The earl shook his head sorrowfully. "I cannot join in the sanguine hopes of those who think this matter can be brought to a speedy termination. I tremble, Winifred,--nay, do not look at me as though you scarcely believed, and yet blamed me," he continued, with a smile, in which there was little mirth,--"I tremble for my native land: God knows I honestly and sincerely wish for its welfare. During the just and mild reign of the late queen, it would have gone hard with me to have assisted in any disturbance, for her people were happy; but now, when a stranger and a foreigner persecutes my rightful sovereign--when he is driven, like a hunted beast, from one land to another--when all the persons of note in the country are prosecuted, banished, or disgraced--when my honoured friend and cousin, the Duke of Ormond's name and armorial bearings are razed from out the list of peers, his achievement as Knight of the Garter taken down from St. George's Chapel,--no, it is not in mortal man to sit down calmly under this tyranny! I should disgrace my name, my ancestors! Let the success be what it may, it shall never be said that William Maxwell, Earl of Nithsdale, proved false to the cause of his king, through coward fear of the event!" Lady Nithsdale watched his kindling countenance with love and awe: the colour flushed into his pale cheek; his eyes, so full of care, gleamed from beneath the coal-black eye-brows. "King James must succeed," she cried; "a few such spirits as my noble lord's must carry victory with them. Let the king but set foot in Scotland----" "Yes, Winifred," he resumed, and an expression of care again stole over his countenance; "let the king come in person, and come quickly!--but, alas! he is in the hands of those who use him for their own purposes. I fear--but I scarcely dare own the fear to myself--that he lacks that decision, that boldness, that promptitude of action, which in such an undertaking are so indispensably requisite! Why is he not here even now? Why does not the Earl of Mar receive his commission? Yes, Winifred, I tremble. Should we plunge our native land in strife, should the 'rose of sna'' be indeed 'steeped deep in ruddie heart's bluid,' and should we fail in our object, shall we not have much to answer for?" At that moment the little Lord Maxwell came running to his parents, breathless and exulting: "I have towed the Royal James safe to land, father; there she is in port!" "Oh, take this for a good omen, my lord!" said Lady Nithsdale, kissing the boy. Lord Nithsdale shook his head; but bending over the boy, he kissed him likewise. "Winifred, do you not think your sister Lucy, the abbess, would let them be pensioners in your old convent? I should engage in this business with better heart, if I knew that my boy and poor little Annie were safe in any other land. I would urge your accompanying them,"--Lady Nithsdale started,--"but I know that it would be in vain."