Wyseby

OF THE FIRST IRVINGS. 37
his own. 'Ha! thou here!' shouted Nairin. 'On
him, knaves ! He is worth a ' The sentence
died upon his lips. Ere a kern could raise a sword,
the dark of soul lay lifeless by the pure spring, stain-
ing with his base blood the land he had betrayed.
His followers fled. I gazed upon my preserver.
His age scarcely exceeded my own. His features
were wan and care-worn. — his habiliments torn and
soiled ; but his graceful bearing, and the skilful
vigour of his arm, betrayed the warrior and chief.
" •' Warrior,' I said, '.accept the grateful thanks
of '
"'No hour this,' cried he, impatiently, 'for idle
words. Secure that traitor's sword, and fly with me.
These kerns will spread the alarm — the pursuit will
be hot, and we are far, far from aid or shelter.'
" Boots not to tell thee of the many perils of our
flight. At midnight, on the tenth night, we drained
the wine-cup in the halls of Burdock, and our souls
grew strong in the heroic strains of Durra, the mas-
ter of song. Ah ! sister, is it strange that my soul
loves this heroic outlaw ? No ! In the hour of peril
we met ; — in the weariness and danger of flight we
parted not ;. — and on the night of safety we raised
the wine-cup together, and gave our voices in the
same song. His sword shielded me in danger ; —
his arm supported me in flight ; — and in his castle
was the glad song of safety raised. Oh ! sister, look
lovingly on Esecal. — But what do I ask ? Pardon me,
Catharine. Gratitude to a brave man has blinded
me to thy rights."
" Proceed, brother," said the proud girl, her ani-
mated face covered with blushes, — " proceed."
During their conversation, the shadows of evening