“Your lordship, I fear, will experience that the faculty of the present proprietor to entertain his friends is greatly abridged,” said Ravenswood; “the will, I need hardly say, remains the same. But I am as much at a loss as your lordship to account for so strong and brilliant a light as is now above Wolf’s Crag; the windows of the Tower are few and narrow, and those of the lower story are hidden from us by the walls of the court. I cannot conceive that any illumination of an ordinary nature could afford such a blaze of light.” [Illustration] The mystery was soon explained; for the cavalcade almost instantly halted, and the voice of Caleb Balderstone was heard at the coach window, exclaiming, in accents broken by grief and fear, “Och, gentlemen! Och, my gude lords! Och, haud to the right! Wolf’s Crag is burning, bower and ha’—a’ the rich plenishing outside and inside—a’ the fine graith, pictures, tapestries, needle-wark, hangings, and other decorements—a’ in a bleeze, as if they were nae mair than sae mony peats, or as muckle pease-strae! Haud to the right, gentlemen, I implore ye; there is some sma’ provision making at Luckie Sma’trash’s; but oh, wae for this night, and wae for me that lives to see it!” Ravenswood was first stunned by this new and unexpected calamity; but after a moment’s recollection he sprang from the carriage, and hastily bidding his noble kinsman goodnight, was about to ascend the hill towards the castle, the broad and full conflagration of which now flung forth a high column of red light, that flickered far to seaward upon the dashing waves of the ocean. “Take a horse, Master,” exclaimed the Marquis, greatly affected by this additional misfortune, so unexpectedly heaped upon his young protege; “and give me my ambling palfrey; and haste forward, you knaves, to see what can be done to save the furniture, or to extinguish the fire—ride, you knaves, for your lives!” The attendants bustled together, and began to strike their horses with the spur, and call upon Caleb to show them the road. But the voice of that careful seneschal was heard above the tumult, “Oh, stop sirs, stop—turn bridle, for the luve of Mercy; add not loss of lives to the loss of warld’s gean! Thirty barrels of powther, landed out of a Dunkirk dogger in the auld lord’s time—a’ in the vau’ts of the auld tower,—the fire canna be far off it, I trow. Lord’s sake, to the right, lads—to the right; let’s pit the hill atween us and peril,—a wap wi’ a corner-stane o’ Wolf’s Crag wad defy the doctor!” It will readily be supposed that this annunciation hurried the Marquis and his attendants into the route which Caleb prescribed, dragging Ravenswood along with them, although there was much in the matter which he could not possibly comprehend. “Gunpowder!” he exclaimed, laying hold of Caleb, who in vain endeavoured to escape from him; “what gunpowder? How any quantity of powder could be in Wolf’s Crag without my knowledge, I cannot possibly comprehend.”