s stout and active, but he was no match for the
Baron at the sword-play. And the encounter would not have lasted long,
had not the landlady, Lucky Macleary, hearing the well-known clash of
swords, come running in on them, crying that surely the gentlemen would
not bring dishonour on an honest widow-woman's house, when there was all
the lee land in the country to do their fighting upon.

So saying, she stopped the combat very effectually by flinging her plaid
over the weapons of the adversaries.

* * * * *

Next morning Edward awoke late, and in no happy frame of mind. It was an
age of duels, and with his first waking thoughts there came the memory
of the insult which had been passed upon him by the Laird of
Balmawhapple. His position as an officer and a Waverley left him no
alternative but to send that sportsman a challenge. Upon descending, he
found Rose Bradwardine presiding at the breakfast table. She was alone,
but Edward felt in no mood for conversation, and sat gloomy, silent, and
ill-content with himself and with circumstances. Suddenly he saw the
Baron and Balmawhapple pass the window arm in arm, and the next moment
the butler summoned him to speak with his master in another apartment.

There he found Balmawhapple, no little sulky and altogether silent, with
the Baron by his side. The latter in his capacity of mediator made
Edward a full and complete apology for the events of the past
evening--an apology which the young man gladly accepted along with the
hand of the offender--somewhat stiffly given, it is true, owing to the
necessity of carrying his right arm in a sling--the result (as
Balmawhapple afterwards assured Miss Rose) of a fall from his horse.

It was not till the morning of the second day that Edward learned the
whole history of this reconciliation, which had at first been so welcome
to him. It was Daft Davie Gellatley, who, by the roguish singing of a
ballad, first roused his suspicions that something underlay
Balmawhapple's professions of regret for his conduct.

"The young man will brawl at the evening board
_Heard ye so merry the little birds sing?_
But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword,
_And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing._"

Edward could see by the sly looks of the Fool that he meant something
personal by this, so he plied the butler with questions, and discovered
that the Baron had actually fou