Bandy not words, but begone." "Saint or sinner, angel or devil," said Henry, crossing himself, "your advice touches me but too dearly to be neglected.

St.Valentine be my speed!" So saying, he instantly changed his loitering pace to one with which few people could have kept up, and in an instant was in Couvrefew Street.
He had not made three steps towards Simon Glover's, which stood in the midst of the narrow street, when two men started from under the houses on different sides, and advanced, as it were by concert, to intercept his passage.

The imperfect light only permitted him to discern that they wore the Highland mantle.
"Clear the way, cateran," said the armourer, in the deep stern voice which corresponded with the breadth of his chest.
They did not answer, at least intelligibly; but he could see that they drew their swords, with the purpose of withstanding him by violence.
Conjecturing some evil, but of what kind he could not anticipate, Henry instantly determined to make his way through whatever odds, and defend his mistress, or at least die at her feet.

He cast his cloak over his left arm as a buckler, and advanced rapidly and steadily to the two men.
The nearest made a thrust at him, but Henry Smith, parrying the blow with his cloak, dashed his arm in the man's face, and tripping him at the same time, gave him a severe fall on the causeway; while almost at the same instant he struck a blow with his whinger at the fellow who was upon his right hand, so severely applied, that he also lay prostrate by his associate.

Meanwhile, the armourer pushed forward in alarm, for which the circumstance of the street being guarded or defended by strangers who conducted themselves with such violence afforded sufficient reason.