"You are severe, sir," said Miss Vere.

"Only just," said her father; "a humble copier I am from nature, with
the advantage of contemplating two such excellent studies as Lucy
Ilderton and yourself."

"If I have been unfortunate enough to offend, sir, I can conscientiously
excuse Miss Ilderton from being either my counsellor or confidante."

"Indeed! how came you, then," said Mr. Vere, "by the flippancy of
speech, and pertness of argument, by which you have disgusted Sir
Frederick, and given me of late such deep offence?"

"If my manner has been so unfortunate as to displease you, sir, it
is impossible for me to apologize too deeply, or too sincerely; but I
cannot confess the same contrition for having answered Sir Frederick
flippantly when he pressed me rudely. Since he forgot I was a lady, it
was time to show him that I am at least a woman."

"Reserve, then, your pertness for those who press you on the topic,
Isabella," said her father coldly; "for my part, I am weary of the
subject, and will never speak upon it again."

"God bless you, my dear father," said Isabella, seizing his reluctant
hand "there is nothing you can impose on me, save the task of listening
to this man's persecution, that I will call, or think, a hardship."

"You are very obliging, Miss Vere, when it happens to suit you to be
dutiful," said her unrelenting father, forcing himself at the same time
from the affectionate grasp of her hand; "but henceforward, child, I
shall save myself the trouble of offering you unpleasant advice on any
topic. You must look to yourself."

At this moment four ruffians rushed upon them. Mr. Vere and his servant
drew their hangers, which it was the fashion of the time to wear, and
attempted to defend themselves and protect Isabella. But while each of
them was engaged by an antagonist, she was forced into the thicket by
the two remaining villains, who placed her and themselves on horses
which stood ready behind the copse-wood. They mounted at the same time,
and, placing her between them, set of at a round gallop, holding the
reins of her horse on each side. By many an obscure and winding path,
over dale and down, through moss and moor, she was conveyed to the tower
of Westburnflat, where she remained strictly watched, but not otherwise
ill-treated, under the guardianship of the old woman, to whose son that
retreat belonged. No entreaties could prevail upon the hag to give Miss
Vere any information on the object of her being carried forcibly off,
and confined in this secluded place. The arrival of Earnscliff, with a
strong party of horsemen, before the tower, alarmed the robber. As he
had already directed Grace Armstrong to be restored to her friends, it
did not occur to him that this unwelcome visit was on her account; and
seeing at the head of the party, Earnscliff, whose attachment to Miss
Vere was whispered in the country, he doubted not that her liberation
was the sole object of the attack upon his fastness. The dread of
personal consequences compelled him to deliver up his prisoner in the
manner we have already related.

At the moment the tramp of horses was heard which carried off the
daughter of Ellieslaw, her father fell to the earth, and his servant, a
stout young fellow, who was gaining ground on the ruffian with whom he
had been engaged, left the combat to come to his master's assistance,
little doubting that he had received a mortal wound, Both the villains
immediately desisted from farther combat, and, retreating into the
thicket, mounted their horses, and went off at full speed after their
companions. Meantime, Dixon had the satisfaction to find Mr. Vere not
only alive, but unwounded. He had overreached himself, and stumbled,
it seemed, over the root of a tree, in making too eager a blow at his
antagonist. The despair he felt at his daughter's disappearance, was, in
Dixon's phrase, such as would have melted the heart of a whin stane, and
he was so much exhausted by his feelings, and the vain researches which
he made to discover the track of the ravishers, that a considerable
time elapsed ere he reached home, and communicated the alarm to his
domestics.

All his conduct and gestures were those of a desperate man.

"Speak not to me, Sir Frederick," he said impatiently; "You are no
father--she was my child, an ungrateful one! I fear, but still my
child--my only child. Where is Miss Ilderton? she must know something of
this. It corresponds with what I was informed of her schemes. Go, Dixon,
call Ratcliffe here Let him come without a minute's delay." The person
he had named at this moment entered the room.

"I say, Dixon," continued Mr. Vere, in an altered tone, "let Mr.
Ratcliffe know, I beg the favour of his company on particular
business.--Ah! my dear sir," he proceeded, as if noticing him for the
first time, "you are the very man whose advice can be of the utmost
service to me in this cruel extremity."

"What has happened, Mr. Vere, to discompose you?" said Mr, Ratcliffe,
gravely; and while the Laird of Ellieslaw details to him, with the most
animated gestures of grief and indignation, the singular adventure of
the morning, we shall take the opportunity to inform our readers of the
relative circumstances in which these gentlemen stood to each other.

In early youth, Mr. Vere of Ellieslaw had been remarkable for a career
of dissipation, which, in advanced life, he had exchanged for the no
less destructive career of dark and turbulent ambition. In both
cases, he had gratified the predominant passion without respect to the
diminution of his private fortune, although, where such inducements
were wanting, he was deemed close, avaricious, and grasping. His affairs
being much embarrassed by his earlier extravagance, he went to England,
where he was understood to have formed a very advantageous matrimonial
connexion. He was many years absent from his family estate. Suddenly and
unexpectedly he returned a widower, bringing with him his daughter,
then a girl of about ten years old. From this moment his expense
seemed unbounded, in the eyes of the simple inhabitants of his native
mountains. It was supposed he must necessarily have plunged himself
deeply in debt. Yet he continued to live in the same lavish expense,
until some months before the commencement of our narrative, when the
public opinion of his embarrassed circumstances was confirmed, by
the residence of Mr. Ratcliffe at Ellieslaw Castle, who, by the tacit
consent, though obviously to the great displeasure, of the lord of the
mansion, seemed, from the moment of his arrival, to assume and exercise
a predominant and unaccountable influence in the management of his
private affairs.

Mr. Ratcliffe was a grave, steady, reserved man, in an advanced period
of life. To those with whom he had occasion to speak upon business, he
appeared uncommonly well versed in all its forms. With others he held
little communication; but in any casual intercourse, or conversation,
displayed the powers of an active and well-informed mind. For some
time before taking up his final residence at the castle, he had been
an occasional visitor there, and was at such times treated by Mr. Vere
(contrary to his general practice towards those who were inferior to
him in rank) with marked attention, and even deference. Yet his arrival
always appeared to be an embarrassment to his host, and his departure a
relief; so that, when he became a constant inmate of the family, it was
impossible not to observe indications of the displeasure with which Mr.
Vere regarded his presence. Indeed, their intercourse formed a singular
mixture of confidence and constraint. Mr. Vere's most important affairs
were regulated by Mr. Ratcliffe; and although he was none of those
indulgent men of fortune, who, too indolent to manage their own
business, are glad to devolve it upon another, yet, in many instances,
he was observed to give up his own judgment, and submit to the contrary
opinions which Mr. Ratcliffe did not hesitate distinctly to express.

Nothing seemed to vex Mr. Vere more than when strangers indicated any
observation of the state of tutelage under which he appeared to labour.
When it was noticed by Sir Frederick, or any of his intimates, he
sometimes repelled their remarks haughtily and indignantly, and
sometimes endeavoured to evade them, by saying, with a forced laugh,
"That Ratcliffe knew his own importance, but that he was the most honest
and skilful fellow in the world; and that it would be impossible for him
to manage his English affairs without his advice and assistance." Such
was the person who entered the room at the moment Mr. Vere was summoning
him to his presence, and who now heard with surprise, mingled with
obvious incredulity, the hasty narrative of what had befallen Isabella.

Her father concluded, addressing Sir Frederick and the other gentlemen,
who stood around in astonishment, "And now, my friends, you see the most
unhappy father in Scotland. Lend me your assistance, gentlemen--give me
your advice, Mr. Ratcliffe. I am incapable of acting, or thinking, under
the unexpected violence of such a blow."

"Let us take our horses, call our attendants, and scour the country in
pursuit of the villains," said Sir Frederick.

"Is there no one whom you can suspect," said Ratcliffe, gravely, "of
having some motive for this strange crime? These are not the days of
romance, when ladies are carried off merely for their beauty."

"I fear," said Mr. Vere, "I can too well account for this strange
incident. Read this letter, which Miss Lucy Ilderton thought fit to
address from my house of Ellieslaw to young Mr. Earnscliff; whom, of all
men, I have a hereditary right to call my enemy. You see she writes
to him as the confidant of a passion which he has the assurance to
entertain for my daughter; tells him she serves his cause with her
friend very ardently, but that he has a friend in the garrison who
serves him yet more effectually. Look particularly at the pencilled
passages, Mr. Ratcliffe, where this meddling girl recommends bold
measures, with an assurance that his suit would be successful anywhere
beyond the bounds of the barony of Ellieslaw."

"And you argue, from this romantic letter of a very romantic young lady,
Mr. Vere," said Ratcliffe, "that young Earnscliff has carried off your
daughter, and committed a very great and criminal act of violence, on no
better advice and assurance than that of Miss Lucy Ilderton?"

"What else can I think?" said Ellieslaw.

"What else CAN you think?" said Sir Frederick; "or who else could have
any motive for committing such a crime?"

"Were that the best mode of fixing the guilt," said Mr. Ratcliffe,
calmly, "there might easily be pointed out persons to whom such actions
are more congenial, and who have also sufficient motives of instigation.
Supposing it were judged advisable to remove Miss Vere to some place in
which constraint might be exercised upon her inclinations to a degree
which cannot at present be attempted under the roof of Ellieslaw
Castle--What says Sir Frederick Langley to that supposition?"

"I say," returned Sir Frederick, "that although Mr. Vere may choose to
endure in Mr. Ratcliffe freedoms totally inconsistent with his situation
in life, I will not permit such license of innuendo, by word or look, to
be extended to me, with impunity."

"And I say," said young Mareschal of Mareschal-Wells, who was also
a guest at the castle, "that you are all stark mad to be standing
wrangling here, instead of going in pursuit of the ruffians."

"I have ordered off the domestics already in the track most likely to
overtake them," said Mr. Vere "if you will favour me with your company,
we will follow them, and assist in the search."

The efforts of the party were totally unsuccessful, probably because
Ellieslaw directed the pursuit to proceed in the direction of Earnscliff
Tower, under the supposition that the owner would prove to be the
author of the violence, so that they followed a direction diametrically
opposite to that in which the ruffians had actually proceeded. In the
evening they returned, harassed and out of spirits. But other guests
had, in the meanwhile, arrived at the castle; and, after the recent loss
sustained by the owner had been related, wondered at, and lamented, the
recollection of it was, for the present, drowned in the discussion
of deep political intrigues, of which the crisis and explosion were
momentarily looked for.

Several of the gentlemen who took part in this divan were Catholics, and
all of them stanch Jacobites, whose hopes were at present at the highest
pitch, as an invasion, in favour of the Pretender, was daily expected
from France, which Scotland, between the defenceless state of its
garrisons and fortified places, and the general disaffection of the
inhabitants, was rather prepared to welcome than to resist. Ratcliffe,
who neither sought to assist at their consultations on this subject,
nor was invited to do so, had, in the meanwhile, retired to his own
apartment. Miss Ilderton was sequestered from society in a sort of
honourable confinement, "until," said Mr. Vere, "she should be safely
conveyed home to her father's house," an opportunity for which occurred
on the following day.

The domestics could not help thinking it remarkable how soon the loss of
Miss Vere, and the strange manner in which it had happened, seemed to be
forgotten by the other guests at the castle. They knew not, that those
the most interested in her fate were well acquainted with the cause
of her being carried off, and the place of her retreat; and that the
others, in the anxious and doubtful moments which preceded the breaking
forth of a conspiracy, were little accessible to any feelings but what
arose immediately out of their own machinations.



CHAPTER XII.

     Some one way, some another--Do you know
     Where we may apprehend her?

The researches after Miss Vere were (for the sake of appearances,
perhaps) resumed on the succeeding day, with similar bad success, and
the party were returning towards Ellieslaw in the evening.

"It is singular," said Mareschal to Ratcliffe, "that four horsemen and
a female prisoner should have passed through the country without leaving
the slightest trace of their passage. One would think they had traversed
the air, or sunk through the ground."

"Men may often," answered Ratcliffe, "arrive at the knowledge of that
which is, from discovering that which is not. We have now scoured every
road, path, and track leading from the castle, in all the various points
of the compass, saving only that intricate and difficult pass which
leads southward down the Westburn, and through the morasses."

"And why have we not examined that?" said Mareschal.

"O, Mr. Vere can best answer that question," replied his companion,
dryly.

"Then I will ask it instantly," said Mareschal; and, addressing Mr.
Vere, "I am informed, sir," said he, "there is a path we have not
examined, leading by Westburnflat."

"O," said Sir Frederick, laughing, "we know the owner of Westburnflat
well--a wild lad, that knows little difference between his neighbour's
goods and his own; but, withal, very honest to his principles: he would
disturb nothing belonging to Ellieslaw."

"Besides," said Mr. Vere, smiling mysteriously, "he had other tow on his
distaff last night. Have you not heard young Elliot of the Heugh-foot
has had his house burnt, and his cattle driven away, because he refused
to give up his arms to some honest men that think of starting for the
king?"

The company smiled upon each other, as at hearing of an exploit which
favoured their own views.

"Yet, nevertheless," resumed Mareschal, "I think we ought to ride in
this direction also, otherwise we shall certainly be blamed for our
negligence."

No reasonable objection could be offered to this proposal, and the party
turned their horses' heads towards Westburnflat.

They had not proceeded very far in that direction when the trampling of
horses was heard, and a small body of riders were perceived advancing to
meet them.

"There comes Earnscliff," said Mareschal; "I know his bright bay with
the star in his front."

"And there is my daughter along with him," exclaimed Vere,
furiously. "Who shall call my suspicions false or injurious now?
Gentlemen--friends--lend me the assistance of your swords for the
recovery of my child."

He unsheathed his weapon, and was imitated by Sir Frederick and several
of the party, who prepared to charge those that were advancing towards
them. But the greater part hesitated.

"They come to us in all peace and security," said Mareschal-Wells; "let
us first hear what account they give us of this mysterious affair. If
Miss Vere has sustained the slightest insult or injury from Earnscliff,
I will be first to revenge her; but let us hear what they say."

"You do me wrong by your suspicions, Mareschal," continued Vere; "you
are the last I would have expected to hear express them."

"You injure yourself, Ellieslaw, by your violence, though the cause may
excuse it."

He then advanced a little before the rest, and called out, with a loud
voice,--"Stand, Mr. Earnscliff; or do you and Miss Vere advance alone
to meet us. You are charged with having carried that lady off from her
father's house; and we are here in arms to shed our best blood for her
recovery, and for bringing to justice those who have injured her."

"And who would do that more willingly than I, Mr. Mareschal?" said
Earnscliff, haughtily,--"than I, who had the satisfaction this morning
to liberate her from the dungeon in which I found her confined, and who
am now escorting her back to the Castle of Ellieslaw?"

"Is this so, Miss Vere?" said Mareschal.

"It is," answered Isabella, eagerly,--"it is so; for Heaven's sake
sheathe your swords. I will swear by all that is sacred, that I was
carried off by ruffians, whose persons and object were alike unknown to
me, and am now restored to freedom by means of this gentleman's gallant
interference."

"By whom, and wherefore, could this have been done?" pursued
Mareschal.--"Had you no knowledge of the place to which you were
conveyed?--Earnscliff, where did you find this lady?"

But ere either question could be answered, Ellieslaw advanced, and,
returning his sword to the scabbard, cut short the conference.

"When I know," he said, "exactly how much I owe to Mr. Earnscliff, he
may rely on suitable acknowledgments; meantime," taking the bridle of
Miss Vere's horse, "thus far I thank him for replacing my daughter in
the power of her natural guardian."

A sullen bend of the head was returned by Earnscliff with equal
haughtiness; and Ellieslaw, turning back with his daughter upon the road
to his own house, appeared engaged with her in a conference so
earnest, that the rest of the company judged it improper to intrude by
approaching them too nearly. In the meantime, Earnscliff, as he took
leave of the other gentlemen belonging to Ellieslaw's party, said aloud,
"Although I am unconscious of any circumstance in my conduct that can
authorize such a suspicion, I cannot but observe, that Mr. Vere seems
to believe that I have had some hand in the atrocious violence which has
been offered to his daughter. I request you, gentlemen, to take notice
of my explicit denial of a charge so dishonourable; and that, although
I can pardon the bewildering feelings of a father in such a moment,
yet, if any other gentleman," (he looked hard at Sir Frederick Langley)
"thinks my word and that of Miss Vere, with the evidence of my friends
who accompany me, too slight for my exculpation, I will be happy--most
happy--to repel the charge, as becomes a man who counts his honour
dearer than his life."

"And I'll be his second," said Simon of Hackburn, "and take up ony twa
o' ye, gentle or semple, laird or loon; it's a' ane to Simon."

"Who is that rough-looking fellow?" said Sir Frederick Langley, "and
what has he to do with the quarrels of gentlemen?"

"I'se be a lad frae the Hie Te'iot," said Simon, "and I'se quarrel wi'
ony body I like, except the king, or the laird I live under."

"Come," said; Mareschal, "let us have no brawls.--Mr. Earnscliff;
although we do not think alike in some things, I trust we may be
opponents, even enemies, if fortune will have it so, without losing our
respect for birth, fair-play, and each other. I believe you as innocent
of this matter as I am myself; and I will pledge myself that my cousin
Ellieslaw, as soon as the perplexity attending these sudden events has
left his judgment to its free exercise, shall handsomely acknowledge the
very important service you have this day rendered him."

"To have served your cousin is a sufficient reward in itself--Good
evening, gentlemen," continued Earnscliff; "I see most of your party are
already on their way to Ellieslaw."

Then saluting Mareschal with courtesy, and the rest of the party
with indifference, Earnscliff turned his horse and rode towards
the Heugh-foot, to concert measures with Hobbie Elliot for farther
researches after his bride, of whose restoration to her friends he was
still ignorant.

"There he goes," said Mareschal; "he is a fine, gallant young fellow,
upon my soul; and yet I should like well to have a thrust with him on
the green turf. I was reckoned at college nearly his equal with the
foils, and I should like to try him at sharps."

"In my opinion," answered Sir Frederick Langley, "we have done very
ill in having suffered him, and those men who are with him, to go off
without taking away their arms; for the Whigs are very likely to draw to
a head under such a sprightly young fellow as that."

"For shame, Sir Frederick!" exclaimed Mareschal; "do you think that
Ellieslaw could, in honour, consent to any violence being offered to
Earnscliff; when he entered his bounds only to bring back his daughter?
or, if he were to be of your opinion, do you think that I, and the rest
of these gentlemen, would disgrace ourselves by assisting in such a
transaction? No, no, fair play and auld Scotland for ever! When the
sword is drawn, I will be as ready to use it as any man; but while it is
in the sheath, let us behave like gentlemen and neighbours."

Soon after this colloquy they reached the castle, when Ellieslaw, who
had been arrived a few minutes before, met them in the court-yard.

"How is Miss Vere? and have you learned the cause of her being carried
off?" asked Mareschal hastily.

"She is retired to her apartment greatly fatigued; and I cannot expect
much light upon her adventure till her spirits are somewhat recruited,"
replied her father. "She and I were not the less obliged to you,
Mareschal, and to my other friends, for their kind enquiries. But I must
suppress the father's feelings for a while to give myself up to those of
the patriot. You know this is the day fixed for our final decision--time
presses--our friends are arriving, and I have opened house, not only
for the gentry, but for the under spur-leathers whom we must necessarily
employ. We have, therefore, little time to prepare to meet them.--Look
over these lists, Marchie (an abbreviation by which Mareschal-Wells was
known among his friends). Do you, Sir Frederick, read these letters from
Lothian and the west--all is ripe for the sickle, and we have but to
summon out the reapers."

"With all my heart," said Mareschal; "the more mischief the better
sport."

Sir Frederick looked grave and disconcerted.

"Walk aside with me, my good friend," said Ellieslaw to the sombre
baronet; "I have something for your private ear, with which I know you
will be gratified."

They walked into the house, leaving Ratcliffe and Mareschal standing
together in the court.

"And so," said Ratcliffe, "the gentlemen of your political persuasion
think the downfall of this government so certain, that they disdain even
to throw a decent disguise over the machinations of their party?"

"Faith, Mr. Ratcliffe," answered Mareschal, "the actions and sentiments
YOUR friends may require to be veiled, but I am better pleased that ours
can go barefaced."

"And is it possible," continued Ratcliffe, "that you, who,
notwithstanding pour thoughtlessness and heat of temper (I beg pardon,
Mr. Mareschal, I am a plain man)--that you, who, notwithstanding
these constitutional defects, possess natural good sense and acquired
information, should be infatuated enough to embroil yourself in such
desperate proceedings? How does your head feel when you are engaged in
these dangerous conferences?"

"Not quite so secure on my shoulders," answered Mareschal, "as if I were
talking of hunting and hawking. I am not of so indifferent a mould as
my cousin Ellieslaw, who speaks treason as if it were a child's nursery
rhymes, and loses and recovers that sweet girl, his daughter, with a
good deal less emotion on both occasions, than would have affected me
had I lost and recovered a greyhound puppy. My temper is not quite so
inflexible, nor my hate against government so inveterate, as to blind me
to the full danger of the attempt."

"Then why involve yourself in it?" said Ratcliffe.

"Why, I love this poor exiled king with all my heart; and my father was
an old Killiecrankie man, and I long to see some amends on the Unionist
courtiers, that have bought and sold old Scotland, whose crown has been
so long independent."

"And for the sake of these shadows," said his monitor, "you are going to
involve your country in war and yourself in trouble?"

"I involve? No!--but, trouble for trouble, I had rather it came
to-morrow than a month hence. COME, I know it will; and, as your country
folks say, better soon than syne--it will never find me younger--and as
for hanging, as Sir John Falstaff says, I can become a gallows as well
as another. You know the end of the old ballad;

     "Sae dauntonly, sae wantonly,
     Sae rantingly gaed he,
     He play'd a spring, and danced a round,
     Beneath the gallows tree."

"Mr. Mareschal, I am sorry for you," said his grave adviser.

"I am obliged to you, Mr. Ratcliffe; but I would not have you judge of
our enterprise by my way of vindicating it; there are wiser heads than
mine at the work."

"Wiser heads than yours may lie as low," said Ratcliffe, in a warning
tone.

"Perhaps so; but no lighter heart shall; and, to prevent it being made
heavier by your remonstrances, I will bid you adieu, Mr. Ratcliffe, till
dinner-time, when you shall see that my apprehensions have not spoiled
my appetite."



CHAPTER XIII.

     To face the garment of rebellion
     With some fine colour, that may please the eye
     Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
     Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
     Of hurlyburly innovation.--HENRY THE FOURTH, PART II.

There had been great preparations made at Ellieslaw Castle for the
entertainment on this important day, when not only the gentlemen of note
in the neighbourhood, attached to the Jacobite interest, were expected
to rendezvous, but also many subordinate malecontents, whom difficulty
of circumstances, love of change, resentment against England, or any of
the numerous causes which inflamed men's passions at the time, rendered
apt to join in perilous enterprise. The men of rank and substance were
not many in number; for almost all the large proprietors stood aloof,
and most of the smaller gentry and yeomanry were of the Presbyterian
persuasion, and therefore, however displeased with the Union, unwilling
to engage in a Jacobite conspiracy. But there were some gentlemen of
property, who, either from early principle, from religious motives, or
sharing the ambitious views of Ellieslaw, had given countenance to his
scheme; and there were, also, some fiery young men, like Mareschal,
desirous of signalizing themselves by engaging in a dangerous
enterprise, by which they hoped to vindicate the independence of their
country. The other members of the party were persons of inferior rank
and desperate fortunes, who were now ready to rise in that part of the
country, as they did afterwards in the year 1715, under Forster and
Derwentwater, when a troop, commanded by a Border gentleman, named
Douglas, consisted almost entirely of freebooters, among whom the
notorious Luck-in-a-bag, as he was called, held a distinguished command.
We think it necessary to mention these particulars, applicable solely
to the province in which our scene lies; because, unquestionably, the
Jacobite party, in the other parts of the kingdom, consisted of much
more formidable, as well as much more respectable, materials.

One long table extended itself down the ample hall of Ellieslaw Castle,
which was still left much in the state in which it had been one hundred
years before, stretching, that is, in gloomy length, along the whole
side of the castle, vaulted with ribbed arches of freestone, the groins
of which sprung from projecting figures, that, carved into all the
wild forms which the fantastic imagination of a Gothic architect could
devise, grinned, frowned, and gnashed their tusks at the assembly below.
Long narrow windows lighted the banqueting room on both sides, filled
up with stained glass, through which the sun emitted a dusky and
discoloured light. A banner, which tradition averred to have been taken
from the English at the battle of Sark, waved over the chair in which
Ellieslaw presided, as if to inflame the courage of the guests, by
reminding them of ancient victories over their neighbours. He himself,
a portly figure, dressed on this occasion with uncommon care, and with
features, which, though of a stern and sinister expression, might well
be termed handsome, looked the old feudal baron extremely well. Sir
Frederick Langley was placed on his right hand, and Mr. Mareschal of
Mareschal-Wells on his left. Some gentlemen of consideration, with their
sons, brothers, and nephews, were seated at the upper end of the table,
and among these Mr. Ratcliffe had his place. Beneath the salt-cellar (a
massive piece of plate which occupied the midst of the table) sate the
SINE NOMINE TURBA, men whose vanity was gratified by holding even this
subordinate space at the social board, while the distinction observed in
ranking them was a salve to the pride of their superiors. That the lower
house was not very select must be admitted, since Willie of Westburnflat
was one of the party. The unabashed audacity of this fellow, in daring
to present himself in the house of a gentleman, to whom he had just
offered so flagrant an insult, can only be accounted for by supposing
him conscious that his share in carrying off Miss Vere was a secret,
safe in her possession and that of her father.

Before this numerous and miscellaneous party was placed a dinner,
consisting, not indeed of the delicacies of the season, as the
newspapers express it, but of viands, ample, solid, and sumptuous, under
which the very board groaned. But the mirth was not in proportion to the
good cheer. The lower end of the table were, for some time, chilled by
constraint and respect on finding themselves members of so august an
assembly; and those who were placed around it had those feelings of awe
with which P. P., clerk of the parish, describes himself oppressed,
when he first uplifted the psalm in presence of those persons of high
worship, the wise Mr. Justice Freeman, the good Lady Jones, and the
great Sir Thomas Truby. This ceremonious frost, however, soon gave way
before the incentives to merriment, which were liberally supplied,
and as liberally consumed by the guests of the lower description. They
became talkative, loud, and even clamorous in their mirth.

But it was not in the power of wine or brandy to elevate the spirits of
those who held the higher places at the banquet. They experienced the
chilling revulsion of spirits which often takes place, when men
are called upon to take a desperate resolution, after having placed
themselves in circumstances where it is alike difficult to advance or
to recede. The precipice looked deeper and more dangerous as they
approached the brink, and each waited with an inward emotion of awe,
expecting which of his confederates would set the example by plunging
himself down. This inward sensation of fear and reluctance acted
differently, according to the various habits and characters of the
company. One looked grave; another looked silly; a third gazed with
apprehension on the empty seats at the higher end of the table, designed
for members of the conspiracy whose prudence had prevailed over their
political zeal, and who had absented themselves from their consultations
at this critical period; and some seemed to be reckoning up in their
minds the comparative rank and prospects of those who were present and
absent. Sir Frederick Langley was reserved, moody, and discontented.
Ellieslaw himself made such forced efforts to raise the spirits of the
company, as plainly marked the flagging of his own. Ratcliffe watched
the scene with the composure of a vigilant but uninterested spectator.
Mareschal alone, true to the thoughtless vivacity of his character, ate
and drank, laughed and jested, and seemed even to find amusement in the
embarrassment of the company.

"What has damped our noble courage this morning?" he exclaimed. "We seem
to be met at a funeral, where the chief mourners must not speak above
their breath, while the mutes and the saulies (looking to the lower end
of the table) are carousing below. Ellieslaw, when will you LIFT?
[To LIFT, meaning to lift the coffin, is the common expression for
commencing a funeral.] where sleeps your spirit, man? and what has
quelled the high hope of the Knight of Langley-dale?"

"You speak like a madman," said Ellieslaw; "do you not see how many are
absent?"

"And what of that?" said Mareschal. "Did you not know before, that
one-half of the world are better talkers than doers? For my part, I am
much encouraged by seeing at least two-thirds of our friends true to the
rendezvous, though I suspect one-half of these came to secure the dinner
in case of the worst."

"There is no news from the coast which can amount to certainty of the
King's arrival," said another of the company, in that tone of subdued
and tremulous whisper which implies a failure of resolution.

"Not a line from the Earl of D--, nor a single gentleman from the
southern side of the Border," said a third.

"Who is he that wishes for more men from England," exclaimed Mareschal,
in a theatrical tone of affected heroism,

     "My cousin Ellieslaw?  No, my fair cousin,
     If we are doom'd to die--"

"For God's sake," said Ellieslaw, "spare us your folly at present,
Mareschal."

"Well, then," said his kinsman, "I'll bestow my wisdom upon you instead,
such as it is. If we have gone forward like fools, do not let us go back
like cowards. We have done enough to draw upon us both the suspicion and
vengeance of the government; do not let us give up before we have done
something to deserve it.--What, will no one speak? Then I'll leap the
ditch the first." And, starting up, he filled a beer-glass to the brim
with claret, and waving his hand, commanded all to follow his example,
and to rise up from their seats. All obeyed-the more qualified guests as
if passively, the others with enthusiasm "Then, my friends, I give you
the pledge of the day--The independence of Scotland, and the health of
our lawful sovereign, King James the Eighth, now landed in Lothian, and,
as I trust and believe, in full possession of his ancient capital!"

He quaffed off the wine, and threw the glass over his head.

"It should never," he said, "be profaned by a meaner toast."

All followed his example, and, amid the crash of glasses and the shouts
of the company, pledged themselves to stand or fall with the principles
and political interest which their toast expressed.

"You have leaped the ditch with a witness," said Ellieslaw, apart to
Mareschal; "but I believe it is all for the best; at all events, we
cannot now retreat from our undertaking. One man alone" (looking at
Ratcliffe) "has refused the pledge; but of that by and by."

Then, rising up, he addressed the company in a style of inflammatory
invective against the government and its measures, but especially the
Union; a treaty, by means of which, he affirmed, Scotland had been at
once cheated of her independence, her commerce, and her honour, and laid
as a fettered slave at the foot of the rival against whom, through such
a length of ages, through so many dangers, and by so much blood, she had
honourably defended her rights. This was touching a theme which found a
responsive chord in the bosom of every man present.

"Our commerce is destroyed," hollowed old John Rewcastle, a Jedburgh
smuggler, from the lower end of the table.

"Our agriculture is ruined," said the Laird of Broken-girth-flow, a
territory which, since the days of Adam, had borne nothing but ling and
whortle-berries.

"Our religion is cut up, root and branch," said the pimple-nosed pastor
of the Episcopal meeting-house at Kirkwhistle.

"We shall shortly neither dare shoot a deer nor kiss a wench, without
a certificate from the presbytery and kirk-treasurer," said
Mareschal-Wells.

"Or make a brandy jeroboam in a frosty morning, without license from a
commissioner of excise," said the smuggler.

"Or ride over the fell in a moonless night," said Westburnflat, "without
asking leave of young Earnscliff; or some Englified justice of the
peace: thae were gude days on the Border when there was neither peace
nor justice heard of."

"Let us remember our wrongs at Darien and Glencoe," continued Ellieslaw,
"and take arms for the protection of our rights, our fortunes, our
lives, and our families."

"Think upon genuine episcopal ordination, without which there can be no
lawful clergy," said the divine.

"Think of the piracies committed on our East-Indian trade by Green
and the English thieves," said William Willieson, half-owner and sole
skipper of a brig that made four voyages annually between Cockpool and
Whitehaven.

"Remember your liberties," rejoined Mareschal, who seemed to take a
mischievous delight in precipitating the movements of the enthusiasm
which he had excited, like a roguish boy, who, having lifted the sluice
of a mill-dam, enjoys the clatter of the wheels which he has put
in motion, without thinking of the mischief he may have occasioned.
"Remember your liberties," he exclaimed; "confound cess, press, and
presbytery, and the memory of old Willie that first brought them upon
us!"

"Damn the gauger!" echoed old John Rewcastle; "I'll cleave him wi' my
ain hand."

"And confound the country-keeper and the constable!" re-echoed
Westburnflat; "I'll weize a brace of balls through them before morning."

"We are agreed, then," said Ellieslaw, when the shouts had somewhat
subsided, "to bear this state of things no longer?"

"We are agreed to a man," answered his guests.

"Not literally so," said Mr. Ratcliffe; "for though I cannot hope to
assuage the violent symptoms which seem so suddenly to have seized
upon the company, yet I beg to observe, that so far as the opinion of a
single member goes, I do not entirely coincide in the list of grievances
which has been announced, and that I do utterly protest against the
frantic measures which you seem disposed to adopt for removing them. I
can easily suppose much of what has been spoken may have arisen out of
the heat of the moment, or have been said perhaps in jest. But there are
some jests of a nature very apt to transpire; and you ought to remember,
gentlemen, that stone-walls have ears."

"Stone-walls may have ears," returned Ellieslaw, eyeing him with a look
of triumphant malignity, "but domestic spies, Mr. Ratcliffe, will soon
find themselves without any, if any such dares to continue his abode
in a family where his coming was an unauthorized intrusion, where his
conduct has been that of a presumptuous meddler, and from which his
exit shall be that of a baffled knave, if he does not know how to take a
hint."

"Mr. Vere," returned Ratcliffe, with calm contempt, "I am fully aware,
that as soon as my presence becomes useless to you, which it must
through the rash step you are about to adopt, it will immediately become
unsafe to myself, as it has always been hateful to you. But I have one
protection, and it is a strong one; for you would not willingly hear me
detail before gentlemen, and men of honour, the singular circumstances
in which our connexion took its rise. As to the rest, I rejoice at its
conclusion; and as I think that Mr. Mareschal and some other gentlemen
will guarantee the safety of my ears and of my throat (for which last I
have more reason to be apprehensive) during the course of the night, I
shall not leave your castle till to-morrow morning."

"Be it so, sir," replied Mr. Vere; "you are entirely safe from my
resentment, because you are beneath it, and not because I am afraid of
your disclosing my family secrets, although, for your own sake, I warn
you to beware how you do so. Your agency and intermediation can be of
little consequence to one who will win or lose all, as lawful right or
unjust usurpation shall succeed in the struggle that is about to ensue.
Farewell, sir."

Ratcliffe arose, and cast upon him a look, which Vere seemed to sustain
with difficulty, and, bowing to those around him, left the room.

This conversation made an impression on many of the company, which
Ellieslaw hastened to dispel, by entering upon the business of the day.
Their hasty deliberations went to organize an immediate insurrection.
Ellieslaw, Mareschal, and Sir Frederick Langley were chosen leaders,
with powers to direct their farther measures. A place of rendezvous was
appointed, at which all agreed to meet early on the ensuing day, with
such followers and friends to the cause as each could collect around
him. Several of the guests retired to make the necessary preparations;
and Ellieslaw made a formal apology to the others, who, with
Westburnflat and the old smuggler, continued to ply the bottle stanchly,
for leaving the head of the table, as he must necessarily hold a
separate and sober conference with the coadjutors whom they had
associated with him in the command. The apology was the more readily
accepted, as he prayed them, at the same time, to continue to amuse
themselves with such refreshments as the cellars of the castle afforded.
Shouts of applause followed their retreat; and the names of Vere,
Langley, and, above all, of Mareschal, were thundered forth in chorus,
and bathed with copious bumpers repeatedly, during the remainder of the
evening.

When the principal conspirators had retired into a separate apartment,
they gazed on each other for a minute with a sort of embarrassment,
which, in Sir Frederick's dark features, amounted to an expression of
discontented sullenness. Mareschal was the first to break the pause,
saying, with a loud burst of laughter,

--"Well! we are fairly embarked now, gentlemen--VOGUE LA GALERE!"

"We may thank you for the plunge," said Ellieslaw.

"Yes; but I don't know how far you will thank me," answered Mareschal,
"when I show you this letter which I received just before we sat down.
My servant told me it was delivered by a man he had never seen before,
who went off at the gallop, after charging him to put it into my own
hand."

Ellieslaw impatiently opened the letter, and read aloud--

EDINBURGH,--

HOND. SIR, Having obligations to your family, which shall be nameless,
and learning that you are one of the company of, adventurers doing
business for the house of James and Company, late merchants in London,
now in Dunkirk, I think it right to send you this early and private
information, that the vessels you expected have been driven off the
coast, without having been able to break bulk, or to land any part
of their cargo; and that the west-country partners have resolved to
withdraw their name from the firm, as it must prove a losing concern.
Having good hope you will avail yourself of this early information, to
do what is needful for your own security, I rest your humble servant,
NIHIL NAMELESS.

FOR RALPH MARESCHAL, OF MARESCHAL-WELLS

--THESE WITH CARE AND SPEED.

Sir Frederick's jaw dropped, and his countenance blackened, as the
letter was read, and Ellieslaw exclaimed,--"Why, this affects the very
mainspring of our enterprise. If the French fleet, with the king on
board, has been chased off by the English, as this d--d scrawl seems to
intimate, where are we?"

"Just where we were this morning, I think," said Mareschal, still
laughing.

"Pardon me, and a truce to your ill-timed mirth, Mr. Mareschal; this
morning we were not committed publicly, as we now stand committed by
your own mad act, when you had a letter in your pocket apprizing you
that our undertaking was desperate."

"Ay, ay, I expected you would say so. But, in the first place, my friend
Nihil Nameless and his letter may be all a flam; and, moreover, I would
have you know that I am tired of a party that does nothing but form
bold resolutions overnight, and sleep them away with their wine before
morning. The government are now unprovided of men and ammunition; in a
few weeks they will have enough of both: the country is now in a flame
against them; in a few weeks, betwixt the effects of self-interest, of
fear, and of lukewarm indifference, which are already so visible, this
first fervour will be as cold as Christmas. So, as I was determined to
go the vole, I have taken care you shall dip as deep as I; it signifies
nothing plunging. You are fairly in the bog, and must struggle through."

"You are mistaken with respect to one of us, Mr. Mareschal," said Sir
Frederick Langley; and, applying himself to the bell, he desired the
person who entered to order his servants and horses instantly.

"You must not leave us, Sir Frederick," said Ellieslaw; "if we have our
musters to go over."

"I will go to-night, Mr. Vere," said Sir Frederick, "and write you my
intentions in this matter when I am at home."

"Ay," said Mareschal, "and send them by a troop of horse from Carlisle
to make us prisoners? Look ye, Sir Frederick, I for one will neither be
deserted nor betrayed; and if you leave Ellieslaw Castle to-night, it
shall be by passing over my dead body."

"For shame! Mareschal," said Mr. Vere, "how can you so hastily
misinterpret our friend's intentions? I am sure Sir Frederick can
only be jesting with us; for, were he not too honourable to dream of
deserting the cause, he cannot but remember the full proofs we have of
his accession to it, and his eager activity in advancing it. He cannot
but be conscious, besides, that the first information will be readily
received by government, and that if the question be, which can first
lodge intelligence of the affair, we can easily save a few hours on
him."

"You should say you, and not we, when you talk of priorities in such
a race of treachery; for my part, I won't enter my horse for such a
plate," said Mareschal; and added betwixit his teeth, "A pretty pair of
fellows to trust a man's neck with!"

"I am not to be intimidated from doing what I think proper," said Sir
Frederick Langley; "and my first step shall be to leave Ellieslaw. I
have no reason to keep faith with one" (looking at Vere) "who has kept
none with me."

"In what respect," said Ellieslaw, silencing, with a motion of his hand,
his impetuous kinsman--"how have I disappointed you, Sir Frederick?"

"In the nearest and most tender point--you have trifled with me
concerning our proposed alliance, which you well knew was the gage of
our political undertaking. This carrying off and this bringing back of
Miss Vere,--the cold reception I have met with from her, and the excuses
with which you cover it, I believe to be mere evasions, that you may
yourself retain possession of the estates which are hers by right,
and make me, in the meanwhile, a tool in your desperate enterprise,
by holding out hopes and expectations which you are resolved never to
realize."

"Sir Frederick, I protest, by all that is sacred--"

"I will listen to no protestations; I have been cheated with them too
long," answered Sir Frederick.

"If you leave us," said Ellieslaw, "you cannot but know both your ruin
and ours is certain; all depends on our adhering together."

"Leave me to take care of myself," returned the knight; "but were what
you say true, I would rather perish than be fooled any farther."

"Can nothing--no surety convince you of my sincerity?" said Ellieslaw,
anxiously; "this morning I should have repelled your unjust suspicions
as an insult; but situated as we now are--"

"You feel yourself compelled to be sincere?" retorted Sir Frederick.
"If you would have me think so, there is but one way to convince me of
it--let your daughter bestow her hand on me this evening."

"So soon?--impossible," answered Vere; "think of her late alarm--of our
present undertaking."

"I will listen to nothing but to her consent, plighted at the altar.
You have a chapel in the castle--Doctor Hobbler is present among the
company-this proof of your good faith to-night, and we are again
joined in heart and hand. If you refuse me when it is so much for your
advantage to consent, how shall I trust you to-morrow, when I shall
stand committed in your undertaking, and unable to retract?"

"And I am to understand, that, if you can be made my son-in-law
to-night, our friendship is renewed?" said Ellieslaw.

"Most infallibly, and most inviolably," replied Sir Frederick.

"Then," said Vere, "though what you ask is premature, indelicate, and
unjust towards my character, yet, Sir Frederick, give me your hand--my
daughter shall be your wife."

"This night?"

"This very night," replied Ellieslaw, "before the clock strikes twelve."

"With her own consent, I trust," said Mareschal; "for I promise you
both, gentlemen, I will not stand tamely by, and see any violence put on
the will of my pretty kinswoman."

"Another pest in this hot-headed fellow," muttered Ellieslaw; and then
aloud, "With her own consent? For what do you take me, Mareschal, that
you should suppose your interference necessary to protect my daughter
against her father? Depend upon it, she has no repugnance to Sir
Frederick Langley."