They looked on each other with fallen countenances and blanched lips.
But Henry Smith spoke out boldly, and in a decided voice, the sentiments which all felt, but none else dared give words to: "The Black Douglas to judge betwixt a burgher and a gentleman, nay, a nobleman, for all I know or care! The black devil of hell sooner! You are mad, father Simon, so much as to name so wild a proposal." There was again a silence of fear and uncertainty, which was at length broken by Bailie Craigdallie, who, looking very significantly to the speaker, replied, "You are confident in a stout doublet, neighbour Smith, or you would not talk so boldly." "I am confident of a good heart under my doublet, such as it is, bailie," answered the undaunted Henry; "and though I speak but little, my mouth shall never be padlocked by any noble of them all." "Wear a thick doublet, good Henry, or do not speak so loud," reiterated the bailie in the same significant tone.

"There are Border men in the town who wear the bloody heart on their shoulder.

But all this is no rede.

What shall we do ?" "Short rede, good rede," said the smith.

"Let us to our provost, and demand his countenance and assistance." A murmur of applause went through the party, and Oliver Proudfute exclaimed, "That is what I have been saying for this half hour, and not one of ye would listen to me.