You terrified the poor young creature.

You forced yourself into a litter, and can you wonder-" "That I should force you to perdition! execrable witch," cried he, "that knew no better how to prepare a slave to receive her lord!" As he spoke, he struck her again; but it was with his gauntlet hand, and the eyes of the unfortunate woman opened no more.

The blow fell on her temple, and a motionless corpse lay before him.
"My wife!" cried the poor Macgregor, putting his trembling arms about her neck: "Oh, my lord, how have I deserved this?
You have slain her!" "Suppose I have!" returned the chief with a cold scorn; "she was old and ugly; and could you recover Helen, you should cull Hermitage, for a substitute for this prating bedlam." Macgregor made no reply, but feeling in his heart that he "who sows the wind, must reap the whirlwind;" that such were the rewards from villainy, to its vile instruments; he could not but say to himself, "I have deserved it of my God, but not of thee!" and sobbing over the remains of his equally criminal wife, by the assistance of his comrades he removed her from the now hated presence of his lord..