Here the prisoner relapsed into moody silence; and Andrew Hamilton, somewhat disconcerted at the haughty tone assumed by his new acquaintance, forbore to press the conversation further. They had now arrived at the cottage inhabited by old Mrs. Wishart; it was a dwelling situated on the bank of a rippling stream, which shone like molten silver in the pale moonlight, while the dusky foliage of a few pine-trees overtopping the roof of the straw-thatched cottage harmonised well with the procession now advancing beneath their gloomy boughs. On reaching the threshold, the sorrowing mother paused for a moment, as if dreading to enter the desolate home, whose blazing hearth would never more be enlivened by the cheerful voice now hushed for ever—never more! She sighed deeply; and after engaging in mental prayer that she might be endowed with fresh strength to support this fearful trial, she raised the latch and entered, beckoning on the others to follow. All was as she had left. The fire smouldered in the grate, the clock ticked on the wall; while the kettle gave forth its cheerful song, unheeded in the midst of the general desolation. Opening a side-door which led into a little sleeping-room, Mrs. Wishart, her face ghastly with intense emotion, signed to the bier-bearers thither to convey the body of her murdered son. The men obeyed; and placing the corpse, at the mother’s desire, on the snow-white counterpane, they retired with noiseless steps and uncovered heads to the adjacent apartment, leaving her alone in the chamber with the dead. In the meanwhile, Andrew Hamilton, who had been busily occupied in searching out a place of security in which to deposit his prisoner, of whose company he was, to own the truth, heartily tired, at length discovered a barn which he at once chose as being adapted in every respect for the present purpose. Windows there were none; and the door being secured by a double lock, rendered all attempts at escape fruitless—so Andrew Hamilton thought; and acting upon his hastily-formed opinion, he thrust in the hand-bound prisoner, and double-locking the door, proceeded to stable the exhausted steed. This done, he retraced his steps to the kitchen, where he found his four companions seated around the hearth, conversing in subdued whispers on the sad occurrences of the day. "I really wonder how Walter Henderson and his party are getting on," at length observed one of the party, and he shook his head as he spoke.