sed the domestics in the tower, and the stranger entered.
He was conducted into a long, gloomy apartment, dimly lighted by a
solitary lamp. Around him hung rude portraits of the chiefs of
Wedderburn, and on the walls were suspended their arms and the spoils of
their victories. The solitary apartment seemed like the tomb of war.
Every weapon around him had been rusted with the blood of Scotland's
enemies. It was a fitting theatre for the recital of a tale of death. He
had gazed around for a few minutes, when heavy footsteps were heard
treading along the dreary passages, and the next moment Sir David Home
entered, armed as for the field.

"Your errand, stranger?" said the young chief of Wedderburn, fixing a
searching glance upon him as he spoke.

The stranger bowed, and replied, "The Regent"------

"Ay!" interrupted Home, "the enemy of our house, the creature of our
hands, whom we lifted from exile to sovereignty, and who now with his
minions tracks our path like a bloodhound! What of this gracious Regent?
Are ye, too, one of his myrmidons, and seek ye to strike the lion in his
den?"

"Nay," answered the other; "but from childhood the faithful retainer of
your murdered kinsman."

"My murdered kinsman!" exclaimed Wedderburn, grasping the arm of the
other. "What! more blood! more! What mean ye, stranger?"

"That, to gratify the revenge of the Regent Albany," replied the other,
"my lord Home and your kinsman William have been betrayed and murdered.
Calumny has blasted their honour. Twelve hours ago I beheld their heads
tossed like footballs by the foot of the common executioner, and
afterwards fixed over the porch of the Nether Bow, for the execration
and indignities of the slaves of Albany. All day the blood of the Homes
has dropped upon the pavement, where the mechanic and the clown pass
over and tread on it."

"Hold!" cried Home, and the dreary hall echoed with his voice. "No
more!" he continued; and he paced hurriedly for a few minutes across the
apartment, casting a rapid glance upon the portraits of his ancestors.
"By heavens! they chide me," he exclaimed, "that my sword sleeps in the
scabbard, while the enemies of the house of Home triumph." He drew his
sword, and approaching the picture of his father, he pressed the weapon
to his lips, and continued, "By the soul of my ancestors, I swear upon
this blade, that the proud Albany and his creatures shall feel that one
Home still lives!" He dashed the weapon back i