"Now really, Corstorphine," said Leslie, as he spread the white linen serviette over his red satin trunk breeches; "is the whole world to stand still because Roland Vipont is laid by the heels? Or dost thou think that the king will bring to death, or even to trial, so brave a fellow as our captain of his ordnance?"
"The devil! thou talkest as if brave fellows were scarce in Scotland. But the Lady Seton, her chances of life——"
"Are small indeed; but let us only have our Vipont free of Cranstoun-Riddel, on horseback beside us, with his helmet on, and his sword drawn, and we shall carry the lady off in face of all Edinburgh! What care we for the burgher guard, or the lances of the provost!"
"The king——"
"Will love a deed so bold, and so much after his own heart."
"If we were to fail?"
"'Tis but dying like bold fellows in our corslets."
"Thy hand, my brave Leslie, for thou art an honour to thy name," replied Sir John Forrester, with admiration.
"Poor Marion Logan has quite spoiled her fine eyes by crying for three days and nights consecutively about her friend."
Here something between a sob and a growl proceeded from the corner, where Lintstock was gulping down his supper and his sorrows together.