Having enjoined absolute silence, and changed his dress to that of an eastern necromancer, he led them into a room hung with black and lighted with torches, containing a large mirror behind an altar, on which were two swords, an open book, and a human skull.
Gradually the mirror ceased to reflect these objects, and they saw the interior of a foreign church, in which Sir Philip was about to be married to a beautiful girl, when a group of officers entered, one of whom advanced towards the bridal party, arid swords were drawn on both sides.
A few days afterwards news arrived from Holland that Sir Philip's nuptials with the daughter of a rich burgo-master were actually about to be celebrated, when Major Falconer, who happened to be in the town, and had come with some brother officers to witness the ceremony as an amusement, recognised and denounced the would-be bigamist, accepted a challenge from him, and was killed.
He accordingly determined to call upon his lordship; and, having been persuaded to be his guest for a week, he was conducted at bedtime to an old-fashioned room, hung with tapestry, but comfortably furnished, and well lighted by two large candles and a blazing fire.
The next morning Lord Woodville was informed by his servant that the general had been wandering in the park since an early hour and when he appeared at the breakfast table his countenance was haggard, his clothes carelessly put on, and his manner abstracted; moreover, he announced that he must depart immediately.
Armstrong had been known during his father's lifetime as the Laird's Jock, or son; and being possessed of great strength and courage, had distinguished himself in the use of a two-handed sword, bequeathed to him by a Saxon outlaw, in many of the single combats which took place between the English and Scottish borderers during the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
His followers gazed sadly on their chieftain's withered features and shrunken form; but when the combatants met, and the Englishman brandished the sword over his fallen antagonist, the old laird, reanimated for an instant with his former vigour, sprang from the rock on which he was seated, and, having uttered a cry like that of a dying lion rather than a human being, sank into the arms of his clansmen broken-hearted, not at the death of his boy, but at their wounded honour, and the irreparable loss of his weapon.