gravity which sat on the brow of our hostess, as well as by our deep and anxious recollection of what had taken place on the preceding day. It was in vain that the leader exerted himself to excite mirth: a chill hung over our minds as if the feast had been funereal; and every bosom felt light when it was ended.

“Adieu, cousin,” she said to Mr. Jarvie, as we rose from the entertainment; “the best wish Helen MacGregor can give to a friend is, that he may see her no more.”

The Bailie struggled to answer, probably with some commonplace maxim of morality; but the calm and melancholy sternness of her countenance bore down and disconcerted the mechanical and formal importance of the magistrate. He coughed,—hemmed,—bowed,—and was silent. “For you, stranger,” she said, “I have a token, from one whom you can never—”

“Helen,” interrupted MacGregor, in a loud and stern voice, “what means this?—have you forgotten the charge?”

“MacGregor,” she replied, “I have forgotten nought that is fitting for me to remember. It is not such hands as these,” and she stretched forth her long, sinewy, and bare arm, “that are fitting to convey love-tokens, were the gift connected with aught but misery.—Young man,” she said, presenting me with a ring, which I well remembered as one of the few ornaments that Miss Vernon sometimes wore, “this comes from one whom you will never see more. If it is a joyless token, it is well fitted to pass through the hands of one to whom joy can never be known. Her last words were—Let him forget me for ever.”

“And can she,” I said, almost without being conscious that I spoke, “suppose that is possible?”

“All may be forgotten,” said the extraordinary female who addressed me,—“all—but the sense of dishonour, and the desire of vengeance.”

“Seid suas!”² cried the MacGregor, stamping with impatience. The bagpipes sounded, and, with their thrilling and jarring tones, cut short our conference. Our leave of our hostess was taken by silent gestures; and we resumed our journey, with an additional proof on my part, that I was beloved by Diana, and was separated from her for ever.