. The writer does
not of course indorse the view of Prince Charles' character herein set
forth by Kenneth Montagu, but there is abundant evidence to show that the
Young Chevalier had in a very large degree those qualities which were
lacking to none of the Stuarts: a charming personality and a gallant
bearing. If his later life did not fulfil the promise of his youth, the
unhappy circumstances which hampered him should be kept in mind as an
extenuation.

The thanks of the writer are due for pertinent criticism to Miss Chase, to
Mr. Arthur Chapman and to Mr. James Rain, and especially to Mr. Ellery
Sedgwick, whose friendly interest and kindly encouragement have been
unfailing.

Acknowledgment must also be made of a copious use of Horace Walpole's
Letters, the Chevalier Johnstone's History of the Rebellion, and other
eighteenth century sources of information concerning the incidents of the
times. The author has taken the liberty of using several anecdotes and
_bon mots_ mentioned in the "Letters"; but he has in each case put the
story in the mouth of its historical originator.

W. M. R.

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A DAUGHTER OF RAASAY

CHAPTER I

THE SPORT OF CHANCE

"Deep play!" I heard Major Wolfe whisper to Lord Balmerino. "Can Montagu's
estate stand such a drain?"

"No. He will be dipped to the last pound before midnight. 'Tis Volney's
doing. He has angled for Montagu a se'nnight, and now he has hooked him. I
have warned the lad, but----"

He shrugged his shoulders.

The Scotchman was right. I was past all caution now, past all restraint.
The fever of play had gripped me, and I would listen to nothing but the
rattle of that little box which makes the most seductive music ever sung
by siren. My Lord Balmerino might stand behind me in silent protest till
all was grey, and though he had been twenty times my father's friend he
would not move me a jot.

Volney's smoldering eyes looked across the table at me.

"Your cast, Kenn. Shall we say doubles? You'll nick this time for sure."

"Done! Nine's the main," I cried, and threw deuces.

With that throw down crashed fifty ancestral oaks that had weathered the
storms of three hundred winters. I had crabbed, not nicked.

"The fickle goddess is not with you to-day, Kenn. The jade jilts us all at
times," drawled Volney, as he raked in his winn