"Nay," said the sergeant; "bind them together, and drive them before us to the captain: I don't know but he may wish to _do justice_ to them with his own hand." "The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel," groaned Mr. Duncan. Mary wrung her hands--"Oh, spare my father!" she cried. "Wheesht, Mary!" said the old man; "as soon wad a camel pass through the eye o' a needle, as ye wad find compassion in the hands o' these men!" "Bind the girl and the preacher together," said the sergeant. "Nay, by your leave, sergeant," interrupted one of the troopers, "I wouldn't be the man to lift a hand against a pretty girl like that, if you would give me a regiment for it." "Ay, ay, Macdonald," replied the sergeant--"this comes of your serving under that canting fellow, Lieutenant Mowbray--he has no love for the service; and confound me if I don't believe he is half a Roundhead in his heart. Tie the hands of the girl, I command you." "I will not!" returned Macdonald; "and hang me if any one else shall!" And, with his sword in his hand, he placed himself between Mary and his comrades. "If you do not bind her hands, I shall cause others to bind yours," said the sergeant. "They may try that who dare!" returned the soldier, who was the most powerful man of the party; "but what I've said I'll stand to." "You shall answer for this to-morrow," said the sergeant, sullenly, who feared to provoke a quarrel with the trooper. "I will answer it," replied the other. John Brydone, his son Daniel, and the Rev. Mr. Duncan, were bound together with strong cords, and driven from the house. They were fastened, also, to the horses of the troopers. As they were dragged along, the cries and the lamentations of Mary followed them; and the troopers laughed at her wailing, or answered her cries with mockery, till the sound of her grief became inaudible in the distance, when again they imitated her cries, to harrow up the feelings of her father. Claverhouse, and a party of his troops, were then in the neighbourhood of Traquair; and before that man, who knew not what mercy was, John Brydone, and his son, and the preacher were brought. It was on the afternoon of the day following that on which they had been made prisoners, that Claverhouse ordered them to be brought forth. He was sitting, with wine before him, in the midst of his officers; and amongst them was Lieutenant Mowbray, whose name was alluded to by the sergeant. "Well, knaves!" began Claverhouse, "ye have been singing, praying, preaching, and holding conventicles.--Do ye know how Grahame of Claverhouse rewards such rebels?" As the prisoners entered, Lieutenant Mowbray turned away his head, and placed his hand upon his brow.