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vanced, and Allan found himself compelled to leave her; each pronounced a last farewell, and he rushed from the house regardless of the tempest, which now raged with the utmost fury. Guided only by the streaming lightning, that glared on his intricate path, he hastened forward; dark and melancholy forebodings hung on his mind, he feared he had parted from his Annie for ever, he saw in her wasted form the presage of approaching dissolution. "Oh! that we were both at rest!" exclaimed he, and the sigh that accompanied the exclamation rent his heart with anguish. Wrapped in his plaid, he hurried forward, his ear scarcely conscious of the loud reveberations of the thunder that resounded in awful peals, lengthened as it echoed through every chasm of the mountains. At length his foot stumbled over something, and the scarcely conscious Allan observed it was the cairn which marked the before unnoticed grave of auld Aughtercla; for he had not perceived that he was near the ancient kirk. Streams of liquid fire poured over the sacred spot, and the storm did indeed "rage bleak o'er auld Aughtercla's grave." Allan started-with folded arms and thoughtful gaze he stood fixed, while fancy's busy tongue repeated the ancient ballad. The fall of Dunmorven's heir may perhaps be at hand, thought he, and he now shuddered at a tradition at which he had often smiled in the hour of gaiety: his mind, softened by sorrow, and enervated by despair, gave entrance for the first time to superstition; and, lingering and mournful, he bent his steps to the seashore.

Often, when the sun had shone on the lonely watch-tower, he had laughed at the idle story; but now, in this hour of dread and horror, when the night

bird screamed from the lofty turrets amid the intervals of the blast, when the foam-crested wave swept with impetuous violence, even over its timeworn buttress, and the loud wind shook it almost to its firm basis, he trembled, recoiled, and his sickening soul beheld with coward fear his future fate. He had now reached the summit of the cliff, and he paused, dismayed at the increasing horrors of the tempest. The livid lightnings streamed from columns of black clouds, and fearful sight! he beheld the tower rocking to and fro with the fury of the blast. With petrified gaze and pensive brain he watched the terrific omen, and lingered as if in silent expectation of some direful event. Now shrouded in utter darkness, now lighted | by the electric fluid, he perceived it still tottering, and every deep burst of thunder, that seemed to rend the clouds, he feared the bolt would fall which was to level it in ruins. A solemn pause succeeded; the suspended feelings of Allan's soul awaked to a dreadful consciousness of superstitious horror; it seemed to him as the silence of death, and he scarcely breathed as he awaited the returning peal. At length, rushing with collected fury over the far-distant wave, the resistless whirlwind swept around the devoted tower, a mighty peal of thunder burst over his head, and with a loud terrific crash its hoary fragments were hurled into the ocean, dashing its salt spray in mountainous waves even over the feverish brow of the terrorstruck youth. "It is accomplished!" he exclaimed, as reason, yielding to the frenzy of delirium, left him no longer any power to repel the effects of the superstitious prediction; he flung himself from the jutting crag, and in one moment the last heir of Dunmorven was swept from the records of the living!

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MUCHARDUS, the usurping Thane of Dungivan, had murdered Roderic the late owner of that title, whom he had treacherously invited to an entertainment in a castle that he possessed on the banks of the Clyde. As soon as the banquet was nearly concluded, Roderic arose, courteously took leave of his entertainer and his guests, and descended the stairs. But he was not allowed to quit Boswell Castle. His faithful followers had been previously dispatched, and buried in one of the vaults beneath the edifice. To one of these, which was formed into a kind of dungeon, the hapless Roderic was forcibly dragged, and fastened to the stone wall by an iron chain.

Three days and nights did the unfortunate Roderic remain in this wretched lodging; his bed the cold ground, with oaten cake and water for food; and this vile treatment he received from one on

whom he had heaped innumerable favours, and honoured with his confidence

On the fourth night of Roderic's dreadful confinement, Muchardus entered his dungeon; in one hand he carried a written paper, in the other a dagger; the man who had always brought Roderic's food, carried a torch before the recreant lord. Roderic surveyed his foe with silent indignation.

After a pause of a few minutes, Muchardus presented to the Thane the paper which he had brought, and desired him to peruse it with attention. He did so, and found it to be drawn up as a will, by which he bequeathed to his treacherous friend all his vast possessions, and the Thaneship of Dungi

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Muchardus, "you will preserve your existence. Liberty, 'tis true, I cannot grant you, consistent with my own designs and safety; yet you shall be secreted in the best apartment my castle affords; and every wish you can form, that will not tend to a discovery of your still being an inhabitant of this world, shall be attended to with the most scrupulous exactness."

The Thane's eyes darted fire at this disclosure of the premeditated villany of Muchardus, and he tore the paper to

atoms.

The enraged Muchardus flew towards his victim, and repeatedly plunged his dagger in his breast, till, with a heavy groan, he fell, and expired at the feet of his murderer.

Muchardus then left the dungeon, and returned to his own apartment, where he employed one of his emissaries, whom he had sworn to secrecy, to draw up another paper of the same purport as that which the Thane had destroyed. Muchardus had several papers in his possession, which had been written by Roderic, and to most of them his signature was affixed. This they copied with great exactness, and then prepared to reap the fruits of their wicked design.

The corse of the murdered Thane was taken ere the dawn of day, and flung into a briery dell, where it was left, having been previously stript of every article of value.

The absence of the Thane and his attendants from the Castle of Dungivan, had caused a very serious alarm to his vassals and adherents, who had made many successless researches in the mountains, and inquired at every habitation, if they could give any tidings of their lord; but no one had seen the Thane since the day he went to Boswell Castle.

Some days after the murder had been committed, the body of the Thane was found in the dell, by some huntsmen, who were led to the spot by the sagacity of their hounds. The marks of violence on his person, and his being

despoiled of the property about it, which was known to have been of great value on that fatal day, as he had arrayed himself most sumptuously, and put on a variety of ornaments to honour the banquet of Muchardus, led the persons interested in the discovery, to conjecture that his attendants had murdered him, and made off with the booty. And as their bodies could no where be found, the report strengthened every day. Nor was Muchardus in the least suspected of the murder.

That chief having proceeded so far with a success equal to his most sanguine wishes, hastened to put the finishing blow to his manœuvres. He carried theforged will to be placed in a drawer in one of the chambers where he was sure it would not be overlooked. It was accordingly found by persons empowered to search for the papers of the deceased. Muchardus was accordingly declared sole heir of the late Thane of Dungivan: not much to the surprise of any person, as the great intimacy between him and Roderic had been so apparent; yet they greatly regretted the change, as the tyrannical disposition of Muchardus was too well known, and often experienced by those whom fortune had placed under him.

Muchardus (now Thane of Dungivan) had attained the height of his ambition; yet his pillow was strewed with mental thorns. Ah! how unlike the prosperity of the good man! Conscience, from whose reproaches we cannot flee, perpetually reminded of his crimes, and made him shudder with apprehension, lest retributive vengeance should overtake his guilty head.

The late Thane married, in early youth, a most beauteous lady, the heiress of a neighbouring chieftain. With her he fondly hoped for many years of happiness: but his hopes were vain; the peerless Matilda expired in giving birth to her first born, the lovely Donald; the traitor Muchardus being one of the sponsors that answered for his faith at the font.

Two years passed on, and the widowed Thane still indulged his grief, undiminished by the lapse of time. Muchardus artfully endeavoured to learn the sentiments of his friend, as far as regarded his re-engaging in matrimonial ties. To his great, though concealed satisfaction, he heard from Dungivan, that he had solemnly vowed never to take a second bride, but to cherish a tender remembrance of his Matilda, and pray for a reunion with her in those realms of bliss where the pangs of separation should be unknown.

Muchardus had for some time past viewed the possessions of Dungivan with a coveting eye; and he thought it feasible to obtain the Thaneship by the murder of the father and son, as they had no near relatives to make a claim. After much deliberation, he concluded that it would be most prudent to remove the child first from this world; as, in case of the death of the Thane preceding that of Donald, the latter might be placed out of his reach.

an enemy existing; for his demeanour had been good-will to all; nor did he conceive how any person, as he had no immediate heir, could be benefitted by the death or removal of his son. Alas! he clasped to his bosom as a chosen friend, his deadly foe, the cause of all his sorrow: for it was Muchardus that had employed ruffians to seize young Donald.

Allan, the man who was trusted with the management of this vile plot, was ordered by his employer, to take the child and precipitate him into the Clyde as soon as he had got rid of the men who were joined with him in the enterprise.

Allan took the young Lord to his cottage, where he intended to secret him till the surrounding objects were enveloped in the gloom of night, and then execute the horrid design which he had pledged his faith to commit. When he entered his humble habitation, he found Jannette, his wife, bitterly lamenting over the corpse of her son, their Annie, the young woman who nurs- only child. When Allan departed in ed the little Lord, was walking on the the morning, he had left the young banks of the Clyde, when she was seized | Ambrose playing before the door of the by four men masked and armed, who cottage, with the rose of health glowing tore Donald from her arms. Two of on his cheeks. A few hours after, death them ran off with the child; and the had seized his victim; and on the father's other two bound Annie to a tree, and return, he found himself bereft of his then followed their companions. only hope. Nor did he fail to attribute this calamity as the vengeance of an offended God. He felt what it was to lose a child: and he pitied the sufferings that the Thane must endure.—

The length of time that his son was absent alarmed the Thane, and he sent some of the domestics to search for Annie and her charge, and require their immediate return.

They soon discovered the nurse, and heard her dismal story. They led her back to the castle in an agony of grief, and acquainted the Thane with the tidings. He tore his hair, and rent his garments; nor would he listen to the consolations that Muchardus seemed. so eager to administer.

Various conjectures were formed who could be the perpetrator of such a deed; but no one, upon mature reflection, appeared feasible.

The Thane had not, to his knowledge,

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They are more than my own," ejaculated the now penitent Allan, "I know the end of mine; but the poor Lord is uncertain what is the fate of his at this moment."

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agony, and clasped the young Donald to her breast.

sworn.

"I must," said Allan; " I have Behold the price of my villany;" emptying the contents of a well filled purse on the table; and I am to have as much more when Lord Muchardus is convinced that the deed is executed."

"I will not part with him," said Jannette," he shall supply the place of my child. You have been very wicked, Allan; but you are not yet a murderer. The children are nearly of a size; nor are their features much different; only the heir of Dungivan is so beautifully fair, and our Ambrose is nearly olive; yet that will not be perceived when the poor babe has lain in the water."

"What mean you?" said Allan, who instantly comprehended and applauded the plan which she had in part expressed.

Jannette gave the young Donald some food; and exchanging his apparel for some belonging to her own deceased baby, she lulled him asleep; and placing him in the cradle of his predecessor, she began to prepare her design.

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She dressed her lifeless infant in the costly robes which had been worn by the heir of Dungivan, placing also the ornaments of that nobleman about the little corse; only reserving a gold chain, with a small miniature of the Thane attached to it, and which hanging loosely round the neck, might well be supposed to have dropt off in the water.

As soon as it was dark, Allan went and flung the child into the river Clyde, accompanying the act with many heartfelt tears and sorrowful lamentations.

Jannette, most fortunately for their plan, had not mentioned to any of the neighbouring cottagers the death of her Ambrose. Under the pretence of the child's being afflicted with a contagious disease, she contrived to keep him in the upper chamber of her cottage, from which she so completely excluded the light, that, if any one en

tered by chance, it was impossible to discover the deceit that had been practised.

The body of the infant was not discovered till the third day, when it was brought on shore by some young men who had been out in a boat fishing. It was soon recognized by the dress to be the young Lord Donald, (for the features were not now discernible,) and was conveyed to the Castle of Dungivan. The Thane was overwhelmed with despair; he ordered a sumptuous funeral, and then immured himself in a solitary apartment of the north tower.

Allan waited on Muchardus to claim his promised reward, which he gave him, with much praise for his adroitness in performing his commands. Allan then repaired to Jannette, and gathering together what they wished to convey with them, left the cottage at the dead of night, and procured a conveyance to Perth, from whence they meant to travel to some remote part of Scotland, where they might dwell in safety, for they were not without fear of Muchardus, as they supposed that he would devise schemes to annihilate all those who were acquainted with his atrocities. Nor were their conjectures ill-founded; Muchardus rested not till he had removed those whose aid he had purchased with his gold; and he felt great disappointment on discovering that Allan had escaped with safety.

To murder the Thane was the next purpose of Muchardus; but while he was deliberating on the best means to facilitate his design with safety to his own person, Dungivan was suddenly ordered to attend his monarch to England, where he was going to ratify some agreement he had entered into with the monarch of that kingdom; and the schemes of his treacherous friend were at that time defeated.

After passing some time in England, the Thane of Dungivan joined the Crusaders, and repaired to the Holy Land, where he performed wonders with his single arm against the infidels.

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