"Adam, if this be so, my place is no longer here!" said the minister rising. "My son, I have already stayed too long, not only at the peril of my own life, but it is imperilling yours likewise. It will be better for me to keep my hiding-place now, both night and day." "You will lie down first, father, and snatch a few hours rest," said the sweet voice of Adam Hepburn’s wife. "At the cock-crowing Adam will awake you, and you can hide until the nightfall." "Oh, ye’r safe eneuch till the daw’in’, sir," Watty assured him. "The laird’s wine, an’ soft beds, an’ routh [abundance] o’ breakfast ’ll keep Sir Jeems at the big hoose, I’se warrant, till the sun be up." "Certainly you will do as Agnes says, Mr. Gray?" said Adam, in his decided way. "Now, Watty, if you’ll say good-night, and come with me, I’ll show you a ’howdie hole’ which would match yours on the Douglas Water." "Guid nicht, then, Maister Gray, an’ may the Lord blind the e’en o’ the sodgers, and keep you oot o’ their clutches," said Watty with fervour. "Mistress Hepburn an’ Miss Jean, guid nicht wi’ ye baith; an’ should ye need a strong arm and a willint heart at any time, to defend ye, mind that Watty McBean’s ay ready!" "Good night, my faithful Watty; and may the Lord give you patience to bear the infliction of the soldiery on your abode. Provoke them not to anger, Watty, I entreat, for I am told that they are very swift to shed blood," said the minister, earnestly. "I’ll thole [bear] as long as I can, I never was a fechter," said the good soul, with a comical smile, and pulling his forelock in token of respect, he followed Adam Hepburn out of doors. The moon had now risen, and its clear radiance struggled through the rifts in the cloudy sky, and shone weirdly and fitfully on the wintry landscape, making strange fantastic shadows too on the walls of the outhouses grouped about the farmhouse. Adam Hepburn stepped across the courtyard, and opened the barn door. He then motioned to Watty to enter, and after carefully closing the door, lighted the lantern he had brought with him from the house. The barn at Rowallan was a large and commodious place, with a steep ladder-like stair ascending to the granary above. In one corner a small door gave admittance to an inner apartment, something resembling a closet in a house, and into which the chaff was swept after it was separated from the wheat by the flail. At the present time it was, however, almost empty, there being only a slight sprinkling on the wooden floor. Into this place Adam Hepburn threw the light of his lantern, and then looked enquiringly at Watty. "What do you see there, Watty, anything by ordinar?" he asked. "Naething but a common chaff-hole," answered Watty, "and no’ a very safe hidin’-place, I wad think. The Douglas Water hole beats it yet."