"How unlucky!" said Home, as the rain continued to fall in torrents upon the stone roof of the little oratory, while the stream beside it rolled in red foambells upon the beach; "this devilish tempest may spoil all, and there seems little chance of its lulling soon." "Had our meeting with these rascals been elsewhere than at Loretto, there might not perhaps have been a storm." "Art really so weak as to think this?" said Home. "I know not what to think--but I like it not," replied his companion, shrugging his shoulders; for he was not without his share of the superstition incident to the time and country. "How," continued Lord Home, with a lowering expression in his keen and fiery eyes, as he seated himself on a stone bench near the steps of the rude altar, and dashed the water from his plume; "your words would imply that Heaven itself was against us." "I know not; but this sudden storm hath broken on us with wondrous fury, and here we are forced to draw our bridles within four miles of the place." "Rest assured, my good lord, that Heaven leaves you and me to mind our own affairs. The elements would never be at peace if storms were raised to cross every man's purpose in Scotland; and least of all will they raise such an infernal hubbub as this to save a couple of scurvy varlets, who must swing, even as their companions swung, over Lander Bridge, in our raid of '82. There is one comfort, however," continued the practical but irreverent chief of the Homes, listening for a moment as the wind howled through the unglazed windows of the edifice, and the rain drenched the copsewood near it, and hissed along the beach till surf and sand were smoking; "we may be assured that the same storm which stays us here must keep our fair dames in shelter at Loretto, while it may also save us all trouble by kindly sending their lovers to feed the fishes of the Firth." "But suppose we find the cockbirds flown?" "Think not of such a disappointment." "Yet such a thing is possible." "Remember that Lady Euphemia, in her precious post scriptum, spoke of spending the night in vigil and in prayer." "Profound prayer no doubt it will be, with a couple of saucy gallants to hold their tapers and turn the missal leaves," said Hailes, with a smile of contempt. "St. Mary, how the sky darkens!" "And how the rain comes down!" "This burn beside us is swelling into a perfect torrent." "How fare our rogues of Annandale in the thicket?" "Ill enough, I doubt not," replied the Laird of Blackcastle; "and methinks they were as well riding as standing there, like todlowries under a lynn." "You forget that no man could keep his saddle in such a tempest of wind," said Lord Home. "Of a surety it must portend some coming evil; a pestilence, or an English invasion," added the superstitious Hailes.