The looks of the man were as wild and rude as his attire; his keen black eyes never rested one moment fixed upon a single object, but constantly traversed all around, as if they ever sought some danger to oppose, some plunder to seize, or some insult to revenge.

The latter seemed to be his present object, for, regardless of the dignified presence of Lord Lacy, he uttered the most incoherent threats against the owner of the house and his guests.
"We shall see--ay, marry shall we--if an English hound is to harbour and reset the Southrons here.

Thank the Abbot of Melrose and the good Knight of Coldingnow that have so long kept me from your skirts.

But those days are gone, by St.Mary, and you shall find it!" It is probable the enraged Borderer would not have long continued to vent his rage in empty menaces, had not the entrance of the four yeomen, with their bows bent, convinced him that the force was not at this moment on his own side.
Lord Lacy now advanced towards him.

"You intrude upon my privacy, soldier; withdraw yourself and Your followers.