"By St. George, I hope the aforesaid Monsieur Dumont is a good shot--a regular candle-snuffer!" "Our culprit, Fenton, knew not of Maintenon's plot, or of her papers being among those on his person. He looked black dumbfoundered when Maclutchy drew them frae a neuk in his coat tail." "And to whom were they directed?" "To one _Widow Douglas_, whilk the King's advocate avers to be no other than the Lady Dunbarton. Fenton grew red with anger on their being read, and smote his forehead, saying, '_Dupe that I have been! the noble Duc de Chartres warned me to beware of De Maintenon; but let it pass:_' and here, as I said, I fell fast asleep, until a minute ago. But come, let us have a pint of sack; I am clean brainbraised wi' drouth, and I warrant Lucky Dreep, in the Kirk-o'-field Wynd, keeps open door yet." "And he dies?" said Clermistonlee, who could think of nothing but glutting his revenge. "Early to-morrow morning, by the bullet." "I would rather it had been by the cord. How came our considerate councillors to shoot instead of hang him?" "Soldiers, ye ken, are often soft-hearted when other men are in stern mood; so auld General Livingstone, after pleading hard for Fenton's life, and failing, procured what he called an honourable commutation of the sentence, for which the puir gomeral cavalier thanked him as if it had been a reprieve." "Cord or bullet it matters not. So perish all who would cross the purposes of Randal of Clermistonlee." His Lordship for once resisted the importunities of his friend, and instead of adjourning to a tavern, rode slowly and reluctantly back to his own house. He felt a strange and unaccountable presentiment of impending evil, for which he could not account, but endeavoured to throw it from him. The effort was vain. He felt himself a villain. A load of long accumulated wickedness oppressed his proud heart; it was not without its better traits, and writhed as he reflected on some events in his past life. "Alison! Alison!" he exclaimed, turning his dark eyes upwards to the star-studded firmament, "now thy curse is coming heavily upon me." His principal dread was the death of Lilian, for he had learned to love her with tolerable sincerity, but he knew not the secret which Walter had revealed to her, and the consequent intensity of her horror, aversion, shame, and anger. He knew not the tempest it had raised in her sensitive breast against him.