"I have always lived in the hope," went on Lochiel, "of one day rejoining my Canadian friends, whom I love to-day more than ever, if that were possible. No reconciliation would have been required. It was natural I should seek to regain my patrimony, so nearly dissipated by the confiscations of the British Government. There remained to me no career but the army, the only one worthy of a Cameron. I had recovered my father's sword, which one of my friends had bought back from among the spoils of Culloden. Bearing this blade, which had never known a stain, I dreamed of a glorious career. I was grieved, indeed, when I learned that my regiment was to be sent against New France; but a soldier could not resign in time of war without disgrace. My friends would have understood that. But what hope now for the ingrate who has ravaged the hearth of his benefactors! Jules D'Haberville, whom I once called my brother, his gentle and saintly mother, who took me to her heart, the fair girl whom I called my sister to hide a deeper feeling--these will, perhaps, hear my justification and end by forgiving me. But Captain D'Haberville, who loves with all his heart, but who never forgives an injury, can it be imagined that he will permit his family to utter my name, unless to curse it? "But I am a coward and a fool," continued Archie, grinding his teeth, "I should have declared before my men my reasons for refusing to obey, and, though Montgomery had had me shot upon the spot, there would have been found loyal spirits to approve my refusal and to right my memory. I have been a coward and a fool, for in case the major, instead of having me shot, had tried me before a court-martial, even while pronouncing my death sentence they would have appreciated my motives. I would have been eloquent in the defense of my honor, and of that noblest of human sentiments, gratitude. Oh, my friends, would that you could see my remorse! Coward, ten thousand times coward!--" A voice near him repeated the words "Coward, ten thousand times coward!" He thought at first it was the echo from the bluff. He raised his head and perceived the witch of the manor standing erect on a projecting rock. She stretched out her hands over the ruins, and cried: "Woe! woe! woe!" Then she descended like lightning, by a steep and dangerous path, and wandered to and fro among the ruins, crying: "Desolation! desolation! desolation!" At length she raised her arm with a gesture of menace, pointed to the summit of the bluff, and cried in a loud voice: "Woe to you, Archibald de Lochiel!" The old dog howled long and plaintively, then silence fell upon the scene.