"Ay, ay, but ye would sune find the want o' puir auld Juden. Wha would spice the Canary and Rochelle, mull the sack and sugar the brandy like me? Wha then would doctor your nags, break your hounds, and train your hawks wi' leash and lure, and do everything ye can think o', frae birselling a crail capon to backing a troop-horse, and frae brushing your spurleathers, to being your staunch henchman on sic a hillicate errand as this? Hech, Sir! I am picking up my thanks now for standing by ye wi' buff and bilbo on many a stormy day, fighting now for the kirk and then for the king--a bab o' blue ribbons in my bonnet to-day, a cavalier's white feather the morn, just as it suited you to uphold one banner because the other was like to be beaten down." "Rascal! let these be the last of those impertinent reflections which you permit yourself to make on my conduct. Recollect that as my bounden vassal, my will is thine, my word thy law--enough--and seek not as usual, old Mr. pertinacity, to have the last word with me." "I am mum, my Lord." Juden checked his horse and fell to the rear in high dudgeon. Making a complete circuit of the suburbs, they crossed the Burghmuir, where the turrets of Bruntisfield rose above the dark oaks of the olden time. Clermistonlee took a long survey of the stately old mansion and its domain, and greatly refreshed with the noble aspect thereof, pushed on with increased speed. When they approached the little cottage it was dark and silent as the ruined chapel beside it, and the beechen grove which overshadowed them both. The smoke of the rested night fire curled up pale and grey among the dark copsewood, from the massive clay-built chimney, but there was no other sign of life within. Concealing their horses behind a thick privet hedge, the conspirators approached the cottage, Clermistonlee unrolling an ample rocquelaure of scarlet cloth to throw over Lilian as a muffler, the moment she rushed forth to escape the conflagration. "The hut is very still," said the Lord. "Zounds! if she should be gone away." "Impossible," responded Juden. "Jock, my sister's son, watched the place until mirk night came on. But hear me--one word, my Lord, ere we come to the onset?" "What the deuce is it now, thou most incorrigible prater?" "Would it no be better to ding up the door and carry the lady off before I fire the bit placie, lest the flame bring those who might strike in to the rescue?" "True, Juden, you speak sensibly for once," replied his master, who staggered a little in consequence of his recent potations, and felt no ordinary excitement as the moment approached, when he hoped to clasp Lilian Napier in his arms, and bear her off in triumph. Clermistonlee had long been the wildest gallant of his time, and in such a desperate affair as this he felt quite in his element.