At that moment a loud explosion, followed by the fanfare of trumpets and the ruffling of kettle-drums beneath the walls of the tower arrested all the faculties of Clermistonlee, and by throwing his thoughts into another channel, covered him with shame; and he started back, the image of astonishment and irresolution.
Not so Lilian; her presence of mind was instantly restored. Springing to a window, and fearlessly dashing her hands through the panes of glass, she cried in agonized accents—
"Help! help! for the love of the blessed God! Help me, or I perish!"
"Lilian! Lilian!" cried a voice that filled her with transport. It was that of Walter Fenton.
A glance sufficed to show her a gallant troop of horse halted beneath the tower in the grey morning twilight. Again she would have spoken, but the strong hand of Clermistonlee dragged her furiously back into the apartment.
CHAPTER VI.
EDINBURGH—THE NIGHT OF THE REVOLUTION.
Meanwhile, regardless of the royal cause,
His sword for James no brother sov'raign draws.
The Pope himself, surrounded with alarms,
To France his bulls, to Corfu sends his arms;
And though he hears his darling son's complaint,
Can hardly spare one tutelary saint.
TICKELL, Edit. 1749.
From the hour in which Lilian had been torn from her, the ased Lady Grisel had never raised her head. Affection and horror, wrath and insulted pride, had all aggravated to the utmost the weakness and debility consequent to exceeding old age; and by her weeping domestics the venerable dame was borne to her great chair in the Chamber-of-Dais, where she remained long insensible to all that passed around her.
The storm and hurry of political events employed otherwise Sir Thomas Dalyel and those friends who might have served her in this dilemma; and now she found herself quite deserted.