A JACOBITE EXILE

CHAPTER I
A SPY IN THE HOUSEHOLD

SY2N the borders of Lancashire and Westmoreland,
two centuries since, stood Lynnwood, a pictu-
resque mansion still retaining something of the
character of a fortified house. It was ever a
matter of regret to its owner, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs, that
his grandfather had so modified its construction by levelling
one side of the quadrangle, and inserting large mullion win-
dows in that portion inhabited by the family, that it was in
no condition to stand a siege in the time of the Civil War.

Sir Marmaduke was at that time only a child, but he still
remembered how the Roundhead soldiers had lorded it
there when his father was away fighting with the army of
the king; how they had seated themselves at the board, and
had ordered his mother about as if she had been a scullion,
jeering her with cruel words as to what would have been the
fate of her husband if they had caught him there, until,
though but eight years old, he had smitten one of the
troopers as he sat, with all his force. What had happened
after that he did not recollect, for it was not until a week
after the Roundheads had ridden away that he found him-

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