an
on-carrying, and at such a time, too, when the king an a' the gentry are
in the neighbourhood, might be attended by there's nae saying what
consequences to me and mine. Andrew, man, I wonder that ye haena mair
sense."

"Sense!" returned Andrew, "I hae baith sense and feeling; and had it
been the king himsel that I saw layin a hand upon my Janet, I would hae
served him in the same way that I did that man."

"Ye brag largely and freely, neighbour," said the stranger; throwing
down a noble upon the table to pay for his entertainment; "but we shall
meet again, where there are no women to interfere."

"Tak up your gowd, sir," replied Andrew, "for though I can boast o' nae
sic siller, coppers will pay for a' that we have had. I brought you in
here to treat ye, and our quarrel shall make nae difference as to that.
Sae put up your gowd again; and as to meeting ye--I will meet ye the
night, the morn, at ony place, or at ony time."

"I shall ask ye to meet me before ye dare," said the stranger; and
leaving the coin upon the table as he left the house, "the gowd," added
he, "will buy a gown and a bodice for the bosom of bonny Janet."

"I insist, sir, that you tak back the siller," cried Andrew.

"Dearsake, Andrew," said old Nancy, "he's no offering it to you! It's no
you that has ony richt to refuse it." And taking up the piece, she
examined it with a look of satisfaction, turning it round and round in
her fingers--wrapped it in a small piece of linen rag, which lay in a
corner of the room, and mechanically slipped it into her pocket. But it
was neither every day, every week, nor every year, that Nancy Hewitt saw
a coin of gold.

On the third day after the encounter between Strong Andrew and the
stranger, the last and great day of the festivities on Lamberton took
place; for on that day the royal bride was to arrive. The summer sun
ushered in a glorious morning--its beams fell as a sheet of gold on the
broad ocean, melting down and chaining its waves in repose. To the south
lay Lindisferne, where St. Cuthbert had wrought miracles, with the Ferne
Isles where he lived, prayed, and died, and the proud rock on which King
Ida reigned.[2] They seemed to sleep in the morning sunbeams--smiling in
sleep. To the north was gigantic St. Abb's, stretching out into the sea,
as if reposing on its breast; amidst their feet and behind them,
stretched the Moor and its purple heather; while, from the distance, the
Cheviots looked down on