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quite shrouded by the branches of the large tree, so that Glossin was not aware of the presence of the stranger till he was close upon him.

"

Yes, sir, as I have often said before to you, the Old Place is a perfect quarry of hewn stone, and it would be better for the estate if it were all down, since it is only a den for smugglers.» At this instant Bertram turned short round upon Glossin at the distance of two yards only« Would you destroy the castle, sir?»-His face, person, and voice, were so exactly those of his father in his best days, that Glossin, hearing his exclamation, and seeing such a sudden apparition in the shape of his patron, and on nearly the very spot where he had expired, almost thought the grave had given up its dead!-He staggered back two or three paces, as if he had received a sudden and deadly wound. He instantly recovered however his presence of mind, stimulated by the thrilling reflection that it was no inhabitant of the other world which stood before him, but an injured man, whom the slightest want of dexterity on his part might lead to acquaintance with his rights, and the means of asserting them to his utter destruction. Yet his ideas were so much confused by the shock he had received, that his first question partook of the alarm.

« In the name of God, how came you here?» << Here, sir? I landed a quarter of an hour since in the little harbour beneath the castle, and was

J.

employing a moment's leisure in viewing these fine ruins; I trust there is no intrusion?>>

<< Intrusion, sir?-no, sir," said Glossin, in some degree recovering his breath, and then whispered a few words into his companion's ear, who immediately left him and descended towards the house. « Intrusion, sir?-no, sir, ---you or any gentleman are welcome to satisfy your curiosity.»

<< I thank you, sir. They call this the Old Place, I am informed?»

«Yes, sir; in distinction to the New Place, my house there below.">

Glossin, it must be remarked, was, during the following dialogue, on the one hand eager to learn what local recollections young Bertram had retained of the scenes of his infancy, and, on the other, compelled to be extremely cautious in his replies, lest he should awaken or assist by some name, phrase, or anecdote, the slumbering train of association. He suffered, indeed, during the whole scene, the agonies which he so richly de served; yet his pride and interest, like the fortitude of a North American Indian, manned him to sustain the tortures inflicted at once, by the contending stings of a guilty conscience, of hatred, of fear, and of suspicion.

<«< I wish to ask the name, sir, of the family to whom this stately ruin belongs?»

<< It is my property, sir; my name is Glossin.» << Glossin-Glossin?» repeated Brown, as if the answer was somewhat different from what he

expected, « I beg your pardon, Mr Glossin, I am apt to be very absent. May I ask if the castle has been long in your family?"

<< It was built, I believe, long ago, by a family called MacDingawaie,» answered Glossin, suppressing for obvious reasons the more familiar sound of Bertram, which might have awakened the recollections which he was anxious to lull to rest, and slurring with an evasive answer the question concerning the endurance of his own possession.

«And how do you read the half-defaced motto, sir, which is upon that scroll above the entablature with the arms?»>

« I—I—I really do not exactly know,» replied Glossin.

« I should be apt to read it, Our Right makes our Might.»

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I believe it is something of that kind. »

May I ask, sir, if it is your family motto?»

« N-n-no-no-not ours. That is, I believe, the motto of the former people-mine is-mine is-in fact I have had some correspondence with Mr Cumming of the Lion-office in Edinburgh, about mine. He writes me the Glossins anciently bore for a motto, 'He who takes it makes it.'»

« If there be any uncertainty, sir, and the case were mine, I would assume the old motto, which seems to me the better of the two.">

Glossin, whose tongue by this time clove to the roof of his mouth, only answered by a nod. << It is odd enough,» said Bertram, fixing his eye

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upon the arms and gateway, and partly addressing Glossin, partly as it were thinking aloud« it is odd the tricks which our memory plays us; the remnants of an old prophecy, or song, or rhyme, of some kind or other, return to my recollection upon hearing that motto-stay-it is a strange jingle of sounds :

<< The dark shall be light,

And the wrong made right,

When Bertram's right and Bertram's might

Shall meet on

<< I cannot remember the last line-on some par ticular height — height is the rhyme, I am sure; but I cannot hit upon the preceding word.>>

« Confound your memory,» thought Glossin, << you remember by far too much of it.»>

<< There are other rhymes connected with these early recollections: Pray, sir, is there any song current in this part of the world, respecting a daughter of the King of the Isle of Man eloping with a Scottish knight?"

<< I am the worst person in the world to consult upon legendary antiquities,» answered Glos

sin.

« I could sing such a ballad,» said Bertram, «< from one end to another when I was a boyyou must know I left Scotland, which is my native country, very young, and those who brought me up discouraged all my attempts to preserve recollection of my native land, on account, I believe, of a boyish wish which I had to escape from their charge.»>

Very natural," said Glossin, but speaking as if his utmost efforts were unable to unseal his lips beyond the width of a quarter of an inch, so that his whole utterance was a kind of compressed muttering, very different from the round bold bullying voice with which he usually spoke. Indeed his appearance and demeanour during all this conversation seemed to diminish even his strength and stature, so that he withered as it were into the shadow of himself, now advancing one foot, now the other, now stooping and wriggling his shoulders, now fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat, now clasping his hands together,—in short, he was the picture of a meanspirited shuffling rascal in the very agonies of detection. To these appearances Bertram was totally inattentive, being dragged on as it were by the current of his own associations. Indeed, although he addressed Glossin, he was not so much thinking of him, as arguing upon the embarrassing state of his own feelings and recollection. «Yes," he said, « I preserved my language among the sailors, most of whom spoke English, and when I could get into a corner by myself, I used to sing all that song over from beginning to end-I have forgot it all now-but I remember the tune well, though I cannot guess what should at present so strongly recall it to my memory.>>

He took his flageolet from his pocket, and played a simple melody. Apparently the tune awoke the corresponding associations of a damsel, who at a fine spring about half way down the