"What are you for buying, this braw day, my noble lord? There is the Knight of Rowallan's 'Trve Crvcifix,' the 'Banished Virgin'--a folio that will please you better;--the three volumes of 'Astrsea;' the 'Illustrious Bassa,' imprinted by Mosely, the Englishman in St. Paul's Churchyard, fresh frae London by the last waggon, only three weeks ago; the last poem o' bluidy ----, my noble Lord Advocate, Sir George o' Rosehaugh, 'Clelias Country House and Closet,' whilk, as the Lady Drumsturdy said in this very buith yesterday, is the most delichtfu' book since the days o' Gawain Douglas or Dunbar----" "Sirrah, I want neither your books nor your babble; when I lack either, I will know where to come," said the haughty lounger, suddenly remembering where he was, and whence came the cataract of words that poured on his ear. Turning, he saw those for whom he was in wait entering the Lawnmarket, the loftiest and most spacious part of the street, and where at that early part of the forenoon the thronged pavement was almost impassable. The moment for action had come! The heart of Clermistonlee beat like lightning. He beckoned Juden (who had condescendingly been tasting the vaunted usquebaugh of various dealers), and hurried after them into the denser crowd and full glare of the noonday sun. Quite unconscious of what was about to ensue, Walter and his fair companion, with the lame servant limping behind them, wended slowly up the busy street, chatting and laughing with low and subdued voices, till the blow of a heavy rapier ringing on Walter's backplate of steel, and the words-- "Turn, villain, and draw or die!" thundered in his ear, making him start round with his hand on his sword, and Lilian uttered a low breathless exclamation of dismay on beholding Clermistonlee,--the dreaded and terrible Lord Clermistonlee, tall, strong, and fierce-eyed, standing on his defence; while a dense crowd, whose attention the wanton insult immediately attracted, closed round on every hand. All was clamour and uproar in a moment, and cries of "A fray, a fray!--the Guard, the Guard!--redd them!" burst from a hundred tongues. Walter's wrath was boundless on finding himself anticipated, insulted, and defied by the very man he had resolved to call to account on the first opportunity. "Strike, rascal!" cried Clermistonlee. "Thou double-villain! why molest me thus in the public street?" "That the public may the more readily behold thy cowardice. Wilt strike, man, or shall I spit upon thee as a cream-faced coistral?" "For these words all the blood in your body could never atone. You will have it then? Come on, proud Lord!" replied Walter, while with his sword he waved back the people, whose applause seemed in favour of Clermistonlee, as a townsman and peer, and late events had made the army in bad odour with the populace. "O good people, part them--stay them for the love of God!" urged the plaintive voice of Lilian, and it thrilled through Walter's heart.