arce worth mentioning. It appeared to Hume, as he
listened, that Wallace, and the Mayor, who was with him, had sallied out,
after the fourth bottle, in search of Isabel--a suspicion verified by the
speech of the warlike Captain.

"Did I not tell thee, Mr Mayor," said the Governor, in a voice that
reverberated among the walls, and fell distinctly on Hume's ear, "that she
would be about the fortifications? Ha!--anything appertaining to war
delighteth the fair creature as much as it did that rare author, Will
Shakspeare's Desdemona. If I had been as black as the Moor--ay, or as the
devil himself--my prowess at Bothwell would have given this person of mine,
albeit somewhat enlarged, the properties of beauty in the eyes of
noble-spirited women--so much do our bodies borrow from the qualities of
our souls."

"Where is she?" rejoined the Mayor. "I like not that love of the
fortifications. It is the outside of the walls she loves. See, she flies,
conscience-smitten. I like not this, my noble Captain--see, there is
Patrick Hume beyond the wall, if thou hast courage, drive thy pike through
that loop, and, peradventure, ye may blind a Hume for life."

"I like to strike a man fair--body to body--as we did on the Bridge of
Bothwell," responded the Captain. "Ha! ha! Give me the loop-hole of a good
bilbo-thrust, out of which the soul wings its flight in a comfortable
manner. Nevertheless, to please my noble friend the mayor, and to get quit
of a rival, I may" (lowering his voice to a whisper) "as well kill him in
the way thou hast propounded; but I assure thee, upon my honour, I would
much rather have the fellow before me, without the intervention of these
plaguey walls, that come thus in the way and march of one's valour. There
goes!"

On looking-up, Hume saw the Captain's bilbo thrusting manfully through the
night air, as if it would pierce the night gnomes and spirits that love to
hang over old battlements. Taking out his handkerchief, he wrapped it round
his hand, and seizing the point of the sword, gave it a jerk, which (and
the consequent terror) disengaged it from the hand of the pot-valiant hero
of Bothwell. A shout of fear was heard from within.

"Stop! stop! mine good Mr Mayor!" cried the Captain to the Mayor, who had
begun to fly; "I do not see, as yet, any very great, that is, serious cause
of apprehension; but, I forget, thou wert not at Bothwell. By my honour,
I've done for him! He hath carried off my sword in his bo