I am sure he will
satisfy us with his reasons, and if he does not, I will help you to scold
him."

"What I chiefly fear," said Edith, "is his having engaged in some of the
plots of this fluctuating and unhappy time. I know his heart is with that
dreadful Claverhouse and his army, and I believe he would have joined
them ere now but for my uncle's death, which gave him so much additional
trouble on our account. How singular that one so rational and so deeply
sensible of the errors of the exiled family should be ready to risk all
for their restoration!"

"What can I say?" answered Lady Emily,--"it is a point of honour with
Evandale. Our family have always been loyal; he served long in the
Guards; the Viscount of Dundee was his commander and his friend for
years; he is looked on with an evil eye by many of his own relations, who
set down his inactivity to the score of want of spirit. You must be
aware, my dear Edith, how often family connections and early
predilections influence our actions more than abstract arguments. But I
trust Evandale will continue quiet,--though, to tell you truth, I believe
you are the only one who can keep him so."

"And how is it in my power?" said Miss Bellenden.

"You can furnish him with the Scriptural apology for not going forth with
the host,--'he has married a wife, and therefore cannot come.'"

"I have promised," said Edith, in a faint voice; "but I trust I shall not
be urged on the score of time."

"Nay," said Lady Emily, "I will leave Evandale (and here he comes) to
plead his own cause."

"Stay, stay, for God's sake!" said Edith, endeavouring to detain her.

"Not I, not I," said the young lady, making her escape; "the third person
makes a silly figure on such occasions. When you want me for breakfast, I
will be found in the willow-walk by the river."

As she tripped out of the room, Lord Evandale entered. "Good-morrow,
Brother, and good-by till breakfast-time," said the lively young lady;
"I trust you will give Miss Bellenden some good reasons for disturbing
her rest so early in the morning."

And so saying, she left them together, without waiting a reply.

"And now, my lord," said Edith, "may I desire to know the meaning of your
singular request to meet you here at so early an hour?"

She was about to add that she hardly felt herself excusable in having
complied with it; but upon looking at the person whom she addressed, she
was struck dumb by the singular and agitated expr