"Silence, Cummers!" said Juden Stenton; "or you'll hae the steel jougs locked round your jaws the morn, and may be get a het tar-barrelling after for speaking sae freely o' your betters."
Sir Thomas reined up alongside of the three generals, whom for several miles he bored with musty maxims, obsolete tactics, and strange advice, anent the superiority of Sweyn's feathers over the screwed dagger (or bayonet), and furiously condemned the slinging of carbines in budgets in lieu of shoulderbelts, as in the days of Montrose—expatiated on the method of forming square with the grenadiers covering the angles, and making the bringers-up (or third rank) entirely of musqueteers. He particularly impressed upon General Douglas the method of posting musqueteers among the horse and dragoons in alternate regiments—a tactique of that Star of the North, the great Gustavus of Sweden, and used by Prince Rupert at Long Marstonmoor—and after a fierce tirade against Sir James Wemys's leather cannon for field service, and a few words about the Muscovites, this veteran soldier of fortune bade them adieu near the Balm Well of St. Catherine, which lay yet a ruin, just as Cromwell's puritans had left it thirty-eight years before, when 16,000 of them encamped on the Gallaehlawhill. There Dalyel parted with "bluidy Dunbarton, Douglas, and Dundee," never to meet again; for though he saw it not, the hand of death was already stretched over the venerable "persecutor" and exile—war, wounds, and death were the portion of the others.
Long, long remained the fair young Countess watching the glittering columns as they wound over the Burghmuir, and ascended the hills of Braid, and until the faintest tap of the drums died away on the wind, and the helmets of the rearguard flashed a farewell ray in the evening sun, as they disappeared over the distant hills.
Then the grief of Lilian could no longer be restrained, for a heavy sense of utter desolation fell upon her heart.
"Oh, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, and throwing herself upon the bosom of friend, burst into a passion of tears.
The bustle, the glitter, and the music all combined, had caused an unnatural degree of excitement, and had sustained their spirits while the troops were pouring past, enabling them to behold with calmness a thousand tender partings. All now were away—silence and stillness succeeded—the excitement had evaporated, and they experienced an unnerving reaction which rendered them miserable, and they wept without restraint for the lovers that had left them—perhaps for ever.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE HAWK AND THE DOVE.
O wae be to the orders, that marched my love awa,
And wae be to the cruel cause that gars my tears' dounfa';
The drums beat in the morning, before the screich o' day,
The wee fifes played loud and shrill, and yet the morn was grey;
The bonnie flags were a' unfurled, a gallant sight to see,
But waes me for my soldier-lad, that marched to Germanie.
MOTHERWELL.
The intense sadness of Lilian for some days after the march of the troops, soon led Lady Grisel to suspect that her heart and hopes were away with the Scottish host; and the blush that ever suffused her cheek on Walter's name being mentioned convinced the old lady that her conclusions were just. Lilian knew well what was passing in the mind of her grandaunt, and as she had never hitherto concealed a thought from her, she threw herself upon her neck, and with tears, blushes, and agitation, which made her innocence appear more than ever charming, confessed how she and Walter Fenton had plighted their solemn troth, and shewing his ring, implored her pardon and her blessing upon them both.