"Now you will despise me, Margaret," said Marion; "for my maiden ambition has led us into this trouble. Yet will I rather be an inmate in our uncle's dungeon than be the wife of the boy-husband he would assign me. Sister, will you not upbraid me?" "Upbraid you!" said the calm and gentle Margaret; "stern as is our uncle, deadly as is his wrath, I fear him not. The other day you spoke to me jeeringly of Sir Patrick Hume--in the same strain I answered you respecting his brother George. Eight days will not pass until Sir Patrick misses me from Polwarth; and, powerful as my uncle may be, bold and desperate as he is, I know that one stone of Herdmanstone Castle will not be left standing upon another till we are freed." "You have a brave heart, sister," said Marion; "but it is small comfort to me, who must look upon myself as the author of this disaster. And how think ye that Sir Patrick or his brother George (if ye will speak of him) are to hear of our confinement? Wot ye not that they know not where we are; or, if they should know, they will not apprehend that evil could befall us in the house of our relative?" "I believe, Marion," answered Margaret, "that within the eight days which our uncle has named, we shall either be at liberty, or have ceased to live. It is our lives that he seeks, not that we should be the wives of his sons. Rather than be so wed, I will die--so will you. But, if we should die, our deaths would not be unavenged. He would neither enjoy our estates, nor the triumph of his guilt. Ye have heard the names of Patrick and George Hume of Wedderburn spoken of as sounds of terror upon the Borders--their swords have avenged the injured, and released the captive. Marion, they will avenge our wrongs! Dear sister, be not afraid." It was about daybreak on the fourth day after their imprisonment, that a musician, who played upon the union or Northumbrian pipe of those days, approached beneath the window of their apartment, and softly playing an air, accompanied it with his voice, as follows:-- "My heart is divided between them, I dinna ken which I wad hae; Right willing my heart I wad gie them-- But how can I gie it to twae? There's Meggy, a fairer or better I'm certain there couldna weel be; Dumfounder'd the first time I met her, What was sweet Marion to me! "Yet Marion is gentle and bonny, I liked her ere Meggy I saw, And they say it is sinfu for on Man upon earth to like twa. My heart it is rugg'd and tormented, I'd live wi' or die for them baith; I've done what I've often repented, To baith I have plighted my aith. "And oft when I'm walkin wi' Meggy I'll say, 'Dear Marion,' and start; While fearfu she'll say, 'Weel, I ken ye Hae ithers mair dear to your heart.' Was ever a man sae confounded? I dinna ken what will be dune; Baith sides o' my bosom are wounded, And they'll be the death o' me sune."