“What, in the name of St. Andrew, bearest thou there?” demanded Assueton.
“’Tis but the dronkelew jailor and the watchful warden,” said Riddel; “methinks they will lie better in the stable.”
“Tut!” said Assueton peevishly, “why waste our time with them?”
But Roger and his comrade deposited their burdens quietly in the stable, and then returned again into the keep-tower, where they remained so very long that Assueton lost all patience. By and by female shrieks were heard from within. They became louder, and seemed to approach the door of the keep, when out stalked Roger Riddel with much composure, carrying Betty Burrel like any infant in his arms. The damsel, who was in her night attire, was wrapped in a blanket, and was screaming, kicking, and tearing the squire’s face with her nails, like any wild cat. But the sedate Roger minded her not, nor did her scratching in the least derange the gravity of his walk.
“This is too much, Riddel,” said Assueton, losing temper: “What absurd whim is this? Is the Lady Isabelle Hepborne to be kept standing here all night, till thou shalt find a new bed for Betty Burrel?”
Roger turned gravely about, with the kicking and scratching Betty Burrel still in his arms———
“Surely,” said he, “Sir Knight, thou hast too much Christian charity in thee to see the poor pusell burnt alive?”
“Burnt!” cried Assueton with astonishment; “what mean ye?”
But now came the explanation of all Roger had said and done; for volumes of smoke began to burst from the different open loop-holes of the keep, and to roll out at the door, sufficiently explaining what Roger Riddel had meant by a lantern. The squire hastily deposited the kicking and screaming Betty Burrel in the stable, to which there was no risk of the fire communicating, and locking the door, put the key quietly into his pocket. The Lady Isabelle and Assueton mounted, while the squire and Lindsay went before them, to raise the portcullis and [[164]]open the gates; and the whole party sallied forth from the walls, right glad to bid adieu to Burnstower. Their two attendants went before them, leading their own horses down the hill, and along the narrow tongue of land, towards the ford, lest there might have been any such trap in their way as they formerly fell into. But all was clear, and they got through the ford with perfect safety.
From the summit of the rising ground above the ford, that is, from the same spot where the moon had given Assueton the first and only view of Burnstower, on the night of his approach, they now looked back, and beheld the keep involved in flames, that broke forth from every opening in its sides, and forced their way through various parts of its roof. The reader is already aware of the grandeur of the surrounding scene, closely shut in all around by high backing hills, and the two deep glens with their streams uniting under the green-headed eminence, that arose from the luxuriant forest, which everywhere covered the lower grounds: let him conceive all this, then, lighted up as it was by Roger Riddel’s glorious lantern, which, as they continued to look, began to shoot up jets of flame from its summit, so high into the air that it seemed as if the welkin itself was in some danger from its contact, and he will have in his imagination one of the most sublime spectacles that human eye could well behold.