"Spirit of the Mist!" said Ranald MacEagh, "called by our race
our father, and our preserver--receive into thy tabernacle of

clouds, when this pang is over, him whom in life thou hast so
often sheltered." So saying, he sunk back into the arms of those

who upheld him, spoke no further word, but turned his face to the
wall for a short space.

"I believe," said Dalgetty, "my friend Ranald will be found in
his heart to be little better than a heathen." And he renewed

his proposal to procure him the assistance of Dr. Wisheart,
Montrose's military chaplain; "a man," said Sir Dugald, "very

clever in his exercise, and who will do execution on your sins in
less time than I could smoke a pipe of tobacco."

"Saxon," said the dying man, "speak to me no more of thy priest--
I die contented. Hadst thou ever an enemy against whom weapons

were of no avail--whom the ball missed, and against whom the
arrow shivered, and whose bare skin was as impenetrable to sword

and dirk as thy steel garment--Heardst thou ever of such a foe?"
"Very frequently, when I served in Germany," replied Sir Dugald.

"There was such a fellow at Ingolstadt; he was proof both against
lead and steel. The soldiers killed him with the buts of their

muskets."
"This impassible foe," said Ranald, without regarding the Major's

interruption, "who has the blood dearest to me upon his hands--to
this man I have now bequeathed agony of mind, jealousy, despair,

and sudden death,--or a life more miserable than death itself.
Such shall be the lot of Allan of the Red-hand, when he learns

that Annot weds Menteith and I ask no more than the certainty
that it is so, to sweeten my own bloody end by his hand."

"If that be the case," said the Major, "there's no more to be
said; but I shall take care as few people see you as possible,

for I cannot think your mode of departure can be at all
creditable or exemplary to a Christian army." So saying, he left

the apartment, and the Son of the Mist soon after breathed his
last.

Menteith, in the meanwhile, leaving the new-found relations to
their mutual feelings of mingled emotion, was eagerly discussing

with Montrose the consequences of this discovery. "I should now
see," said the Marquis, "even had I not before observed it, that

your interest in this discovery, my dear Menteith, has no small
reference to your own happiness. You love this new-found lady,--

your affection is returned. In point of birth, no exceptions can
be made; in every other respect, her advantages are equal to

those which you yourself possess--think, however, a moment. Sir
Duncan is a fanatic--Presbyterian, at least--in arms against the

King; he is only with us in the quality of a prisoner, and we
are, I fear, but at the commencement of a long civil war. Is

this a time, think you, Menteith, for you to make proposals for
his heiress? Or what chance is there that he will now listen to

it ?"
Passion, an ingenious, as well as an eloquentadvocate, supplied

the young nobleman with a thousand answers to these objections.
He reminded Montrose that the Knight of Ardenvohr was neither a

bigot in politics nor religion. He urged his own known and
proved zeal for the royal cause, and hinted that its influence

might be extended and strengthened by his wedding the heiress of
Ardenvohr. He pleaded the dangerous state of Sir Duncan's wound,

the risk which must be run by suffering the young lady to be
carried into the country of the Campbells, where, in case of her

father's death, or continued indisposition, she must necessarily
be placed under the guardianship of Argyle, an event fatal to his

(Menteith's) hopes, unless he could stoop to purchase his favour
by abandoning the King's party.

Montrose allowed the force of these arguments, and owned,
although the matter was attended with difficulty, yet it seemed

consistent with the King's service that it should be concluded as
speedily as possible.

"I could wish," said he, "that it were all settled in one way or
another, and that this fair Briseis were removed from our camp

before the return of our Highland Achilles, Allan M'Aulay.--I
fear some fatal feud in that quarter, Menteith--and I believe it

would be best that Sir Duncan be dismissed on his parole, and
that you accompany him and his daughter as his escort. The

journey can be made chiefly by water, so will not greatly
incommode his wound--and your own, my friend, will be an

honourable excuse for the absence of some time from my camp."
"Never!" said Menteith. "Were I to forfeit the very hope that

has so lately dawned upon me, never will I leave your
Excellency's camp while the royal standard is displayed. I

should deserve that this triflingscratch should gangrene and
consume my sword-arm, were I capable of holding it as an excuse

for absence at this crisis of the King's affairs."
"On this, then, you are determined?" said Montrose.

"As fixed as Ben-Nevis," said the young nobleman.
"You must, then," said Montrose, "lose no time in seeking an

explanation with the Knight of Ardenvohr. If this prove
favourable, I will talk myself with the elder M'Aulay, and we

will devise means to employ his brother at a distance from the
army until he shall be reconciled to his present disappointment.

Would to God some vision would descend upon his imagination fair
enough to obliterate all traces of Annot Lyle! That perhaps you

think impossible, Menteith?--Well, each to his service; you to
that of Cupid, and I to that of Mars."

They parted, and in pursuance of the scheme arranged, Menteith,
early on the ensuing morning, sought a private interview with the

wounded Knight of Ardenvohr, and communicated to him his suit for
the hand of his daughter. Of their mutualattachment Sir Duncan

was aware, but he was not prepared for so early a declaration on
the part of Menteith. He said, at first, that he had already,

perhaps, indulged too much in feelings of personal happiness, at
a time when his clan had sustained so great a loss and

humiliation, and that he was unwilling, therefore, farther to
consider the advancement of his own house at a period so

calamitous. On the more urgent suit of the noble lover, he
requested a few hours to deliberate and consult with his

daughter, upon a question so highly important.
The result of this interview and deliberation was favourable to

Menteith. Sir Duncan Campbell became fully sensible that the
happiness of his new-found daughter depended upon a union with

her lover; and unless such were now formed, he saw that Argyle
would throw a thousand obstacles in the way of a match in every

respect acceptable to himself. Menteith's private character was
so excellent, and such was the rank and consideration due to his

fortune and family, that they outbalanced, in Sir Duncan's
opinion, the difference in their political opinions. Nor could

he have resolved, perhaps, had his own opinion of the match been
less favourable, to decline an opportunity of indulging the new-

found child of his hopes. There was, besides, a feeling of pride
which dictated his determination. To produce the Heiress of

Ardenvohr to the world as one who had been educated a poor
dependant and musician in the family of Darnlinvarach, had

something in it that was humiliating. To introduce her as the
betrothed bride, or wedded wife, of the Earl of Menteith, upon an

attachment formed during her obscurity, was a warrant to the
world that she had at all times been worthy of the rank to which

she was elevated.
It was under the influence of these considerations that Sir

Duncan Campbell announced to the lovers his consent that they
should be married in the chapel of the Castle, by Montrose's

chaplain, and as privately as possible. But when Montrose should
break up from Inverlochy, for which orders were expected in the

course of a very few days, it was agreed that the young Countess
should depart with her father to his Castle, and remain there

until the circumstances of the nation permitted Menteith to
retire with honour from his present military employment. His

resolution being once taken, Sir Duncan Campbell would not permit