"It is too late, Edith," answered Lord Evandale; "and I were most ungenerous could I practise on the warmth and kindliness of your feelings towards me. I know you cannot love me; nervous distress, so strong as to conjure up the appearance of the dead or absent, indicates a predilection too powerful to give way to friendship and gratitude alone. But were it otherwise, the die is now cast." As he spoke thus, Cuddie burst into the room, terror and haste in his countenance. "Oh, my lord, hide yoursell! they hae beset the outlets o' the house," was his first exclamation. "They? Who?" said Lord Evandale. "A party of horse, headed by Basil Olifant," answered Cuddie. "Oh, hide yourself, my lord!" echoed Edith, in an agony of terror. "I will not, by Heaven!" answered Lord Evandale. "What right has the villain to assail me or stop my passage? I will make my way, were he backed by a regiment; tell Halliday and Hunter to get out the horses.-- And now, farewell, Edith!" He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her tenderly; then, bursting from his sister, who, with Lady Margaret, endeavoured to detain him, rushed out and mounted his horse. All was in confusion; the women shrieked and hurried in consternation to the front windows of the house, from which they could see a small party of horsemen, of whom two only seemed soldiers. They were on the open ground before Cuddie's cottage, at the bottom of the descent from the house, and showed caution in approaching it, as if uncertain of the strength within. "He may escape, he may escape!" said Edith; "oh, would he but take the by-road!" But Lord Evandale, determined to face a danger which his high spirit undervalued, commanded his servants to follow him, and rode composedly down the avenue. Old Gudyill ran to arm himself, and Cuddie snatched down a gun which was kept for the protection of the house, and, although on foot, followed Lord Evandale. It was in vain his wife, who had hurried up on the alarm, hung by his skirts, threatening him with death by the sword or halter for meddling with other folk's matters. "Hand your peace, ye b----," said Cuddie; "and that's braid Scotch, or I wotna what is. Is it ither folk's matters to see Lord Evandale murdered before my face?" and down the avenue he marched. But considering on the way that he composed the whole infantry, as John Gudyill had not appeared, he took his vantage ground behind the hedge, hammered his flint, cocked his piece, and, taking a long aim at Laird Basil, as he was called, stood prompt for action.