"It is enough, good fellow," replied Finland; "how is she named?" "She is a daughter of old Sir Tufton Shirley." "Then God bless her!" said Joram; "her father's Hall of Mildenham can show the marks of Cromwell's bullets. And your master, gaffer Englishman--_his_ name?" "Marmaduke Langstone," answered the servant, hesitatingly. "Who commands a corps of Red Dragoons on the borders of Bedfordshire?" "The same." "Then hell's malison on him for a false, canting, prick-eared, round-headed, double-dyed traitor!" exclaimed the chaplain, furiously, as he attacked a cold sirloin, with the same energy as if it had been the proprietor. "He is now tracking us from place to place; but if he comes within reach of our cannon--Gadso! let him look to it." A sumptuous breakfast of cold roasted beef, venison pies, broiled salmon, white manchets, cheese, butter, eggs, milk, possets of sack, tankards of spiced ale, coffee, &c. had been spread on the table of the dining-hall, by the timid English servants, whose dread and aversion of their unwelcome guests often made the latter laugh outright. "I am glad," said Walter, as he breakfasted, "we have taken quarters in the house of so false a traitor. I should like much to have a horse; and, for the service of King James, I will mulct him of the best in his stable." Wemyss and other soldiers, who occupied the lower end of the long oak table, were feasting, with all the voracity of famished kites, on the rich viands; but while hewing down the great sirloin in vast slices, Hab Elshender declared that he "would rather have a cogue of brose at his mother's ingle-neuk, than the best that bluff England could produce." "And well I agree with thee, friend Hab," said the veteran Wemyss. "My heart misgives me, we will be sorely forfoughten, ere we see the blue reek curling from our ain lumheeds. But here is to Dunbarton--God bless his noble heart, and the good old cause." "Good Wemyss, and you, my brave lads," said Dr. Joram, from the head of the table, "I crave to drink with you." "Thanks to your Reverence--thanks to your honour," muttered the soldiers, bowing and drinking. The meal was a very protracted one; but the moment it was over, Dr. Joram muttered a hasty blessing, called loudly for more wine, lighted his great pipe, unbuttoned his vest, and with Finland sat down to a game at tric-trac; the soldiers began to examine their bandoleers and musquets, and Walter repaired to the ample but nearly empty stables, where, from among the indifferent farm horses the necessities of war had left behind, he selected a fine-looking charger, high-headed, close-eared, square-nosed, and broad-chested, and having saddled, bridled, and caparisoned him to his entire satisfaction, led him forth just as the générale was beaten. Mounting, he galloped to the muster-place, well pleased with the acquisition the law of reprisal and the fortune of war entitled him to make. CHAPTER XX. THE REDEEMED PLEDGE.