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were the bodies of the two young females. He made it clear that these two had been murdered at the castle about the time these ladies disappeared, and if no other person in the neighbourhood was missing, the presumption was strong that the bodies were either those of the mother and daughter, or those of the latter and her foster-sister. Nevertheless, for all this clear and explicit statement, not one would swear to the identity of either. The Viceroy then stated, that as no criminality attached to any one from all that he was able to elicit, nothing more remained to be done, but to give the bodies decent interment, and leave the murderers to the judgment of the Almighty, When he had proceeded thus far, Lowry stepped up and addressed him as follows:

"My Lord, the maist part o' the fo'ks here think that these bodies are the bodies o' my sister and her young mistress; an' if ye wad swear us a', we wad swear to that purpose. But ye see, my Lord, death makes an awfu' change on the human face and frame, and waste and decay mair, But as ye hae gi'en up the murderer to the judgment o' Heaven, to the judgment o' Heaven I make appeal. There is an auld law o' nature, or rather o' Divine Providence, which I can depend on; and I humbly request that it may be tried: if these are the bodies o' my sister and young mistress, the murderer is among us. [At this word, Lowry lifted his eyes to one which he had no right to do.] Now, wad ye just order every ane present to touch these bodies, it wad gie a great satisfaction to my heart, an' the hearts o' mony mae than me."

The Viceroy smiled at the seriousness of the demand, but added, "If such a direct appeal to the justice of God can give satisfaction to the minds of friends and relatives, the process is an easy one." He then lifted up his hands, and prayed the Almighty to give a just judgment, and straight ordered that all present should pass between his friends and himself, arranged on each side, as witnesses that every one touched the bodies. Sir Herbert also ranked himself up among the gentlemen as one of the witnesses. The people passed, one by one, and touched the bodies; but they bled not. Lowry

and Graham, who had touched first, stood looking on with apathy until the close, when the Viceroy, ordering them forward as witnesses, first touched the bodies himself, then his friends, one by one, touched them, and last of all, Sir Herbert approached. Lowry's eyes then gleamed with an unearthly ardour, from an internal assurance of Divine justice and retribution being instantly manifested, and clasping his hands together, he exclaimed, "Now, now, now!" Sir Herbert fixed on him a look of rage and indignation—went forward and touched both bodiesNo-neither of them gushed out ableeding, nor was there any supernatural appearance whatever.

Lowry's elated eye sunk, and his heart was humbled, but it was to the will of Providence, for he lifted both his hands, and said, "Well, it is past, and no more can be said! The will of the Lord be done! But as sure as there is a God in heaven, the murderer of these virgins shall not go down to his grave in peace, for their blood shall cry to their Creator from the ground, and his curse shall be upon the guilty heart for ever! They hae met wi' a cruel and untimely death; but be who they may, I'll lay them baith in my ain burial-place."

Every heart bled for Lowry and his friend, and every tongue was muttering curses, not loud, but deep, on their new laird, whom all the old vassals both suspected and detested. And no sooner had Montrose left that quarter to preside in the Parliament at Perth, than Sir Herbert's people began to shew symptoms, not only of dissatisfaction, but of open rebellion. Resolved to make an example of those most obnoxious to him, in order to strike others with terror, he warned seven tenants and feuars off the estate, against Friday next, Lowry and Alexander Graham's father being among the number.

The community were amazed at these tyrannical proceedings, so different from the kind treatment they had been accustomed to receive. Accordingly, they seemed, by some mutual assent, to regard the mandate with disdain, and made no motions of removal, either previous to, or on the appointed day. As if glad of such an opportunity of revenge, and of manifesting his power, down came

Sir Herbert with his proper officers, and ordered all the furniture of the devoted families to be thrown to the door, and if not removed before night, to be burnt. The men did as they were ordered; and this work of devastation went on from morning till towards the evening, the women crying, beseeching, and uttering anathemas on the usurper, as they called him. He regarded them not otherwise than to mock them, and superintended the work the whole day, encouraging the tardy and relenting officers.

But while the women and children were thus bewailing their hard lot, there appeared a dogged resignation among the men, who sauntered about in pairs, regarding the aggressor often with grim smiles, as of satisfaction, which inflamed him still the more. They probably knew what he little dreamed of, that there was then in preparation for him a catastrophe, which, if it had not been kept on record in the family annals, would not gain credit at this distance of time. It was the effect of one of those bursts of popular indignation against oppression, which is most apt to break out when they have no other redress; and in this case, the provocation was double, for they regarded their oppressor as likewise the murderer of their rightful heiress.

But the term of lording it over the trusty vassals of an ancient and noble stock was concluded. About seven o'clock in the evening of the 23d of July, 1602, a body of armed men rushed from a barn, which, it appeared, they had entered by a back door. Some of them had their visors down, others their faces blackened, and concerning their numbers, there were many differences of opinion. But the main facts were well authenticated. They instantly surrounded Sir Herbert, seized him, and ordered him to prepare for instant death. At that fearful injunction, the nature of the villain and craven became manifest. He fell on his knees, and cried out, "< Mercy, mercy!" He prayed, he tore his hair, and wept, braying out like a maniac. He proffered free remission of all debts-all offences. He even proffered to leave Scotland, and renounce all claim on the estate. "We'll make shorter wark wi' such a cursed claim as

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yours," said they, and instantly put a running cord about his neck, and bore him on their arms into the barn, with ferocious alacrity, while he continued roaring out, Murder, murder!" and "O mercy, mercy!" time about; but none pitied him, or came to the rescue. Mercy!" cried they in derision; "such as you gave, so shall you have." With that, they threw the end of the rope over a high joist of the barn. A gigantic fellow, who seemed the leader of the gang, seized it; and wrapping it round both his hands, tightened it, and then asked his victim if he had no prayer to pray, and no confession to make?

"O yes, yes! I have, I have! I have a prayer to pray, and a confession to make," cried the wretch, glad to gain a little respite by any means, in hopes of some motion in his favour. "Grant me a reprieve, and I will confess all."

"Then in this world there is only one chance of a respite," said the gigantic chief, "which is, by confessing all that you know regarding the deaths of our young lady and her friend Lucy Lumsdaine."

"I will, I will!" cried he-" Only let me be heard before a tribunal of justice, and not be tried by masked assassins. This, however, I will confess, that my hands are guiltless of their blood."

"It is a lie!" said his accuser, fiercely; " and it is meet that such a ruffian go to hell with a lie on his tongue. Pull him up!"

"O no, no!" cried he in agony→ "I tell you the truth. The hands of another assassin shed their blood. These hands are clean of it, as I shall answer at the tribunal above!" And so saying, he spread forth his hands towards heaven.

"It is a lie, I tell you, and a blasphemous one!" said the chief. "So either confess the whole truth, or here you go; for we know you for the Queen of England's agent, and guilty of their murder." So saying, he tightened the rope, and began to heave the guilty wretch from the ground.

"Stop, stop, master!" cried one; "perhaps he will yet confess the whole truth and live."

Yes, yes! Hold, hold!" cried the culprit in the utmost desperation, seizing the rope with both hands, and

dragging it down to slacken it; "I will, I will! I will confess all and live. Did you not say live, friend? I long only to live until brought to a fair trial, and I will confess all. I swear then, by all that is sacred, that I did not murder the maidens. But to save my own life, and at the express command of my sovereign, whom I dared not disobey, I connived at it. They were murdered, and I saw them sunk in the place from whence they were taken."

"Then the corpses could not bleed," observed one, "since he was not the actual murderer. This is wonderful! The judgment of Heaven still is just!"

"So is that of Eachan M'Farlane!" cried the gigantic chief, who held the farther end of the rope, and in a moment he had the victim dangling round and round in the air, five feet from the ground. Then there was a great hubbub, some crying one thing and some another, and some madly trying to pull him down again, which finished his existence almost instantaneously. They then fastened the end of the cord, and leaving him hanging, they marched away in a body, going over the Burrow Swire in the evening, as if men from another district.

This singular violence was very little looked into. There was little intermeddling between chief and vassal in those days; and, moreover, it was probably shrewdly guessed from what high and dangerous source the removing of the heiress proceeded. Lowry and Graham were seized next day, but shortly released, it having been proven at once that they were not present, having been both engaged in loading a cart with furniture at the time the outrage took place, and totally ignorant of what was going on; and it is a curious fact, that there never was one of the perpetrators discovered, nor was any one of that district particularly suspected. A M'Farlane there was not in it; and it has, therefore, been often hinted that the vassals had bargained with that wild clan for a body of men to come down and rid them of their upstart tyrant.

That very evening, as a number of the retainers were going to remove the body from the barn, who should they see but the Countess Dowager,

their late young lady's mother, who had disappeared on the same night with her daughter, and whom they believed to have been murdered along with her; yet there she was standing at the door of the barn. True, there had been no confession made of her death, neither had it been revealed to Lowry in his vision. But she was missing with the rest, and the horror of the group may well be conceived when they beheld her standing watching the corpse of the murderer. She was recognised at once, and though she beckoned them onward, and moved forward slowly and majestically to meet them, this was a visitation they had not courage to abide, but retreated in a body to the castle. Still she advanced. It was the dusk of the evening, and as she approached the great front door that looked towards the lake, there were visages of dismay peeping from every window; and as the spectre entered the gate, there was a rush from the castle by the other entrance, which created a noise like thunder.

Great was the consternation that ensued; for from that moment no one durst enter the castle either by day or night, for there were wailings heard within it, and lights seen passing to and fro in the darkness of midnight. At length the old witch wife issued from her cot in the lin, and summoned Lowry and Graham, and several of the head families, to attend at the castle, and receive their Lady Dowager's commands, who was actually returned to her daughter's castle and estate, living, and in good health. But the warning, coming as it did from such an equivocal source, remained unattended to for a time, the people believing it was the Countess's spirit, not herself, till she shewed herself walking about publicly, and then the servants and retainers gathered to her, and obeyed her as in former times.

As she did not reveal to any one where she had been, so no one took it on him to enquire. But she told them that her grief and perplexity had never till then reached its height, for until the dying confession of the wretch whom she knew to be the accredited agent of a tigress, she had strong hopes that her daughter was alive. But that confession had changed her fondest hopes to the deepest

sorrow; and she durst not set a foot in England while Queen Elizabeth lived, nor yet remain in Scotland, save in concealment, therefore she thought of proceeding to Flanders.

While things were in this confusion at the castle, who should make his appearance in the vicinity, but the identical horse-jockey who was known to have been the murderer of the young lady their mistress, and suspected likewise to have made away with poor Lucy, the only witness of his atrocities. The fellow now came in grand style, having livery servants attending him; and he was dispatching messengers backwards and forwards to England every day. He had even the effrontery to ride openly about, and make many enquiries of the state of affairs about the castle, supposing, as the vassals judged, that in his new and grand capacity he was not recognised. But his features had left among them an impression of horror not to be obliterated. Every one who had seen him on the former occasion, knew him, and none better than Alexander Graham.

A consultation was called of all the principal retainers, on which it appeared that every one suspected another English plot, but neither knew what it was, nor how to frustrate it. No one who has not heard the traditionary story, or consulted the annals of that family, will guess what was resolved on at that meeting. Simply this, that they would go in a body and hang the English villain. The late event had been so much talked about, so much applauded, and so well kept, that hanging had become rather popular among these sturdy vassals. It was the order of the day; and accordingly that very night a party was made up, accoutred much as the former one, who proceeded to the stranger's hostel, which was not in the village at the castle, but in the larger one at the west end of the loch. There they made a simultaneous attack, demanding the English scoundrels to be delivered into their hands. But they had to do with better men in these English scoundrels than the other party had, and in all probability the attacking party was greatly inferior to the former one, for the Englishman at once, with many tremendous oaths and curses, prepared to defend himself against the wholę

mob, with no one to support him but his two livery servants. A stout battle ensued at the door, and ten times did the English hero drive them back almost single-handed, cursing them, meanwhile, for all the lowsy cowardly assassins of their country gathered together, and swearing, moreover, to extirpate every soul of them; but at length rushing too far forward, he was surrounded, wounded, and taken. For all that, he never ceased laying about him and struggling to the last; and it was questioned if all the men there would have been able to have put the rope about his neck. They never would, without binding both his feet and hands, and neither of the pairs were very easily restrained.

They were dragging him away to a tree, when Habby Simpson, the landlord, arrived to the rescue, with a strong band of villagers, who drew up in front and opposed the assailants; and Habby told them that he would be security for the gentleman's appearance at any tribunal, in the kingdom; but that before a stranger should be butchered in such a cowardly way, within his premises, he and his assistants would fight till the last drop of their blood. And, moreover, he requested them to remember, that men who appeared in masks were held as vagabonds, and that he and his friends were at liberty to shoot them all with perfect impunity.

"Why, but, honest Habby," said one, "ye perhaps dinna ken that this is the ruffian who murdered our young lady and Lucy Lumsdaine ?”

"It is a lie, you scoundrel," cried the horse-dealer, with great indignation; " mine are the hands that never injured a woman, though I have risked my life often to save them. But mine is a tale that will not tell here. I appeal to your lady, and, backed by this mine host and his friends, I defy you.”

The conspirators then insisted on taking him to the castle, but Habby Simpson would not trust him in their hands, but kept him, and became bound for him. The next day, David Dallas, the steward on the estate, came down to take the deposition; but the Englishman lost all patience at the accusation, and would do little else save curse and swear. He denied the murder of the virgins, with many

horrid oaths, and proffered to produce them both alive if suffered to depart on his parole. David replied, "That as for producing the virgins alive, after their murder had been confessed by his companion, with the rope about his neck,-after their bodies had both been found and buried, was what no Scottish judge would swallow; he doubted if even an English one would; and that it was natural for such a culprit to wish to be set at liberty; but for his part, he certainly knew of no man living who better deserved the gallows."

The Englishman then began an explanation, as well as his rage would let him; but his dialect was not quite intelligible to David Dallas, who could only smile at such a strange defence, the tenor of which was, that "he undertook the murder of the two young ladies to save them alive." The steward had no farther patience; so he ordered him to be manacled, conveyed to the castle, and chained in the dungeon. The Countess, after consulting with the steward and several others, entertained no doubt that this man was the murderer of her only daughter and Lucy. Indeed, as the evidence stood, it was impossible to believe otherwise. And it is therefore probable, that, before she left her country, she had resolved to give up the detested agent of a detested woman to popular vengeance, for shortly after, he was brought to the castle, at least in a few days, a great mob assembled and peremptorily demanded his life. So he was, as if by compulsion, given up to them, placed on a platform in front of the castle, the rope put about his neck, and a certain time allowed him to make a full confession. He began the same confused story about the Earl of Northumberland, and of his undertaking the murder of the two young ladies to save their lives; but his voice was often drowned by repeated hurras of derision. At length, as if driven to desperation, he began a hurraing louder than any of them, jumping on the platform as if gone mad, and shouting louder and louder, till, on looking around, they beheld a party coming up at full canter, their own young lady in front, and the young Lord Piercy on her right hand, and Lucy on her left, who were

now shouting out to save the brave fellow. The order was instantly obeyed; he was set at liberty, and, ere he left the platform, was invited to be the principal guest of the noble party in the castle.

So ends my tale; and it would perhaps be better to let it end here, without any explanation, as there is one circumstance, and one only, which I cannot explain. This brave Englishman's name was Henry Wilson. He had been for a number of years house-steward to the Earl of Northumberland, and heard daily that this great and royal heiress's name was a favourite theme with that ambitious family. On his lord's going up to court at London, Wilson was dismissed for some irregularities, which he took greatly to heart. And he being a man out of place, and probably a dissipated character, was applied to, among others, to make away with this dangerous heiress to two crowns. He agreed to it at once, promising, for a high reward, to be the principal agent, but determined, by some means or other, to save the young lady's life, as the sure means of ingratiating himself with his beloved and indulgent master. Fortune favoured him particularly on his gracious intent in the first instance; for, on the night when he had promised to bring the young lady, dead or alive, to his associates, there chanced to be the corpse of a French girl in the castle, newly dead and screwed in her coffin, and it was for her the new grave was made in the churchyard. That body he took to his associates, filling the coffin with rubbish; and the young lady he conveyed safe to Alnwick Castle. She being most anxious to have her fostersister, Lucy, with her, and the latter proving a great stumbling-block to the new claimant, he undertook, on the promise of another reward, to make away with her also, and sink her in the loch beside her mistress. He so managed matters, that he received the reward, and deceived the villain a second time, conveying Lucy safe to her beloved mistress; but where he procured the second body that was sunk in the sack, is the only circumstance which I never heard explained. The presumptive heiress of two crowns was joyfully received, and most honourably treat

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