He became pale, and dreaded lest his father should have cursed and denounced him. “Did he--condemn me?” and he gasped, as he spoke, “was he much irritated?” “Yes, James, awfully agitated.” “There, there, Sir Hector, see my folly, my madness, my infamous cruelty, to an aged parent. But Alice, was he long in such a state?” “No,” and she turned a look of concealed meaning to Katharine. “Thank God, thank God,” exclaimed Dawson, “then Alice, is he calm now?” “Calm,--so calm, he must be happy.” “Then, dear sister, lead me into his presence, and give him a kiss, to induce him to grant me a full forgiveness. Alice, you move not, is he asleep?” “Yes, dear James, and you would but disturb him in what seems to be a very pleasant sleep. But he _has_ granted you his pardon; or, if you doubt, you may come to morrow, to dinner, and then--” “Yes, Alice; and may not Hector McLean come with me?” The last words were spoken in a playful tone, and intended to probe, what Alice thought was a secret. He rallied, and endeavoured to enjoy himself, and seemed to succeed. Katharine forgave him, and agreed to walk with him, for a few minutes, in the garden. He looked smilingly upon Alice, and by his glance attempted to hint that he knew very well that she did not regret to be left alone with Sir Hector. The next morning arose fair and bright. The birds, even in the streets, forgot the silence of winter, and cheered the crowded abodes of men with their songs, as they fluttered about the leafless trees, in the squares of the town. The Manchester regiment of volunteers was marching through the streets, to the sound of the drum. At their head was Prince Charles, attended by Colonel Townley. There was an unusual melancholy resting on the features of the former, which was increased by listening to the Scottish song now chanted in the streets, “Bonnie Prince Charlie.” His pale hair fell carelessly over his forehead, as he frequently raised his bonnet, to allow the sun to fall upon his face. The smoke was not yet arising from the chimneys, so early was the hour; and he thought how slow and idle the inhabitants were in their loyalty towards him. The colonel halted. “Where, noble Prince, will you review my men?” “In the church-yard,” was the reply, “yet that is an ominous place, and may remind them of a fate they may, by and by, share. It is well, nevertheless, to know what our end, sooner or later, must be. The churchyard, colonel.”