"Alarm?" said Edie, "troth there's alarm, for the provost's gar'd the beacon light on the Halket-head be sorted up (that suld hae been sorted half a year syne) in an unco hurry, and the council hae named nae less a man than auld Caxon himsell to watch the light. Some say it was out o' compliment to Lieutenant Taffril,—for it's neist to certain that he'll marry Jenny Caxon,—some say it's to please your honour and Monkbarns that wear wigs—and some say there's some auld story about a periwig that ane o' the bailies got and neer paid for—Onyway, there he is, sitting cockit up like a skart upon the tap o' the craig, to skirl when foul weather comes." "On mine honour, a pretty warder," said Monkbarns; "and what's my wig to do all the while?" "I asked Caxon that very question," answered Ochiltree, "and he said he could look in ilka morning, and gie't a touch afore he gaed to his bed, for there's another man to watch in the day-time, and Caxon says he'll friz your honour's wig as weel sleeping as wauking." This news gave a different turn to the conversation, which ran upon national defence, and the duty of fighting for the land we live in, until it was time to part. The Antiquary and his nephew resumed their walk homeward, after parting from Knockwinnock with the warmest expressions of mutual regard, and an agreement to meet again as soon as possible. CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. Nay, if she love me not, I care not for her: Shall I look pale because the maiden blooms Or sigh because she smiles, and smiles on others Not I, by Heaven!—I hold my peace too dear, To let it, like the plume upon her cap, Shake at each nod that her caprice shall dictate. Old Play. "Hector," said his uncle to Captain M'Intyre, in the course of their walk homeward, "I am sometimes inclined to suspect that, in one respect, you are a fool." "If you only think me so in one respect, sir, I am sure you do me more grace than I expected or deserve." "I mean in one particular par excellence," answered the Antiquary. "I have sometimes thought that you have cast your eyes upon Miss Wardour." "Well, sir," said M'Intyre, with much composure. "Well, sir," echoed his uncle—"Deuce take the fellow! he answers me as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, that he, a captain in the army, and nothing at all besides, should marry the daughter of a baronet." "I presume to think, sir," said the young Highlander, "there would be no degradation on Miss Wardour's part in point of family." "O, Heaven forbid we should come on that topic!—No, no, equal both—both on the table-land of gentility, and qualified to look down on every roturier in Scotland." "And in point of fortune we are pretty even, since neither of us have got any," continued Hector. "There may be an error, but I cannot plead guilty to presumption."