"Young man," said Lady Bruntisfield, "for a soldier, you seem good and gentle. Have you a mother" (her voice faltered) "who is dear to you--a sister whom you love?" "Nor mother, nor sister, nor kindred have I, madam. Alas! Lady Grizel, I am alone in the world: the first, and perhaps it may be the last, of my race," he added bitterly. "But what would your ladyship with Walter Fenton?" "Ha! are you one of the Fentons of that Ilk?" "Nay, lady, I am only Walter Fenton of the Scottish Musqueteers, and nothing more: but in what can I serve you?" "How shall I speak it?--That you will sleep on your post, and permit this poor child--dost comprehend me?--oh! I will nobly reward you; and the deed will be registered elsewhere." "Oh, no!--no! beg no such boon for me," said the blushing and trembling girl; while the brow of the young man became clouded. "You would counsel me to my ruin, Lady Bruntisfield: is it generous, is it noble, when I am but a poor soldier? Seek not to corrupt me by gold," he said hurriedly, on the old lady drawing a purse from her girdle; "for all I possess is my honour, the poor man's best inheritance. And yet, for the sake of Lilian Napier, I would dare much." The deep blush which suffused the soft cheek and white brow of Lilian as the pikeman spoke, was not unobserved by the elder lady; and she said, with undisguised hauteur,-- "How is this, sir sentinel?--ye know my kinswoman, and by that glance it would seem that ye have met before. Lilian, do thou speak." Lilian trembled, but was silent and confused. "I have often had the honour of seeing Mistress Lilian at my Lord Dunbarton's," said the young man, hastening to her relief. "How! are you little Fenton?" "The Countess's page, madam." "By my father's bones!" said Lady Grizel, striking the floor angrily with her cane; "I little thought a time would come when I would sue a boon in vain, either from a lord's loon or a lady's foot-page!" These words seemed to sting the young soldier deeply; fire sparkled in his eyes. But tears suffused those of Lilian. "Madam," said he firmly, "I am the first private gentleman of Dunbarton's Foot, and am so unused to such hauteur, that had the best man in broad Scotland uttered words like these, my sword had assuredly taken the measure of his body." "I admire your spirit, sir," said Lady Grizel gently; "but it might be shewn in a more honourable cause than the persecution of helpless women-folk." "Lady Grizel, a soldier from my childhood, I have been inured to hardship and trained to face every danger. My conscience is my own; my soul belongs to God: and my sword to the King and Parliament of Scotland, whose orders I must obey." "Then, gentle sir, be generous as your bearing is noble, and, in the name of God, permit my little kinswoman to escape. Alas! you know well what is in store for us, if we are dragged before that odious Privy Council--fine, imprisonment, torture----"