of the contemptuous language and manners of the stranger, and gave him a rebuke with an energy new to his character, but which his late musings, and his commerce with higher beings, seemed to have imparted. The next morning, Halbert at the early hour of seven returned to the spence or public room; having secured the Bible under the floor of his apartment. There he found the Euphuist, and a rather hostile dialogue ensued, in which the strife that was gathering was checked, but not subdued, by the presence of Mary. The Knight still preserved his hauteur, and the storm was almost bursting in Halbert's bosom, when intelligence arrived that the Lord-abbot, the Sub-prior, and Father Philip, were on their way to Glendearg, and had sent a mule laden with provisions for their repast. Halbert, whose aim with his bow was unerring, was dispatched in the tumult of his indignation to the hill for venison: for the good dame was in a high bustle to do the honours of her house to such dignified visitors. This visit was in compliment to Sir Piercie Shafton. Halbert having killed a deer, impatient also of the inglorious obscurity of his lot, and sighing for a wider expanse of action, sent Martin with it to Glendearg, and repaired, intent on high purposes, and glowing with high resolves, to Corrinan-shian, the haunt of the White Lady, and again evoked her. She appeared with displeasure on her brow, telling him that it was Friday, and that

the mortal is most forlorn

Who meeteth our race on the Friday morn.'

Young Glendinning, however, addressed her in peremptory and commanding words, and, while he was speaking, she assumed an appearance hideously wild: and grotesque: but, seeing that he was undaunted, she gradually resumed the same fixed and melancholy aspect, telling him in rhyme that, if he had trembled or quivered in the slightest degree, he would have been lost for ever, but that she was bound to reply to whatever he should demand. The youth asked her to apprize him of the reasons of the sudden revolution in his tastes, his pursuits, and his feelings. "Is it to thy influence," he asked, "that the change is owing?" The White Lady reminded him that the witchery of Mary Avenel's charms had wrought the change: when he asked her by what means he might urge his passion, she gave him an answer sufficiently ambiguous; and when he questioned her as to her connection with mortal things, and particularly the house of Avenel, she shewed him a thread of gold, which had dwindled from a massive chain with the waning greatness of that house:

saying that her existence would melt away as soon as the thread broke, that the star of Avenel was dim, and that hate and rivalry lowered on its fortunes. The word rivalry instantly conjured up to him Sir Piercy Shafton; and, when he besought her for an opportunity to redeem the insult which his honour had sustained, she took from her hair a silver bodkin, which she gave to him, directing him to shew it to Sir Piercie when "he boasteth high," and then vanished.

The Abbot, who was delighted with the venison so skilfully killed by Halbert, and in the good nature excited by good cheer, was desirous of conferring on him the office of forest-ranger to St. Mary's, a lucrative station, it should seem, and enriched with various perquisites: but, when the youth was expected to kneel and do homage for the investiture, he remained standing, and refused the office, being determined (he said) to seek his fortunes elsewhere, and to yield up the paternal fief to his brother and his mother. His resolves astonished all, and severely afflicted poor Elspeth, while the Abbot deemed him mad. When the latter rebuked him for being so self-willed, Sir Piercie chose to join in the reprehension with a sarcastic allusion to the lowness of his fate; and high words ensued, which not even the presence of the holy fathers could restrain. Young Glendinning shewed him the silver token, and asked him whether he knew it. Never was such an instant change exhibited from serene contempt to the most extravagant passion, as that which took place in the usually smooth features of the Knight. He quivered with rage, clenched his fist, and ran out of the room like demoniac. While the reverend conclave were stupified with this strange phænomenon, he came back, and whispered to Halbert: "Be secret, thou shalt have the satisfaction thou hast asked for." Sir Piercie resumed his tranquillity; in answer to the queries of the monks, ascribed his emotion to an habitual malady, which visited him with sudden paroxysms; affected courtesy to young Glendinning; and almost imposed on Father Eustace himself, who knew not how to unravel the mystery.

We pass over the intermediate occurrences. It might be foreseen that an encounter was to take place between Halbert and the Euphuist; and those readers, who have appetites for the marvellous, will have a banquet in the duel-scene, the parties having eluded observation under pretence of an amicable expedition to wake a stag from his lair early on the morrow, Mary had indeed penetrated their intentions; and we have a conversation of high interest between Halbert and that attractive young creature, which is a great relief amid so

much miraculous agency, as it interposes one of those pleasing sketches of the workings of the human heart which do not often occur in the work. Halbert and the Knight proceeded to the Corrinan-shian, the haunted spot, which for that reason was not much frequented. When they reached the place of mortal strife, they were not a little surprised to find a grave dug at the foot of the rock, with a mattock and shovel.. The result, however, of the conflict was an apparently mortal wound given by Halbert to Sir Piercie, which passed through his body. In an agony of remorse, the youth rushed over crags and through bogs for aid to his wounded antagonist; found an old pilgrim, (who turns out to be Henry Warden, the famous preacher of the Reformation,) and brought him to the place of the conflict: but, when they arrived there, no trace of the body of the vanquished knight was discoverable; the turf was stained with blood, the cloak had vanished with the body, and nothing remained but the doublet, where he had laid it down before the fight. The old man was bending his steps to Julian Avenel's castle, to which he had letters of recommendation; and Halbert, not knowing where to betake himself, accompanied him thither. After a long and fatiguing journey, they arrived at Avenel Castle, which is described with the author's curious felicity in picturesque delineation. The character of the Baron de Avenel was well calculated to excite terror: but poor Warden, who had no small share of fanaticism, seemed unconscious of the danger; and Halbert was assured by Christie of Clinthill, whom they met, that, if he answered boldly to the baron's questions without stopping to pick his words, there was no cause to fear; and that the devil was not so black as he is painted.' An interesting but unhappy female, Catherine of Newport, an inmate of the castle, sate by the chimney-corner, unheeded, watching with trembling solicitude the broken words of Julian, who scarcely deigned to notice her. Struck with the looks and the stature of Glendinning, and having received intimations from Christie of the youth's courage and activity, it was not the baron's intent that he should leave the castle with the same ease with which he entered it. He wanted men of limbs and sinews, and Christie had a hint to ply him with wine and wassail, for Halbert had rejected his invitation to wear the baron's colours in his cap, as the price of his protection. As for Henry Warden, whose zeal for the reformed doctrines was only equalled by an ardent and unquenchable zeal for their propagation, -a zeal which knew no distinction of persons, times, and places, he began a rather severe objurgation of the lawless baron, and read him a lecture on his

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unlicensed intercourse with the unfortunate lady under his roof. The poor creature, struck with the eloquent and dauntless integrity of the preacher, besought the Baron to listen to the good old man, who had the courage to urge him to marry the victim of his licentiousness: but she received so brutal a reproof, although in a situation which ought to have protected her, that she fell lifeless on the floor. Halbert was with difficulty restrained from taking instant vengeance on her unfeeling tyrant, and the preacher continued his exhortations, ill-timed as they were. The result was that he was sent to the dungeon of the castle, and Halbert retired to his apartment, which was meant to be his prison: but he contrived to escape from the window, having first had a communication through a small aperture of the cell with Henry Warden, who had the means in his scrip of writing a letter, which he directed young Glendinning to give to the leader of a body of horse, whom he would meet on his way to Edinburgh.

The residue of the story must be briefly sketched, although the last volume is the most interesting portion of the romance. The supposed dead Sir Piercie returned to the tower, whence Halbert Glendinning had been missing the whole day. The knight came back without him; it appeared that on the morning they had been at strife; blood was traced on the ground where the knight admitted that he had parted with Halbert; a newly-made grave, recently filled up, was also observed there, Martin having at the instance of Mary followed them when they departed; his shirt was also remarked to be stained with blood; and, when the poor Euphuist contended that he himself was wounded, no appearance of a wound was to be discerned on his person, except that of one which was perfectly healed. All these circumstances, and the strange relation which he gave to the sub-prior of the incidents of the day, constituted a mass of evidence so strongly manifesting that he had murdered Glendinning, that he was with some difficulty rescued from the vengeance of Edward, and placed under a guard whom the latter had summoned among the neighbouring vassals. From this imprisonment, he was most romantically rescued by Mysie of the mill, into whose heart his silken speeches and courtier-like phrases had deeply sunken. Their adventures occupy a considerable space; and the credulous affection of the girl, and the coxcombry but high-spirited honour of the knight, are admirably brought forwards.

The White Lady made her appearance to Mary de Avenel in the midst of her sorrows for the supposed death of Halbert, and discovered to her the spot where he had concealed the Bible. In her affliction, she was solaced by its healing

and

and efficacious lessons, and her heart acquiesced in the conclusion, "surely this is the word of God." Christie of Clinthill announced to them that no murder had been committed, and that he saw Halbert alive and well on the preceding night. Henry Warden was sent as a prisoner to the abbey, but on his way halted at the tower: when a recognition occurred between Father Eustace and the reformer; and a conflict took place between old attachments and the zeal which was ferociously eager to water the church with the blood of heretics, in the bosom of Eustace. Henry Warden's testimony also confirmed that of Christie as to the existence of Halbert. Edward, confessing his love for Mary Avenel, and revealing to the reverend father that he had secretly rejoiced at the death of his brother, dedicated himself to holy orders; a resolution to which he was impelled by an interview with the White Lady, while he was searching for the supposed grave of Halbert. The remaining incidents are too crowded for an analysis.

In the mean while an army under Sir John Foster, by the express orders of Elizabeth, who had received intelligence that Sir Piercie Shafton was sheltered in the abbey, was on its march to lay waste the abbey and its lands. Eustace, to whom the whole authority of the Monastery had been resigned by the timid and wavering abbot, determined to defend it, and to summon to the protection of the Halidome all the barons and the immediate vassals of the church who were interested in preserving it from an English invasion. During this confusion at St. Mary's, Halbert joined a party under Moray, the illegitimate son of James the Fifth, in order to give him the letter which Henry Warden had intrusted to him in his captivity at Avenel castle, and at the same time related to Moray the incidents of that captivity, with the circumstances that rendered him a fugitive from his home. Rising rapidly in the esteem and confidence of the Earl, and surrounded by reforming preachers and soldiers, he became a convert to the new faith. Moray, temporizing between the violent policy of the English court and the cause of the Reformation, marched with great celerity towards Teviot-dale, to prevent Sir John Foster's attack on the Halidome, and Glendinning was dispatched with orders both to the abbot and Foster to abstain from hostility: but it was too late. War and terror had done busy work in the Halidome, and the vassals of the church had sustained a defeat. The death of Julian Avenel in the arms of the unhappy Catherine, who herself falls a victim to her misplaced affection, forms a powerful sketch. A captive, whom Sir John Foster imagined to be the Euphuist, turned

out