Ay, think upon the cause—
Forget it not: when you lie down to rest,
Let it be black among your dreams; and when
The morn returns, so let it stand between
The sun and you, as an ill-omened cloud,
Upon a summer's day of festival.
—Byron.

After a drive of about twenty minutes through the narrow streets the carriage stopped before the town hall. McRae jumped down from the box and assisted his prisoners to alight.

"Will I wait, me laird?" inquired old Cuthbert, in a desponding tone.

"Certainly, you old blockhead!" was the courteous reply of the viscount, as he followed his conductor into the building.

McRae, who had Mrs. Dugald on his arm, led the way through a broad stone passage, blocked up with the usual motley crowd of such a place, into an anteroom, half filled with prisoners, guarded by policemen, and waiting their turn for examination, and thence into an inner room, where, in a railed-off compartment at the upper end, and behind a long table, sat the magistrate, Sir Alexander McKetchum, and his clerk, attended by several law officers.

"Here are the prisoners, your worship," said McRae, advancing with his charge to the front of the table.

Sir Alexander looked up. He was a tall, raw-boned, sinewy old Gael, with high features, a lively, red face, blue eyes, white hair and side whiskers, and an accent as broad as Cuthbert's own. He was apparently a man of the people.

"Malcolm, lad, I am verra sorry to see your father's son here on such a charge," he said.

"I am here by your warrant, sir! it is altogether a very extraordinary proceeding!" said the viscount haughtily.

"Not mare extraordinary than painful, lad," said the magistrate.

"Who are my accusers, sir?" demanded the viscount, as if he was in ignorance of them.

"Ye sall sune see, me laird. Johnstone, have the witnesses in this case arrived?" he inquired, turning to one of his officers.

"Yes, your worship."

"Then bring them in."

Johnstone departed upon his errand; and the magistrate turned his eyes upon the prisoners before him.

"Eh, it is a bonnie lassie, to be here on such a charge," he muttered to himself, as he looked at Faustina, standing, trembling and weeping, before him. Then beckoning the officer who had the prisoners in charge:

"McRae, mon, accommodate the lady with a chair. Why did ye put fetters on her? Surely there was no need of them."

"There was need, your worship. The 'lady' resisted the warrant, and fought like a Bess o' Bedlam," said McRae, as he set a chair for Faustina.

"Puir bairn! puir, ill-guided bairn!" muttered the old man between his teeth. But before he could utter another word Johnstone re- entered the room, ushering in Judge Merlin, Ishmael Worth, and the three negroes.

"Good Heaven!" exclaimed Faustina, in horror, as her eyes met those of Katie; "it is the ghost of the black negro woman raised from the dead!"

Katie heard this low exclamation, and replied to it by such grotesque and awful grimaces as only the face of the African negro is capable of executing.

"No, it is herself. There are no such things as ghosts. It is herself, and I have been deceived," muttered Faustina to herself. And then she fell into silence.

Perhaps Lord Vincent had not altogether credited McRae's statement, made to him at the station house, for certainly his eyes opened with consternation on seeing this party enter the room.

Johnstone marshaled them to their appointed places on the right hand of the magistrate.

On turning around Ishmael met full the eyes of the viscount. Ishmael gravely bowed and averted his head. He could not be otherwise than courteous under any circumstances; and he could not bear to look upon a fellowman in his degradation, no matter how well that degradation was deserved.

Judge Merlin also bowed, as he looked upon his worthless son-in-law; but the judge's bow was full of irony as his face was full of scorn.

The magistrate looked up from the document he was reading and acknowledged the presence of the new arrivals with a bow. Then turning to the prisoner he said:

"Malcolm, lad, this is an unco ill-looking accusation they hae brought against you; kidnaping and slave-trading, na less—a sort of piracy, ye ken, lad! What hae ye to say till it?"

"What have I to say to it, sir? Why, simply that it has taken me so by surprise that I can find nothing to say but that I am astounded at the effrontery of any man who could bring such a charge against me, and at the fatuity, if you will excuse my terming it so, of any magistrate who could issue a warrant against me upon such a charge," said the viscount haughtily.

"Nay, nay, lad! nay, nay! I had guid grounds for what I did, as ye shall hear presently, and noo, gen ye hae na objection, we will proceed wi' the investigation——"

"But I have an objection, sir! I tell you this has taken me utterly by surprise. I am totally unprepared for it. I must have time, I must have counsel," said the viscount with much heat.

"Then I maun remand ye for another examination," replied Sir
Alexander McKetchum coolly.

"But I object to that, also. I object to be kept in confinement while there is nothing proved against me, and I demand my liberty," said the viscount insolently.

"Why dinna ye demaund the moon and stars, laddie? I could gi'e them to ye just as sune," replied Sir Alexander.

"You have no right to detain me in custody!" fiercely broke forth
Lord Vincent.

"Whisht, lad, I hae no richt to set you at leeberty."

Here old Katie, whose eyes had been snapping whole volleys of vindictive fire upon the prisoners, broke out into words before Judge Merlin or Ishmael could possibly prevent her.

"Don't you let him go, ole marse! he's one nasty, 'ceitful, lyin', white nigger as ebber libbed! He did do it, and he needn't 'ny it, not while I'm standin' here! Don't you let him go, ole marse! he's cunnin' as de debbil, and he'd run away, sure as ebber you's born! You take my 'vice and don't you let him go! he artful as ole Sam!"

"Katie, Katie, Katie!" remonstrated Ishmael, in a low voice.

"So he is, den! and he knows it himse'f, too! Yes, you is, you grand vilyun! Ah, ha! 'member how you stood dere cussin' and swearin' and callin' names, and sassin' at me, hard as ebber you could! Oh, ho! I telled you den how it was goin' to be! You didn't beliebe me, didn't you? Berry well, den! Now you see! now it's my turn!"

"Katie, be silent!" ordered Judge Merlin in a low tone.

"Yes, marse, yes, chile, I gwine be silent arter I done ease my mind speaking. Umph, humph!" she said, turning again to the unhappy prisoner. "Umph, humph! thought you and dat whited salt-peter was gwine gobern de world all your own way, didn't you? Heave me down in de wault to sleep long o' de rats, didn't you? Ah, ha! where you sleep las' night—and where you gwine to sleep to-night? Not in your feathery bed, dat's sartain! Send me 'cross de seas, to lib long ob de barbariums in de Stingy Islands, didn't you? Oh, ho! where you gwine be sent 'cross de seas? Not on a party ob pleasure, dat sartain, too! Ebber hear tell ob Bottommy Bay, eh? Dere where you gwine. Tell you good."

Here Sir Alexander, who had been gazing in speechless astonishment upon what seemed to him to be an incomprehensible phenomenon, recovered himself, found his voice, and said to Judge Merlin, very much as if he were speaking of some half-tamed wild animal:

"Keep that creature quiet or she must be removed."

"Katie," said Ishmael gently, "you would not like to be taken from the courtroom, would you?"

"No! 'cause I don't want to be parted from my lordship. I lubs him so well!" replied Katie, with a vindictive snap of her eyes.

"Then you must be silent," said Ishmael, "or you will be sent away."

"Look here, ole marse!" said Katie, addressing the bench, "he had his sassagefaction sassin' at me dere at Scraggy! now it's my turn! And I gwine gib it to him good, too. Say, my lordship! sold me to a low life 'fectioner to work in de kitchen—didn't you! Umph-humph! What you gwine to work at? not crickets, dat's sartain! Ebber try to take your recreation in de quarries wid a big ball and chain to your leg, eh? And an oberseer wid a long whip, ha?" she grinned.

"Sir, if you have been sufficiently well entertained with this exhibition of gorilla intelligence and malignity, will you have the goodness to put a stop to the performance and proceed with the business of the day?" asked Lord Vincent arrogantly.

"Aye, lad! though, as ye ask for a short delay of proceeding, in order to get your counsel, which is but reasonable, there is no business on hand but just to remand you and your companion—puir lassie!—back to prison, for future examination," said the magistrate. Then turning to a policeman, he said: "If that strange creature becomes disorderly again, remove her from the room."

"Nebber mind, ole marse! he no call for to take de trouble. I done said all I gwine to say and now I gwine to shut up my mouf tight. I'd scorn to hit a man arter he's down," said Katie, bridling with a lofty assumption of magnanimity. And as she really did shut her mouth fast, the point of expulsion was not pressed.

"And noo, lad, naething remains but to send you back," said Sir
Alexander.

"I remarked to you before, sir, that I object to be remanded to prison, since nothing is proved against me. I totally object!" said the viscount stubbornly.

"Aye, lad, it appears too that ye object to maist things in legal procedure; the whilk is but natural, ye ken, for what saith the poet?

"'Nae thief e'er felt the halter draw
Wi' guid opinion o' the law,'"

replied the magistrate, with a touch of caustic humor.

"But, sir, I am ready to give bail to any amount."

"It will na do, lad. The accusation is too grave a one. Nae doubt ye would gi'e me bail, and leg bail to the boot o' that. Na, Malcolm, ye hae had your fling, lad, and noo yee'll just hae to abide the consequences," replied the magistrate, taking up a pen to sign a document that his clerk laid before him.

"Then I hope, sir, that since we are to be kept in restraint, we shall be placed in something like human quarters; and not in that den of wild beasts, your filthy police station," said the viscount.

"Ou, aye, surely, lad. Ye shall be made as comfortable as is consistent wi' your safe-keeping. Christie, take the prisoners to the jail, and ask the governor to put them in the best cells at his disposal, as a special favor to mysel'. And ask him also in my name to be kind and considerate to the female prisoner—puir lassie!" said the magistrate, handing the document to the policeman in question.

"Ole marse—" began Katie, breaking her word, and addressing the bench.

"The court is adjourned," said the magistrate, rising.

"But, ole marse—" repeated Katie.

"Remove the prisoners," he said, coming down from his seat.

"Yes, but, ole marse—" she persisted.

"Dismiss the witnesses!" he ordered, passing on.

"Laws bless my soul alive, can't a body speak to you?" exclaimed
Katie, catching hold of his coat and detaining him.

"What is it that you want, creature?" demanded Sir Alexander, in astonishment.

"Only one parting word to 'lighten your mind, ole marse! Which it is dis: Just now you called dat whited salt-peter here a pure lassie, which, beggin' your pardon, is 'fernally false, dough you don't know it! 'cause if she's pure, all de wus ob de poor mis'able gals ye might pick up out'n de streets is hebbenly angels, cherrybims, and serryfims. Dere now, dat's de trufe! Don't go and say I didn't tell you!" And Katie let go his coat.

And with a bow to Judge Merlin and his party as he passed them, Sir
Alexander left the room.

The prisoners were removed—Faustina weeping, and the viscount affecting to sneer.

Judge Merlin and Ishmael went forth arm-in-arm. Of late the old man needed the support of the young one in walking. Sorrow and anxiety, more than age and infirmity, had bowed and weakened him. As the friends walked on, their conversation turned on the case in hand.

"The magistrate seems disposed to be very lenient," said the judge, in a discontented tone of voice.

"Not too lenient, I think, sir. He is evidently very kindly disposed towards the prisoner, with whose family he seems to be personally acquainted; but, notwithstanding all that, you observe, he is conscientiously rigid in the discharge of his magisterial duties in this case. He would not accept bail for the prisoner, although by stretching a point he might have done so," replied Ishmael.

"I wonder if he knew that? I wonder if he really knew the extent and limit of his power as a magistrate? I doubt it. I fancy he refused bail in order to keep on the safe side of an uncertainty. For, do you know, he impressed me as being a very illiterate man. Why, he speaks as broadly as the rudest Scotch laborer I have met with yet! He must be an illiterate man."

"Oh, no, sir; you are quite mistaken in him. Sir Alexander McKetchum is a ripe scholar, an accomplished mathematician, an extensive linguist, and last of all, a profound lawyer. He graduated at the celebrated law school of Glasgow University; at least so I'm assured by good authority," replied Ishmael.

"And speaks in a lingo as barbarous as that of our own negroes!" exclaimed the judge.

Ishmael smiled and said:

"I have also been informed that his early life was passed in poverty and obscurity, until the death of a distant relation suddenly enriched him and afforded him the means of paying his expenses at the University. Perhaps he clings to his rustic style of speech from the force of early habit, or from affection for the accent of his childhood, or from the spirit of independence, or from all three of these motives, or from no motive at all. However, with the style of his pronunciation we have nothing whatever to do. All that we are concerned about is his honesty and ability as a magistrate; and that appears to me to be beyond question."

"Oh, yes, yes, I dare say, he will do his duty. I am pleased that he refused bail and remanded the prisoners."

"Yes, he did his duty in that matter, though it must have been a very disagreeable one. And now, sir, as the prisoners are remanded and we have nothing more to detain us in Banff, had we not better return immediately to Edinboro'?" suggested Ishmael; for you see, ever since the news of his daughter's misfortunes had shaken the old man's strength, it was Ishmael who had to watch over him, to think for him and to shape his course.

"Y—yes; perhaps we had. But when I return to Edinboro', I go to
Cameron Court," said the judge hesitatingly.

"The best place for you, sir, beyond all question."

"Yes; and by the way, Ishmael, I am charged with an invitation from the Countess of Hurstmonceux to yourself, inviting you to accompany me on my visit to her ladyship. Do you think you would like to accept it?"

"Very much indeed. I have a very pleasant remembrance of Lady Hurstmonceux, though I doubt whether her ladyship will be able to recollect me," said Ishmael with a smile.

The judge was somewhat surprised at this ready acquiescence. After a short hesitation, he said:

"Do you know that Claudia is staying at Cameron Court?"

"Why, certainly. It was for that reason I favored your going there. It is, besides, under the circumstances, the most desirable residence for Lady Vincent."

This reply was made in so calm a manner that any latent doubt or fear entertained by the judge that there might be something embarrassing or unpleasant to Ishmael in his prospective meeting with Claudia was set at rest forever.

But how would Claudia bear this meeting? How would she greet the abandoned lover of her youth? That was the question that now troubled the judge.

It did not trouble Ishmael, however. He had no doubts or misgivings on the subject. True, he also remembered that there had been a long and deep attachment between himself and Claudia Merlin; but it had remained unspoken, unrevealed. And Claudia in her towering pride had turned from him in his struggling poverty, and had married for rank and title another, whom she despised; and he had conquered his ill- placed passion and fixed his affections upon a lovelier maiden. But that all belonged to the past. And now, safe in his pure integrity and happy love, he felt no sort of hesitation in meeting Lady Vincent, especially as he knew that, in order to save her ladyship effectually, it was necessary that he should see her personally.

But Ishmael never lost sight of the business immediately in hand. Their walk from the town hall towards their hotel took them immediately past the Aberdeen stage-coach office. Here Ishmael stopped a moment, to secure places for himself and company in the coach that started at eleven o'clock.

"We shall only have time to reach the hotel and pack our portmanteaus before the coach will call for us. It is a hasty journey; but then it will enable us to catch the afternoon train at Aberdeen, and reach Edinboro' early in the evening," said Ishmael.

And the judge acquiesced.

When they entered the inn, they found that the professor and the three negroes were there before them.

Ishmael gave the requisite orders, and they were so promptly executed that when, a few minutes later, the coach called, the whole party was ready to start. The judge and Ishmael rode inside, and the professor and the three negroes on the outside; and thus they journeyed to Aberdeen, where they arrived in time to jump on board the express train that left at two o'clock for Edinboro'. They reached Edinboro' at five o'clock in the afternoon, and drove immediately to Magruder's Hotel. Here they stopped only long enough to change their traveling dresses and dine. And then, leaving the three negroes in charge of the professor, they set out in a cab for Cameron Court. It was eight o'clock in the evening when they arrived and sent in their cards.

The countess and Claudia were at tea in the little drawing room when the cards were brought in.

"Show the gentlemen into this room," said Lady Hurstmonceux to the servant who had brought them.

And in a few minutes the door was thrown open and—"Judge Merlin and
Mr. Worth" were announced.

The countess arose to welcome her guests.

But Claudia felt all her senses reel as the room seemed to turn around with her.

Judge Merlin shook hands with his hostess and presented Ishmael to her, and then, leaving them speaking together, he advanced to embrace his daughter.

"My dearest Claudia, all is well. We have settled the whole party, the viscount, the valet, and the woman. They are lodged in jail, and are safe to meet the punishment of their crimes," he said, as he folded her to his bosom.

But oh! why did her heart beat so wildly, throbbing almost audibly against her father's breast?

He held her there for a few seconds; it was as long as he decently could, and then, gently releasing her, he turned towards Ishmael, and beckoning him to approach, said:

"My daughter, here is an old friend come to see you. Welcome him."

Ishmael advanced and bowed gravely.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Worth," said Claudia in a low voice, as she held out her hand.

He took it, bowed over it, and said:

"I hope I find you well, Lady Vincent."

And then as he raised his head their eyes met; his eyes—those sweet, truthful, earnest, dark eyes, inherited from his mother—were full of the most respectful sympathy. But hers—oh, hers!

She did not mean to look at him so; but sometimes the soul in a crisis of agony will burst all bounds and reveal itself, though such revelation were fraught with fate. Grief, shame, remorse, and passionate regret for the lost love and squandered happiness that might have been hers, were all revealed in the thrilling, pathetic, deprecating gaze with which she once more met the eyes of her girlhood's young worshiper, her worshiper no longer.

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are these: 'It might have been.'"

Only for an instant did she forget herself; and then Claudia Merlin was repressed and Lady Vincent reinstated. Her voice was calm as she replied:

"It is very kind in you, Mr. Worth, to some so long a distance, at so great a cost to your professional interests, for the sake of obliging my father and serving me."

"I would have come ten times the distance, at ten times the cost, to have obliged or served either," replied Ishmael earnestly, as he resigned her hand, which until then he had held.

"I believe you would. I know you would. I thank you more than I can say," she answered.

"Have you been to tea, Judge Merlin?" inquired the countess hospitably.

"No, madam; but will be very glad of a cup," answered the judge, pleased with any divertisement.

Lady Hurstmonceux rang, and ordered fresh tea and toast and more cups and saucers. And the party seated themselves. And thus the embarrassment of that dreaded meeting was overgot.

While they sipped their tea the judge exerted himself to be interesting. He gave a graphic account of the scene in the magistrate's office; the assumption of haughty dignity and defiance on the part of the viscount; the pitiable terrors of the ex-opera singer; the vindictive triumph of Katie; and the broad accent, caustic humor, and official obstinacy of the magistrate. Ishmael, when appealed to, assisted his memory. Claudia was gravely interested. But Lady Hurstmonceux was excessively amused.

They were surprised to hear that further proceedings were deferred; but they at last admitted that they would be obliged to be patient under "the law's delays."

After tea, fearing that her guests were in danger of "moping," Lady Hurstmonceux proposed a game of whist, saying playfully that it was very seldom she was so fortunate as to have the right number of evening visitors to form a rubber.

And as no one gainsaid their hostess, the tea service was taken away, the table cleared, and the cards brought. They seated themselves and cut for partners; and Claudia and her father were pitted against Lady Hurstmonceux and Ishmael.

Do you wonder at this? Do you wonder that people who had just passed through scenes of great trouble, and were on the eve, yes, in the very midst of a fatal crisis, people whose minds were filled with sorrow, humiliation, and intense anxiety, should gather around a table for a quiet game of whist; yes, and enjoy it, too?

Why, if you will take time to reflect, you will remember that such things are done in our parlors and drawing rooms every day and night in our lives. Our thoughts, our passions, our troubles, are put down, covered over, ignored, and we—play whist, get interested in honors and odd tricks, and win or lose the rub; or do something equally at variance with the inner life, that lives on all the same.

Our party spent a pleasant week at Cameron Court.

Ishmael occupied himself with making notes for the approaching trials, or with visiting the historical monuments of the neighborhood.

Judge Merlin devoted himself to his daughter.

Lady Hurstmonceux studied the comfort of her guests, and succeeded in securing it.

And thus the days passed until they received an official summons to appear before Sir Alexander McKetchum at the examination of Lord Vincent and Mrs. Dugald.