Between the close files of the Swart Ruyters, Walter Fenton saw the full rush of the advancing troop, in their shining harness, and chief of all, the lordly Viscount of Dundee, a lance-length in front, with his sword brandished aloft, and his white ostrich-feathers streaming behind him, his cheek glowing, and his wild dark eyes flashing with that supernatural brightness which was the true index of his fierce and heroic spirit. Though the Dutch were as four to one, the Scottish cavaliers were fearless. There was a tremendous shock--a flashing of swords, as their keen edges rang on the tempered helmets and corslets of proof--a furious spurring of horses--and Walter felt himself beaten to the earth, as if by the force of a thunderbolt; the light left his eyes, and he heard the voice of Claverhouse exclaiming enthusiastically-- "Well done, my Scots' Life Guard! Well done, my berry-brown blades!" "Come on, De Ginckel!" cried Holsterlee. "Hand to hand, old gorbelly. Come on! for here are the hand and sword that shall punch a hole in thine Earl's patent!" A heavy hoof struck the head of Walter, as a horse plunged over him, and the Dutch recoiled in utter confusion. He remembered no more. Hewn down by the long swords of the Ruyters, poor old Wemyss and Halbert Elshender lay dead beside him. CHAPTER IV. THE SECRET STAIR. Chloris! since first our calm of peace Was frighted hence, this good we find, Your favours with your fears increase, And growing mischiefs make you kind. EDMUND WALLER. Heavily and slowly passed the cloudy winter day at Clermiston, and evening found Lilian seated, full of tears and misery, by the great fire that rumbled in the arched chimney, and threw a ruddy glow on the rough architecture of the ancient hall. According to old etiquette, there were but two chairs, one for the lord of the manor and the other for his lady; the additional seats were mere stools. Lilian occupied one of these chairs, and her suitor the other. On one of the stone benches within the ingle sat Juden Stenton still trimming hawks' lures; opposite was Beatrix, spinning with all the assiduity of Arachnè. These from time to time regarded her with furtive glances, which roused her anger not less than the presence and odious attentions of their lord did her apprehension. She felt a load accumulating on her breast, as the night wore on; anxiety was impairing her strength and weakening her fortitude, and whenever Clermistonlee addressed her, she answered only by tears. Touched at last by her sorrow, a sentiment of generosity at times would prompt him to return her to her home; but other thoughts came with greater power, and the momentary weakness was immediately dismissed. "Psha!" thought he; "'tis only a woman."