The wind was even more violent than they had expected; but the tall houses of the good old town, though exposed by its position to the blasts, gave them some shelter; and as they walked along, Lord Walton, after a few minutes' silence, put his right hand upon his sister's, which grasped his arm, and said, "I wish to speak to you of the future, dear one. Danger and strife are before me. It is impossible for you to follow the movements of an army, and therefore I wish, before I march hence, to take you to the house of our good old cousin, Lady Margaret Langley, where you may rest in safety." "I will go, Charles, if you wish it," replied Miss Walton; "but it must be only upon the condition that no restraint be put upon my movements, and that whenever there is a pause in the war, I may be allowed to follow and be near you." "Of course, dear sister," replied her brother; "I don't pretend to restrain you in anything, Annie. You are old enough, and wise enough, and good enough, to decide entirely upon your own actions. You must keep several of the servants with you to guard you and protect you wherever you go. You must also have a sufficient sum to put you above any circumstances of difficulty, whatever you may think fit to do." "Oh! I have the jewels, you know, Charles," said Miss Walton, "and more money of my own with me than will be needful." "Well, we will see to that hereafter." said Lord Walton; "but there is another subject on which I would speak to you. No one can tell what may be the chance of war. I may go safely through the whole of this sad strife, and see the end of it. I may fall the first shot that is fired. But if I do, Annie, you will need some strong arm and powerful mind to protect and support you. In that case, I would leave you, as a legacy, as a trust, as a charge, to the best friend I have on earth--the oldest, the dearest. Francis Beverley loves you, Annie." "Hush! oh, hush, Charles!" cried Miss Walton, and he felt her hand tremble upon his arm. "Nay, sweet sister!" continued her brother; "I asked you for no confessions. Your tale is told already, dear girl. All I ask is, will you, when I am gone, without reserve or woman's vain reluctance, trust in him, rely on him, as you do on me?" His sister was silent for a moment, and he repeated--"Will you, Annie, forget all coyness, all unkind and ungenerous diffidence, and, recollecting he has been a brother to your brother, confide in him as such?" Annie Walton paused again for a single instant, and then, with her face bent down, though no one could see her glowing cheek in the darkness, she murmured, "I will." Lord Walton pressed her hand in his, and then in silence led the way up to the hill.