"Just Heaven! my son's voice!" exclaimed the countess, becoming deadly pale, and feeling in her bosom for her case of reliques. "It is a spirit--a warning! It is a spirit!" "Ten devils, lady mother! do not cry out!" implored the earl, gradually emerging from his hiding-place; "I am not yet a spirit, thank Heaven, and have no wish to be one." "Then, oh, Archibald, how came you here?" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "By the window," he replied, embracing Sybil in return; "by the window, as you may see." "And Sabrino, my poor Sabrino!" The black sank upon his knees to kiss her hands, and then danced about the room, performing the most extravagant capers to the sound of his long clanking earrings. "By my soul, mother, the times are sorely changed with the Setons, when my father's son comes to visit thee and his betrothed wife like a rascally stoutriever by the window instead of the door--in the night instead of the day. "The window!" they repeated, and became speechless for a moment, as they thought of the precipice, and the water at its foot. "Faith, very few, I believe, would have dared what Sabrino and I have dared and done--but it was for thee, mother, and thee, my life, my love, my dear Sybil!" said Ashkirk, kissing her olive cheek. "My brave Archibald, did the power of sorcery or of Providence bring thee to this prison island?" "Neither, lady mother, but a smart boat, which, in another hour, shall convey you hence, with a fair breeze and a flowing sail." "But how?" "I know not yet, for we have to leave this tower, and baffle the old bear, its governor, the Laird of Barncleugh." "My son, here have we dwelt for more than two weary weeks, and never a letter nor message hath come from thee or Roland Vipont." "Vipont is on the king's service in Douglasdale, and for fourteen days I have been a prisoner in the house of Redhall; for the other two I have been vagabondizing." "And Jane," said Sybil, "your sister Jane?" "Is safe, I trust; but whether with Marion Logan, at Restalrig, or with my old friend Josina, the fair prioress of St. Catherine, I cannot for the life of me say. Now, pretty rogue, at what art thou laughing?" "At thy figure, lord earl; 'tis like the satyrs on some old tapestry; thou art quite a wild man." "True, cousin; I am scarcely fitted for appearance at Falkland or Holyrood, or in the Hall of the Three Estates, unless it were, as it may too soon be, at the bar. But ah, Sybil, my dear Sybil, what pleasure the sound of your voice gives me! 'tis like the dream of---- Hark! what an uproar! the burning whins have alarmed old Barncleugh and all his fellows. Come now, Sabrino, my man of the earrings, a truce to these mad capers--dost thou hear me?" Sabrino stopped a fandango which he was performing on his head and hands, and pricked up his enormous ears.