with her lord and master; but an appearance of dis turbance and anxiety among the servants now excited his alarm, especially when he was called out of the room, and told in private, that Mr. Kennedy's horse had come to the stable door alone, with the saddle turned round below its belly, and the reins of the bridle broken; and that a farmer had informed them in passing, that there was a smuggling lugger burning like a furnace on the other side of the Point of Warroch, and that, though he had come through the wood, he had seen or heard nothing of Kennedy and the young laird, 'only there was Dominie Sampson, gaun rampauging about, like mad, seeking for them.'—

All was now bustle at Ellangowan. The laird and his servants, male and female, hastened to the wood of Warroch. The tenants and cottagers in the neighbourhood lent their assistance, partly out of zeal, partly from curiosity. Boats were manned to search the seashore, which, on the other side of the Point, rose into high and indented rocks. A vague suspicion was entertained, though too horri. ble to be expressed, that the child might have fallen from one of these cliffs.

The evening had begun to close, when the parties entered the wood, and dispersed different ways in quest of the boy and his companion. The darkening of the atmosphere, and the hoarse sighs of the November wind through the naked trees, the rustling of the withered leaves which strewed the glades, the repeated halloos of the different parties, which often drew them together in expectation of meeting the objects of their search, gave a cast of dismal sublimity to the scene.

At length, after a minute and fruitless investigation through the wood, the searchers began to draw together into one body, and to compare notes. The agony of the father grew beyond concealment, yet it scarcely equalled the anguish of the tutor. Would to God I had died for him!' the affectionate creature repeated in notes of the deepest distress. Those who were less interested, rushed into a tumultuary discussion of chances and possibilities. Each gave his opinion, and each was alternately swayed by that of the others. Some thought the object of their search had gone aboard the sloop; some that they had gone to a village three miles distant; some whispered they might have been on board the lugger, a few planks and beams of which the tide now drifted ashore.

At this instant a shout was heard from the beach, so loud, so shrill, sp piercing, so different from every sound which the woods had that day rung to, that nobody hesitated a moment to believe that it conveyed tidings, and tidings of dreadful import. All hurried to the place, and, venturing without scruple upon paths, which, at another time, they would have shuddered to look at, descended towards a cleft of the rock, where one boat's crew had already landed. Here, sirs!-Here!-this way, for God's sake! this way! this way!' was the reiterated cry. Ellargowan broke through the throng which had already assembled at the fatal spot, and beheld the object of their terror, It was the dead body of Kennedy. At first sight he seemed to have perished by a fall from the rocks, which there rose in a precipice of a hundred feet above the beach. The corpse was lying half in, half out of the water; the

advancing tide, raising the arm and stirring the clothes, had given it at some distance the appearance of motion, so that those who first discovered the body thought that life remained. But every spark had been long extinguished.

'My bairn! my bairn!' cried the distracted father, 'where can he be?'-A dozen mouths were opened to communicate hopes which no one felt. Some one at length mentioned—the gypsies! In a moment Ellangowan had reascended the cliffs, flung himself upon the first horse he met, and rode furiously to the huts at Derncleugh. All was there dark and desolate; and, as he dismounted to make more minute search, he stumbled over fragments of furniture which had been thrown out of the cottages, and the broken wood and thatch which had been pulled down by his orders. At that moment the prophecy, or anathema, of Meg Merrilies fell heavy on his mind. You have stripped the thatch from seven cottages-see that the roof-tree of your own house stand the surer!'

'Restore,' he cried, 'restore my bairn! bring me back my son, and all shall be forgot and forgiven!' As he uttered these words in a sort of frenzy, his eye caught a glimmering of light in one of the dismantled cottages-it was that in which Meg Merrilies formerly resided. The light, which seemed to proceed from fire, glimmered not only through the window, but also through the rafters of the hut where the roofing had been torn off.

He flew to the place; the entrance was bolted; despair gave the miserable father the strength of ten men; he rushed against the door with such violence that it gave way before the momentum of

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weight and force. The cottage was empty, but bore marks of recent habitation-there was fire on the hearth, a kettle, and some preparation for food. As he eagerly gazed around for something that might confirm his hope that his child yet lived, although in the power of those strange people, a man entered the hut.

It was his old gardener. O sir!' said the old man, 'such a night as this I trusted never to live to see!-ye maun come to the Place directly!'

Is my boy found? is he alive? have ye found Harry Bertram? Andrew, have ye found Harry Bertram?'

'No, sir; but'

"Then he is kidnapped! I am sure of it, Andrew! as sure as that I tread upon earth! She has stolen him-and I will never stir from this place till I have tidings of my bairn!'

'O, but ye maun come hame, sir! ye maun come hame! We have sent for the sheriff, and we'll set a watch here a' night, in case the gypsies return; but you-ye maun come hame, sir-for my lady's in the dead-thraw.'

Bertram turned a stupified and unmeaning eye on the messenger who uttered this calamitous news; and, repeating the words 'in the dead-thraw!' as if he could not comprehend their meaning, suffered the old man to drag him towards his horse. During the ride home, he only said, 'Wife and bairn, baith -mother and son baith-Sair, sair to abide!' It is needless to dwell on the new scene of agony which awaited him. The news of Kennedy's fate had been eagerly and incautiously communicated at Ellangowan, with the gratuitous addition, that,

doubtless, he had drawn the young laird over the craig with him, though the tide had swept away the child's body-he was light, puir thing, and would flee farther into the surf.'

Mrs. Bertram heard the tidings; she was far advanced in her pregnancy; she fell into the pains of premature labour, and, ere Ellangowan had recovered his agitated faculties, so as to comprehend the full distress of his situation, he was the father of a female infant, and a widower.

CHAPTER X.

But see, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eye-balls farther out than when he lived,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man;

His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling,
His hands abroad display'd, as one that gasp'd

And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued.

Henry IV, Part First.

THE sheriff-depute of the county arrived at Ellangowan next morning by day-break. To this provincial magistrate the law of Scotland assigns judicial powers of considerable extent, and the task of inquiring into all crimes committed within his jurisdiction, the apprehension and commitment of suspected persons, and so forth.

The gentleman who held the office in the shire of at the time of this catastrophe, was well born and well educated; and, though somewhat pedantic and professional in his habits, he enjoyed