He then called his followers, and rode off along the heath in the direction of Hamilton, their feathers waving and their steel caps glancing in the beams of the rising sun. Cuddie Headrigg alone remained an instant behind his companions to take an affectionate farewell of Jenny Dennison, who had contrived, during this short morning's ride, to re-establish her influence over his susceptible bosom. A straggling tree or two obscured, rather than concealed, their /tete-a-tete/, as they halted their horses to bid adieu. "Fare ye weel, Jenny," said Cuddie, with a loud exertion of his lungs, intended perhaps to be a sigh, but rather resembling the intonation of a groan,--"Ye'll think o' puir Cuddie sometimes--an honest lad that lo'es ye, Jenny; ye'll think o' him now and then?" "Whiles--at brose-time," answered the malicious damsel, unable either to suppress the repartee, or the arch smile which attended it. [Illustration: Whiles--at Brose-Time--pa098] Cuddie took his revenge as rustic lovers are wont, and as Jenny probably expected,--caught his mistress round the neck, kissed her cheeks and lips heartily, and then turned his horse and trotted after his master. "Deil's in the fallow," said Jenny, wiping her lips and adjusting her head-dress, "he has twice the spunk o' Tam Halliday, after a'.--Coming, my leddy, coming--Lord have a care o' us, I trust the auld leddy didna see us!" "Jenny," said Lady Margaret, as the damsel came up, "was not that young man who commanded the party the same that was captain of the popinjay, and who was afterwards prisoner at Tillietudlem on the morning Claverhouse came there?" Jenny, happy that the query had no reference to her own little matters, looked at her young mistress, to discover, if possible, whether it was her cue to speak truth or not. Not being able to catch any hint to guide her, she followed her instinct as a lady's maid, and lied. "I dinna believe it was him, my leddy," said Jenny, as confidently as if she had been saying her catechism; "he was a little black man, that." "You must have been blind, Jenny," said the Major: "Henry Morton is tall and fair, and that youth is the very man." "I had ither thing ado than be looking at him," said Jenny, tossing her head; "he may be as fair as a farthing candle, for me." "Is it not," said Lady Margaret, "a blessed escape which we have made, out of the hands of so desperate and bloodthirsty a fanatic?" "You are deceived, madam," said Lord Evandale; "Mr Morton merits such a title from no one, but least from us. That I am now alive, and that you are now on your safe retreat to your friends, instead of being prisoners to a real fanatical homicide, is solely and entirely owing to the prompt, active, and energetic humanity of this young gentleman."