When all was over, he
came from his hiding-place; and finding the English soldier's helmet
and cloak, poor Dugald, still fearful of falling in with any straggling
party of Heselrigge's, disguised himself in those Southron clothes.
Exhausted with hunger, he was venturing toward the house in search of
food, when the sight of armed men in the hall made him hastily retreat
into his former place of refuge. His alarm was soon increased by a
redoubled noise from the house; oaths and horrid bursts of merriment
seemed to have turned that once abode of honor and of loveliness into
the clamorous haunts of ribaldry and rapine. In the midst of the
uproar, he was surprised by seeing flames issue from the windows.
Soldiers poured from the doors with shouts of triumph; some carried off
the booty, and others watched by the fire till the interior of the
building was consumed and the rest sunk a heap of smoking ruins.
"The work completed, these horrid ministers of devastation left the
vale to its own solitude. Dugald, after waiting a long time to
ascertain they were quite gone, crawled from the bushes, and, ascending
the cliffs, he was speeding to the mountains, when, encountering our
armed shepherds, they mistook him for an English soldier, and seized
him.
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