"You see the advantage of being alone in this bad and hollow-hearted world," said Fenton, in a tone of bitterness, "of being uncaring and utterly uncared for."
"Again in one of thy moody humours!"
"I have trailed this pike——"
"True—since Sedgemoor-field was fought and lost by Monmouth; but cheer up, my gallant. If this rascal, William of Orange, unfurls his banner among us, we will have battles and leaguers enough; ay, faith! to which the Race of Dunbar, and the Sack of Dundee, will be deemed but child's-play. And hark! for thy further contentment, I trailed a partisan for four long years under Turenne ere I obtained a pair of colours; and then I thought my fortune made; but thou see'st, Walter, I am only a poor lieutenant still. Uncaring and uncared for! Bravo! 'tis the frame of mind to make an unscrupulous lad do his devoire as becomes a soldier. And yet I assure thee, friend Walter, if aught in Scotland will make a man swerve from his duty—ay, even old Thomas Dalzel, that heart of steel—'tis the blue eyes of Lilian Napier, of Bruntisfield. The beauty of her person is equalled only by the winning grace of her manner; and I swear to thee, that not even Mary of Charteris, or my own merry Annie, have brighter charms—a redder lip, or a whiter hand. Hast seen her, lad?"
"Oh, yes," replied the young man with vivacity, "a thousand times."
"And spoken to her?"
"Alas, no!" was the response, "not for these past three years at least."
There was a sadness in his voice, which, with the sigh accompanying his words, conveyed a great deal—but only to the wind—for the gayer cavalier marked it not.
"If we start the game—I mean these Dutch renegades on the Napiers' barony—it will go hard with them in these times, when every day brings to light some new plot against the Government. Napier of the Wrytes—'tis an old and honourable line, and loth will I be to see it humbled."
"What can prompt ladies of honour to meddle in matters of kirk or state?"