"To the point, my Lord?" rejoined Douglas, drily.
"You will take particular care that the young lady—tush, I mean the old one—they must not escape, as you shall answer to the Council. Dost comprehend me—the young lady of Bruntisfield, eh?"
"Too well, my Lord," replied the cavalier, drawing himself up, and shaking his lofty plume with undisguised hauteur. "Curse on the libertine fool!" he exclaimed to the young pikeman, as he hurried after his party; "would he make me his pimp? By Heaven! he well deserves a slash in the doublet for casting his eyes upon noble ladies, as he would on the bona-robas of Merlin's Wynd."
The young man's hand gradually sought the hilt of his poniard.
"What said he, Finland?" he asked, with a kindling eye and a reddening cheek. "He spoke of the Napiers, did he not?"
"Only to this purpose, that on peril of our beards the ladies do not escape, especially the younger one. Hah! they say this ruffling libertine hath long looked unutterable things at Lilian Napier. He is a deep intriguer, and the devil only knows what plots he may be hatching now against her."
"S'death! Finland, assure me of this, and by Heaven I will brain him with my partisan!"
"Hush, lad! these words are dangerous. You are but a young soldier yet, Walter," continued the officer, laughing; "had you trailed a pike under Henry de la Tour of Auvergne, and the old Mareschal Crecqy, like me, you would ere this have learned to value a girl's tears and a grandam's groans at the same ransom, perhaps. But, egad, I had rather than my burganet full of broad pieces, that this night's duty had fallen on any other than myself; and I think, Major, the Chevalier Drumquhazel (as we call him) might have selected some of those old fellows whose iron faces and iron hearts will bear them through anything."
"Why, Finland," rejoined the pikeman, "you are not wont to be backward!"
"Never when bullets or blades are to be encountered; but to worry an old preacher, and harry the house and barony of an ancient and noble matron, by all the devils! 'tis not work for men of honour. The Napiers of Bruntisfield are soothfast friends of the Lauries of Maxwelton—and my dear little Annie—thou knowest, Walter, that her wicked waggery will never let me hear the end of it, if we march the Napiers to the Tolbooth to-night."