She was seated gently in a chair; and now she looked around her. A large fire of roots was blazing on the rough stone-hearth; its ruddy glow rendered yet more red the bare walls and strongly arched roof of a hall (built of red sandstone) such as may be seen in the old fortlets of the lesser barons of Scotland. The windows on each side were deeply embayed by the thickness of the wall, and a deep-browed arch spanned each; they had stone seats covered with crimson cushions, and foot-mats of plaited rushes. The hurrying clouds and occasional stars were seen through the strong basket-gratings that externally defended these prison-like apertures. The hall was paved, and its rude massive furniture consisted only of a great oblong table of oak, several forms or settles, a few high-backed chairs, and one upon a raised part of the floor, at the upper end, had a canopy of crimson cloth over it, announcing that it was the state-chair of the Lord of the Manor. Swords, pikes, harquebuses, hunting and hawking appurtenances, with a few veiled pictures, were among its ornaments. A great almery, or cupboard (so called from the old hospitable custom of setting aside food as _alms_ for the poor), occupied one end of the apartment, and an ancient casque surmounted it. Various bunkers of carved oak, bound with iron, occupied the other. On the right hand of the doorway, a stone lavatory, covered with magnificent sculpture projected from the wall. This old-fashioned bason was furnished with a hole to carry off water, and was an indispensable convenience to every ancient dining-hall. With one rapid glance of terror Lilian surveyed the whole place, and started from her chair to be confronted by one whose aspect made her instinctively shrink back. The keen and hawk-like eyes of Beatrix Gilruth were fixed upon her with an expression at once menacing, searching, and scornful. There was something in the wild visage of this inexplicable woman that excited curiosity, while her air terrified, and her withered person repelled approach. "Who are you, woman?" asked Lilian firmly, as, stepping back a pace, she surveyed her from head to foot; "and what are you?" "_What_ am I?" reiterated the other, with a voice that thrilled, while her grey eyes gleamed with a blue light, and she ground her teeth. "I am what thou shalt be, my pretty minx, ere ye leave these walls, perhaps." Lilian, terrified by her aspect and her answer, sank into a chair, saying, as she clasped her hands, and looked up imploringly from her bright dishevelled hair-- "Woman, for the love of God, say where am I?" "In the tower of Clermistonlee." "So my soul foreboded; but can _he_ have dared thus far?" "What will he not dare that man can do?" "O Heaven, protect me!"