and she burst into a passionate flood of tears. Amazed and distressed at the sight of her niece’s grief, Mrs. Johnstone soothed and comforted her to the best of her ability, and was rewarded for her kind sympathy by the recital of Jeanie’s hopes, fears, and intentions respecting her lover’s escape, which she confided to the willing ears of her aunt, when her sorrow allowed her the power of utterance. "Oh, my dear lassie!" said Mrs. Johnstone, at the close of her niece’s narration, "you do not know the difficulty of the course you mean to pursue; you never can succeed. Willie Telford will be so closely guarded that you will not get near him; do not go on, but stay with me at least until we hear something regarding the destination of the unfortunate men." At this moment a distant murmur of voices was heard, mingled with the trampling of many feet. Nearer came the sounds; louder swelled the tumult, till none could mistake its meaning. Poor Jeanie turned as pale as death; her heart told her the prisoners were approaching. Grasping her aunt by the arm, she staggered towards the window, and what a dismal sight greeted her eager eyes! Onwards came the dragoons—their plumes waving—their horses prancing. Next advanced a body of men, to the number of about five hundred, foot-sore and weary; wounded, and prisoners. Jeanie Irving groaned in agony. The quick glance of affection soon descried the stately form of William Telford. Amidst the motley crowd, he walked erect and proudly, as though he were marching onwards to victory—not to a prison—perchance to death. The eyes of Jeanie Irving seemed about to start from their sockets on beholding the sad procession; but new horrors awaited her. She beheld some of the sympathising spectators, while advancing with cups of cold water to moisten the lips of the wounded portion of the prisoners, and a morsel of bread to comfort their weary hearts, beaten back with oaths, and contumely by the rude soldiers, who, insensible to all the softer emotions of humanity, seemed determined to make their captives feel the wretchedness of their lot. She saw her beloved William stunned by a blow from the butt-end of a musket, while endeavouring to procure nourishment for a sinking comrade.