A LEGEND OF GIRNIGO E.

TOWARDS the middle of the 17th century the family of Sinclair, who were Earls of Caithness, lived in a castle about two miles from the spot where the town of Wick now stands. This castle, which took its name from the family to whom it belonged, was, from the effects of time, tempest, and siege, rapidly falling into decay, and it was quite evident that it would not be habitable much longer. The inmates of Castle Sinclair, at the time of our tale, were the Earl and Countess of Caithness, a son about five years of age, several domestics, and about two score men-at

arms.

The Countess of Caithness was the daughter of Sir Hugh Oliphant of Oldwick Castle, and had been wedded to the Earl at the early age of eighteen, but not early enough to prevent her from giving her heart to another. Whilst in her father's castle, Sir Dudley Merton, a young English Knight, was cast ashore by a storm upon the coast of Caithness, and was hospitably entertained by Sir Hugh. An intimacy was formed between Sir Dudley and the daughter of his host, which soon ripened into love, but Sir Hugh, though hospitable, was ambitious, and wished to see his daughter some day Countess of Caithness, so that when Sir Dudley asked the hand of the Lady Norna from her father, he was met with a scornful refusal, and ordered at once to leave the castle. The disappointed lover said a sorrowful farewell to the lady, and departed southwards. Soon after, the Earl of Caithness, a stern, morose man, about fifty years of age, sought the Lady Norna's hand in marriage, and much against her will she was wedded to the Earl, and her father's ambitious hopes were fulfilled.

Transported to the Earl's dark and gloomy residence she pined for her first and only love, the young Southron, and until the birth of her son, which took place about a year after her marriage, she lived a melancholy and lonely life. The Earl cared little for his young wife, whom he had married merely to strengthen his power with the family of Oliphant, and her days. were spent in a chamber assigned to her, with no company save

that of her little son, William, whom she idolised, and an old man-servant, named Rory Gunn, whom she had brought with her from Oldwick Castle, and who was devotedly attached to his young mistress. The Earl spent most of his time in making forays upon the neighbouring coasts in a large galley which he possessed.

On one occasion he had been absent upon an excursion of this sort for several days, and the Countess was seated at her window in a turret of the castle, watching the sun as it sunk down towards the horizon, when the door of her chamber opened, and gave admission to a young stranger. He was encased in a complete suit of chain armour, which showed off his lithe and sinewy figure to perfection. His head was protected by a steel casque, the vizor of which was raised, exposing a countenance at once manly and good-humoured. The Countess in her preoccupation had not heard him enter, but on the word "Norna" being pronounced by the stranger, she turned round quickly, and ejaculating" Dudley," fell senseless to the floor. Her little son, who was playing on the floor when Sir Dudley entered, now ran to the aid of his mother, and she soon came to herself, and entreated Sir Dudley to depart from the castle at once, ere the Earl should return. The Knight disregarded her entreaties, and related how he had travelled there alone that he might claim his Norna, and take her to his English home as Lady Merton.

"Sir Dudley," said the Countess, "I am the wedded wife of another man, and nothing more must pass between us. Leave the castle, I beseech you, or the consequences will be terrible."

In the excited state she was in the Countess had not heard the scraping of the galley upon the shingle outside, as it was drawn up on dry land, nor the voices of the rowers as they put away their oars and lowered the mast of the galley. Sir Dudley, moved by her entreaties, was saying farewell to the Countess, and was on his bended knee before her, in the act of kissing her hand, when a heavy step came up the stairs, the door of the chamber flew open, and the Earl entered.

"Ha!" he cried, "so this is the way you take advantage of my absence! By Saint Andrew, you shall not do so again. What, ho! men-at-arms!"

At these words several armed men poured into the chamber,

and stood like statues, awaiting further orders. Sir Dudley had drawn his sword, and was ready to act on the defensive. The Countess had fainted, and was in blissful unconsciousness of what was happening around her, whilst the little boy stood crying beside the prostrate form of his mother.

"Seize that fool," cried the Earl, pointing to Sir Dudley, "and keep him a close prisoner till I have prepared his doom. As for the Countess, I will deal with her."

The men-at-arms dashed at Sir Dudley, who made good play with his sword, and for a few minutes the chamber rung with the clash of steel, but, at length, Sir Dudley's sword was knocked out of his grasp, and he was seized and hurried away, leaving, however, two of his assailants bleeding on the floor.

The Earl then imprisoned his lady in her chamber, of which he kept the key himself. He took his little son out with him. upon his excursions in the galley, the lad bidding fair to become as great a pirate as his father. Removed from the gentle care of his mother, he soon forgot all she had taught him, and the Earl became proud of his young cub, as he called him.

Soon after the event narrated here, the Earl procured the services of Queen Mary's architect to plan a new castle for him. The spot chosen for the site of the proposed castle was an immense point of rock called Girnigoe, a little distance from Castle Sinclair, bounded on one side by the open sea, and on the other by a "geo" or deep gully, up which the sea rushed with the speed of a mill-race. The Earl immediately impressed into the work all the retainers upon his property, and the work was commenced by the building of a dungeon on the face of the rock towards the sea. The walls of this prison were nearly a yard thick, and it was entered by a steep and narrow stone staircase, at the foot of which was a deep slit in the wall to admit light to it. To the right was a thick door, which gave immediate access to the dungeon. The interior was lighted also by a loophole in the wall, but the small portion of light which it admitted served only to show the darkness. On the completion of the dungeon, the Earl ordered them to place the unfortunate Sir Dudley in it, and leave him to his fate, whilst they proceeded with the remainder of the castle. Into this hole, therefore, was Sir Dudley thrust, and abandoned to a most terrible death. When he felt the

approach of the grim despoiler, he exerted his remaining strength to scrape with a nail upon the wall of his tomb the words, "1635 NAE HOPE,,' and these words are still to be seen by the traveller who inspects the ruins of Girnigoe Castle, if he has the courage to descend into the dungeon with a light.

In the course of two or three years, the new castle was finished, and it was far larger and stronger than the old one. The unhappy Countess, who had been a close prisoner in Castle Sinclair ever since the fatal day when she was discovered with her old lover, was now transported to a chamber in Girnigoe Castle.

Amongst other improvements which the architect had introduced into the building of the castle, was a secret staircase leading down through the rock to the sea, and at the bottom of this staircase, in a deep, dark cove, was moored a small boat. This was intended to facilitate the escape of the inmates of the castle, if at any time it should be surrounded by enemies. The Countess's old servant, Rory, who was still retained in the castle, was constantly revolving plans in his head for getting his mistress out of it, and back to Oldwick, where she would gain her father's protection. But the Earl always kept the key of her chamber in his belt, except when food was sent up to her, when it was intrusted for the time to the care of a man-at-arms. At last a brilliant idea struck Rory, and he determined to lose no time in putting it into execution. One evening the Earl was coming downstairs from the top of the turret, where he had been taking a survey of the neighbouring coast, when Rory came up the stairs, and pretending to slip on a step, stumbled against the Earl, nearly knocking him down. Rory instantly recovered himself, and humbly begged pardon for his awkwardness, but in that short minute, when he fell against him, he had managed to abstract the key from the Earl's girdle unnoticed. Giving him a few hearty curses, the Earl went out of the castle and set out in his galley, and Rory knew that he would not return till morning, should he not discover the loss of the key. No time was to be lost; Rory immediately liberated the Countess; and taking her unseen outside the castle, brought her to the secret staircase. Here they descended, and after placing the lady carefully in the stern of the boat, he took the oars, and speedily rowed away from the

castle.

The night was dark and cloudy, and the wind was rising fast. The little boat began to pitch wildly about on the crests of the waves. Still Rory kept on rowing, until the wind had increased almost to a gale. His hands were now powerless with exertion, and he let the boat drift as it would. Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning illumined the scene, and exposed to his eyes the form of the Earl's galley, not a hundred yards away, whilst at the same time the Earl himself, who was standing at the helm, observed the boat with Rory and the Countess. Muttering a deep curse, he steered straight for the boat, and watched with a pitiless and malignant eye the remains of the little craft, with his much-wronged wife and her faithful servant, disappear beneath the keel of his galley. H. R. M.