g in his life before.
He never was ten miles out o' Eyemouth in his days. We ha'e kenned him
since a callant, and never heard a word laid against his character. The
king must hae taken him for somebody else--and he was foolish to run for
it."

But, while the multitude shouted, and joined in the festivities of the
day, there was one that hurried through the midst of them, wringing her
hands, and weeping as she went--even poor Janet. At the moment when she
was roused from the stupefaction of feeling produced by the horrors of
the conflict, and when her arms were outstretched to welcome her hero,
as he was flying to them in triumph, she had seen him led before his
prince, to receive his praise and his royal gifts; but, instead of
these, she heard him denounced as a _traitor_, as the king's words were
echoed round. She beheld him fly for safety, and armed men pursuing him.
She was bewildered--wildly bewildered. But every motion gave place to
anguish; and she returned to her mother's house alone, and sank upon her
bed, and wept.

She could scarce relate to her parent the cause of her grief; but
others, who had been witnesses of the regal festival, called at Widow
Hewitt's for refreshment, as they returned home, and from them she
gathered that her intended son-in-law had been the champion of the day;
but that, when he had been led forward to receive the purse from the
hands of the king, the monarch, instead of bestowing it, denounced him
as a traitor; "and when he fled," added they, "his majesty ordered him
to be brought to him dead or alive!"--for, in the days of our fathers,
men used the _license_ that is exemplified in the fable of the Black
Crows, quite as much as it is used now. The king certainly had commanded
that Andrew should be brought to him; but he had said nothing of his
being brought _dead_.

Nancy lifted her hands in astonishment as high as her ceiling (and it
was not a high one, and was formed of rushes)--"Preserve us, sirs!" said
she, "ye perfectly astonish me athegither! Poor chield! I'm sure Andrew
wadna harm a dog! A _traitor!_ say ye, the king ca'ed him? That's
something very bad, isn't it? An' surely--na, na, Andrew couldna be
guilty o't--the king maun be a strange sort o' man."

But, about midnight, a gentle knocking was heard at the window, and a
well-known voice said, in an undertone--

"Janet! Janet! it is me!"

"It is _him_ mother! it is Andrew! they haena gotten him yet!" And she
ran to the