The commotion, such as it was, was soon over. The party of Caliver and Falconer, urging their horses to the utmost, had suddenly, and unexpectedly to themselves, found themselves in contact with the stragglers of the tory band; and as these fled the moment they observed the pursuers, the gallant officers fired their pistols and rushed forward with renewed ardour, until checked by the opposition of the main body. They were met with fury, and, being overpowered, were almost instantly put to flight; after which the retreat of the outlaws was resumed. In the meanwhile, the shots and yells with which the contest began, the change of position, or perhaps the wine which had been sprinkled on her lips, woke Catherine from her torpor; and slowly collecting her senses, she became at last sensible of her situation. Her recollection of the events of the evening was still confused; but she remembered enough of the bridal, and its violent termination, to know that she was afar from her father's roof, and that each moment saw her carried still further. She felt, too, that she was grasped in the arms of some powerful horseman, whose character might be imagined from the heartless, or drunken, nonchalance with which, while supporting a fainting and almost lifeless female, and hearing the uproar of mortal conflict just behind him, he yet trolled to the night-air some further stanzas of that quaint, joyous, and uproarious old ballad, of which he had given a specimen before in the paddock. 'Back and side go bare, go bare,'-- he sang,-- 'Both foot and hand go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old. I cannot eat but little meat, My stomach is not good; But sure I think that I can drink With him that wears a hood. Though I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothing a-cold,-- I stuff my skin so full within Of jolly good ale and old. Back and side go bare,' &c. 'Now let them drink till they nod and wink, Even as good fellows should do; They shall not miss to have the bliss Good ale doth bring men to: And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, Or have them lustily troll'd, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old! Back and side go bare,' &c. "Oh my father, my father!" cried Catherine, in sudden terror, "for what dreadful fate have I given up thy love and protection?" Her accents, feeble as they were, reached the ears of Sterling; and ceasing his song, he looked down upon her face, saying, with a ludicrous assumption of gravity, "How now, fair Titania, queen of moonshine, do you speak? 'Oh, speak again, bright angel!' So much for twenty drops of brown Sherry! these asses did nothing but talk about cold water." "What are you, sir? and why--why do you thus hold me?"