eft Scotland.
Elizabeth was now a mother, and the smiles of her young son seemed to
shorten the years of her exile; yet, ever as she returned his smile, the
thought of the husband of her youth flashed back on her remembrance, and
anguish and misery shot through her bosom as the eagle darteth on its
prey. Her heart was not broken; but it fell like a proud citadel,
burying the determined garrison.

Charles Lawson had not been in India many months, when a party of native
troops attacking the property of his relative, Charles, who had fallen
wounded amongst them, was carried by them in their retreat into the
interior of the country, where, for several years, he was cut off from
all intercourse or communication with his countrymen. On obtaining his
liberty, he found that his kinsman had been for some time dead, and had
left him his heir. His wife--his parents--doubt--anxiety--impatient
affection--trembling hope--all hastened his return. At length the white
cliffs of Albion appeared before him, like a fair cloud spread on the
unruffled bosom of the ocean; and in a few days more the green hills of
his childhood met his anxious eye.

It was the grey hour of a summer night as he again approached the roof
that sheltered his childhood. His horse as if conscious of supporting an
almost unconscious rider, stopped involuntarily at the threshold. He
trembled upon the saddle as a leaf that rustles in the wind. He raised
his hand to knock at the door, but again withdrew it. The inmates of the
house, aroused by the sound of a horse stopping at the door, came out to
inquire the cause. Charles gazed upon them for a moment--it was a look
of agony and disappointment--his heart gave one convulsive throb, and
the icy sweat burst from his temples.

"Does not--does not Mr Lawson live here?" he inquired, almost gasping
for words to convey the question.

"Mr Lawson! Na, na, sir," replied the senior of the group, "it's lang
since he gaed awa. Ye ken he gaed a' wrang, puir man, and he's no lived
here since the hard winter, for they didna come upon this parish."

"Did not come upon this parish!" exclaimed Charles; "heaven and earth!
what do you mean?"

"Mean! what wad I mean," answered the other, "but just that they were
removed to their ain parish! Is there ony disgrace in that?"

"Oh, my father!--my poor mother!" cried Charles, wildly.

"Mercy, sir!" rejoined the astonished farmer, "are ye Maister Charles?
Bairns! haste ye, tak the horse t