"It is enough, maiden," said the preacher, replying to something Lilian had said, and taking, with an air of real kindness, the little hand of the shrinking girl within his own great bony paw, "I know thee to be the kinswoman of that godly matron, Grisel Napier, who, though wedded to as cruel a persecutor as ever bestrode a war-horse--yea, and though leavened in their wickedness withal, sheltered me in the days of my exceeding tribulation, when there was a flaming sword over Israel, and when, as a humble instrument in the cause of that great Saviour of the Kirk (whose coming I foretold in my _Bombshell_, whilk hath not yet the luck to be printed), I came from Holland to this land of anarchy, and had no where to lay my head. She clothed and sheltered me, for the sake of that loved kinsman who is now no more, slain by some accursed persecutor, whom I would smite--yea, maiden, both hip and thigh, if I had him within reach of this good old whinger, that so oft hath avenged the fall of our martyrs!" Walter instinctively grasped his sword, startled by the stern energy of the preacher, who continued-- "It is enough maiden,--with me ye are safe, and to a place of peace I will conduct you and your friend; but for these two sons of the scarlet woman--these slaves of Jezebel, who have been nursled in the blood of our saints and martyrs, and in whom it grieves me to think ye have garnered up your hearts, I may not, and cannot, with a safe conscience, protect them. Let them depart from me in peace; let them follow him who, ere long, will be called to a severe account for all his dark misdeeds--John Grahame of Claverhouse." "'Tis sound advice, Mr. Bummel," said Walter, tightening his reins, and drawing off his glove. "By Heaven! I had quite forgotten; he will have crossed the Forth by this time, and it will require some exertion of horseflesh to rescue my honour. Finland, we must go. Mount Lilian's horse. Lilian," he added, in a low and tremulous voice, "farewell now; commend me to Lady Grisel, and bid her bless me; farewell, Lilian--we must part at last;" and stooping from his horse, he gently pressed her to his steel-cased breast, and kissed her. "Oh! Walter, remain--remain," murmured Lilian. "It cannot be--it is impossible now; I am pledged to Grahame of Claverhouse." And afraid to trust himself longer within hearing of her soft entreaties, lest love might overcome the stern principles of loyalty in which he had schooled himself, he leaped his horse over the fauld dyke; and while he felt as if his very heart was torn by the agony of that separation, he dashed along the road to the west, leaving Finland to follow as he chose.