In the meantime, John M’Kay took his station on the outside of the door—­a more friendly guard over the inmates of the apartment to which it conducted than those who stood on either side of him.  Here the same feeling which had dictated John’s significant hint to the turnkey below, suggested his general bearing and particular manner to the two soldiers now beside him.

Maintaining a profound and contemptuous silence, he strutted up and down the passage—­without going, however, more than two or three yards either way—­in front of the door of his lordship’s apartment, keeping his huge form proudly erect, as he thus paced the short walk to which he had limited himself, and casting, every now and then, a look of fierce defiance on the appalled soldiers, who looked with fear and dread on the chafed lion with whom they found themselves thus unpleasantly caged, and who seemed every moment as if he would spring upon and tear them to pieces; and, in truth, little provocation would it have taken to have brought John M’Kay’s huge fists into play about their heads.  There can be no doubt that there was nothing at that moment which would have given John more satisfaction than their affording him an excuse for attacking them.  This, however, the soldiers carefully avoided; and, not content with refraining from giving the slightest offence, either in word, look, or deed, endeavoured to conciliate John by an attempt to lead him into friendly conversation.  But the attempt was in vain.  Their advances were all repelled, either with silent contempt or with a gruff uncourteous response.  A specimen of the conversation which did take place between M’Kay and the guards may be given:—­

“Delightful day, friend!” said one of the soldiers.

“S’pose it is!” replied John sternly, and continuing his walk.

A pause.

“Anything new in the town to-day?” at length said the other soldier.

“S’pose something new every tay!” replied John gruffly.

“Ay, ay, I dare say; but have you anything new to tell us?”

“Maype I have,” said John, with a grim smile.

“What is it?”

“Tat I’ll knock your tam thick head against tat wall if you’ll pe botter me wi’ any more o’ your tam nonsense.  Tat’s news for you!” and John gave one of those peculiar Celtic grunts which no combination of letters can express.  “And you, you scarecrow-looking rascal,” he continued, addressing the other sentinel, “if you’ll spoke anoder word, I’ll cram my sporran doon your dam troat.”

Having delivered himself of these friendly addresses, John resumed his march, with additional pride of step and bearing.  In a minute after, he was summoned into Lord Rae’s apartment, where he remained until Lady Rae left the prison, which she did in a short time afterwards.

It was with a beating heart and anxious mind that Lady Rae wended her way, on the following day—­attended, as usual, by her gigantic serving-man—­to the lodgings of Oliver Cromwell.  On reaching the house, M’Kay took his station, as on a former occasion, on the outside, while her ladyship advanced towards the door, within which she speedily disappeared, her admittance having been more prompt on the present visit than the former.