In a few minutes the sound of the military music and the clashing of hoofs announced that the horsemen were leaving the castle.

The sounds were presently heard only at intervals, and soon died away entirely.
While Claverhouse endeavoured to soothe the terrors of Lady Margaret, and to reconcile the veteran Major to his opinion of Morton, Evandale, getting the better of that conscious shyness which renders an ingenuous youth diffident in approaching the object of his affections, drew near to Miss Bellenden, and accosted her in a tone of mingled respect and interest.
"We are to leave you," he said, taking her hand, which he pressed with much emotion--"to leave you for a scene which is not without its dangers.
Farewell, dear Miss Bellenden;--let me say for the first, and perhaps the last time, dear Edith! We part in circumstances so singular as may excuse some solemnity in bidding farewell to one, whom I have known so long, and whom I--respect so highly." The manner differing from the words, seemed to express a feeling much deeper and more agitating than was conveyed in the phrase he made use of.
It was not in woman to be utterly insensible to his modest and deep-felt expression of tenderness.

Although borne down by the misfortunes and imminent danger of the man she loved, Edith was touched by the hopeless and reverential passion of the gallant youth, who now took leave of her to rush into dangers of no ordinary description.
"I hope--I sincerely trust," she said, "there is no danger.

I hope there is no occasion for this solemn ceremonial--that these hasty insurgents will be dispersed rather by fear than force, and that Lord Evandale will speedily return to be what he must always be, the dear and valued friend of all in this castle." "Of all," he repeated, with a melancholy emphasis upon the word.

"But be it so--whatever is near you is dear and valued to me, and I value their approbation accordingly.