The Earl of Menteith, as he had undertaken, so he proceeded to investigate more closely the story told by Ranald of the Mist, which was corroborated by the examination of his two followers, who had assisted in the capacity of guides.  These declarations he carefully compared with such circumstances concerning the destruction of his castle and family as Sir Duncan Campbell was able to supply; and it may be supposed he had forgotten nothing relating to an event of such terrific importance.  It was of the last consequence to prove that this was no invention of the outlaw’s, for the purpose of passing an impostor as the child and heiress of Ardenvohr.

Perhaps Menteith, so much interested in believing the tale, was not altogether the fittest person to be intrusted with the investigation of its truth; but the examinations of the Children of the Mist were simple, accurate, and in all respects consistent with each other.  A personal mark was referred to, which was known to have been borne by the infant child of Sir Duncan, and which appeared upon the left shoulder of Annot Lyle.  It was also well remembered, that when the miserable relics of the other children had been collected, those of the infant had nowhere been found.  Other circumstances of evidence, which it is unnecessary to quote, brought the fullest conviction not only to Menteith, but to the unprejudiced mind of Montrose, that in Annot Lyle, an humble dependant, distinguished only by beauty and talent, they were in future to respect the heiress of Ardenvohr.

While Menteith hastened to communicate the result of these enquiries to the persons most interested, the outlaw demanded to speak with his grandchild, whom he usually called his son.  “He would be found,” he said, “in the outer apartment, in which he himself had been originally deposited.”

Accordingly, the young savage, after a close search, was found lurking in a corner, coiled up among some rotten straw, and brought to his grandsire.

“Kenneth,” said the old outlaw, “hear the last words of the sire of thy father.  A Saxon soldier, and Allan of the Red-hand, left this camp within these few hours, to travel to the country to Caberfae.  Pursue them as the bloodhound pursues the hurt deer—­swim the lake-climb the mountain—­thread the forest—­tarry not until you join them;” and then the countenance of the lad darkened as his grandfather spoke, and he laid his hand upon a knife which stuck in the thong of leather that confined his scanty plaid.  “No!” said the old man; “it is not by thy hand he must fall.  They will ask the news from the camp—­say to them that Annot Lyle of the Harp is discovered to be the daughter of Duncan of Ardenvohr; that the Thane of Menteith is to wed her before the priest; and that you are sent to bid guests to the bridal.  Tarry not their answer, but vanish like the lightning when the black cloud swallows it.—­And now depart, beloved son of my best beloved!  I shall never more see thy face, nor hear the light sound of