Angus answered somewhat sulkily, that "he was no makebate, or

stirrer-up of quarrels; he would rather be a peacemaker. His
brother knew as well as most men how to resent his own quarrels

--as for Allan's mode of receiving information, it was generally
believed he had other sources than those of ordinary couriers.

He should not be surprised if they saw him sooner than they
expected."

A promise that he would not interfere, was the farthest to which
Montrose could bring this man, thoroughly good-tempered as he was

on all occasions, save when his pride, interest, or prejudices,
were interfered with. And at this point the Marquis was fain to

leave the matter for the present.
A more willing guest at the bridalceremony, certainly a more

willingattendant at the marriage feast, was to be expected in
Sir Dugald Dalgetty, whom Montrose resolved to invite, as having

been a confidant to the circumstances which preceded it. But
even Sir Dugald hesitated, looked on the elbows of his doublet,

and the knees of his leather breeches, and mumbled out a sort of
reluctant acquiescence in the invitation, providing he should

find it possible, after consulting with the noble bridegroom.
Montrose was somewhat surprised, but scorning to testify

displeasure, he left Sir Dugald to pursue his own course.
This carried him instantly" target="_blank" title="ad.立即，立刻">instantly to the chamber of the bride-groom,

who, amidst the scantywardrobe which his camp-equipage afforded,
was seeking for such articles as might appear to the best

advantage upon the approaching occasion. Sir Dugald entered, and
paid his compliments, with a very grave face, upon his

approaching happiness, which, he said, "he was very sorry he was
prevented from witnessing."

"In plain truth," said he, "I should but disgrace the ceremony,
seeing that I lack a bridalgarment. Rents, and open seams, and

tatters at elbows in the apparel of the assistants, might presage
a similar solution of continuity in your matrimonial happiness

--and to say truth, my lord, you yourself must partly have the
blame of this disappointment, in respect you sent me upon a

fool's errand to get a buff-coat out of the booty taken by the
Camerons, whereas you might as well have sent me to fetch a pound

of fresh butter out of a black dog's throat. I had no answer, my
lord, but brandished dirks and broadswords, and a sort of

growling and jabbering in what they call their language. For my
part, I believe these Highlanders to be no better than absolute

pagans, and have been much scandalized by the manner in which my
acquaintance, Ranald MacEagh, was pleased to beat his final

march, a little while since."
In Menteith's state of mind, disposed to be pleased with

everything, and everybody, the grave complaint of Sir Dugald
furnished additionalamusement. He requested his acceptance of a

very handsome buff-dress which was lying on the floor. "I had
intended it," he said, "for my own bridal-garment, as being the

least formidable of my warlike equipments, and I have here no
peaceful dress."

Sir Dugald made the necessary apologies--would not by any means
deprive--and so forth, until it happily occurred to him that it

was much more according to military rule that the Earl should be
married in his back and breast pieces, which dress he had seen

the bridegroom wear at the union of Prince Leo of Wittlesbach
with the youngest daughter of old George Frederick, of Saxony,

under the auspices of the gallant Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of
the North, and so forth. The good-natured young Earl laughed,

and acquiesced; and thus having secured at least one merry face
at his bridal, he put on a light and ornamented cuirass,

concealed partly by a velvet coat, and partly by a broad blue
silk scarf, which he wore over his shoulder, agreeably to his

rank, and the fashion of the times.
Everything was now arranged; and it had been settled that,

according to the custom of the country, the bride and bridegroom
should not again meet until they were before the altar. The hour

had already struck that summoned the bridegroomthither, and he
only waited in a small anteroom adjacent to the chapel, for the

Marquis, who condescended to act as bride's-man upon the
occasion. Business relating to the army having suddenly required

the Marquis's instant attention, Menteith waited his return, it
may be supposed, in some impatience; and when he heard the door

of the apartment open, he said, laughing, "You are late upon
parade."

"You will find I am too early," said Allan M'Aulay, who burst
into the apartment. "Draw, Menteith, and defend yourself like a

man, or die like a dog!"
"You are mad, Allan!" answered Menteith, astonished alike at his

sudden appearance, and at the unutterable fury of his demeanour.
His cheeks were livid--his eyes started from their sockets--his

lips were covered with foam, and his gestures were those of a
demoniac.

"You lie, traitor!" was his frantic reply--"you lie in that, as
you lie in all you have said to me. Your life is a lie!"

"Did I not speak my thoughts when I called you mad," said
Menteith, indignantly, "your own life were a brief one. In what

do you charge me with deceiving you?"
"You told me," answered M'Aulay, "that you would not marry Annot

Lyle!--False traitor!--she now waits you at the altar."
"It is you who speak false," retorted Menteith. "I told you the

obscurity of her birth was the only bar to our union--that is now
removed; and whom do you think yourself, that I should yield up

my pretensions in your favour?"
"Draw then," said M'Aulay; "we understand each other."

"Not now," said Menteith, "and not here. Allan, you know me
well--wait till to-morrow, and you shall have fighting enough."

"This hour--this instant--or never," answered M'Aulay.
"Your triumph shall not go farther than the hour which is

stricken. Menteith, I entreat you by our relationship--by our
joint conflicts and labours--draw your sword, and defend your

life!" As he spoke, he seized the Earl's hand, and wrung it with
such franticearnestness, that his grasp forced the blood to

start under the nails. Menteith threw him off with violence,
exclaiming, "Begone, madman!"

"Then, be the vision accomplished!" said Allan; and, drawing his
dirk, struck with his whole gigantic force at the Earl's bosom.

The temper of the corslet threw the point of the weapon upwards,
but a deep wound took place between the neck and shoulder; and

the force of the blow prostrated the bridegroom on the floor.
Montrose entered at one side of the anteroom. The bridal

company, alarmed at the noise, were in equal apprehension and
surprise; but ere Montrose could almost see what had happened,

Allan M'Aulay had rushed past him, and descended the castle
stairs like lightning. "Guards, shut the gate!" exclaimed

Montrose--"Seize him--kill him, if he resists!--He shall die, if
he were my brother!"

But Allan prostrated, with a second blow of his dagger, a
sentinel who was upon duty---traversed the camp like a mountain-

deer, though pursued by all who caught the alarm--threw himself
into the river, and, swimming to the opposite side, was soon lost

among the woods. In the course of the same evening, his brother
Angus and his followers left Montrose's camp, and, taking the

road homeward, never again rejoined him.
Of Allan himself it is said, that, in a wonderfully short space

after the deed was committed, he burst into a room in the Castle
of Inverary, where Argyle was sitting in council, and flung on

the table his bloody dirk.
"Is it the blood of James Grahame?" said Argyle, a ghastly

expression of hope mixing with the terror which the sudden
apparition naturally excited.

"It is the blood of his minion," answered M'Aulay--"It is the
blood which I was predestined to shed, though I would rather have

spilt my own."
Having thus spoken, he turned and left the castle, and from that

moment nothing certain is known of his fate. As the boy Kenneth,
with three of the Children of the Mist, were seen soon afterwards