Thy nest shall shelter'd be.
The world may never know, dear heart!
What I have found in thee;
But, though nought to the world, dear heart!
Thou'rt all the world to me."

EPILOGUE.
"Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
The fatal shadows that walk by us still."




MARIE GOURDON.




CHAPTER I.

"Wae's me for Prince Chairlie."

Old Scotch Song.


It was a dark gloomy night in the year 1745. Huge clouds hung in heavy
masses over the sky, ready to discharge their heavy burden at any moment.
The thunder echoed and re-echoed with deafening crashes, as if the whole
artillery of heaven were arrayed in mighty warfare, and shook even the
giant crag on which the castle of Dunmorton was situated.