But it was not in the power of wine or brandy to elevate the spirits of those who held the higher places at the banquet.  They experienced the chilling revulsion of spirits which often takes place, when men are called upon to take a desperate resolution, after having placed themselves in circumstances where it is alike difficult to advance or to recede.  The precipice looked deeper and more dangerous as they approached the brink, and each waited with an inward emotion of awe, expecting which of his confederates would set the example by plunging himself down.  This inward sensation of fear and reluctance acted differently, according to the various habits and characters of the company.  One looked grave; another looked silly; a third gazed with apprehension on the empty seats at the higher end of the table, designed for members of the conspiracy whose prudence had prevailed over their political zeal, and who had absented themselves from their consultations at this critical period; and some seemed to be reckoning up in their minds the comparative rank and prospects of those who were present and absent.  Sir Frederick Langley was reserved, moody, and discontented.  Ellieslaw himself made such forced efforts to raise the spirits of the company, as plainly marked the flagging of his own.  Ratcliffe watched the scene with the composure of a vigilant but uninterested spectator.  Mareschal alone, true to the thoughtless vivacity of his character, ate and drank, laughed and jested, and seemed even to find amusement in the embarrassment of the company.

“What has damped our noble courage this morning?” he exclaimed.  “We seem to be met at a funeral, where the chief mourners must not speak above their breath, while the mutes and the saulies (looking to the lower end of the table) are carousing below.  Ellieslaw, when will you lift? [To lift, meaning to lift the coffin, is the common expression for commencing a funeral.] where sleeps your spirit, man? and what has quelled the high hope of the Knight of Langley-dale?”

“You speak like a madman,” said Ellieslaw; “do you not see how many are absent?”

“And what of that?” said Mareschal.  “Did you not know before, that one-half of the world are better talkers than doers?  For my part, I am much encouraged by seeing at least two-thirds of our friends true to the rendezvous, though I suspect one-half of these came to secure the dinner in case of the worst.”

“There is no news from the coast which can amount to certainty of the King’s arrival,” said another of the company, in that tone of subdued and tremulous whisper which implies a failure of resolution.

“Not a line from the Earl of D—­, nor a single gentleman from the southern side of the Border,” said a third.

“Who is he that wishes for more men from England,” exclaimed Mareschal, in a theatrical tone of affected heroism,

     “My cousin Ellieslaw?  No, my fair cousin,
     If we are doom’d to die—­”