He lay awake until midnight, but there was no disturbance; nothing was heard but the plash of the mill-stream, and the dripping ooze from the rocks.  His old enemies, no doubt, were intimidated, and he was about commencing a snug nap on the idea—­when, lo! there came a great rush of wind.  He heard it booming on from a vast distance, until it seemed to sweep over the building in one wide resistless torrent that might have levelled the stoutest edifice;—­yet was the mill unharmed by the attack.  Then came shrieks and yells, mingled with the most horrid imprecations.  Swift as thought, there rushed upon him a prodigious company of cats, bats, and all manner of hideous things, that scratched and pinched him, as he afterwards declared, until his flesh verily “reeked” again.  Maddened by the torment, he began to lay about him lustily with a long whittle which he carried for domestic purposes.  They gave back at so unexpected a reception.  Taking courage thereby, Robin followed, and they fled, helter-skelter, like a routed army.  Through loop-holes and windows went the obscene crew, with such hideous screeches as startled the whole neighbourhood.  He gave one last desperate lunge as a parting remembrance, and felt that his weapon had made a hit.  Something fell on the floor, but the light was extinguished in the scuffle, and in vain he attempted to grope out this trophy of his valour.

“I’ve sliced off a leg or a wing,” thought he, “and I may lay hold on it in the morning.”

All was now quiet, and Robin, to his great comfort, was left without further molestation.

Morning dawned bright and cheerful on the grey battlements of Bernshaw Tower; the sun came out joyously over the hills; but Lord William walked forth with an anxious and gloomy countenance.  His wife had feigned illness, and the old nurse had tended her through the night in a separate chamber.  This was the story he had learnt on finding her absent when he awoke.  Early presenting himself at the door, he was refused admission.  She was ill—­very ill.  The lady was fallen asleep, and might not be disturbed:  such was the answer he received.  Rising over the hill, he now saw the gaunt ungainly form of Robin, his new tenant, approaching in great haste with a bundle under his arm.

“What news from the mill, my stout warrior of the north?” said Lord William.

“I think I payed one on ’em, your worship,” said Robin, taking the bundle in his hand.  “Not a cat said mew when they felt my whittle.  Marry, I spoilt their catterwauling:  I’ve cut a rare shive!”

“How didst fare last night with thy wenches?” inquired the other.

“I’ve mended their manners for a while, I guess.  As I peeped about betimes this morning, I found—­a paw!  If cats are bred with hands and gowden rings on their fingers, they shall e’en ha’ sporting-room i’ the mill!  No bad luck, methinks.”