a cheerful tone, "my
conscience, which has been depressed of late, feels easier this evening.
Let us go in to supper; and _remember_ that no one knows about this
incident except you--and I. So, there's no chance of its going
further."

"The two rebels know it," suggested Lawless.

"No, they don't!" replied the other airily. "They have quite forgotten
it by this time, and even if it should recur to memory their own
interest and gratitude would seal their lips--so we're quite safe, you
and I; quite safe--come along."

Our travellers met with no further interruption until they reached
Edinburgh. It was afternoon when they arrived, and, entering by the
road that skirts the western base of the Castle rock, proceeded towards
the Grassmarket.

Pushing through the crowd gathered in that celebrated locality, Quentin
and Wallace ascended the steep street named Candlemaker Row, which led
and still leads to the high ground that has since been connected with
the High Street by George the Fourth Bridge. About half-way up the
ascent they came to a semicircular projection which encroached somewhat
on the footway. It contained a stair which led to the interior of one
of the houses. Here was the residence of Mrs. Black, the mother of our
friend Andrew. The good woman was at home, busily engaged with her
knitting needles, when her visitors entered.

A glance sufficed to show Wallace whence Andrew Black derived his grave,
quiet, self-possessed character, as well as his powerful frame and
courteous demeanour.

She received Quentin Dick, to whom she was well known, with a mixture of
goodwill and quiet dignity.

"I've brought a freend o' Mr. Black's to bide wi' ye for a wee while, if
ye can take him in," said Quentin, introducing his young companion as
"Wull Wallace."

"I'm prood to receive an' welcome ony freend o' my boy Andry," returned
the good woman, with a slight gesture that would have become a duchess.

"Ay, an' yer son wants ye to receive Wallace's mither as weel. She'll
likely be here in a day or twa. She's been sair persecooted of late,
puir body, for she's a staunch upholder o' the Covenants."

There have been several Covenants in Scotland, the most important
historically being the National Covenant of 1638, and the Solemn League
and Covenant of 1643. It was to these that Quentin referred, and to
these that he and the great majority of the Scottish people clung with
intense, almost superstitious veneration;