"Lilian," replied her lover, with mournful surprise, "the daughter of an old Cavalier house should have other thoughts than these. Remember, dear Lilian, there is not in Europe a royal race for which so many of the good and the gallant, the brave and the loyal, have from the foughten field and the reeking scaffold given up their souls to God. Let no man judge harshly of those whose splendour is dimmed for a time; for the hour shall come when in the full zenith of their pride and power, the old line of our Scottish kings——"
"'Tis all a dream, Walter. The entire nations are against them. I feel a presentiment that they and their followers are doomed to wither and perish like brands in the burning."
"My faith! art turning preacher, lassie?"
"Oh, what a prospect for thee, Walter!"
"The world is all before me; and I can always preserve my honour, my heart, and my sword. But thou, Lilian——"
"Am beside thee, dear Walter," said she, with touching artlessness; "and is not happiness better than honour?"
"True, true," replied the young man, while he kissed her hand, and his eyes filled with tenderness. "Ah, Lilian, it is the thought that I am leaving you, perhaps for ever, that alone unnerves me for the deadly venture in which we are about to engage. Hopeless though the cause of James may be, we have sworn not to survive it; and, come weal or woe, we will unfurl his standard on the northern hills, and if it waves not over us in victory, it shall never do so in defeat or dishonour; for to the last man we will perish on the sod beneath it. Your memory alone will make me sad—but am I singular? How many of these my brave companions have gentle ones to leave, mothers who bless, and sisters who love them, while I am alone. Save thee, there is nothing that binds me to this world. What of it is mine? The six feet that shall make my grave!"
"O! most ungrateful Walter," said Lilian, in a low voice of confusion and tenderness; "is not all that I have yours, manor and lands? are not these possessions ample? Greedy Gled," she added, smiling; "what better tocher would you have?"
"Lilian," sighed Walter, in a thick voice, as he pressed her hand to his heart, "it may not be, dearest—yet awhile, at least."
The blushing girl gave him a timid and startled glance of inquiry.