resembling the intonation of a
groan,--"Ye'll think o' puir Cuddie sometimes--an honest lad that lo'es
ye, Jenny; ye'll think o' him now and then?"

"Whiles--at brose-time," answered the malicious damsel, unable either to
suppress the repartee, or the arch smile which attended it.

[Illustration: Whiles--at Brose-Time--pa098]

Cuddie took his revenge as rustic lovers are wont, and as Jenny probably
expected,--caught his mistress round the neck, kissed her cheeks and lips
heartily, and then turned his horse and trotted after his master.

"Deil's in the fallow," said Jenny, wiping her lips and adjusting her
head-dress, "he has twice the spunk o' Tam Halliday, after a'.--Coming,
my leddy, coming--Lord have a care o' us, I trust the auld leddy didna
see us!"

"Jenny," said Lady Margaret, as the damsel came up, "was not that young
man who commanded the party the same that was captain of the popinjay,
and who was afterwards prisoner at Tillietudlem on the morning
Claverhouse came there?"

Jenny, happy that the query had no reference to her own little matters,
looked at her young mistress, to discover, if possible, whether it was
her cue to speak truth or not. Not being able to catch any hint to guide
her, she followed her instinct as a lady's maid, and lied.

"I dinna believe it was him, my leddy," said Jenny, as confidently as if
she had been saying her catechism; "he was a little black man, that."

"You must have been blind, Jenny," said the Major: "Henry Morton is tall
and fair, and that youth is the very man."

"I had ither thing ado than be looking at him," said Jenny, tossing her
head; "he may be as fair as a farthing candle, for me."

"Is it not," said Lady Margaret, "a blessed escape which we have made,
out of the hands of so desperate and bloodthirsty a fanatic?"

"You are deceived, madam," said Lord Evandale; "Mr Morton merits such a
title from no one, but least from us. That I am now alive, and that you
are now on your safe retreat to your friends, instead of being prisoners
to a real fanatical homicide, is solely and entirely owing to the prompt,
active, and energetic humanity of this young gentleman."

He then went into a particular narrative of the events with which the
reader is acquainted, dwelling upon the merits of Morton, and expatiating
on the risk at which he had rendered them these important services, as if
he had been a brother instead of a rival.

"I were worse than ungrateful," he s