"
"Open the gate, Caleb," said his master, in a more soothing tone, partly
from his regard to the ancient and faithful seneschal, partly perhaps
because he thought that angry words would be thrown away, so long as
Caleb had a stout iron-clenched oaken door betwixt his person and the
speakers.
At length Caleb, with a trembling hand, undid the bars, opened the
heavy door, and stood before them, exhibiting his thin grey hairs, bald
forehead, and sharp high features, illuminated by a quivering lamp which
he held in one hand, while he shaded and protected its flame with the
other. The timorous, courteous glance which he threw around him, the
effect of the partial light upon his white hair and illumined features,
might have made a good painting; but our travellers were too impatient
for security against the rising storm to permit them to indulge
themselves in studying the picturesque. "Is it you, my dear master?--is
it you yourself, indeed?" exclaimed the old domestic. "I am wae ye suld
hae stude waiting at your ain gate; but wha wad hae thought o' seeing ye
sae sune, and a strange gentleman with a--(Here he exclaimed apart, as
it were, and to some inmate of the tower, in a voice not meant to be
heard by those in the court)--Mysie--Mysie, woman! stir for dear life,
and get the fire mended; take the auld three-legged stool, or ony
thing that's readiest that will make a lowe.
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