"I never tried Latin but once, good father, and then it was to curse roundly when my Scottish failed--_in nomine patris et filii_, and so forth." "And when was this, my sou?" "Retreating up Yarrow-braes from Cessford's spearmen, with two bullets and three arrows sticking in my body." The old priest crossed himself, and turned up his eyes; but those of the countess kindled as her son spoke, and some fiery remark was hovering on her lips, when her bower-woman, a demure looking abigail, clad in solemn black taffety, raised the arras, glided in on tiptoe, and whispered something in her ear. Lady Ashkirk turned very pale. "Mother dear," said Lady Jane, tenderly, "what has happened?" "That hen hath crowed again, as Janet tells me." "Hen--what hen?" said the earl. "An ill-omened hen in the poultry-yard, whilk hath now crown thrice since you came amongst us. Oh! my doo Archibald! my doo Archibald!--it's a sad boding of evil, whilk the Mother o' God avert." "Amen!" said the old priest, "_pax domini_----" "Friend Roland," said the earl, with a smile, "did you ever know any one who dwelt in such an atmosphere of omens and predictions, salves and recipes, as the good lady my mother? 'Tis very perplexing, to say the least of it." "Hush, lord earl!" said the countess, with some asperity; "every bairn kens that the crowing of a hen bodeth evil, and that no house can thrive where the hens are addicted to sic an ungodly and unnatural amusement. Harkee, Janet, let its neck be drawn, and bestow it as an almous on the first Franciscan who comes hither wi' his begging box." This episode was rather "a damper" to the ladies; but Roland endeavoured to divert them, by engaging and vanquishing them all successively at the old French military game of _passe dix_, which was played with three dice, at which (as we learn from the _Complete Gamester_, 1680) "the caster throws continually till he hath thrown doublets under ten, and then he is _out_, and loseth, or doublets above ten, and then he _passeth_, and wins." At this simple game fortune favoured Roland, and he swept off the entire passbank, which was composed of little _bon-bons_ of honey and flour, for sugar was then growing in the mist of futurity--at least, it was unknown in Scotland. The time stole swiftly on; at last the ringing of vespers warned him that he must retire, as his friends, who had so annoyingly invited themselves, would be awaiting him. "Say a prayer for me at St. Katherine's to-night, my dear Jane," said Roland, as he buckled on his rapier. "I fear me I am a sad rogue, and often omit to pray for myself in these stirring times, when one's armour is so rarely off: and of all things forget not to give my very best commendations to the fair Josina." "Sirrah! thou wantest thine other ear well pinched." "And you return?" "To-morrow, at noon." "Ah--the devil! and shall I not see thee till then?" said Roland, scared at the prospect of an eighteen hours' separation.