Led by General James Douglas, a brother of the Duke of Queenberry, the Scottish army was to march to London in three columns or divisions. He commanded the foot in person; Major-General Viscount Dundee led the cavalry; the Laird of Lundin the train of artillery. By grey dawn on the 21st of September, the boom of a cannon pealed from the ramparts of the castle over the city, and echoed among the craigs of Salisbury and the woods of Warrender and Drumsheugh. It was the warning gun; and immediately the varying cadence of the cavalry trumpets sounding _to horse_, and the infantry drums beating the _générale_, an old summons that has often gained the malison of the wearied soldier, rang within the narrow thoroughfares of Edinburgh. "I thought I heard the General say,-- 'Tis time to rouse, and march away!" Poor Lilian had passed a restless night; she slept only to dream, and awoke only to weep, and to feel that no tears are more bitter than those shed unseen by lonely sorrow in the solitude of night. Many a young heart was crushed with grief, and many a bright eye sleepless and tearful in anticipation of the morrow's separation, perhaps for ever. Many a fierce and enthusiastic religioso looked forward to the march of his countrymen as a relief from thraldom, and the dawn of a day of vengeance on the upholders of "the Great Beast." _Now_ that morrow was come, and the ruddy sun arose above the Lammermuirs to shed his morning glory on the woods of russet brown, from the bosky depths of which the lark, the gled, and the eagle were winging their way aloft. Lilian looked forth from her turret-window, and the very brightness of that beautiful morning, in contrast to the gloom of her thoughts, made her heart feel more sad and lonely. The stern façade of the ancient chateau gleamed in the light of the rising sun, and the few flowers of autumn lifted up their heavy petals as the warm rays absorbed the diamond dew. Hastily and less carefully than usual, the duties of the toilet were dismissed, and deeply the young girl sighed as she braided her auburn hair, for now there was no one whom she cared to please. Bright and cloudless though the morning, to her a gloom seemed to veil everything; but she mastered her grief until Meinie Elshender, her tirewoman, burst into an uncontrollable fit of lamentation over the departure of her light-hearted Hab; upon which Lilian, infected by her sorrow, could no longer restrain herself, and the two girls wept together. "Oh, Lady Lilian, another hour will see our braw lads owre the hills and awa! Hech-how!" sobbed the disconsolate bower-maiden, "I am glad that muckle tyke, Tam o' the Riggs, is no gaun too. I'll be sure o' him gif puir Hab's shot by the Hollanders. Eh, sirs, that ever I should see this day!" and she sobbed comfortably between sorrow and satisfaction.