"Ye look worse to-night, Redhall, than I have seen ye since Lententime." "I am sick at heart, Nichol." "I have been so at the stomach many a time and oft, when I mixed my ale with usquebaugh, but as for the heart----" "Psha!" exclaimed the advocate, starting abruptly, "either my brain is under the influence of insanity, or there is a spell of sorcery upon me." "Dost suspect any ill-woman of being the cause thereof, Sir Adam?" asked the brodder, whose eyes began to twinkle in anticipation of a pricking fee, while his square mouth expanded into a grin. "No, no; I spoke but in metaphor, and suspect none." He paused. "Thou sawest the procession to-day?" Nichol nodded his vast head affirmatively. "Didst mark any man there whom ye knew to be my enemy?" "I marked his eminence the cardinal, who confined a damosel of yours, among his other ladies, in the auld tower of Creich." "Tush!" "I observed the lord abbot of the Holy Cross, who won his plea against thee anent the duty on every cart entering the barriers of the town." "Thou triflest! didst mark no one else?" "Well, then, I marked the master of the king's ordnance, shining in cloth of gold and crammasie." "Good!--anything more?" "I saw him smile as he curveted, in his bravery, past the ladies of Ashkirk," replied Nichol, with a cunning leer, while the advocate gnashed his teeth; "and sweetly the lady Jane smiled on him again. It was a braw sight and a brave; and a gude ransom the master's doublet and foot-cloth would have been to any bold fellow that met him in the gloaming by Leith Loan or the Burghmuir; for they were pure cloth-of-gold, and champit with pearls, so that I marvel not the Lady Seton smiled so brightly; for, if love maketh a woman's eye bright, gold will make it brighter." "Thou art a mercenary slave!" said the advocate, bitterly; "and never felt the passion of which thou talkest so glibly. Nichol, have I not been to thee ever a friend rather than a lord and master--kind, indulgent, and liberal----" "When service was to be performed," said Nichol, parenthetically, closing one of his yellow eyes with another hideous leer. "At all times, Nichol," continued the king's advocate, striking his heel sharply on the ground. "Thou knowest that the master of the ordnance and I have long been at deadly feud about--but it recks not thee about what." "Say Jane Seton of Ashkirk, my lord, and you will shoot near the mark." Redhall's eyes flashed, and he made a fierce gesture of impatience, for he disliked to hear her name in the mouth of this ruffian, whom he despised while he fed and fostered him. "It is enough, Nichol Birrel--thou understandest me--the master of the ordnance bars my way; this must not be, and shall not be." There was a pause. "Well, Sir Adam?" growled the pricker. "Thou hast thy poniard," said the knight, hoarsely.