"I like ane owle in desart am, That nichtlie there doth moan; I like unto ane sparrow am, On the house-top alone." "The true sough o' the auld conventicle," said the bluff old sergeant, merrily. "Hark your honours, the game's afoot." According to the rank of the house and the fashion of the present time, the room which Fenton surveyed would be deemed small for a principal or state apartment; but it was richly decorated with a stuccoed ceiling, divided into deep compartments, as the walls were by wainscotting, but in the pannels of the latter were numerous anomalous paintings of scenery, scripture pieces, armorial bearings, and the quaint devices of the Scoto-Italian school. An old ebony buffet laden with glittering crystal and shining plate massively embossed. The furniture was ancient, richly carved, and dark with time; stark, high-backed chairs with red leather cushions, and tables supported by lions legs and wyverns heads. The floor was richly carpeted around the arched fire-place, where a bright fire of coals and roots burned cheerily, while the grotesque iron fire-dogs around which the fuel was piled, were glowing almost red-hot, and the blue ware of Delft that lined the recess, reflected the kindly warmth on all sides. The ponderous fire-irons were chained to the stone jambs--a necessary precaution in such an age; and on a stone shield appeared the blazon of the Napiers: _argent_, a saltire, engrailed, between four roses, _gules_, and an eagle in full flight, with the lance and motto, "_Aye ready_." A tall portrait of Sir Archibald Napier in the dark armour of Charles the First's age, appeared above it. A young lady sat near the fire-place, and on her the attention of the handsome eavesdropper became immediately rivetted. Her face was of a very delicate cast of beauty; her bright blue eyes were expressive of the utmost vivacity, as her short upper lip and dimpled chin were of archness and wit. The fairness, the purity of her complexion was dazzling, and her glittering hair of the brightest auburn, fell in massive locks on her white neck and stiff collar of starched lace. A string of Scottish pearls alone confined them, and they rolled over her shoulders in soft profusion, adding to the grace of her round and beautiful figure, which the hideous length of her long stomacher, and the volume of her ample skirt could not destroy. She was Lilian Napier.