d her to one of his castles in the North, probably to
Downie, the scene of his previous crimes. Here she was secluded in a
lonely tower, and treated with the utmost barbarity, probably because
she could neither conceal nor conquer her disgust to the husband of her
forced acceptance. Yet outward appearances were preserved: a lady, the
intimate friend of her youth, was advised to visit, as if by accident,
the unhappy Lady Lovat, in order to ascertain the truth of the reports
which prevailed of Lord Lovat's cruelty. The visitor was received by
Lovat with extravagant expressions of welcome, and many assurances of
the pleasure which it would afford Lady Lovat to see her. His Lordship
then retired, and hastening to his wife, who was secluded without even
tolerable clothes, and almost in a state of starvation, placed a costly
dress before her, and desired her to attire herself, and to appear
before her friend. His commands were obeyed; he watched his prisoner and
her visitor so closely, that no information could be conveyed of the
unhappiness of the one, or of the intentions of the other.[217] This
outrageous treatment, which Lord Lovat is reported, also, to have
exercised over his first wife, went on for some time. Lady Lovat was
daily locked up in a room by herself, a scanty supply of food being sent
her, which she was obliged to devour in silence. The monotony of her
hapless solitude was only broken by rare visits from his Lordship.
Under these circumstances, she bore a son, who was named Archibald
Campbell Fraser, and who eventually succeeded to the title. In after
years, when he frowned at any contradiction that she gave him, Lady
Lovat used to exclaim, "Oh, boy! Dinna look that gate--ye look so like
your father." These words spoke volumes.

The character of the lady whose best years were thus blighted by
cruelty, and who was condemned through a long life to bear the name of
her infamous husband, was one peculiarly Scotch. Homely in her habits,
and possessing little refinement of manner, she had the kindest heart,
the most generous and self-denying nature that ever gladdened a house,
or bore up a woman's weakness under oppression. The eldest son of Lord
Lovat, Simon, was a sickly child. His father, who was very anxious to
have him to his house, placed him under Lady Lovat's charge; and,
whenever he went to the Highlands, left her with this pleasing
intimation, "that if he found either of the boys dead on his return, he
wo