Page:King James and the Egyptian robbers, or, The court cave of Fife (2).pdf/17

Rh 'Who is he?' reiterated Walter?

'One who is worthy already the hand of the best ae daughter of any laird in Fife; and who, ere to-morrow's sun sets, will be wealthier than yourself.'

'Who—who—who is he?' cried the old man, stamping in paroxysm of rage.

'Arthur Winton!' said the stranger.

The anger of Walter, when this unpleasing name was uttered, almost overwhelmed him.

'Out of my doors, you rascally imposter,' at length he was able to exclaim; 'out of my doors. Swith away to the minion who sent you here, an' you wish not to taste the discipline of the whip, or to escape being worried by the tykes.'

To the stranger the anger of the old man, instead of fear, seemed only to occasion merriment. He laughed so heartily at the violences into which the rage of his host seduced him, that the tears actually stood in his eyes—conduct that naturally increased the passion which it fed on. The servants stood looking on in silent wonder; and Edith, startled by the noise of the discordant sounds, returned to the place in wonder and alarm.

An unexpected termination was suddenly put to the scene by the entrance of Winton. His cheek was flushed with haste; and he was so breathless that he could hardly exclaim—'Save yourself, sir stranger, by instant flight; the Egyptians have tracked our path hither, and are pursuing us here with numbers ten times exceeding those we encountered in the cave.'

'Let them come,' said the stranger, with a smile. 'Egyptians though they be, they cannot eat through stone walls or baken doors. We will carouse within while they howl without, and drink the dirige of their chief.'

Arthur said nothing, but looked doubtingly at Walter.

'And do you really imagine, worthy youth, and no less worthy blackfit, that I am to have my house sieged, my cattle stolen, and my corn carried off, to shield you from the consequences of your drunken brawls? Not I, by the cat of blessed Bride. Out of my doors, you caitiffs—they can but slay you, and the whittle has crossed the craig of mony a better fellow than any of ye twasome is likely to prove. Begone, I say.'

'Nay, my dear father,' said Edith, imploringly, 'do not drive them furth now; the Egyptians are approaching the house—they cannot escape.'

'And they shall not stay here,' replied the old man, harshly, the tone of agony in which Edith's intreaties were uttered recalling all the bitterness of his feelings against Arthur.