"My daughter!" cried the hapless parent, "my daughter! where have they taken her to? Oh, Ellen! my child--my beautiful--my darling!" "Be calm," Mr. Lennox said; "remember to bear is to conquer our fate." "Talk not to me of calmness; tell the apathetic Stoic to bear his fate. Oh, Mr. Lennox! you a father, and talk so! Oh, my child! my poor child! where have they borne you to?--take me to my child!" "We had better at once proceed to Edinburgh: the Sheriff is my personal friend. Is your carriage still here?--yes, that will do; the children had better stay here." "No, no, they will take them next!--let them come. Johnny--Maude darling, do not cry so; we will go and find your sister." With these words they all four speedily took possession of the carriage; and it needed no words to make the coachman drive fast. During the whole way Mr. Ravensworth wept like a child. It is a terrible thing to hear a strong man weep; a woman or a child weeping are every-day events, not so a man--one who has past through suffering often, and stoically borne it, and yet gives way at last like a child. Johnny cried too, and little Maude all the way; and even Mr. Lennox caught the weakness, and felt his eyes suffuse with tears more than once, though he thought it undignified in the extreme. When they reached the Sheriff's house, Mr. Lennox sent in his card, and said they had come on a matter of vast importance. The Sheriff, Mr. Murray, was a fine-looking, portly gentleman, of about sixty; he was evidently no foe to good living, as his corpulence, jolly expression of face, double chin, and certainly more than red nose, betrayed; his hair was snow white, which contrasted well with his florid face, and a merry twinkle in his grey eye showed him a lover of the bottle, and its boon-fellow, wit. He was sitting over his wine when the two gentlemen were introduced, and was apparently not altogether pleased at the interruption. However, he showed that he was quite ready for business, by putting on his gold spectacles, and taking a pencil and paper to make notes. Then ordering a couple more glasses, he begged to hear the case. "Just take a glass of port--you will find it excellent, Mr. Lennox; you too, sir, will you not join us?" "No, I thank you," said Mr. Ravensworth, burying his face in his hands. Mr. Lennox, however, accepted the offer, and then detailed the whole case to the Sheriff, as Mr. Ravensworth from his emotions was totally unable to speak. During the recital the unhappy father sobbed aloud. "This is the most melancholy event I ever remember," said the Sheriff, wiping his glasses; "to think of one so young--so beautiful as you say--and yet so depraved!" "Oh! judge not from appearances!" cried the wretched parent; "she is innocent as a babe unborn!" "I regret I cannot see things in the same light; there is every appearance of guilt, though I cannot detect the motive. But you said your children were present--where are they?" "We left them in the carriage."