ere, and his features, though
still retaining the expression of the most perfect politeness, assumed,
at least to Edith's terrified imagination, a harsh and inexorable
character. His lip was now compressed as if with impatience; now curled
slightly upward, as if in civil contempt of the arguments urged by Major
Bellenden. The language of her uncle, as far as expressed in his manner,
appeared to be that of earnest intercession, urged with all the
affectionate simplicity of his character, as well as with the weight
which his age and reputation entitled him to use. But it seemed to have
little impression upon Colonel Grahame, who soon changed his posture, as
if about to cut short the Major's importunity, and to break up their
conference with a courtly expression of regret, calculated to accompany a
positive refusal of the request solicited. This movement brought them so
near Edith, that she could distinctly hear Claverhouse say, "It cannot
be, Major Bellenden; lenity, in his case, is altogether beyond the bounds
of my commission, though in any thing else I am heartily desirous to
oblige you.--And here comes Evandale with news, as I think.--What tidings
do you bring us, Evandale?" he continued, addressing the young lord, who
now entered in complete uniform, but with his dress disordered, and his
boots spattered, as if by riding hard.

[Illustration: Claverhouse--176]

"Unpleasant news, sir," was his reply. "A large body of whigs are in arms
among the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion. They have
publicly burnt the Act of Supremacy, that which established episcopacy,
that for observing the martyrdom of Charles I., and some others, and have
declared their intention to remain together in arms for furthering the
covenanted work of reformation."

This unexpected intelligence struck a sudden and painful surprise into
the minds of all who heard it, excepting Claverhouse.

"Unpleasant news call you them?" replied Colonel Grahame, his dark eyes
flashing fire, "they are the best I have heard these six months. Now that
the scoundrels are drawn into a body, we will make short work with them.
When the adder crawls into daylight," he added, striking the heel of his
boot upon the floor, as if in the act of crushing a noxious reptile, "I
can trample him to death; he is only safe when he remains lurking in his
den or morass.--Where are these knaves?" he continued, addressing Lord
Evandale.

"About ten miles off among