"And he was here with me three weeks ago! Only three weeks! Alas! dear Walter, if years seem to have elapsed since then, what will the time appear before we meet again? Oh, that I had the power of a fairy, to behold him now!" She turned her eyes to the south,--to where, above its thick dark woods, the embattled keep of the Napiers of Merchiston closed the view. There she had last seen the Scottish host winding over the muir, and remembered the last flash of arms in the sunlight as a straggling trooper disappeared over the ridge. Her heart yearned within her, and her agitation increased so much that she reclined against the cold dialstone, and covered her face with her hands. At length she became more composed, and her grief gave way to softer melancholy, as the sombre tints of the balmy autumnal evening crept over the beautiful landscape. The sun was setting, and, amid the saffron clouds, seemed to rest afar off like a vast crimson globe above the dark-pine woods that cover the ridges of Corstorphine. The bright flush of the dying day stole along the level plain from the westward, lighting up the grated casements, the fantastic chimnies, and massive turrets of the old manor-house, and the gnarled trunks of its ivied beeches and old "ancestral oaks." Pouring aslant from beneath a screen of dun vapour like a thunder-cloud edged with gold, the sun's bright rays gave a warm but partial colouring to the scenery, glittering on the dark-green leaves of the holly hedges, then gaudy with clusters of scarlet berries, and rendering more red the crisped and faded foliage that bordered the shining lake. White smoke curled up from many a cottage-roof embosomed among the coppice; and as the sunbeams died away upon the stirless woods and waveless water, Lilian recalled many an evening when, at the same hour, and in the same place, she had leant upon Walter's arm, and surveyed the same fair landscape; and the memory of his remarks, and the tones of his voice, came back to her with a fond but painful distinctness. Her favourite pigeon, with the snow-white pinions and silver varvels, alighted on her shoulder and nestled in her neck; but the caresses of her little pet were unheeded. Lilian neither felt nor heard them; her heart was with her thoughts, and these were far away, where the Scottish drums were ringing among the Border hills and pathless mosses. The face, the air, the very presence of her lover, came vividly before the ardent girl; like a vision of the second sight, she conjured them up, and his voice yet sounded in her ears as she had last heard it--softened, tremulous, and agitated; but, alas! now mountains rose and rivers rolled between them, and kingdoms were to be lost and won ere again she felt his kiss upon her cheek. The dove seemed sensible of the sorrow that preyed upon its mistress, and, nestled in her soft bosom, lay still and motionless, with bowed head and trailing pinions.