"And had I not a slender fancy for the pretty Sybilla, and a greater one for that slice of Strathearn which the old lord promised me, I would rest contented with the black-eyed dame to whom I am hand-fasted already; but we must punish their contumacy; and I doubt not they will become loving wives enough, after we have given their gallants to feed the gleds." "So, so; is that all, Master Borthwick?" "There is a post scriptum, my lord." "Post--what? is there more of this precious epistle?" "But a line or two, my lord, hastily pencilled." "'Tis what we saw her writing," said Home; "and faith, she did look beautiful as she bent over her tablets, and her heavy locks fell forward; well, and what saith the post scriptum?" "'_We will meet you at the chapel of Loretto, beside the Links of Musselburgh, on Friday, in the evening, for there we mean to spend the whole night in vigil and in prayer, &c._--E.D." "At our Lady of Loretto! what a place for an assignation with these skipper varlets," said Lord Hailes, "those cullionly mongrels!" "Art sure of this, sirrah?" asked Lord Home, with a terrible frown. "Sure as I now address your lordship--for I read word for word as it is written." "At six in the evening?" "Six, my lord." "God's death!" said Hailes, with ferocious joy, "if this meeting take place, I would not wed the Lord Drummond's daughter had she the crown of Scotland on her head." "Nor I her sister, with Brittany and Orkney to boot." "What then shall we do?" "Send their letter to its destination, my lords," said Borthwick, who ever loved to ferment and further mischief; "permit the ladies quietly to ride forth, but attend the tryst, too--and let them find their lovers there, but less their heads." "It shall be so; we'll beset the place, Hailes, and cut them into gobbets, by my father's soul we will?" "But Loretto is a holy place." "What! art thou one of those who deem one place more holy than another because a shaveling mumbles Latin there? Well, we will drag them forth and hang them at the Musselburgh Cross, if you will. I'll take a hundred horse and hide them in the woods of Pinkey. Enough--enough, we'll see to it; and now to send this letter to the churls at Largo. The bearer--" "I left him drunk as a Saxon, and snorting like a pig, in an alehouse near the Timber Bourse; day has not yet broken, so I may easily restore it to his pouch without his having missed it, perhaps." "Good--excellent! away, it lacks but a short time of day-dawn; when all this matter is over and settled, when the rooks of Pinkey Wood have gorged them to their fill on those aspiring curs who cross our plans, I'll make thee, Borthwick--a rascal though thou art--the richest varlet in my new earldom--away, away!" and laughing and pushing, he almost put Borthwick out of the room. When he was gone,-- "Hailes, can we really trust this fellow?" asked Home.