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 smooth dissembler, and while he smiles he stabs." All his ill deeds were now collected together from far and near, to strengthen the violence of resentment and hate. Some looked upon the lonely grave of Alice, and sighed as they passed. That white stone was placed over a broken heart, they said: another turned to the more splendid tomb of Calantha, and cursed him for his barbarity to their lady: "It was an ill return to so much love—we do not excuse her, but we must upbraid him." Then came they to the wood, and Buchanan, trembling with horror, spoke of his murdered mother. "Burn his castles," they cried, "and execrate his memory from father to son in Belfont." St. Clare suddenly arose in the midst of the increasing crowd, and thus, to inforce her purpose, again addressed her followers:—

"England, thou hast destroyed thy sister country," she cried. "The despot before whom you bow has cast slavery