Westburnflat, thus pressed, after calling out, “Godsake, Hobbie, hear me a gliff!” fairly turned his back and fled.  His mother stood ready to open and shut the grate; but Hobbie struck at the freebooter as he entered with so much force, that the sword made a considerable cleft in the lintel of the vaulted door, which is still shown as a memorial of the superior strength of those who lived in the days of yore.  Ere Hobbie could repeat the blow, the door was shut and secured, and he was compelled to retreat to his companions, who were now preparing to break up the siege of Westburnflat.  They insisted upon his accompanying them in their return.

“Ye hae broken truce already,” said old Dick of the Dingle; “an we takena the better care, ye’ll play mair gowk’s tricks, and make yoursell the laughing-stock of the haill country, besides having your friends charged with slaughter under trust.  Bide till the meeting at Castleton, as ye hae greed; and if he disna make ye amends, then we’ll hae it out o’ his heart’s blood.  But let us gang reasonably to wark and keep our tryst, and I’se warrant we get back Grace, and the kye an’ a’.”

This cold-blooded reasoning went ill down with the unfortunate lover; but, as he could only obtain the assistance of his neighbours and kinsmen on their own terms, he was compelled to acquiesce in their notions of good faith and regular procedure.

Earnscliff now requested the assistance of a few of the party to convey Miss Vere to her father’s castle of Ellieslaw, to which she was peremptory in desiring to be conducted.  This was readily granted; and five or six young men agreed to attend him as an escort.  Hobbie was not of the number.  Almost heart-broken by the events of the day, and his final disappointment, he returned moodily home to take such measures as he could for the sustenance and protection of his family, and to arrange with his neighbours the farther steps which should be adopted for the recovery of Grace Armstrong.  The rest of the party dispersed in different directions, as soon as they had crossed the morass.  The outlaw and his mother watched them from the tower, until they entirely disappeared.

CHAPTER X.

     I left my ladye’s bower last night—­
     It was clad in wreaths of snaw,—­
     I’ll seek it when the sun is bright,
     And sweet the roses blaw.—­Old ballad.

Incensed at what he deemed the coldness of his friends, in a cause which interested him so nearly, Hobbie had shaken himself free of their company, and was now on his solitary road homeward.  “The fiend founder thee!” said he, as he spurred impatiently his over-fatigued and stumbling horse; “thou art like a’ the rest o’ them.  Hae I not bred thee, and fed thee, and dressed thee wi’ mine ain hand, and wouldst thou snapper now and break my neck at my utmost need?  But thou’rt e’en like the lave—­the farthest off