lock, in the fields near the Castle of Balcomie, and
doubt not but Sir William will meet you there."

"Thanks, thanks," again said the Frenchman, pressing the hand of the
Major, who, apparently delighted at the prospect of witnessing such an
encounter between the two most renowned swordsmen in Europe, drank off
his stoup of wine, muffled himself in his rocquelaure, and with his
little cocked hat stuck jauntily on one side of the Ramillie wig, left
the apartment, and demanded his horse and the reckoning.

"Then your honor _will_ be fule hardy, and tempt Providence," said the
landlord.

"Nay, gudeman, but you cannot tempt me to stay just now. I ride only
through the town to Balcomie, and will return anon. The Hopetoun family
are there, I believe?"

"Yes; but saving my Lady at the preachings, we see little o' them; for
Sir William has bidden at Edinburgh, or elsewhere, since his English
gold coft the auld tower from the Balcomies of that ilk, the year before
the weary union, devil mend it!"

"Amen, say I: and what callest thou English gold?"

"The doolfu' compensation, o' whilk men say he had his share."

"Man, thou liest, and they who say so lie! for to the last moment his
voice was raised against that traitorous measure of Queensbury and
Stair, and now every energy of his soul is bent to its undoing!" replied
the Major, fiercely, as he put spurs to his horse and rode rapidly down
the dark, and then grassy, street, at the end of which the clank of his
horse's hoofs died away, as he diverged upon the open ground that lay
northward of the town, and by which he had to approach the tower of
Balcomie.

The Frenchman remained long buried in thought, and as he sipped his
wine, gazed dreamily on the changing embers that glowed on the hearth,
and cast a warm light on the blue delft lining of the fireplace. The
reminiscences of the war in Flanders had called up many a sad and many a
bitter recollection.

"I would rather," thought he, "that the man I am about to encounter
to-morrow was not a Scot, for the kindness of to-night, and of that
terrible night in the snow-clad plain of Arras, inspire me with a warm
love for all the people of this land. But my promise must be redeemed,
my adventure achieved, or thou, my dear, my rash Athalie, art lost to
me!" and he paused to gaze with earnestness upon a jewel that glittered
on his hand. It was a hair ring, bound with gold, and a little shield
bearing initials, clasped the small