“I don’t stop another hour in the blasted hole!” roared his guest, in a fierce quaver. “Out of my way you fool! Where’s Joan? Tell her to get up and come directly. I’m off, tell her. I’d as soon go to bed in the drifts as stop another hour in this abominable old lime-kiln.” The laird let him rave on: it was useless to oppose him. He flew at his clothes to dress himself, but his poor old hands trembled with rage, fear, drink, and eagerness. The laird did his best to help him, but he seemed nowise recognizant. “I will get you some hot water, my lord,” he said at length, and was moving towards the door. “No,--you!--everybody!” shrieked the old man. “If you go out of that door, I will throw myself out of this window.” The laird turned at once, and in silence waited on him like a servant. “He must be in a fit of delirium tremens!” he said to himself. He poured him out some cold water, but he would not use it. He would neither eat nor drink nor wash till he was out of the horrible dungeon, he said. The next moment he cried for water, drank three mouthfuls eagerly, threw the tumbler from him, and broke it on the hearth. The instant he was dressed, he dropped into the great chair and closed his eyes. “Your lordship must allow me to fetch some fuel,” said the laird; “the room is growing cold.” “No, I tell you!” cried Lord Mergwain, opening his eyes and sitting up. “When I’m cold I’ll go to--. If you attempt to leave the room, I’ll send a bullet after you.--God have mercy! what’s that at my feet?” “It is only my son,” replied the laird gently. “We have been with you all night--since you were taken ill, that is.” “When was that? What do you mean by that?” he said, looking up sharply, with a face of more intelligence than he had yet shown. “Your lordship had some sort of fit in the night, and if you do not compose yourself, I dread a return of it.” “You well may, if I stop here,” he returned--then, after a pause, “Did I talk?” he asked. “Yes, my lord--a good deal.” “What did I say?” “Nothing I could understand, my lord.” “And you did your best, I don’t doubt!” rejoined his lordship with a sneer. “But you know nothing is to be made of what a man says in a fit.” “I have told your lordship I heard nothing.” “No matter; I don’t sleep another night under your roof.” “That will be as it may, my lord.” “What do you mean?” “Look at the weather, my lord.--Cosmo!” The boy was still asleep, but at the sound of his name from his father’s lips, he started at once to his feet. “Go and wake Grizzie,” said the laird, “and tell her to get breakfast ready as fast as she can. Then bring some peat for the fire, and some hot water for his lordship.”