"Good--good," muttered the physician to himself; "I knew well that my ointment, compounded of the ashes of that written charm, brayed with those of the dried Zusalzef of the Arabians, would cure the deadliest wound; 'tis a potent fruit, for it ripens in the sun, and the sun acts upon the heart, the source of life." "I would fain see some of this wonderful fruit." "I have one in my pouch--behold!" "'S life! 'tis but a common prune!" "The _prune_ of the unlettered is the _Zusalzef_ of Geber and Paracelsus; but farewell, Sir Adam, I go; and omit not to continue the potion and the _Unguentum Armarium_." "Devil go with thee for a plague," muttered the advocate, as he seemingly bowed with courtesy, and became again immersed in his writing. Nichol Birrel again approached. "And this was all thou hadst to tell me?" said Redhall; "that no tidings had arrived from Douglasdale; and that, in short, neither Vipont nor young Balquhan had come to blows with any of the Douglas faction." "Exactly sae, my lord." "And that they spent their time in hunting and hawking, with free inquartering for horse and man, wherever it pleased them to halt." "Just sae," replied Birrel, with an obsequious nod. "Thou knowest the lands of my kinsman, Fleming of the Cairntable, whose bounds they are approaching?" "Yes, my lord." "Then take a good horse, and ride for your life and death; and take with thee these three-hundred groats of the fleur-de-lys to pay thy way. Tell my kinsman Fleming, that I wish this viper, this Vipont I mean, should take up his last abode in Douglasdale." "In the kirkyard thereof?" "Yes, yes; set them by the ears if thou canst; I will see Fleming skaithless, even though he resists the royal banner; but either by fair means or foul, keep Vipont from returning here. Dost thou see this poniard which the apothegar hath just left? observe me, and observe narrowly." He unscrewed the pommel, and showed Birrel that the steel knob, which was hollow, contained several large red grains. "Each of these grains," said he, carefully rescrewing it, "is a human life; there are _ten_, and Sir Roland Vipont hath but one life; take it in thy belt to Douglasdale, for they may prove useful if the blade fails. One word ere thou goest: how is the Lady Seton this morning?" "Composed and quiet, as weel she may be, after the girning and graning of a fortnight." "Tib, thy niece, Tib Trotter, from Redhall, still attends her with care, and Dobbie keeps watch?"