivity in which Ehrenfried was now com- 
 pelled to live, tended to soften him, and his better
 
 THE RESCUE. 311 
 
 feelings now began to vanquish the strong passions 
 which so long had held him in their bondage. 
 
 He thought with deep emotion of his mother, 
 with sincere and ardent affection of his brother, 
 and with newly-awakened love of the much inju- 
 red Else. Ah ! how did it grieve him to reflect on 
 the pain he had inflicted on the good Frau Martha ! 
 — what agony was in the thought of the many sa- 
 crifices which Reinhold had imposed upon him- 
 self on his account, and that to fulfil the duty of 
 a son, he had overcome his ardent desire to follow 
 his beloved ! How did he now repent of his harsh- 
 ness towards Else, who still so truly loved him, 
 and to whom he had sworn affection and faith ! In 
 his imagination the maiden in all her beauty now 
 stood before him, and filled his soul with a passion- 
 ate love which he never before had known. 
 
 " Adeline," said he one day to her, " I feel 
 that my intercourse with you has made me a bet- 
 ter man. But I know how to repay you for it ; 
 and, by Heaven, it is no empty promise which 
 I make to secure your future happiness. I have 
 much to repair, not only to my brother, but to 
 my good mother and Else. Reinhold's filial afl^ec- 
 tion, which made him sacrifice his dearest hopes 
 for mc, and your devoted faith and attachment to
 
 312 THE Ri:SCUE. 
 
 him, have placed a mirror before me, in which, to 
 my great humiliation, I see how far I am from 
 deserving to he called a good man. How disgiace- 
 ful was it in me to break faith with one, to whom 
 I had plighted my faith ; and who gave me her 
 affection in return ; and how cruel to leave her 
 to mourn over the broken vows and promises, in 
 which she trusted ! I must efface this shame. This 
 very day will I write my brother, instantly to come 
 hither ; and then, Adeline, I shall present you to 
 him, and say. There, brother, take her for your 
 wife ; her cruel uncle dares no longer refuse her ; 
 I have won and preserved her for you ; she will re- 
 ward you for what you have done for our mother ; 
 she will repay the obligations which you have heap- 
 ed on my head. And if he comes on the wings of 
 love, and brings with him my mother's pardon, 
 and the assurance of Else, that in spite of my fickle- 
 ness, in spite of my cruel return to her affection, 
 her heart still clings to me, and that she will re- 
 ceive the prodigal, then, Adeline, shall I see my 
 happy star again shine forth, and I shall obtain a 
 possession, the value of which I have only now 
 learnt to know — peace of mind." 
 
 " How, my friend," said Adeline with anima- 
 tion, "shall Reinhold indeed come here? And
 
 THE RESCUE. 813 
 
 will my dearest hopes, which I had almost resign- 
 ed in despair, at last be accomplished ? You say 
 you will write him ; but dare you venture that ? 
 will a letter not betray you, and frustrate all your 
 plans ?" 
 
 " I have considered that," replied Ehrenfried, 
 " and have found a way to avoid the danger. I 
 shall addi-ess my brother's letter to Thomas the 
 miner, which will prevent detection, as he never 
 was suspected of being connected with the smug- 
 glers ; although, on account of his cunning and 
 activity, we employed him as our secret scout to 
 bring us all the intelligence he could pick up. So 
 all will yet go well, and even our detention in this 
 village, which I cursed, and thought so insupport- 
 able, will help to further our purpose." 
 
 " Thomas, did you call the man, to whom you 
 mean to intrust this important intelligence ?" 
 asked the maiden, thoughtfully ; " well do I re- 
 member him, but his appearance did not inspire 
 me with a good opinion of him. In his eyes there 
 lurked a malignity " 
 
 " No forester, Adeline, will betray another," 
 interrupted Ehrenfried ; *' I have known Thomas 
 from a child, and I am aware that his prevailing 
 passion is avarice. Rcinhold will richly reward
 
 314 THE RESCUE. 
 
 liim for the joyful news he brings ; this is all that 
 Thomas cares about, and the matter is done and 
 forgotten. Leave everything to me, Adeline ; too 
 long have I acted to please myself only, without 
 regarding the comfort of others, and it is time 
 that this selfishness should have an end." 
 
 " I cannot, I dare not turn you from your pur- 
 pose," replied Adeline ; <* it accords so much with 
 the dearest wishes of my heart, that I can say no- 
 thing against it. But I have one petition, which 
 you must not deny me. Your remaining much 
 longer in this place, is attended with the greatest 
 danger ; suspicion lurks around your steps, and a 
 drawn sword is suspended over your head. When 
 this letter, which calls my Reinhold here, and on 
 which my fate depends, is delivered ; and when 
 you have fulfilled your duty towards your mother, 
 your brother, and your betrothed, then promise 
 me that you will instantly quit this place. You 
 have youth and strength ; it will be an easy thing 
 for you to climb the mountains, and by remote 
 paths to reach a place of safety, where you may 
 find an opportunity of employing yourself in some 
 honourable profession. Yes, Ehrenfried, you must 
 grant this for the sake of those who love you.
 
 THE RESCUE. 315 
 
 Every hour that you linger here increases ray 
 anxiety. I cannot bear to think that, on my ac- 
 count, you stake your freedom and your welfare. 
 Relieve me from this torture, and when the letter 
 is sent off, let us separate, and oh ! fly to some 
 place of safety.'* 
 
 " Never," replied the forester, in a firm and 
 decided tone — " I quit you not until Reinhold 
 arrives and receiv^es you from my hand, and until 
 I put it out of the power of your uncle to exercise 
 further tyranny over you. This is the first hour 
 in which I am satisfied with myself. This is a 
 good and a just vow, and from it I will not swerve ; 
 I stake my life upon its fulfilment ; and if I am 
 ruined by it, I shall not repent, but shall rejoice 
 in the consciousness of having left behind me one 
 good deed on which my family can dwell with af- 
 fection and satisfaction.'* 
 
 All the attempts of Adeline to shake Ehrenfried's 
 determination were fruitless. With all the warmth 
 of feeling which his intercourse with Adeline had 
 called forth, he wrote to his mother, his brother, 
 and his betrothed. His better feelings had only 
 slumbered ; Adeline and Reinhold's example had 
 now awakened them ; and in pouring out the feel- 
 ings of his heart, he acknowledged with joy the
 
 31() THE RESCUE. 
 
 happy change which so short a time had accom- 
 plished in him, and openly confessed his deep re- 
 pentance for all his errors. In truth, he appeared 
 to himself almost in the light of a stranger, whose 
 sentiments he was compelled to honour. Thus 
 there arose in him that true self-respect which 
 prizes virtue for its own sake. 
 
 Else's affectionate and still attached heart surely 
 could not resist this candid confession — surely his 
 mother must forgive, when informed of his return 
 to honour and duty. This conviction brought 
 serenity to his.soul, and consokd and strengthened 
 him in his present dangerous situation. 
 
 As proposed, the packet was addressed to Tho- 
 mas the miner, who was promised a handsome 
 reward on its speedy and safe deliverance; and 
 it was dispatched immediately by Ehrenfried. 
 Days and weeks elapsed, however, but still no 
 Reinhold and no answer appeared. Adeline be- 
 came anxious and uneasy, and all the attempts of 
 Ehrenfried to dispel the clouds which overcast her 
 lovely countenance were totally unavailing. Mo- 
 rel li, too, had for some time appeared gloomy and 
 depressed. The confidential messenger whom he 
 had sent to the camp of the enemy had not yet 
 returned. In vain he consoled himself from day
 
 THE RESCUF. 3 IT 
 
 to day with the hope that the man was detained 
 by some accidental circumstances, and that at last 
 he would appear. He came not; and now Mo- 
 relli was assailed by all the agony and fears of the 
 consequences of a discovery, or perhaps the trea- 
 chery of the messenger himself. His feelings were 
 the more agonizing, from having no one to whom 
 he could impart them, and from whom he might ex- 
 pect sympathy and consolation. The forester, who 
 had assumed towards him a commanding tone, he 
 looked upon as his most inveterate enemy ; and as 
 to Adeline, towards whom he was conscious of 
 having acted with baseness and duplicity, he be- 
 lieved she hated him, without considering, that 
 although she never could approve of his conduct, 
 she would always regard him as the brother of her 
 mother. His whole frame was powerfully shaken ; 
 and as he reflected that the increasing infirmities 
 of old age would not long endure the violence of 
 the passions which the danger of his situation oc- 
 casioned, he determined, at any price, to free him- 
 self, by a decisive step, from this state of continual 
 and insupportable agitation. 
 
 Meanwhile the fortune of war seemed inclined 
 to favour the allies of the French. The French 
 aimy withdrew from the Elbe, and appeared t©
 
 318 THE RESCUE. 
 
 intend to piteli their tents more in the centre of 
 Saxony. The movements of the troops which 
 were assembling from all quarters, and the extra- 
 ordinary haste of the soldiers in securing provi- 
 sions, all indicated the proximity of a powerful 
 antagonist, and the expectation of an approach- 
 ing engagement, the result of which was of the 
 greatest importimce to the travellers. However 
 much Ehrenfried wished to see Germany deliver- 
 ed from the dominion of a foreign power, yet even 
 should this hope be fulfilled by a victory over the 
 enemy, still he feared that, as soon as Morelli was 
 freed from his sway, he would again resume his 
 former severity towards Adeline, and like some 
 malignant demon, step betwixt her and Reinhold, 
 which would frustrate his benevolent plan, and 
 prevent him from making that return for all his 
 brother's sacrifices, which he so ardently wished. 
 Every hour brought detachments of French troops 
 in and around the village, and each moment aug- 
 mented the probability that an early day would 
 decide the fate of the contending armies. Rein- 
 hold came not, and they could not now expect to 
 hear from him, as all the posts were stopped. 
 Ehrenfried wandered about, lost in deep thought, 
 while Adeline resigned herself to her grief, and the
 
 THE RESCUE. 319 
 
 complete hopelessness which had taken possession 
 of her. Until now Ehrenfried's cheering conver- 
 sation had always composed her ; but even his san- 
 guine and daring spirit was broken ; and in his 
 gloomy mien the unhappy Adeline thought she 
 read the destruction of her long cherished hopes.
 
 320 TI[E RESCUE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIT. 
 
 Slight are the outward signs of evil thought ; 
 Within — within— 'twas there the spirit wrought r 
 Love shows all changes — Hate, Ambition, Guile, 
 Betray no further than the bitter smile. 
 
 BVRON. 
 
 One stormy and tempestuous evening, a carriage 
 stopped at the residence of the travellers. Adeline, 
 who was alone in her chamber, inspired with new 
 hope, sprung to the door, towards which she heard 
 footsteps hastily approaching. 
 
 " It is he !" she faltered, as she pressed her 
 hand upon her throbbing heart ; but the thrill of joy 
 so overpowered her, that a sudden faintness for- 
 ced her to return to her seat. But it was not the 
 noble form, not the mild blooming countenance of 
 her beloved, which met her view as the door was 
 thrown open, and he who had occasioned so much 
 emotion stepped into the apartment; but the 
 gloomy Morelli, wlio, with a smile of scorn, placed 
 
 10
 
 THE RESCUE. 321 
 
 himself before Adeline, and said, with chilling cold- 
 ness : " The carriage which is below is for us ; we 
 must instantly quit this place, for danger presses, 
 and we have already lost too much time in our 
 useless detention here. All that is requisite is 
 already prepared ; what is superfluous must be left 
 behind, and at the end of our journey we shall find 
 what will richly make amends for all we may lose. 
 Give me your hand, Adeline — ^your uncle will from 
 henceforth be your guide." 
 
 Morelli uttered the last words with a signifi- 
 cant emphasis, which, however, Adeline heeded 
 not ; for the beginning of his speech had so sur- 
 prised her, and so suddenly plunged her from the 
 summit of hope into an abyss of misery, that stun- 
 ned by the blow, she sat in speechless amazement 
 with her eyes fixed upon him. She had long fore- 
 boded that Ehrenfried's kind exertions for her hap- 
 piness would be unavailing, and that the deceit 
 and cunning of Morelli would yet prcA^ail; but 
 when the cruel certainty stood before her of the 
 sacrifice which was demanded of her, and that the 
 moment she quitted that house Reinhold would be 
 lost to her for ever, her mind sunk under the burden 
 of her misefy, and she gazed in astonishment on 
 the man, who, with such cold scorn, had annouu- 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3:5^5^ THE RESCUE. 
 
 ced to her the wretchedness of her future existence. 
 It was some moments ere she was convinced that 
 it was not some horrible dream from which she had 
 suddenly awakened — and which had stopped her 
 pulse, and turned her heart's blood into ice. 
 
 Morelli knew the strength of Adeline's feelings, 
 and was prepared for this burst of grief; but far 
 from sympathizing in her wretchedness, he looked 
 at her with cold severity, and after a short silence 
 said, " Why dost thou tarry ? by what arguments 
 would you justify your disobedience to the brother 
 of your mother ? Do you brave me, trusting to the 
 assistance of another to frustrate my plans and 
 free you from my authority ? You shall find, how- 
 ever, that I have provided against this, and that 
 where I cannot prevail by fair means, I know how 
 to employ force." 
 
 Adeline rose slowly from her seat, and, deter-s- 
 mined not to augment the triumph of her cruel 
 imcle by exposing the agony of her wounded heart, 
 she summoned to her aid all the strength and 
 courage of her pure soul, that no outward sign 
 might indicate the wretchedness which dwelt with- 
 in ; and proudly placing herself before her uncle, 
 said, " 1 know the duty which, as a relation, I owe 
 you, and I shall perform it, But I hare also other
 
 THE RESCUE. 323 
 
 duties to fulfil, and I shall not, as hitherto, pre- 
 serve a criminal silence, when I see those violated. 
 Why should Ehrenfried be kept in ignorance of 
 our intentions ? Why should we not put it in his 
 power to accompany us, to whom we owe so much, 
 and whose detention here is attended with so much 
 danger ?" 
 
 " You are right, Adeline," replied Morelli, care- 
 lessly, "and I do not disapprove of your sentiments, 
 and were Ehrenfried here, I would make the pro- 
 posal to*liim ; but where he has gone, no one knows, 
 and the pressure of circumstances will not allow 
 me to wait nor to search for him.'* 
 
 Adeline saw there was no truth in her uncle's 
 professions; but, helpless and unprotected, she 
 was forced, however reluctantly, to submit to his 
 commands. Suppressing a sigh, she took the arm 
 of Morelli, and was preparing to leave the apart- 
 ment, when suddenly the door was burst open, 
 and, with sparkling eyes, and fui-ious countenance, 
 Ehrenfried rushed into the room. 
 
 " God be praised !" exclaimed Adeline, while she 
 disengaged herself from the arm of Morelli, and with 
 newly awakened hopes approached Ehrenfried. 
 Morelli regarded him with a morose and gloomy 
 look ; but the next moment it vanished, and tlie
 
 324 THE RBSCUE. 
 
 usual unmeaning smile again took possession of 
 the old man's countenance. 
 
 *< What is the meaning of this ? What treach- 
 ery do you meditate," said Ehrenfried, fiercely 
 accosting Morelli, " that in my absence you would 
 secretly set out on your journey, and carry off my 
 brother's bride by force ? This shall not succeed, 
 mein Herr Morelli ; for I have a few words to say 
 to you, which shall sound like a clap of thunder in 
 your ear, and remove your desire to baffle me in 
 my absence." 
 
 Adeline looked anxiously at them both ; the one 
 defended her happiness, her life, while the other 
 stood prepared to accomplish her destruction ; but, 
 alas ! to submit herself to the will of the latter, 
 was a sacred duty which she must fulfil. 
 
 " I will not discuss by what right you usurp an 
 authority over my actions and those of my niece," 
 replied Morelli ; " but you err if you imagine that 
 the fear of you induced me to plan a secret de- 
 parture, to free me from your power. You are at 
 liberty to choose whether you will accompany us 
 or not. I shall esteem the society of so courageous 
 a man very advantageous to me during our danger- 
 ous and fatiguing journey." 
 
 *^ Oh, I understand you, mein Ilcrr, and know
 
 THE RESCUE. 325 
 
 how to value your encomiums," replied the forest- 
 er, with a laugh of derision. " You think that if 
 you could hut reach those whose honourable com- 
 mission you bear, you would then be released from 
 me, and thus break the chain with which I hold 
 you in subjection. All is over, mein Herr; for 
 upon no account shall I permit you to use the least 
 compulsion towards Adeline." 
 
 " Compulsion !" said Morelli, with feigned sur- 
 prise ; " who ever thought of that ? Adeline has 
 free liberty of choice. — Speak then," he continued, 
 turning towards her — " Will you remain here with 
 this man, or will you fulfil the duty which you owe 
 the brother of your mother, and follow me ?" 
 
 Adeline cast one sorrowful look on Ehrenfried, 
 and then answered with firmness and decision — 
 " I know what is proper, my uncle, and I am ready 
 to accompany you ; for, although you offered me to 
 the noble Reinhold, as the price of his treachery, 
 and thereby forfeited your paternal right over me, 
 yet I swore to my mother on her death-bed, to 
 honour and to obey you ; and to this oath I will 
 be faithful in all things which do not run counter 
 to justice and virtue. — Let us go — I am ready." 
 
 " But I will not permit it !" said Ehrenfried, with 
 vehemence, whilst he held Adeline back. — " Shall
 
 320 TIIF. RESCUr. 
 
 the happiness of my hrotlier be sacrificed to an 
 erroneous and a false feeling of duty ? — For the 
 last time, mein Herr Morelli, will you relinquish 
 all thoughts of this sudden journey, or not?'* 
 
 " I will not," replied the latter, with determi- 
 nation. 
 
 " Enough," said Ehrenfried, furiously, whilst he 
 stepped between Adeline and her uncle.— "You will 
 not? you shall by Heaven, for I shall instant- 
 ly summon the French officer, who is now in this 
 house, and discover to him what business you carry 
 on, even at the risk of impeaching myself also, and 
 of falling into the hands of justice. Adeline will 
 then be free ; your tyranny over her will be at an 
 end, and my brother will quickly arrive here to 
 carry home his bride." 
 
 " For the love of Heaven ! — " exclaimed the 
 pale and terrified Adeline, wringing her hands. 
 
 " Peace, child !" interrupted Morelli, " things 
 are not so bad as they appear ;" and turning to 
 Ehrenfried, he said, with immovable coldness, 
 " Again outwitted, my young, hot-headed friend. 
 I see very plainly, that were it not for the shrewd 
 and malicious uncle, the worthy brother of the 
 young bride, as you are pleased to call my niece, 
 would soon accomplish his purpose, and carry her
 
 THE RESCl K. 327 
 
 home to his Black Forest. The officers of the 
 Great Army know how to value such booty, and 
 the unprotected maiden would be the most wel- 
 come capture in the world." 
 
 " Monster, malicious scoundrel !" exclaimed the 
 furious Ehrenfried, with a threatening gesture 
 towards Morel li. 
 
 At this moment a loud noise was heard, as of 
 people ascending the stairs ; heavy footsteps and 
 the clang of arms resounded through the passage ; 
 the door of the apartment was burst open, and 
 before the travellers had recovered from their sur- 
 prise, the room was filled with soldiers. 
 
 " In the name of the Emperor," said a voice 
 which Ehrenfried immediately recognised, " take 
 that rascal prisoner." 
 
 It was the Adjutant Delolay, who stood before 
 the forester. The dark red scar, which Ehren- 
 fried^s sword had imprinted in the encounter on 
 the Rhine Bridge, still marked his forehead. 
 With the quickness of lightning, Ehrenfried drew 
 a pistol from his breast pocket, and levelled it at 
 his antagonist ; but while in the act of dischar- 
 ging it, he was seized from behind, and the shot 
 struck the ceiling. With a shi'iek, Adeline sunk
 
 S2S THE RESCUK, 
 
 insensible upon a seat ; while Morelli, who wished 
 to remain unnoticed, sneaked into a corner of the 
 apartment. 
 
 *' Have I got you at last, knave ?" said Delolay, 
 as his looks rested v/ith a triumphant smile upon 
 the prisoner ; " keenly and ardently have I pur- 
 sued you, and fortune has now favoured me, by 
 giving you up to my revenge, and from which you 
 Bhall not escape. You have no bridge here to leap 
 ©ver — no stream, no boats, to save thy forfeited 
 life ; the Bridge of Death has but one outlet, and 
 that lies on the other side. — Away with him to 
 prison, and to-morrow for justice." 
 
 Ehrenfried would have spoken, but notwith- 
 standing his powerful opposition, the soldiers 
 dragged him away. It was now only, that Delo- 
 lay observed Morelli, who was slowly stealing 
 from his concealment, to a side door, through 
 which he intended to escape. 
 
 " Stop, mein Herr," said the Adjutant, whilst 
 his eyes inquisitively examined the old man. " I 
 have found you in the company of a very danger- 
 ous person, a villain, who, for his rascally attempt 
 to assassinate me, an officer of the Great Army, 
 has incurred the penalty of the laws. Under these
 
 THE RESCUE. 329 
 
 suspicious circumstances, which truly your beha- 
 viour does not tend to remove, I must request to 
 see your passport.'* 
 
 With a composed countenance, Morelli ap- 
 proached, and instantly gave the passport to the 
 officer, who silently glanced at the paper, while a 
 frown passed over his forehead, and his counte- 
 nance assumed an extraordinary expression, which 
 Morelli, who was attentively watching him, tried 
 in vain to unriddle. 
 
 " You call yourself the Mechanic Morelli ?" 
 said Delolay, as he folded the paper, and put it into 
 his pocket. "But what would you say, were I to 
 inform you, that I know more of you than you do 
 of yourself? and, for instance, tell you, that you 
 are no other than the designing Merchant Morell, 
 from Brunswick, who, the better to avoid disco- 
 very, has metamorphosed himself into a Mechanic, 
 and has added the Italian i to his name, in order 
 to live unsuspected in France, and as a spy, gain 
 intelligence for the enemy ? Truly, mein Herr, I 
 believe this is a piece of news that will not particu- 
 larly please you. But as to its truth, you need 
 have no doubts, as I brought it with me fresh from 
 head-quarters."
 
 330 THE RESCUE. 
 
 " This must be a mistake," faltered Morelli, 
 while his limbs trembled, and the agony of death 
 pierced his soul. 
 
 " A mistake ?" said the Adjutant scornfully to 
 his victim, who in vain endeavoured to conceal his 
 terror ; " it must be on your side then, seeing you 
 mistake yourself for another ; and to serve your 
 own ends, have assumed a name which does not 
 belong to you. But I shall give you sufficient 
 proof that you are too well known to us for any 
 mistake ; for the last messenger whom you sent 
 with secret dispatches to the enemy, was stupid 
 enough to fall into the hands of our outposts." 
 
 At this discovery, Morell, as we shall now call 
 him, stood annihilated before the Frenchman. His 
 hands dropped down by his sides ; his limbs tot- 
 tered, and his head fell upon his breast. 
 
 " Quick, comrades," called Delolay, to some of 
 the soldiers who remained ; " seize that gentleman, 
 and carry him to prison to his companion. This 
 is a good and unlooked-for capture, for which we 
 shall reap both praise and thanks. Search him 
 strictly, and also the travelling carriage, which 
 stands below. Bring me whatever papers you may 
 find ; meanwhile, I myself shall search here. We 
 have taken two scoundrels at one blow, and to-
 
 THE RESCUE. 331 
 
 morrow or next day we sliall give tliem some lead 
 nuts to crack together, which will not be very 
 palatable to them. Now, away with the spy ! his 
 presence is hateful to me." 
 
 Morell now became totally dejected, and the 
 state of his mind affected and weakened his body. 
 He would have spoken ; but his tongue denied its 
 office, and as he was unable to support himself, 
 the soldiers were forced to carry him away. Delo- 
 lay now examined the few articles which were 
 in the apartment, but without finding anything of 
 importance. As he was just about to leave the 
 room, his eyes fell upon the still insensible Ade- 
 line. The appearance of the beautiful maiden, 
 who in one of the prisoners had perhaps lost a 
 friend and protector, and in the other a near rela- 
 tion, inspired him with compassion. His heart was 
 susceptible of tenderness ; and it was only where 
 his honour was concerned, which he imagined was 
 the case in regard to Ehrenfried, or where duty 
 forced him to be rigid, as in the case of the spy, 
 who deserved no mercy, that he ever indulged in 
 cruel and implacable severity. All his endeavours 
 to restore her to animation were unsuccessful, and 
 as his affairs were pressing, and he could no long- 
 er remain, he called the hostess, a benevolent and
 
 332 THE RESCUE. 
 
 compassionate woman, and committed the uncon- 
 scious Adeline to her care. He then hastily quitted 
 the house, in which he had found his long-sought- 
 for and hated enemy, and what was of still more 
 importance, a traitor to his Emperor and his coun- 
 try.
 
 THE RESCUE. 333 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 My good friends, think sometimes tliat life is but a journey, and 
 that God has granted us \irtue as the best companion we can have 
 on the road. If Heaven bless you with children, teach them early 
 to love their God ; and never forget to impress upon their minds, 
 that the ungrateful person is like the mountain of sand, which swal- 
 lows up, with eagerness, the beneficent rains of Heaven. 
 
 Literary Gaxette. 
 
 The smuggler and the spy were imprisoned in 
 the same apartment, and, to prevent them from 
 approaching or annoying each other, they were 
 chained to separate corners. Each, helicA ing the 
 other to be the cause of his destruction, bore the 
 most inveterate and deadly hatred towards his 
 enemy. Ehrenfried was convinced that Morell 
 had betrayed him, which accounted for the arrival 
 of the guard just as they were setting out upon 
 their secret journey. " It is unfortunate for him,'* 
 so Ehrenfried argued, " that he delayed his de- 
 parture, or that the guard did not appear a little 
 sooner ; however, he has fallen into the trap which 
 he laid for me? and is now known for what he
 
 334 THE RESCUE. 
 
 really is, a despicable spy." He turned liimseit' 
 gloomily upon the couch. No sound escaped his 
 lips, but the feelings which oppressed his inmost 
 soul were of the most grievous and bitter kind. 
 Ah! how willingly would he have suffered the 
 shameful death of a malefactor, to which he was 
 now exposed, had he succeeded in giving Adeline 
 to Reinhold's arms, and had received his mother's 
 forgiveness, and the assurance of the continued 
 friendship and affection of his beloved Else ! Such 
 were the reflections of Ehrenfried. Morell now 
 recovered from a state of insensibility only to fall 
 into the ravings of fever ; he tore at his chains, 
 gnawed them with his teeth, and uttered the most 
 dreadful imprecations. With the fury of a mad- 
 man he reproached Ehrenfried for preventing his 
 intended flight, who now learnt from these re- 
 proaches, that he considered him as the author of 
 his misfortune. 
 
 ** But I will yet reward thee, thou wild beast of 
 the Black Forest," raved the unhappy man. " You 
 think yourself better than I am; truly you belie^ 
 ved that you were the wolf, and I the lamb, who 
 must bare his neck to thy rancorous revenge; but 
 the tables will soon be turned, and. when the soul, 
 separated from the body, attempts to soar to
 
 THE RESCUE. 335 
 
 heaven, then will I hang upon thee, and drag thee 
 to the gulf below, where I have many good friends 
 who will help to hold thee fast, and rack and tor- 
 ture thee after my own pleasure ! Then I will lead 
 a joyful life ; and when the flame which now rages 
 in my veins, and ascends even to my head, which 
 will then become a ball of fire, and outshine the 
 flames of hell, Satan himself must descend from 
 his throne, and I shall be his successor !'* 
 
 He concluded his speech with a horrid convul- 
 sive laugh, which was followed by fretful com- 
 plaints, to which succeeded complete exhaustion ; 
 but the composure of the invalid was of short du- 
 ration, and only appeared to inspire him with new 
 strength, to break out again into fresh paroxysms. 
 Thus passed the whole of this fearful night, and 
 a less courageous man than Ehrenfried might well 
 have sunk under the horrors of his situation, 
 which the total darkness of his prison did not tend 
 to diminish. The animosity that the forester bore 
 towards his supposed betrayer gave way to the 
 deepest compassion ; he would willingly have ren- 
 dered him every assistance which his fearful situ- 
 ation demanded, but which his fetters prevented 
 him from administering. He attempted to call the 
 attention of the guard, in order to procure a phy*
 
 336 THE RESCUE. 
 
 sician to the sufferer ; but they either did not, or 
 would not hear him, so that he was forced to leave 
 the helpless old man to his misery. But what 
 sound was that, which suddenly struck his ear, 
 whilst Morell lay in total insensibility ? Yes, by 
 Heaven ! it was the thunder of cannon, that re- 
 sounded through the stillness of the night, and 
 was the signal of the approach of those who might 
 yet bring rescue in the time of need. With in- 
 tense and breathless anxiety, Ehrenfried listened 
 to the distant sounds. Again the cannon thun- 
 dered ; and it became evident that some decisive 
 occurrence had taken place. At this moment, the 
 tumult of confused voices, the hollow sound of 
 a heavily-laden carriage, and the prancing of 
 horses, were heard from the street. At every new 
 noise, the hope of succour was strengthened in his 
 breast, and from every distant sound he endeavour- 
 ed to gain some intelligence of what was passing, 
 but in vain ; for, at the very instant when the noise 
 became still louder, and when he thought he could 
 not fail of obtaining an explanation, his companion 
 again broke out in the paroxysms of fever, and 
 his ravings completely drowned the uproar in the 
 street, and prevented him from ascertaining the 
 
 cause of the tumult. Towards morning the inva- 
 ■ D 
 
 ^ 
 ^
 
 THE RESCUE. 337 
 
 lid became more composed, and Elirenfried belie- 
 ved he slept. The noise now increased without, 
 and at the first dawn of day, the cannon again 
 roared, and apparently approached more near. 
 Ehrenfried would willingly have imparted to his 
 companion, who was now awake, the prospect of 
 rescue which appeared ; but he relinquished his in- 
 tention, on perceiving how impossible it was for the 
 unhappy sufferer to understand him. With a coun- 
 tenance pale as death, glancing eyes, and a childish 
 smile upon his lips, the invalid, with his body half 
 raised up, reclined upon his straw. He smiled to 
 the latticed v/indow, and at length said, '* Adeline ! 
 — Who called that name ? Was it a morning beam 
 which broke through the lattice ? or was it herself 
 perhaps, who has climbed up to pity and console 
 him who does not deserve her forgiveness ? No, 
 no !" he exclaimed, with an appalling scream, while 
 he sprung up, and rattled his chains — " It was the 
 spirit of her mother who spoke to me — It was the 
 dead, who asked me if I had been faithful to the 
 oath I swore to her on her death-bed, to be a ten- 
 der father to her child — a true and faithful guide 
 in her path through life. Oh, grief, that I have 
 not been so ! I have broken my oath ! there is no 
 mercy at the day of judgment for a perjurer — to 
 
 VOL. I, Y
 
 338 THE RESCUE. 
 
 him the gates of eternal happiness are closed for 
 ever !" 
 
 That hardened heart, which had formerly defied 
 all serious calls to the duties of life, was now bro- 
 ken by sickness, and terrifying phantoms awoke 
 the sleeping conscience of him, who had acknow- 
 ledged no law but his own will, and who had given 
 himself up to a hard and unfeeling selfishness. Ex- 
 hausted, and weeping like a child, the sufferer fell 
 back upon his miserable bed. Ehrenfried spoke to 
 him, but he appeared not to hear him, and again a 
 deep and continued faint came over him. Mean- 
 while, the tumult in the streets continued to in- 
 crease, and the roar of the cannon, becoming loud- 
 er every instant, plainly signified that the angel 
 of death wandered through the battle-field, cast- 
 ing his black lot over thousands. But Ehrenfried 
 saw in him the messenger of a new life. Every 
 volley seemed to him to proclaim the approaching 
 light of freedom ; and deep in the bottom i)f his 
 soul there reigned a silent joy, on the triumph of 
 his country, which the thunder of the slaugliter- 
 ing cannon confirmed and celebrated. 
 
 " Oh, Reinhold ! oh, my brother !" he involun- 
 tarily exclaimed — " Come and crown your wish- 
 es; rescue Adeline, and make lier Imppy; and I
 
 THE RESCUE. 339 
 
 will cheerfully bleed under the hands of my blood- 
 thirsty enemy ; for then I shall die with the sweet 
 foreboding, that the day of reckoning for the ty- 
 rant and the oppressor has arrived." 
 
 At this moment a loud noise was heard at the 
 door of the prison ; the heavy bolts were with- 
 drawn, and a guard entered the apartment to con- 
 duct the prisoners to the hastily-assembled court- 
 martial. From the situation of Morell they were 
 soon convinced of the uselessness of bringing him 
 to trial ; therefore, Ehrenfried alone was carried 
 before his judges, from whom he instantly saw he 
 had neither mercy nor justice to expect; for his 
 implacable enemy, the Adjutant Delolay, presided 
 over the council ; and his malicious and spiteful 
 smile indicated his cruel satisfaction at the accom- 
 plishment of his long-cherished and murderous 
 revenge. 
 
 ** The sun of freedom which rises on my father- 
 land will not shine on me," said the forester to him- 
 self. " My lot is cast ; and when my victorious 
 countrymen arrive here, they will find me a stiff 
 and cold corpse on the sand-hill which has drank 
 my blood. My enemies know the value of time, 
 and drive the deatli-hand forward. They shall 
 not, however, find me easily daunted. With the
 
 840 THE RESCUE. 
 
 courage of a freeborn man, who fears not death, 
 will I stand before them." And he fulfilled his de- 
 termination. He undauntedly acknowledged that 
 he had been in the service of the enemy ; and that, 
 besides previously wounding an oiBcer of the Great 
 Army, he had fired a pistol at him, when he at- 
 tempted to arrest him in the name of the Emperor, 
 and he coldly and firmly acquainted his judges 
 with more than was sufiicient to justify them in 
 condemning him to death, as a dangerous rebel, 
 who had been taken with arms in his hands. 
 
 Owing to existing circumstances, the sentence 
 was to be executed within an hour, in the court of 
 the prison. Of the guilt with which the forester 
 had charged himself, in carrying on the danger- 
 ous trade of a smuggler, there was no examination ; 
 the lesser crime being overlooked on account of the 
 greater. 
 
 A similar sentence was passed upon Morell, even 
 although he had not been examined ; for the papers 
 which were found upon him so clearly proved his 
 crime, that there was no need for farther deliber- 
 ation. '****' 
 
 " This is a different game from that upon the 
 Rhine Bridge," said Delolay, scornfully, as the 
 guard approached to lead the forester away. —
 
 THE RESCUE. 341 
 
 <' Where will you now find a horse that will clash 
 with you through walls and iron doors, and save 
 the audacious murderer from his just doom ?'* 
 
 Ehrenfried replied not, hut with one look of 
 sovereign contempt he turned from Delolay. Once 
 more, however, was his composure to be over- 
 thrown, and his heart torn with agitating feelings. 
 Through the door of the hall rushed a slender pale 
 girl wringing her hands — It was Adeline. Her 
 beautiful hair hung in dishevelled ringlets over 
 her pale countenance ; her eyes swam in tears ; 
 and without observing Ehrenfried she staggered 
 towards Delolay, sobbing — " You have torn my 
 uncle from me — Oh, grant my prayer ! He is sick 
 —he is dying. Let me go to him, that I may con- 
 sole him in his last hours, and so fulfil the vow I 
 made my mother on her death-bed." 
 
 " Lead her to him," said the softened Delolay, 
 while he beckoned a young officer to perform this 
 office. 
 
 Ehrenfried had just reached the prison when 
 Adeline rushed in, and sunk down by the side of 
 her uncle, who, notwithstanding the aberration of 
 his mind, instantly knew her. He looked at her 
 with a childish smile, stroked her cheeks, and said, 
 " Ah, Adeline, is it you ? It is so good of you to
 
 312 thl: rescue. 
 
 visit me here in my summer palace ! Come here, 
 and let us amuse ourselves together, and we shall 
 be so happy. I have given you but little pleasure 
 all my life, but now it shall be otherwise, and you 
 shall have everything you wish for." 
 
 Adeline was deeply grieved and agitated by the 
 melancholy situation of her uncle, who continued 
 to play with her ringlets, and to press her hand ; 
 but she summoned all her courage to her aid, and 
 hastened to administer such restoratives as she 
 could procure, to relieve his sufferings. 
 
 In the meantime, and while Ehrenfried still 
 stood before his judges, the thunders of the can- 
 non approached nearer and more near — and a re- 
 gular discharge of musketry, intermixed with con- 
 fused cries, resounded through the streets. The 
 guard who had brought Ehrenfried back to the 
 prison, and who were still in the apartment, show- 
 ed, by their mute gestures, their anxiety and alarm; 
 but a new feeling of hope arose in the breast of the 
 forester. 
 
 " Freedom, freedom !" he exclaimed half aloud ; 
 " how does the thought of thee bring back the love 
 of life!" 
 
 Agitated by a thousand doubts and fears, Ehren- 
 fried paced the apartment ; for, as his sentence was
 
 THE RESCUE. 34-3 
 
 instantly to be put in force, his fetters had been 
 removed. At this moment the door was suddenly 
 burst open ; and, covered with dust and blood, and 
 with a drawn sword in his hand, the Adjutant De- 
 lolay rushed into the room. 
 
 " Away with him !" he called to the guard, point- 
 ing to Ehrenfried, " and instantly execute the sen- 
 tence ; if we lose a moment, the villain may be res- 
 cued. Leave the spy alone ; he is judged already; 
 death has already set his seal upon him, and spared 
 us a dose of powder and lead. — Away with the 
 rebel !" 
 
 The love of life, with all its former power, 
 again took possession of the forester, and with the 
 strength of despair, he resisted all the attempts of 
 the soldiers to drag him away, and Delolay be- 
 came furious at the delay. 
 
 At this important juncture, a wild tumult arose 
 in the passage, doors were opened and shut, and 
 the sounds of rough voices were heard approach- 
 ing; and to Ehrenfried it was as the voice of Hea- 
 ven when he heard German words from the mouths 
 of German soldiers. 
 
 " But the scoundrel who has tarnished my 
 honour shall not escape," muttered Delolay, as 
 he approached and pointed his drawn sword at 
 Ehrenfricd's breast.
 
 Ml THE RESCUE. 
 
 At this instant, one powerful blow shattered 
 the door of the pnson, which was bolted within, 
 and before Delolay could execute his bloody pur- 
 pose, he himself and his companions were over- 
 powered and made prisoners by a number of sol- 
 diers, who now filled the apartment. 
 
 " Brother, brother !" called a well-known voice ; 
 " are you indeed restored to me ! But where is 
 Adeline — where is Morell ?" 
 
 In mute astonishment, the wonder-struck Eh- 
 renfried looked at the benevolent countenance of 
 Reinhold, who now stood before him in the uni- 
 form of a German officer. Joy lent him strength; he 
 led his brother to the couch of Morell, where Ade- 
 line welcomed him through tears of joy. 
 
 " How," said the invalid, " is not this Rein- 
 hold ? It is well that you have come ; I have ex- 
 pected you for a long while ; and now you may 
 marry Adeline when you will." 
 
 Their first step was to leave the prison, in 
 which Delolay and his companions were now de- 
 tained. Morell was conveyed again to his former 
 dwelling, where he could receive the best medi- 
 cal assistance which the village possessed. 
 
 To Ehrenfried's great joy, he remarked, that 
 there were no longer any French soldiers to he
 
 THE RESCUE. 345 
 
 seen in the streets ; on all sides he encountered 
 none but Germans, who were either quartered 
 in the neighbourhood, or seeking lodgings in the 
 houses. Reinhold informed them, that a battle 
 had been fought, which lasted three days, in which 
 much blood had been spilt, but which had esta- 
 blished the freedom of Germany, The Great Army 
 was defeated, and almost entirely annihilated, and 
 the few who remained had retreated in disordered 
 flight towards the Rhine. 
 
 Adeline showed a pensive tenderness towards 
 her lover. The horrors of the past, in which she 
 had participated along with her unhappy uncle, 
 had rendered her heart incapable of a serene and 
 undisturbed enjoyment. 
 
 The physician who was called to the invalid, 
 pronounced his situation extremely critical. 
 
 " Hope," he said, " for the present, he could 
 not giv^e ; but the ninth day would be the crisis, 
 which would determine his fate." 
 
 Whilst Morell lay in an unquiet slumber. Rein- 
 hold gave Adeline and Ehrenfried a full and sa- 
 tisfactory explanation of many things which had 
 lately occurred, and which, till now, had remain- 
 ed inexplicable to them, and they learnt, with 
 surprise, that it was not Morell, but Tliomas tho
 
 346 THE RESCUE. 
 
 miner, in whom Elirenfried liad so incautiously 
 confided, wlio had betrayed them. 
 
 The miner knew Delolay personally; for it 
 was he, who, in furtherance of the enterprise on 
 the Rhine Bridge, had artfully stolen the order 
 with which Ehrenfried deceived the guard. He 
 soon found an opportunity of meeting with the 
 enraged Frenchman, to whom, for a considerable 
 sum of money, he sold the secret of Ehrenfried's 
 retreat. 
 
 After a few days, however, the miner repented 
 of his treachery to his friend and countryman, and 
 hastened to the cottage of Frau Martha, to whom 
 he related everything, and delivered the letter of 
 her son. This intelligence caused great misery to 
 the good widow, and the affectionate Else ; for the 
 moment Reinhold had freed his mother from the 
 unwelcome visit of the gendarmes, he had again 
 left his home, for the seat of ♦war, where he 
 hoped to find Morell, with whose designs he was 
 well acquainted. Meanwhile he learnt that the 
 monarch whom he served had publicly joined the 
 allies against France. In consequence of this, he 
 altered his intentions, and instantly repaired to 
 the residence of the secretary, from whom he 
 requested and obtained permission to serve as a
 
 THE RESCUE. 317 
 
 volunteer in the army, which had ah'eacly taken the 
 field against France, in whose pay Morell was, and 
 which he had in vain attempted to join. By these 
 means, he hoped to serve both his country and 
 his love, and from the powerful recommendations 
 with which he was furnished, he had not the small- 
 est doubt of the success of his plan. Immediately 
 upon his arrival at head-quarters he was ordered 
 to join and take the command of a troop which 
 was encamped at some distance. In vain were all 
 his attempts to gain some trace of his brother, and 
 such was the difficulty of getting any intelligence 
 conveyed to his mother, that she was still in igno- 
 rance of his present abode and occupation. A short 
 time after, Thomas the miner made his appearance 
 late one evening ; and in the expectation of again 
 profiting by his treachery against friendship, made 
 a full disclosure of everything. This intelligence 
 filled the soul of Reinhold with affright and agony, 
 when he thought on the danger which surround- 
 ed Morell, his brother, and his beloved Adeline. 
 After much trouble and innumerable difficulties, 
 he at length obtained permission to join that divi- 
 sion of the army which was nearest the abode of 
 his beloved, and to make the attack on that side. 
 How he and his victorious companions stormed
 
 348 THE RESCUE. 
 
 the little village, and rescued his devoted brother, 
 in his greatest need, has already been shown. 
 Enough, the brothers had met again, and Adeline 
 was restored to the arms of her lover, and if her 
 beautiful eyes were still dimmed with tears, these 
 were shed for the poor brother of her departed mo- 
 ther, in whose present sufferings she deeply sym- 
 pathized. It now became necessary for Reinhold 
 to separate again from Adeline, whom he wished 
 to leave to Ehrenfried's protecting care ; but the 
 latter said, " I too must go forth to fight and 
 conquer the enemies of my country. I cannot re- 
 main behind — I go with you." 
 
 ^' You are right," replied Reinhold, after a mo- 
 ment's reflection ; " and it is culpable in me to 
 wish to deprive my country of so bold and brave 
 a warrior." 
 
 He now held a consultation with the physician, 
 who assured him, that even should Morell reco- 
 ver, which at present appeared highly improbable, 
 it would still be long ere he would be able to leave 
 his apartment, and that a continuation of their 
 journey was not to be thought of till after the 
 lapse of many months. This being the case, 
 Reinhold gave Adeline to the care of the hostess, 
 t? worthy, respectable matron, and entreated lirr
 
 THE RESCUE. 349 
 
 to guard and protect her, as the dearest treasure of 
 his heart. 
 
 " I shall guard her as if she were my own 
 daughter," said the worthy woman; " no evil shall 
 reach her as long as she is under my roof." 
 
 Heavily and grievously passed the hour of se- 
 paration, but Adeline bore this trial as she had 
 done many others. She now devoted herself to 
 the care of her uncle ; but all the physician's skill, 
 and all the unremitting attentions of the maiden, 
 were unavailing in protracting the fast-ebbing life 
 of the invalid. 
 
 On the evening of the ninth day, Morell broke 
 out into the most fearful paroxysms of fever, after 
 which he fell into a deep sleep, from which he 
 awoke about midnight, and after looking around 
 him with a clear and quiet eye, which indicated a 
 restoration to reason, he said with a weak voice, 
 — " Adeline, I have had a long and sorrowful 
 dream, and now I feel that in a few moment©, 
 death will claim his victim. I have often done 
 wrong to you and to others ; forgive me, and im- 
 plore Reinhold to forgive me also. Be happy with 
 him when I am no more, and do not curse me." 
 
 With a deep sigh he sunk back upon his couch 
 and expired. Tlie weeping Adeline knelt by the 
 
 12
 
 350 THE RESCUE. 
 
 boJy of lier uncle, and on her knees implored 
 mercy for his departed soul. 
 
 It was with great difficulty that the physician 
 prevailed on the unhappy maiden to retire to an- 
 other apartment, where he gave her in charge to 
 the compassionate hostess, whose consoling atten- 
 tions somewhat composed her. 
 
 No sooner were the remains of her uncle con- 
 signed to their last earthly habitation, and laid in 
 the cold grave, than Adeline began to reflect on 
 the sadness and uncertainty of her situation ; and 
 she could scarcely refrain from reproaching Rein- 
 hold for leaving her alone and unprotected among 
 strangers, but the next moment she withdrew this 
 accusation, and asked forgiveness of the beloved 
 of her heart. 
 
 " Adeline, my daughter !'* exclaimed a friendly 
 voice ; and Adeline sunk into the arms of Frau 
 Martha, who with Else had entered the apartment 
 unobserved by the disconsolate maiden. Reinhold 
 had confided all to his good mother, and sent her in 
 haste to comfort his beloved in her affliction. 
 
 The sorrows of Adeline's heart were soothed, 
 and she gratefully accepted a refuge with the 
 mother of her Reinhold. With feelings of gra- 
 titude she bid farewell to the good hostess, un-
 
 THE RESCUE. 351 
 
 der whose roof she had passed such an important 
 pavt of her life, and with newly awakened hopes 
 she departed with Frau Martha and Else, whom 
 she soon began to love as a sister, for the rural 
 and peaceful cottage in the Black Forest. The 
 voice of war now ceased, the blessing of peace 
 again descended from Heaven, and the German 
 warriors, who had struggled in the sacred cause, 
 once more returned to their homes. On a beauti- 
 ful summer morning, when the Black Forest was 
 again clothed with foliage, and the meadows were 
 decked in all the sweets of spring, a joyful proces- 
 sion was seen to issue from the house, led by the 
 pious Frau Martha. These were Reinhold and 
 Adeline, Ehrenfried and Else, who were on their 
 way to receive the blessing of the Church. This 
 was soon accomplished, and after the ceremony, 
 the happy party returned to the cottage, before 
 which a travelling carriage stood, into which Rein- 
 hold handed the weeping and agitated Adeline; 
 and they quickly disappeared round the same cor- 
 ner of the road, from which his beloved bride had 
 formerly vanished. With streaming^ eyes, Frau 
 Martha looked after her son, whose Prince had 
 called him to an important situation, which forced 
 him to leave her ; while Elu'cnfricd, pressing his
 
 352 THE RESCUE. 
 
 young bride to liis heart, said — " My happiness is 
 greater than I deserve ; but, by Heaven, you shall 
 not repent of your affection, for from this moment 
 I shall become a domestic husband, a tender son." 
 And he fulfilled his promises, and Reinhold and 
 Adeline, Ehrenfried and Else, continued to enjoy 
 the greatest bliss which this life affords — united 
 affection and domestic peace. The blessing of 
 Heaven was with them, and lovely children play- 
 ed around the knees of their grateful and happy 
 parents. 
 
 END OF VOLUME FIRST, 
 
 EDINBUaCIi: 
 rUlNTl'l) 15Y RAI.LANTYNC & CO.
 
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