you charge me
with deceiving you?"

"You told me," answered M'Aulay, "that you would not marry Annot
Lyle!--False traitor!--she now waits you at the altar."

"It is you who speak false," retorted Menteith. "I told you the
obscurity of her birth was the only bar to our union--that is now
removed; and whom do you think yourself, that I should yield up my
pretensions in your favour?"

"Draw then," said M'Aulay; "we understand each other."

"Not now," said Menteith, "and not here. Allan, you know me well--wait
till to-morrow, and you shall have fighting enough."

"This hour--this instant--or never," answered M'Aulay.

"Your triumph shall not go farther than the hour which is stricken.
Menteith, I entreat you by our relationship--by our joint conflicts and
labours--draw your sword, and defend your life!" As he spoke, he seized
the Earl's hand, and wrung it with such frantic earnestness, that his
grasp forced the blood to start under the nails. Menteith threw him off
with violence, exclaiming, "Begone, madman!"

"Then, be the vision accomplished!" said Allan; and, drawing his dirk,
struck with his whole gigantic force at the Earl's bosom. The temper of
the corslet threw the point of the weapon upwards, but a deep wound
took place between the neck and shoulder; and the force of the blow
prostrated the bridegroom on the floor. Montrose entered at one side of
the anteroom. The bridal company, alarmed at the noise, were in equal
apprehension and surprise; but ere Montrose could almost see what had
happened, Allan M'Aulay had rushed past him, and descended the
castle stairs like lightning. "Guards, shut the gate!" exclaimed
Montrose--"Seize him--kill him, if he resists!--He shall die, if he were
my brother!"

But Allan prostrated, with a second blow of his dagger, a sentinel who
was upon duty---traversed the camp like a mountain-deer, though pursued
by all who caught the alarm--threw himself into the river, and, swimming
to the opposite side, was soon lost among the woods. In the course of
the same evening, his brother Angus and his followers left Montrose's
camp, and, taking the road homeward, never again rejoined him.

Of Allan himself it is said, that, in a wonderfully short space after
the deed was committed, he burst into a room in the Castle of Inverary,
where Argyle was sitting in council, and flung on the table his bloody
dirk.

"Is it the blood of James Grahame?" said Argyle, a ghastly expression
of hope mix