d. She knelt by the side of the wounded girl.

"O my bairn!" she exclaimed, "what has this day brought upon me!--they
have murdered you! This is rueing, indeed; and I rue too!"

"Susan!" exclaimed Clennel, as he listened to her words, and his eyes
had been for several seconds fixed upon her countenance.

"Yes!--Susan!--guilty Susan!" cried the gipsy.

"Wretch!" he exclaimed, "my child!--where is my child?--is
_this_"----and he gazed on the poor girl, his voice failed him, and he
burst into tears.

"Yes!--yes!" replied she bitterly, "it is her--there lies your
daughter--look upon her face."

He needed, indeed, but to look upon her countenance--disfigured as it
was, and dyed with weeds to give it a sallow hue--to behold in it every
lineament of her mother's, lovely as when they first met his eye and
entered his heart. He flung himself on the ground by her side, he raised
her head, he kissed her cheek, he exclaimed, "My child!--my child!--my
lost one! I have destroyed thee!"

He bound up her lacerated arms, and applied a flask of wine, which he
carried with him, to her lips, and he supported her on his knee, and
again kissing her cheek, sobbed, "My child!--my own!"

Andrew Smith also bent over her and said, "Oh, it is her! there isna the
smallest doubt o' that. I could swear to her among a thousand. She's her
mother's very picture." And, turning to Susan, he added, "O Susan,
woman, but ye hae been a terrible hypocrite!"

Clennel having placed his daughter on horseback before him, supporting
her with his arm, Susan was set between two of his followers, and
conducted to the Hall.

Before the tidings were made known to Lady Clennel, the wounds of her
daughter were carefully dressed, the dye that changed the colour of her
countenance was removed, and her gipsy garb was exchanged for more
seemly apparel.

Clennel anxiously entered the apartment of his lady, to reveal to her
the tale of joy; but when he entered, he wist not how to introduce it.
He knew that excess of sudden joy was not less dangerous than excess of
grief, and his countenance was troubled, though its expression was less
sad than it had been for many years.

"Eleanor," he at length began, "cheer up."

"Why, I am not sadder than usual, dear," replied she, in her wonted
gentle manner; "and to be more cheerful would ill become one who has
endured my sorrows."

"True, true," said he, "but our affliction may not be so severe as we
have thought--there