too favourably of their English foe. For during a late excursion by the banks of the Nith, when she had wandered to an unusual distance from the fort, she was seized by a party of English soldiers and borne off in triumph to the castle of Sanquhar. Cressingham had been impelled to this base and unmanly step by a variety of motives. He was chagrined at the extreme bravery and spirit with which the lady's father had resisted all attempts to gain possession of Ryehill, and rejoiced in an opportunity of giving molestation to the venerable warrior. He had learned too of the fond attachment with which Douglas regarded her, and her capture, he felt, would at once exasperate his sternest foe and feed his own revenge. The governor himself too, having on one of his excursions espied the lady from the concealment of an ambush, had been charmed by her surpassing loveliness, and had actually formed the mad design of forcing her to become his bride. Influenced chiefly by this latter motive, he had given strict charges to the soldiers employed to watch her movements and to effect her capture, to treat her with all that gentleness and respect which her rank and sex demanded, and had entrusted the conduct of the stratagem to De Valence, one of the steadiest of his officers. These instructions were carefully obeyed, except in one instance, when it was deemed advisable, by De Valence, in order to prevent her from having the full management of the palfrey on which she was to be borne to the fortress, slightly to pinion her arms. But to this indignity the proud spirit of the daughter of Ross scorned to submit. “ Art thou an English Squire” she exclaimed, when she beheld De Valence himself advance for the purpose, “ art thou an English Squire so destitute of the spirit of chivalry as to dare to treat a lady thus ? Thou hast already trampled on all the laws of honourable warfare, by making captive the daughters of our land, and now thou wilt add insult to injury by pinioning my arms in the presence of thine ignoble serfs. Thou hast already secured my scanty guard ; art thou afraid to leave free the unarmed daughter of Ross when more than twenty of thy panoplied followers surround her?” Awed at once by the noble spirit which breathed in her words, and by that air of innocence which tells even upon savage hearts, De Valence determined to permit the lady herself to dictate the manner in which she might choose to be conducted to the castle. The beautiful captive accordingly mounted a small palfrey, and with De Valence and a few soldiers by her side, moved onwards by a peasant-road to the fortress of Sanquhar. We shall not attempt to portray her feelings in a situation so trying to any, but so unprecedented and overwhelming to a young and gentle female. In the hands of her father's foes—away from Douglas-away from all around whom her heart entwined—how dark and lowering seemed her destiny! She commended herself to that Heaven who is the protector of the innocent and the feeble, and prayed that she might ever act worthy of her father's name and of her own. Nor did her resolution fail her when on her arrival at the castle, she was conducted into the presence of the ignoble governor. Her countenance told of that indignation, and defiance, and contempt, which the spirit of a noble woman feels when she is insulted, and injured, and controlled ; indicating at the same time an inward consciousness that nought could quench her dignity, or induce her to act unworthily of her character. Nor could those of his officers who surrounded Cressingham, and whose hearts were more pervious to chivalrous influences, help sympathizing, to some extent, with a being so beautiful, so innocent, and withal so injured as their hearts whispered her to be. Cressingham at once perceived the extreme awkwardness of his situation ; nor did his endeavours to extricate himself, prove that he knew much of a noble woman's heart when in the hour of its adversity. “Let the necessities of war, fair lady,” he cried, “explain and excuse the somewhat harsh treatment which has led to our first interview. Thy father has long exerted himself in exciting the rebellion of the natives of the dale against our arms. He continues to retain the fortress of Ryehill, while all the surrounding vales are tributary. The honour of England demands that he should be compelled to yield it; it is thus that thou art here. If one method

of subduing his obstinacy fail, another may succeed. However, be assured, Daughter of Ross, that nought save thy liberty shall be curtailed. Thou shalt have due attendance, thou shalt have all becoming honour; nay, if it please thee, fair one, thou mayst sit as an equal at our board, and banquet, and learn to forget that thou art not free.” As Cressingham proceeded, the lady's countenance assumed an appearance yet more expressive of dignity and scorn. “ Sit at thy banquet and board, Sir governor,” she exclaimed, “never! Sooner would I be the humblest menial in some Scottish hall, than the companion of the proudest of the oppressors of my country. To hear gibes against my countrymen—to listen to unmanly insults against those who are dearest to my heart, would not be the happiest way to make me forget my bondage. Thou talkest of the honour of England too; but is not that honour forgotten_trampled ondead, when her sons, disdaining all that is chivalrous and humane in war, make a victim of woman! Thou blamest my brave and venerable father, because he loves his native land, because he fights for her freedom, because he will not become the slave of England. Ah! I have heard of English knights ere now, who admired the patriotism they were unable to extinguish, and lauded the bravery they could not subdue. To such heights, Sir governor, it seems thou canst not climb; and worse than all, because thou art not potent to subdue Sir James the Ross, thou wilt wreak thine unmanly vengeance on his child.” It would have required no very profound skill in physiognomy, to detect the varied feelings which at this moment betrayed themselves on the countenance of the English governor. Reproof, when administered by one of the gentler sex, still more when the theme of that reproof is a want of honour or of chivalry, is keenly felt even by minds of a texture not the noblest.

The countenance, and indeed the whole demeanour of Cressingham, told that his own heart accused him ; nor did he seem altogether able to repress the secret admiration which he felt for qualities that had long since been extinguished in his own bosom. The want of that boisterous approbation among his officers, which was the usual accompaniment of any of his proceedings, assured him too that he was without their full concurrence, and made him begin to suspect that in this instance, he had followed the impulse of passion rather than of reason. Still he could not brook the thought of restoring her to her father's halls. That father he hated-Douglas he hated too, and still he cherished the foolish dream that she might one day be reconciled, and learn to love. Ah! little did his selfish spirit know of the innocence, the fidelity, the endurance, the patriotism, the pride, of the daughter of Ross.

Cressingham perceived that the awkwardness of his situation had been increased, rather than diminished, by her noble reply; he therefore determined