The eyes of the Viscount filled with dusky fire.
"Dunbarton," said he, "I am alone in the world. Our grateful King has given me honours to which none can succeed, for I have cast the die by which they are lost for ever; and nowhere can my coronet be more gloriously surrendered than on the battle-field."
"I thank Heaven that the Countess, my dear little Lætitia, is in England," said the Earl, pointing to the lurid flames that from the blazing houses of the Abbey-hill flashed along the shadowy vista of the Canongate, glowing redly under the arch of the Nether Bow, and throwing forward in bold relief a thousand fantastic projections of the old Flemish mansions that reared up their giant fronts on either hand. "I thank Heaven that she is in a safer place than this poor city of wild fanatics."
"Would that I could say the same of Lilian!" thought Walter, with a deep sigh. "Can she be safe amid all this dreadful uproar?"
At that moment a dense rabble approached, with drums beating, torches blazing, and weapons glinting.
"To the Palace! to the Abbey!" cried a thousand hoarse voices. "Let us pull doon the temple of the Idolater, and gie his fause gods to the flames!" and they swept forward, greeting the troop of Guards with yells of hatred and menace.
They were led—by whom? Lord Mersington, with his wig awry, his clothes soiled with dust, and his face flushed with exertion! The Earl of Balcarris relates "that this fanatical judge, with a halbert in his hand, and drunk as ale and brandy could make him," led on the rabble to the assault of time-hallowed Holyrood; but before reaching the eastern extremity of the city, his followers were joined by the trained bands in their buff coats and bandoleers, the magistrates, and other authorities, who vested this lawless mob with an air of order and official importance.
"Will those villains really dare to molest the palace of our kings?" said Dundee, his eyes kindling, as he looked after the revolters, and reined-up his impatient horse.
"What will they not dare?" rejoined Dunbarton; "but I doubt not they will experience a warm reception. Wallace, who commands the guard, is a brave cavalier as ever drew sword, and the traitors will make nothing of it."
"Under favour, my Lords," said Fenton, "they are in great numbers, and I have misgivings as to the issue."