"Margaret couldna tell me that," said Will; "but many a speculation we had on the question yer Lordship has now put to me. 'Wha can she be?' said Peggy; and 'Wha can she be?' replied I; but it's for yer Lordship to say wha she _is_, and for me to steal the auld limmer awa, as sure as ever I _conveyed_ an auld milker frae the land o' the Nevills. I'm nae sooner free than she's a prisoner." The familiarity with which Will spoke of the female personage thus destined to durance vile, produced another laugh on the part of the Warden, not altogether consistent, as Will thought, with the serious nature of the subject in hand. "Where is she, my Lord?" continued Will; "in what fortress?--wha is her keeper?--whar will I tak her, and how long retain her a prisoner?" "I fear, Will, she is beyond the power o' mortal," said his Lordship, in a serious voice; "but on condition of thy making a fair trial, I will make intercession for thy life, and take the chance of thy success. Much hangeth by the enterprise--ay, even all my barony of Coberston dependeth upon that 'lurdon' being retained three months in a quiet corner of Græme's Tower. Thou knowest the place?" "Ay, weel, weel," replied Will, who began to see the great importance of the enterprise, while his curiosity to know who the object was had considerably increased. "That tower has its 'redcap sly.' E'en Lord Soulis' Hermitage is no better guarded. Ance there, and awa wi' care, as we say o' Gilnockie as a rendezvous for _strayed_ steers. But who is she, my Lord?" "Thou hast thyself said she is a woman," replied the Warden, smiling, "and I correct thee not. Hast thou ever heard, Will, of fifteen old women--'lurdons,' as the good people call them--that reside in a large house in the Parliament close of Edinburgh?" "Brawly, brawly," answered Will, with a particular leer of fun and intelligence; "and weel may I ken the limmers--real lurdons, wi' lang gowns and curches. Ken them! Wha that has a character to lose, or a property to keep against the claims o' auld parchment, doesna ken thae fifteen auld runts? They keep the hail country side in a steer wi' their scandal. Nae man's character is safe in their keeping; and they're sae fu' o' mischief that they hae even blawn into the king's lug that my tower o' Gilnockie was escheat to the king by the death o' my ancestor, who was hanged at Carlenrig. They say a' the mischief that has come on the Borders sin' the guid auld times, has its beginning in that coterie o' weazened gimmers. Dootless, they're at the root o' the danger o' yer bonny barony o' Coberston. By the rood! I wish I had a dash at their big curches." "Ay, Will," responded Traquair; "but they're securely lodged in their strong Parliament House, and the difficulty is how to get at them."