"The fires of other lands," said he, "are as scorching as those of the Scotch faggot. Thou wouldst yet fly to them, and leave the commendator Blackburn to seize Riddlestain, while thy father suffers the fate thou wouldst avoid."
"Let him remain," replied Henry, "who has faith and fortitude to pass through the fiery ordeal. You did not, good Mansie, see Hamilton's blackened body sink among the blazing faggots."
A half-suppressed groan rumbled in the throat of the Droich.
"What I have seen—what I have felt, thou may'st never know," said he. "But see, there are the church emissaries already after thee."
Henry looked round, and saw some horsemen scouring along the muir, at a considerable distance, in the direction of Riddlestain. Throwing himself down on the heath to avoid being seen, he remained in that position for a few minutes, and by the time he again lifted his head, his Mentor was a considerable distance from him, working his progress forwards, on his hands and knees, with great effort. The next moment a hand was on his shoulder, and he shuddered with terror.
"I'm maybe owre late," said the beadsman. "Quick, quick?—Blackburn and his hounds are awa' to Riddlestain wi' a warrant to apprehend you."
Henry followed the beadsman, who hurried on towards Falconcleugh.
"Now for your choice," said he. "Auld Mansie was giein ye counsel, maybe, to stay and stand your doom. What say ye—flight or flaught, an exile or an eizel?"
"I am unresolved," replied the youth.
"And by the faith o' the auld kirk, ye hae muckle time to ponder. See!—see! the bloodhounds have changed their course; their scent lies this way."