Nay, sure!—yes, but it is. Why, Mattie, how the de'il— What does your coming hither portend?

Woe to the house of Glencairn!

Mair's the pity. For, d'ye ken, what a heavy dispensation's hanging ower the house already?

I do. The Laird Clanronald usurps the birthright of his infant nephew, and, to secure it, wooes his brother's widow.

Ah, puir leddy! it's a sair change wi' her nooadays! she niver held up the head o' her, sin' her laird's departure for the wars, where he fell among the slain.

He fell not in the wars, but by the assassin's steel on his return.

True, it was sae whispered—but naebody kenned when or where; sure enough there weir nae witness.

There was a witness—I myself beheld the deed!

You—you a witness! O, my conscience, Mattie, I believe ye ha' to do wi' Satan! Indeed, folks do say, ye have mair dealings wi' him than mere words—else hoo do ye come by aw' that siller, which o' times ye are sae lavish wi'? Aweel it's nae affair o' mine; ainly ye'll do me the justice to say I niver received ony o' it; for ye ken I minded the auld proverb, which saith, "What's got ower the deevil's back, is spent unde his belly." (a distant strain of music is heard, L. U. E. with marriage bells, &c. the Warlock starts, and is going, R.) How noo, Mattie—whither awa'? It's nae but the chiels returning fra' the wedding.

Then must I not be seen. My business is with you alone. Come hither! (beckoning him authoritatively) You must promise—nay, swear to meet me to-night upon the moor, by the ruins of the abbey, as the castle clock shall toll the hour of twelve.

Meet you on the muir! Mercy o' me, I'd as soon think of meeting auld Nick! for ye ken that said twelve o' the clock, inasmuch as it is midnight, is an awfu' time to meet sic a gaberlunzie as the likes o' you; and particularly when a third, and far less agreeable companion than yoursel, Mattie—I speak in respect of Satan—might pop upon us, and claim ac- quaintanceship.

Then mark my words, for surely as I speak, shall it befall you. Ne'er shall you know an hour of peace your boats shall be wrecked—your house, and all that it contains, burned to the ground; yourself reduced to beggary, wander an outcast from your native land, and call on death in vain to ease your pangs, if you obey not my injunctions. Mark me I've said it, and I've sworn it—I, Matthew of the Glen, that ne'er was know to break my word!

Haud your clavers, for the love o' gudeness, Mattie you terrify me. Yet what for should I fear? the de'il can't ha' any reasonable claim upon me; and as to his imps, and the likes o' them, I'm sure sma' pleasure can it gie to skelp and worry a puir man like me; therefore I'll meet you.

Swear!

(proudly)I've said it—ye hae my word—a Highlander's word—be satisfied.

Enough; I'll trust you! (Music—He waves his staff, disappears, R. 3 [A-Z][A-Z]+E.)

Well, here we are, Master Mucklestane, fast as the kirk can make us; as happy and handsome a couple as ever plighted faith.

Ah, my bonnie bairn, gie ye joy! (shaking his hand) By your leave, bonny lassie. (saluting her) Welcome, chiels, welcome. But ye dinna ken what an unco' strange visitor I hae had; nae less a personage than "Mat o' the Glen!"

"Mat o' the Glen!"

Has that awful gaberlunzie appeared again? for certain, his coming bodes no good.

O' my conscience, ye may weel say sae. But ye'll be the mair surprised when I tell ye he appointed me to be— The Warlock, wrapped in a large cloak, who has entered unobserved, advances behind him and whispers "Silent!" then disappears, L. 2 E. unseen by the rest. When he appointed me to be "silent." (terrified) It wa' himself. Wha but him? wha but him?

But who, Andrew?

The the—de'il, I believe; and noo it's out. (all laugh)

Why, the mon looks for all the world as though he had seen a bogle.

Whisht! hae a care o' yoursel'—he's within hearing.

He! whom do you mean?

(recovering himself) Oh, naebody, naebody! I was but communing wi' mysel'. But come, ye dinna forget the dance, sirs! The music, there the music! strike up, Donald, and foot it lightly.

(C.)Oh, save me! protect my child!

(L. C.)'Tis the Countess of Glencain. I know her well—she, who, they say, through grief for her lost lord, became distracted.

Distracted! oh, credit not the vile reports of sinful men, invented for the worst of purposes! attribute not a mother's terrors to the wild ravings of a disordered mind. I am not mad. This is my child I hold my child that they wonld tear from me, and murder. Oh, Heaven, I am too sensible of my unhappy state!

Unfortunate leddy! what can we do for ye?—auld Andrew speaks to ye, be wha has ken'd ye in fair weather and in foul; and wha niver will desert ye while this gude arm can wield a claymore.

Men of Glencairn, I call upon you as a mistress—as a mother! Behold this boy, your late revered master's son—the rightful heir of Glencairn. I call upon you to protect him! Oh, save him from his unnatural uncle, who, not content with usurpation, would stamp his claim to these dominions in blood—the heart's blood of this poor child.

Ah, my dear leddy, an we had as gude power as we hae gude will and gude cause! but ye ken the laird's unco potent, and I fear me, might claim a right o' guardianship ower the bairn; and, in that case—

A right of guardianship! he, the usurper! sooner would I plunge the boy into the roaring tide—sooner consign him to the mercy of the waves than to his savage uncle's power. Andrew, you once were foremost in zeal to the house of Glencairn; then— Oh, if you still have the heart—the courage to assist your master's wife, exert it now. My father's castle stands but three leagues hence; could I reach, the doors would open to protect me. What need of words? your fishing boat would be a secret and secure conveyance. Will you—Oh, will you aid a fallen wretch like me, whose means accord not with her wishes to reward you?

Reward? what for an act o' duty? Leddy, I hae but little phrase wi' me; but this I maun say, that he wha will na lend a helping hand to a leddy in distress may wear the form o' a mon, but maun hae the heart o' a demon.

Generous man, accept a mother's thanks.

Come, neebors, disperse yoursel's, each to his ain hame, and look ye keep close counsel about what ye hae heard, for, ye ken, it's ill o' the vassal's mooth that betrays the bread it eats.

Never fear; we know our duty, and will abide by it. Come along, Marian. (Music. Exeunt Sandie, Marian, and Peasants, R. 3 E.)

Come, my pretty bairn, and only let me see the stoutest he will hurt a hair belonging of ye, while auld Andrew can wag a finger in your defence.

Andrew! Maister Andrew—

How now? What the de'il ails ye? Canna ye speak, mon?

There are two of the laird's black-visaged gentry coming along the beach; I ken them from the rocks. Should they be in pursuit of the countess—

(snatching her child) Oh, yes! I know them well—the agents of the fell Clanronald's power! Whither can I fly?

I hae it; betake yoursel' to the wood, and make your way as secretly as ye can to the eastern cliff; in an hoor hence my boat shall be in readiness. Sandie will be your guide—he kens the way fu' weel.

Ay, that I do, uncle; and a precious abode of unclean spirits it is. But never fear; I'll bring you safely through, in spite of all the hobgoblins, bogles, and worriecoows in Christendom.

That's a bra'e lad. Ha! they are here! Make haste, my bonny leddy, for the love o' gudeness; I will manage to detain them.

I am certain she must have passed this way.

Let us question the fisherman; he may know something.

Hollo, old fellow! (going up and slapping him on the back)

Fellow! familiar eneugh at first sight, methinks. What want ye wi' Andrew Mucklestane? (coming forward)

(C.)We want a lady that—

Ye want a leddy; aweel, mon, I canna satisfy ye.

(L.)An unfortunate maniac, that contrived this morning to elude the vigilance of her keepers.

Hoot awa'! that wa' niver a fault o' mine. What for do ye tax me, mon? Ye dinna tak' it into your stupid heeds that I ha' run off wi' a lunatic?

No, no, friend; but we suspect that you have given her concealment. Answer; have you not seen such a person as we describe pass this way? Answer, or tremble at the consequence. Know you not whence we come?

Ay, as weel as I do know where ye'll gang ain day or ither. But be ye laird or loon, gentle or simple, I'll just tell ye I'm na minded to let my tongue bring me into trouble.

Indeed! then we'll make so bold as to search your cottage. (they are proceeding to the hut, R. when Andrew, seizing an oar, stations himself before the door.)

Hauld, aback! or, by St. Andrew, my respectable namesake, I'll mak sae bold, as to dismiss ye, and wi' shirts fu' o' sair banes into the bargain.

How now! my officers threatened! Slave, retire, nor dare to oppose my servants in the performance of their duty.

The laird! then I maun yield to necessity—I ken my distance, and never shall it be said o' Andrew Mucklestane he forgot his duty to the hoose o' Glencairn. He retires; Clanronald waves his hand to Ruthven and Murdock, who enter the hut, R. 2 E. followed by Andrew.

Confusion! to be thus baffled by a woman! frustrated in all my deep-laid schemes of aggrandisement! What boots it to have crushed the serpent, if the young adder still survive to sting my future peace? Yet wherefore should I rack my soul with fears? They cannot long escape me; and once more in my power, some means shall soon be found to make the lady mine. What, though she scorns my offers—force shall effect my purpose. Re-enter Ruthven and Murdock from hut, R. 2 E. No welcome tidings yet? (they shahe their heads) 'Tis very strange. Perchance she may have sought the forest, as promising the best concealment. Follow me instantly; I swear never to know a moment's rest till these accursed fugitives be found. Exit, followed by Vassals, R.

Ah, gang thy ways—auld Beelzebub will claw ye at last. Puir leddy! I maun na forget ye! na, na; let aw the warld desert ye, auld Andrew will stand by ye, sink or swim. (Music. Leaps into boat and pushes from shore to R.)