“Let us remember our wrongs at Darien and Glencoe,” continued Ellieslaw, “and take arms for the protection of our rights, our fortunes, our lives, and our families.”

“Think upon genuine episcopal ordination, without which there can be no lawful clergy,” said the divine.

“Think of the piracies committed on our East-Indian trade by Green and the English thieves,” said William Willieson, half-owner and sole skipper of a brig that made four voyages annually between Cockpool and Whitehaven.

“Remember your liberties,” rejoined Mareschal, who seemed to take a mischievous delight in precipitating the movements of the enthusiasm which he had excited, like a roguish boy, who, having lifted the sluice of a mill-dam, enjoys the clatter of the wheels which he has put in motion, without thinking of the mischief he may have occasioned.  “Remember your liberties,” he exclaimed; “confound cess, press, and presbytery, and the memory of old Willie that first brought them upon us!”

“Damn the gauger!” echoed old John Rewcastle; “I’ll cleave him wi’ my ain hand.”

“And confound the country-keeper and the constable!” re-echoed Westburnflat; “I’ll weize a brace of balls through them before morning.”

“We are agreed, then,” said Ellieslaw, when the shouts had somewhat subsided, “to bear this state of things no longer?”

“We are agreed to a man,” answered his guests.

“Not literally so,” said Mr. Ratcliffe; “for though I cannot hope to assuage the violent symptoms which seem so suddenly to have seized upon the company, yet I beg to observe, that so far as the opinion of a single member goes, I do not entirely coincide in the list of grievances which has been announced, and that I do utterly protest against the frantic measures which you seem disposed to adopt for removing them.  I can easily suppose much of what has been spoken may have arisen out of the heat of the moment, or have been said perhaps in jest.  But there are some jests of a nature very apt to transpire; and you ought to remember, gentlemen, that stone-walls have ears.”

“Stone-walls may have ears,” returned Ellieslaw, eyeing him with a look of triumphant malignity, “but domestic spies, Mr. Ratcliffe, will soon find themselves without any, if any such dares to continue his abode in a family where his coming was an unauthorized intrusion, where his conduct has been that of a presumptuous meddler, and from which his exit shall be that of a baffled knave, if he does not know how to take a hint.”

“Mr. Vere,” returned Ratcliffe, with calm contempt, “I am fully aware, that as soon as my presence becomes useless to you, which it must through the rash step you are about to adopt, it will immediately become unsafe to myself, as it has always been hateful to you.  But I have one protection, and it is a strong one; for you would not willingly hear me detail before gentlemen, and men of honour, the singular circumstances in which our connexion took its rise.  As to the rest, I rejoice at its conclusion; and as I think that Mr. Mareschal and some other gentlemen will guarantee the safety of my ears and of my throat (for which last I have more reason to be apprehensive) during the course of the night, I shall not leave your castle till to-morrow morning.”