a furnace. And indeed, we knew not of her death until a boy,
who had seen her slain, and had dropped from a window and hidden
himself till they had gone, came out and told us. He, and two or three
others, are the only ones left alive of those in the hold, when we
arrived and saved young Allan; and indeed, whether he lives now, or
not, I know not. The priest said, when we carried him in, that his
state was almost beyond hope."

Oswald galloped on to the end of the village, leapt from his horse, and
threw the reins to Roger, who had been muttering words that he
certainly would not have found in the missals, or the books, of the
monastery.

"Is there nothing to be done, Master Oswald?"

"Not at present. We must wait till my uncle returns."

Then he entered the house. He had met the priest frequently, during his
stay with the Armstrongs; as he entered the room, he was standing by a
pallet on which Allan was laid, while a very old woman was attending to
a decoction that was boiling over the fire.

"Is there any hope, father?"

"I know not," the priest replied, shaking his head sorrowfully. "We
have stanched the wounds, but his head is well nigh cleft open. I have
some skill in wounds, for they are common enough in this unfortunate
country, and I should say that there was no hope; but Meg here, who is
noted through the country round for her knowledge in these matters,
thinks that it is possible he may yet recover. She is now making a
poultice of herbs that she will lay on the wound; or rather on the
wounds, for he has no less than four."

"I think that he will live, young master," the old woman said in a
quavering, high-pitched voice. "'Tis hard to kill an Armstrong. They
have ever been a hardy race and, save the lad's father, have ever been
prone to the giving and taking of blows. I watched by his grandfather's
bed, when he was in as sore a strait as this; but he came round, and
was none the worse for it, though the blow would have killed any man
with a softer skull.

"A curse upon the Bairds, I say. They have ever been a race of thieves
and raiders, and it is their doings that have brought trouble on the
border, as long as I can remember."

"Has any gone to bear the news to Adam Armstrong, father?"

"Yes. I sent off a messenger on horseback, as soon as they had gone.
Adam left early, and the man will meet him on his way back."

Half an hour later, indeed, Adam Armstrong rode in. Oswald met him
outside. His fa