emarkable occasion. It is said that we Scots, when there was
such a nation in existence, have, among our full peck of virtues, one
or two little barley-corns of vice. In particular, it is alleged that we
rarely forgive, and never forget, any injuries received--that we make an
idol of our resentment, as poor Lady Constance did of her grief, and are
addicted, as Burns says, to 'nursing our wrath to keep it warm.' Lady
Bothwell was not without this feeling; and, I believe, nothing whatever,
scarce the restoration of the Stewart line, could have happened so
delicious to her feelings as an opportunity of being revenged on Sir
Philip Forester for the deep and double injury which had deprived her
of a sister and of a brother. But nothing of him was heard or known till
many a year had passed away.

"At length--it was on a Fastern's E'en (Shrovetide) assembly, at which
the whole fashion of Edinburgh attended, full and frequent, and when
Lady Bothwell had a seat amongst the lady patronesses, that one of the
attendants on the company whispered into her ear that a gentleman wished
to speak with her in private.

"'In private? and in an assembly room?--he must be mad. Tell him to call
upon me to-morrow morning.'

"'I said so, my lady,' answered the man, 'but he desired me to give you
this paper.'

"She undid the billet, which was curiously folded and sealed. It only
bore the words, 'ON BUSINESS OF LIFE AND DEATH,' written in a hand which
she had never seen before. Suddenly it occurred to her that it might
concern the safety of some of her political friends. She therefore
followed the messenger to a small apartment where the refreshments were
prepared, and from which the general company was excluded. She found
an old man, who, at her approach, rose up and bowed profoundly. His
appearance indicated a broken constitution, and his dress, though
sedulously rendered conforming to the etiquette of a ballroom, was
worn and tarnished, and hung in folds about his emaciated person. Lady
Bothwell was about to feel for her purse, expecting to get rid of the
supplicant at the expense of a little money, but some fear of a mistake
arrested her purpose. She therefore gave the man leisure to explain
himself.

"'I have the honour to speak with the Lady Bothwell?'

"'I am Lady Bothwell; allow me to say that this is no time or place for
long explanations. What are your commands with me?'

"'Your ladyship,' said the old man, 'had once a sister.'