“Probably a thousand men, but accounts differ widely.”
“Then,” said Claverhouse, “it is time for us to be up and be doing also—Bothwell, bid them sound to horse.”
Bothwell, who, like the war-horse of scripture, snuffed the battle afar off, hastened to give orders to six negroes, in white dresses richly laced, and having massive silver collars and armlets. These sable functionaries acted as trumpeters, and speedily made the castle and the woods around it ring with their summons.
“Must you then leave us?” said Lady Margaret, her heart sinking under recollection of former unhappy times; “had ye not better send to learn the force of the rebels?—O, how many a fair face hae I heard these fearfu’ sounds call away frae the Tower of Tillietudlem, that my auld een were ne’er to see return to it!”
“It is impossible for me to stop,” said Claverhouse; “there are rogues enough in this country to make the rebels five times their strength, if they are not checked at once.”
“Many,” said Evandale, “are flocking to them already, and they give out that they expect a strong body of the indulged presbyterians, headed by young Milnwood, as they call him, the son of the famous old roundhead, Colonel Silas Morton.”
This speech produced a very different effect upon the hearers. Edith almost sunk from her seat with terror, while Claverhouse darted a glance of sarcastic triumph at Major Bellenden, which seemed to imply—“You see what are the principles of the young man you are pleading for.”
“It’s a lie—it’s a d—d lie of these rascally fanatics,” said the Major hastily. “I will answer for Henry Morton as I would for my own son. He is a lad of as good church-principles as any gentleman in the Life-Guards. I mean no offence to any one. He has gone to church service with me fifty times, and I never heard him miss one of the responses in my life. Edith Bellenden can bear witness to it as well as I. He always read on the same Prayer-book with her, and could look out the lessons as well as the curate himself. Call him up; let him be heard for himself.”
“There can be no harm in that,” said Claverhouse, “whether he be innocent or guilty.—Major Allan,” he said, turning to the officer next in command, “take a guide, and lead the regiment forward to Loudon-hill by the best and shortest road. Move steadily, and do not let the men blow the horses; Lord Evandale and I will overtake you in a quarter of an hour. Leave Bothwell with a party to bring up the prisoners.”
Allan bowed, and left the apartment, with all the officers, excepting Claverhouse and the young nobleman. In a few minutes the sound of the military music and the clashing of hoofs announced that the horsemen were leaving the castle. The sounds were presently heard only at intervals, and soon died away entirely.