THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER. An Historical Romance. BY JAMES GRANT, ESQ., AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR, OR THE GORDON HIGHLANDERS," "MEMOIRS OF KIRKALDY OF GRANGE," &C. Dost thou admit his right, Thus to transfer our ancient Scottish crown? Ay, Scotland was a kingdom once, And, by the might of God, a kingdom still shall be! ROBERT THE BRUCE, ACT II. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1850. Contents I. Lilian II. How Clermistonlee Pressed His Suit III. Claverhouse to the Rescue IV. The Secret Stair V. The Attempt VI. Edinburgh--The Night of the Revolution VII. Sack of Holyrood VIII. The Veiled Picture IX. Love and Principle X. The Pass of Killycrankie XI. The Last Hour of Dundee XII. St. Germains XIII. The Cavaliers of Dundee XIV. The 20th of September, 1692 XV. The Effect of the Postscriptum XVI. The Battle of Steinkirke XVII. A Disclosure XVIII. Walter Fenton and the King XIX. The Returned Exile XX. The Bubble Burst XXI. Love and Marriage are Two XXII. The Ring and the Secret XXIII. The Iron Room--The Death Shot WALTER FENTON; OR THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER. CHAPTER I. LILIAN. I love thee, gentle Knight! but 'tis, Such love as sisters bear; O, ask my heart no more than this, For more it may not spare. KNIGHT TOGGENBURG. The image of Clermistonlee and his threats came painfully upon Lilian's memory. She shrieked for aid, but her cries were lost in the vacuity of the old-fashioned coach in which she was being carried off. She strove to open the windows, but they were immoveable as those of a castle, and she resigned herself to tears and despair. The vehicle was rumbling and jolting over a waste of frozen snow; here and there, a farm-house or a congealed rivulet were passed, but everything appeared so strange and new, when viewed in their snowy guise by the twilight of the mirky winter night, that Lilian had not the most remote idea in what direction she was taken; and, shuddering with cold and apprehension, the poor girl crouched down in a corner of the coach, and abandoned herself to grief and wretchedness. The excessive chill of the night, and prostration of spirit under which she laboured, produced a sort of stupor, and when the coach stopped, she was unable to move; but a tall dark man, muffled and masked like an intriguing gallant of the day, lifted her out. As one in a dream, who would in vain elude some hideous vision, she attempted to shriek; but the unuttered cry died away on her lips, and she closed her eyes. A strong embrace encircled her; a hot breath--(was it not a kiss?)--came upon her cold cheek, and she felt herself borne along; doors closed behind her, and by the warmth of the altered temperature she was aware of being within a house.