'Alas, that it has been accomplished!' cried the uncle with deep despondency, 'Rather would I have found, here an unknown and unhonored grave, than meet the overwhelming shame which must henceforth rest upon my noble name in my native land!' CHAPTER XLVI. Under the directions of Megret the towers and walls of Ravensten were blown up, to render them forever after incapable of serving as a place of shelter for similar bands. The wounded Mac Donalbain and his companions were secured in the prisons of Umea, and Christine with her child conveyed to Gyllensten, where her aged father, his iron constitution finally overpowered by his sorrows, lay dangerously ill. The chief judge had summoned the associate justices of his court to the sessions-chamber of the city hall of Umea, for the trial of the criminals. Arwed and Megret were present; the former at his uncle's request, and the latter, that he might witness the entire outpouring of the cup of vengeance; and, supported by his keeper and laden with chains, Mac Donalbain appeared before his judges. Harassed and tormented by his wounds, he staggered here and there, with difficulty holding himself upright; but his spirit remained unbroken, and his dark eyes flashed upon the assembly with all their former fierceness. Megret beheld the scene with a smile of internal satisfaction. Arwed gave a look of sympathy to the unhappy man, and then whispered a request to the judge. The latter nodded. The bailiffs took off Mac Donalbain's chains and placed a stool for him, upon which he seated himself with a look of gratitude towards Arwed. 'Tell us your true name, your rank, and your native country,' commenced the judge with solemn earnestness. 'Gregor Mac Donalbain,' answered the prisoner; 'a nobleman of the highlands of Scotland.' 'Do you still continue, with shameless effrontery, to make that assertion?' interposed Megret. 'Forget not, colonel,' cried Mac Donalbain with vehemence, 'that here you have no right to question me, and that I do not acknowledge any obligation to answer you.' 'Neither should you forget,' said Megret, with bitterness, 'that pride and insolence will make your bad cause still worse, and forever close the door of mercy which true repentance and humility may perhaps otherwise open for you.' 'You would indeed very willingly see me, overpowered by the fear of death, begging my life at your feet,' rejoined Mac Donalbain, disdainfully. 'But you may as well resign all hope of that pleasure. I reject and scorn all mercy for which I must be indebted to you.' The judge commanded both of them to be silent. 'Admitting the correctness of your statement,' said he to Mac Donalbain, 'how is it possible that you could stain your nobility by abandoning yourself to so horrible and reprobate a profession?' 'It was my fate!' answered Mac Donalbain doggedly, and casting his eyes upon the ground.