the old mendicant, indicated patience and content in the extremity of
age, and in the lowest condition to which humanity can sink; while the
sunken eye, pallid cheek, and tottering form of the nobleman with
whom he was confronted, showed how little wealth, power, and even the
advantages of youth, have to do with that which gives repose to the
mind, and firmness to the frame.

The Earl met the old man in the middle of the room, and having commanded
his attendant to withdraw into the gallery, and suffer no one to enter
the antechamber till he rung the bell, awaited, with hurried yet fearful
impatience, until he heard first the door of his apartment, and then
that of the antechamber, shut and fastened by the spring-bolt. When he
was satisfied with this security against being overheard, Lord Glenallan
came close up to the mendicant, whom he probably mistook for some person
of a religious order in disguise, and said, in a hasty yet faltering
tone, "In the name of all our religion holds most holy, tell me,
reverend father, what am I to expect from a communication opened by a
token connected with such horrible recollections?"

The old man, appalled by a manner so different from what he had expected
from the proud and powerful nobleman, was at a loss how to answer, and
in what manner to undeceive him. "Tell me," continued the Earl, in a
tone of increasing trepidation and agony--"tell me, do you come to say
that all that has been done to expiate guilt so horrible, has been too
little and too trivial for the offence, and to point out new and
more efficacious modes of severe penance?--I will not blench from it,
father--let me suffer the pains of my crime here in the body, rather than
hereafter in the spirit!"

Edie had now recollection enough to perceive, that if he did not
interrupt the frankness of Lord Glenallan's admissions, he was likely
to become the confidant of more than might be safe for him to know.
He therefore uttered with a hasty and trembling voice--"Your lordship's
honour is mistaken--I am not of your persuasion, nor a clergyman, but,
with all reverence, only puir Edie Ochiltree, the king's bedesman and
your honour's."

This explanation he accompanied by a profound bow after his manner, and
then, drawing himself up erect, rested his arm on his staff, threw back
his long white hair, and fixed his eyes upon the Earl, as he waited for
an answer.

"And you are not then," said Lord Glenallan, after a pause of surp