"So dangerous, indeed, is beauty," said the Earl, "that had I any fair prisoners, I would entrust them only to old fellows with leather visages and tough hearts, ancient routiers, like Will Wemyss, or, if they were remarkably handsome, why, I might keep them in my own immediate charge." "Indeed, my Lord--quotha?" said the Countess, pouting. "Believe me, dear Lætitia," said the handsome noble, patting her white shoulder, "they could not be in safer keeping than the wardship of your husband. He can never see beauty in others." She smiled at the Earl's compliment, and turning to the blushing Lilian, said: "In sooth, madam, Walter Fenton was always somewhat addicted to gallantry, though Mistress Ruth and he were ever at drawn daggers while he was about me. While a boy, he was quite a little cavaliero; and when obeying my orders, always preferred a kiss to any other reward. But by my honour, little Walter was so pretty a boy, that I gave him enough to have made my Lord the Earl quite jealous. Even Anne of Monmouth and Buccleugh, never had a page so handsome and so gay; and I doubt not, boy, thou prove a true Scottish cavalier in those sad wars which all men say are fast approaching." Walter's only reply was pressing to his lips the white hand of the beautiful English woman; for his heart was too full to speak. "And now, Walter," she continued, "as a mark of my favour you shall dance with me, while Lord Dunbarton leads out the young lady of Bruntisfield. I have not been on the floor since the first cotillon with Claverhouse. Madam Ruth, you will please preside at the tea-board. Mr. Douglas--Finland, as you Scots name him, where is he?" "Gone to look for the Lily of Maxwelton, I warrant," said the Earl. "Then he may even spare himself the trouble, poor man! she has been coquetting for this hour past with the Laird of Craigdarroch, a gentleman of the Life Guards. On, on, or we shall be late for the cotillon. Ah, Walter, you are still looking after that fair girl Napier. She is very pretty; but are you really in love with her? You blush! Bless you, my poor boy, she is immensely rich they say--and--but you shall dance with her next." As they advanced among the dancers, a tall lady in scarlet brocade, with a stomacher blazing with diamonds, swept past. She was led by a gentleman gorgeously attired in a coat of pink velvet, lined and slashed with yellow satin, and looped and buttoned with gold. Like all the rest, his voluminous wig was of the most glossy black. His dark stern eyes glared for a moment upon Walter, as he bowed profoundly to the Countess and passed on. "'Tis Mary of Charteris, and that fearful man Lord Clermistonlee," said she. "We cannot omit him here though we detest him. How handsome, how noble he looks; and yet, how repulsive!"