r outline, like desert islands rising above the ocean
of vapour. "Spirit of the Mist!" said Ranald MacEagh, "called by our
race our father, and our preserver--receive into thy tabernacle of
clouds, when this pang is over, him whom in life thou hast so often
sheltered." So saying, he sunk back into the arms of those who upheld
him, spoke no further word, but turned his face to the wall for a short
space.

"I believe," said Dalgetty, "my friend Ranald will be found in his heart
to be little better than a heathen." And he renewed his proposal
to procure him the assistance of Dr. Wisheart, Montrose's military
chaplain; "a man," said Sir Dugald, "very clever in his exercise, and
who will do execution on your sins in less time than I could smoke a
pipe of tobacco."

"Saxon," said the dying man, "speak to me no more of thy priest--I die
contented. Hadst thou ever an enemy against whom weapons were of no
avail--whom the ball missed, and against whom the arrow shivered, and
whose bare skin was as impenetrable to sword and dirk as thy steel
garment--Heardst thou ever of such a foe?"

"Very frequently, when I served in Germany," replied Sir Dugald. "There
was such a fellow at Ingolstadt; he was proof both against lead and
steel. The soldiers killed him with the buts of their muskets."

"This impassible foe," said Ranald, without regarding the Major's
interruption, "who has the blood dearest to me upon his hands--to this
man I have now bequeathed agony of mind, jealousy, despair, and sudden
death,--or a life more miserable than death itself. Such shall be the
lot of Allan of the Red-hand, when he learns that Annot weds Menteith
and I ask no more than the certainty that it is so, to sweeten my own
bloody end by his hand."

"If that be the case," said the Major, "there's no more to be said; but
I shall take care as few people see you as possible, for I cannot
think your mode of departure can be at all creditable or exemplary to
a Christian army." So saying, he left the apartment, and the Son of the
Mist soon after breathed his last.

Menteith, in the meanwhile, leaving the new-found relations to their
mutual feelings of mingled emotion, was eagerly discussing with Montrose
the consequences of this discovery. "I should now see," said the
Marquis, "even had I not before observed it, that your interest in
this discovery, my dear Menteith, has no small reference to your own
happiness. You love this new-found lady,--your affection