"What is this coming over my spirit now? That face seems like a vision from the grave to me!"
"'Tis the Lady Alison, my Lord's late wife," said the shrill but sullen voice of Beatrix.
"Pshaw!" rejoined Walter; "then my weakness is over. Give him a sword, gentlemen. In fair stand-up fight, I will meet him here, with case of pistols, sword, and dagger, or anything he pleases."
"O part them, for the sake of mercy!" implored Lilian.
Juden came in at that moment, clad in his steel bonnet and buff jack, and swaying an enormous partisan, was rushing upon Walter Fenton like a wild boar, when Holsterlee laid him flat with his clubbed carbine. The swooning of Lord Clermistonlee closed the brawl for the time; loss of blood, over-drinking, and over-excitement, had quite prostrated all his energies. Walter immediately sheathed his sword, and, kneeling down, was the first to tender assistance; for "compassion ever marks the brave."
Clermistonlee was borne away to his own apartment by the growling Juden, whose thick pate was little the worse of Holsterlee's stroke; and Lilian was now Walter's next and immediate care.
The disorder and scantiness of her attire, the pallor and horror of her aspect, and her presence in such a place, had previously informed him of all, and no sooner were they in a more retired apartment, than, throwing herself into his arms, she wept bitterly. Meanwhile, the unscrupulous cavaliers were ranging over the entire household, breaking open every press, cabinet, and girnel, with the butts and balls of their carbines, in search of wine, vivres, or anything else that suited their fancies. Juden kept always a full larder, and its contents furnished a sumptuous breakfast. Several whole cheeses, a cask of ale, and a thirty-gallon runlet or two of canary, were trundled into the hall; and a hearty repast, with the usual military accompaniments of mirth and laughter, was enjoyed by the hungry troopers, whose appetites a night spent in their saddles, and a ride in the keen air of a winter morning, had sufficiently whetted.
In a few minutes, Lilian, with faltering accents, had informed Walter of her abduction, of the hours of suffering she had endured, and her anxiety to return to Lady Grisel; but, alas! poor Lilian knew not that perhaps her only relative had perished in the conflagration of her old ancestral home.