Ha! dost thou know me? that I am Lothario? As great a name as this proud city boasts of. Who is this mighty man, then, this Horatio, That I should basely hide me from his anger? FAIR PENITENT. Refreshed by their halt at Ely, the soldiers of Dunbarton pushed on towards "Merry Lincoln," the merriment of whose citizens would probably be no way increased by their arrival. Marching by the most unfrequented route to avoid the highway, they pursued a devious path through fallow fields and frozen lawns, and sought the shelter of every copsewood. The level plains of fertile England could oppose but few and feeble obstacles to the hill-climbing Scots, accustomed from infancy to the rocky glens and pathless forests of their rugged mountain home; however they found it necessary to abandon the four pieces of English cannon, which were spiked and concealed in a thicket, and thus unencumbered, they hurried on with increased speed. Walter's heart grew buoyant and gay as the day wore apace, and the picturesque villages with their yellow thatched cottages and ivy-covered churches, the old Elizabethan halls and brick-built manors of Cambridge and Lincolnshire, were passed in rapid succession. He knew that every pace lessened the distance between Lilian and himself, and before the sober winter sun descended in the saffron west, he hailed with pleasure the old town of Crowland, with its great but ruined abbey, the walls of which were buried under masses of luxuriant ivy. Far over the gently undulated landscape shone the purple and yellow rays of the setting sun; Crowland Abbey, its old fantastic houses and village spire, on the summit of which the vine and ivy flourished, and all the winter scenery were bathed in warm light. The Scots were descending a slope towards the town, when a shot fired by the avant guard, gave them an _alert_; then the voice of Dunbarton was heard commanding his brave musqueteers to halt, while Gavin of that ilk came galloping back from the front. "My lord earl," said he, "we have seen the glitter of steel above the uplands yonder." "Then we have been brought to bay at last. With 6000 horse on our flanks, it was not likely we would pass the Ridings of Yorkshire without a camisado. Strike up the Scottish point of war, and let these knaves show themselves." The shrill fifes and brattling drums rang clear and sharp in the pure frosty air, and ere the last note had died away, a body of horse appeared on an opposite eminence. Their broad beaver hats and waving feathers, polished corslets and scarlet coats, declared them English. "'Sdeath," said the earl, "they are Langstone's Red Dragoons, so de Ginckel's Black Riders are not far off." "'Tis but a troop of sixty, my lord," said Walter. "Dost think thee are within range?" asked Gavin, as his grenadiers began to open their pouches and blow their fuses.