For a moment I saw Wat Gordon waver. Then he took her hand gently and drew it down from his shoulder. "Mother, for you I would do all, save set a stain upon my honour. But this thing I cannot, for I have plighted my word deep and fast, and go I must to-night." "Tell me," said my aunt, "is it a matter of treason to the King?" Her eyes were eager, expectant. And for very pity of her I hoped that Walter could give her satisfaction on the point. But it was not as I thought, for who can track a woman's heart? "God forbid," said Wat Gordon heartily, as one that is most mightily relieved. But his mother fell back and her hands dropped to her side. "Then," she said, "it is my Lady Wellwood!--I had rather a thousand times it had been treason and rebellion--aye, though it had set your head on high beside your father's." "Lady Wellwood or another!" cried Wat, "nor heaven nor hell shall gar me break my tryst this nicht!" And without another word Walter Gordon went down the stairs as one that runs defiantly to death, daring both God and man--and, alas! the mother also that bore him. CHAPTER XIV. THE THING THAT FELL FROM TRAITOR'S GATE. The Lady Lochinvar stood a moment still by the fire, listening, her hand raised as if to command silence. Then she ran to the door like a young lass, with a light foot and her hand on her heart. The steps came fainter up the stair, and in another moment we heard the clang of the outer door. My lady turned to me. "Have you your pistols by you?" she whispered in a hoarse and angry voice, clutching me by the lapels of my coat. "Go, man! Go, follow him! He rushes to his death. And he is all that I have. Go and save him!" She that had fleeched with her son, like a dove succouring its young, laid harshly her commands upon me. "I am no fighter, aunt," I said. "What protection can I be to Walter Gordon, the best sworder in Edinburgh town this night from Holyrood to the Castle?" My lady looked about her as one that sees a stealthy enemy approach. Her hand trembled as she laid it on my arm. "What avails good swordsmanship, when one comes behind and one before, as in my dream I saw them do upon my Walter, out of the house of my Lord Wellwood. They came upon him and left him lying on the snow.--Ah, go, dear cousin William!" she said, breaking into a sharp cry of entreaty lest I should fail her. "It is you that can save him. But let him not see you follow, or it will make him more bitter against me. For if you cannot play with the sword, you can shoot with the pistol; so I have heard, and they tell me that no one can shoot so truly as thou. They would not let thee shoot at Kirkcudbright for the Siller Gun though thou art a burgess, because it were no fair game. Is it not true?" And so she stroked and cuitled me with flattery till I declare I purred like our Gib cat. I had begun there and then to tell her of my prowess, but that she interrupted me.