"I may at least love him," replied Flora, simply; "and I have no wish to marry at all--just now, at least." "This is the very stuff of which your novels are made!" exclaimed Lady Rohallion, crimsoning with passion, and raising her voice in a manner quite unusual to her. "Mercy on me! I wonder why I have never detected Quentin at your feet, on his knees before you, for that I believe is the true and most approved mode; but we know nothing of him, he may be base-born for aught that we can tell, and Lord Rohallion shall learn that Quentin Kennedy--a brat, a very beggar's brat--shall never come between our own son and his success; and so, young lady, your humble servant!" And inflamed by genuine passion, Lady Rohallion, as she uttered this unpleasant speech, (which, to do her justice, was scarcely uttered ere repented for,) in a loud and imperious tone, swept away with a haughty bow, in all her amplitude of black satin, and with that hauteur of bearing which made the Scottish gentlewomen of her day so stately and imposing. Her words, the fiery glance of anger she darted at Flora, and the tenor of the expostulation proved too much for the temper or the nerves of that young lady, who on being left to herself, burst into a passion of tears. But a hand was laid on the lock of the door, as if some one was about to enter; and fearing it might be the Master, she started up and escaped by another door to her own apartment. CHAPTER XVII. FORTH INTO THE WORLD. "This nicht is my departing nicht, For here nae langer I maun stay; There's neither friend or foe o' mine, But wishes me away. What I hae dune through lack o' wit, I never, never can reca'; I hope you're a' my friends as yet-- Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'." _Johnnie Armstrong's Good Night._ The knock-down blow given to Quentin by the butt-end of the clubbed fowling-piece, beside inflicting a severe wound which bled profusely, stunned him completely for a time, and in this condition he was found by the quartermaster, who was returning from having a jug of punch and a quiet rubber with our quaint friend the dominie at his little thatched cottage in the village. Great were the alarm and concern of the kind-hearted veteran when he found his young friend and favourite in a condition so pitiable. He raised him, tied a handkerchief over his wound to stanch the bleeding; then gradually as consciousness returned, Quentin remembered all that had occurred, and told Girvan of his meeting with the Master--the unmerited and unexpected insolence of the latter, his sudden assault, and that was all he knew.