here is little fear, Jean. I've been so long away that most of the
people--the enemies at least--who knew me must have left; besides, my
bronzed face and bushy beard form a sufficient disguise, I should
think."

"I'm no sure o' that," returned the girl, shaking her head doubtfully;
"an' it seems to me that the best thing ye can do will be to gang to the
workshop every mornin' before it's daylight. Have ye fairly settled to
tak' to Uncle Andrew's trade?"

"Yes. Last night he and I arranged it while you were asleep. I must
work, you know, to earn my living, and there is no situation so likely
to afford such effectual concealment. Bruce offered to take me on
again, but the smiddy is too public, and too much frequented by
soldiers. Ah, Jean! I fear that our wedding-day is a long way off yet,
for, although I could easily make enough to support you in comfort if
there were no difficulties to hamper me, there is not much chance of my
making a fortune, as Andrew Black says, by turning parritch-sticks and
peeries!"

Wallace tried to speak lightly, but could not disguise a tone of
despondency.

"Your new King," he continued, "seems as bad as the old one, if not
worse. From all I hear he seems to have set his heart on bringing the
country back again to Popery, and black will be the look-out if he
succeeds in doing that. He has quarrelled, they say, with his bishops,
and in his anger is carrying matters against them with a high hand. I
fear that there is woe in store for poor Scotland yet."

"It may be so," returned Jean sadly. "The Lord knows what is best; but
He can make the wrath of man to praise Him. Perhaps," she added,
looking up with a solemn expression on her sweet face, "perhaps, like
Quentin Dick an' Margaret Wilson, you an' I may never wed."

They had reached the east end of the Grassmarket as she spoke, and had
turned into it before she observed that they were going wrong, but
Wallace explained that he had been directed by Black to call on Ramblin'
Peter, who lived there, and procure from him some turning-tools. On the
way they were so engrossed with each other that they did not at first
observe the people hurrying towards the lower end of the market. Then
they became aware that an execution was about to take place.

"The old story," muttered Wallace, while an almost savage scowl settled
on his face.

"Let us hurry by," said Jean in a low tone. At the moment the unhappy
man who was about to be e