"Now don't let me take you in," said Evelyn, turning resolutely towards the house. "I know I shall find Mrs Comline about the doors; and it is really a shame——” feeling that he would as soon make his way inside alone.

"Ay, ay, she's aboot," replied the farmer, disregarding the latter portion of the sentence, "but that's no' to say she's doin' a' the wark, as was the way when ye cam' oor road last time,—na, na; Lizzie brocht us a lass whae's doin' fine, an' the mistress may sit in her chair noo, I'm tellin' her. An' we'll mak' nae peyvee aboot ye, Captain; ye'll tak' us as we are, as ye did syne. We're aye the same -aye the same. The laird himsel' whiles comes to us i' the winter-time, when the Castle's shut up, an' he's doun for a week's shootin', for the woodcock an' the heather-bleet. D'ye see yon flows doun by? Thon's the place for baith the twa. Phoo! I hae seen woodcock there when they wasna to be fund or heard o' in ony ither moss for miles roond. There's anither up ayont that's no that bad neither. But ye're for indoors? I'm comin' wi' ye--"

"No, don't."

"Hoots! what for no?" replied Mr Comline, stoutly. 66 My wark's done: an' 'deed there's little wark on hand the noo; we're jist puttin' things straicht here an' there i' the back-en'. It's a gude time o' the year to tak' for bits o' odd jobs that a body lets pass ither whiles; but it'll no' do to leave ower muckle to it neither, as I was tellin' the lads the noo. They're aff for the day, and I was on the road hame mysel' when I fell in wi' you, Captain. An' hoo are a' the family at Carnochan?" with an evident effort at politeness. "They wad be sweer to let ye awa', I'm thinkin'." Then in a lower key, and glancing round in fear of being overheard, "They're a prood thrawn pack that's there, tho' the wife munna hear me sayin' it."

Evelyn laughed heartily.

"Ay, ay," continued the farmer, in high good-humour, "that's what they are. They're no o' your sort, sir-no ane amang them. I'm wae for that bit young thing that's here, a' the same-that I am. It wasna for her ain folks to cast her frae them, be she what she micht; an' gudesakes, for being a wee thing mettlesome! She micht hae kicked the byre to pieces afore I wad hae spurned sae bonny a heifer!" "Do you think," said Evelyn, lingering, and still looking restlessly round, as he had not ceased to do since entering

the farm precincts,-"do you think that she will be glad to see me?"

"Glad here, glad there, she's glad at naethin'. Maybe she'll speak t'ye, maybe she'll no. But I wad tak' nae heed, Captain, but gang your ain gait, and e'en let her be. She kenned whae ye were a' the time,-and see what cam' o't? There's nae sayin' hoo she'll tak' your comin' back, she's been that thowless this bygane week,— --are ye to tell her a' ye ken?" he broke off, abruptly.

66 Certainly, I have no excuse for reappearing otherwiseexcept this,"-pulling out the handkerchief, which had now. grown to be an incubus. "Here it is, you see; and you will understand why it comes so. Perhaps your wife will kindly put it right before Miss Newbattle receives it. To tell you the truth, it was hearing how badly your daughter, and my-hum-ah-sister-had been treated at Carnochan, that brought me here. I-I-came to see if I could-could in any way help them."

"Ye did that?" said Mr Comline, stopping short, and digging his stick into the ground. "Ye did that? Then, sir, you are the gentleman I took ye for frae the affset! Í thocht I couldna be mista'en. Lord, I am prood! Aweel, it's a sair story, an' they'll no' thole to hear it mentioned doun by," looking at the house; "but sae it stan's,—she was chuckit awa' like a bag o' chaff! They had her for a year an' mair, an' aye they were pleased, and she was weel content; an' a' in a gliff cam' word frae her Leddyship, your mither, to bid her bide whaur she was-here at the farm, d'ye see?-an' no' e'en to gang back to pit her bits o' duds thegither! I went mysel' to fetch them-ay, I did. I'd no' hae my ae bairn gang whaur she was lichtlied, ony mair than my Leddy wad hers,-a hantle less, maybe. Weel, sir, to Carnochan I went-ye mind I tell't ye I had been there, -an' what did I find? A' the place in a lowe! Ane wi' her tale, and t'ither wi' hers; an' the end o't was that I was free to tak' Miss Kate here gin I would, for I had up and said she should gang wi' me an she chose-an' sae here she is. But it's a puir sorrowfu' face I aye see for my pains; she jist whyripes a' the day lang: an' troth, Captain, though nane can cast it up to me that my mind misgi'es me for that day's wark, I wad be blythe, for a' oor sakes, to see your sister mair couthy."

"Where is she now?"

"Whae kens? Up amang the cleughs, maist like. Whiles she'll sit on a stane, doun by the tide there, for a' the warld like a heron; and 'deed she's nae fatter than the craig o' a heron at the dark o' the moon-when they canna see to fin' their meat, ye ken. Whimsies? She's fu' o' whimsies; she doesna ken ae meenut what she'll do the neist, she's that restless and pingin. But I'm wae for her, that I am, puir thing!"

"But where is she?" thought Evelyn, impatiently. "Here we have been hanging about the doors this half-hour, and-and-somehow I wish I could see her, and be done with it."

The next moment he heard a light step behind.

The farmer had preceded him into the house, and he made a halt unobserved.

Up she came.

Their eyes met, and he had taken her hand ere she had time for more than amazement. She could only stand still,

gasp for breath, and flush all over.

"I have come back," said Evelyn, "on purpose to see you, Kate."

CHAPTER X.

A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM.

"Mirth, admit me of thy crew,

To live with her, and live with thee,

In unreproved pleasures free."

-L'Allegro.

"No noisy neighbours enter here,

No intermeddling stranger near.'
-COTTON.

He could not have done better. The next moment brought out his rejoicing hostess, escorted by her no less jubilant spouse; and he had to listen, and laugh, and edge in a word as best he might for another ten minutes, during which time Miss Newbattle stood by silent and bewildered, but certainly without any displeasure being manifested on her downcast

countenance.

"And here's Lizzie," cried the farmer next, producing the

quiet, unremarkable-looking young woman about whom so much stir had been made, and whom-although he could not have told why, had he been asked-Evelyn now regarded with especial favour. Surely it would have been more natural that he should have viewed Miss Comline, if not with ill-will as the bone of contention, the apple of discord, the person who had wrought mischief which he was there for the express purpose of remedying,-at least with neutral eyes. It was certainly odd that he should shake her so heartily by the hand, and say to himself, "What a sensible, nice-looking, unaffected girl!"

The fact was, he was overflowing with good-humour and spirits, charmed with himself for having given pleasure, which in turn was affording him varied and delightful anticipations; and the innocent governess, who by strict rule could hardly be charged either with the authorship of Kate's dolor or Evelyn's enjoyment, was the object of the latter's unreasoning gratitude. She had brought about the situation, and he did not care how she had done it.

He had not been mistaken in calculating on the reception he should meet with from any one of the party, since the fact that his dark-eyed sister stood by, instead of slipping past within doors, was as much as he cared for at present; and as to the other three, it was plain that not only was what he had done taken in good part, but that nothing in the whole world besides would have afforded the worthy people equal satisfaction.

Here was the son, the only son, of the proud, painted Jezebel-(poor Lady Olivia! she only used a little pearlpowder and rouge occasionally)—here he was, on the side of the oppressed. Here was an ambassador extraordinary—a mediator unparalleled. My lady herself, suing for pardon at their door, could not have soothed their wounded pride more entirely.

It did not just then occur to any one to imagine that their champion had deserted, as it were, unbeknown to the opposing powers; nor did it occur to him to suppose that they would think he had done anything else. Nothing was said on a subject which could very well wait—which had better, indeed, be kept for a quieter season; and as long as the party was complete, it was felt, by one and all alike, that genial and ordinary topics could alone be introduced. At supper-time the chances of good sport on the burn, which

was within half a mile, were discussed. Evelyn had inspected the water, and had found it low. This had been the only drawback to his good fortune; but he was too much of a sportsman to complain, especially as a good night's rain would, he knew, pull up the stream to its proper pitch, and all would be right.

"And I'm dinged if we hanna rain 'ore many hoors are gane by," quoth the farmer; "there's a brugh aboot the moon the nicht that we hanna seen this while back, and that betokens an onfa' o' rain at this time o' the year. Hark! it's drifflin a'ready! The Captain is in the nick o' time, an it come na a spate; but o' that, nae man can prophesy."

"A spate?" said Evelyn.

"A rush o' water frae the hills- a flood, sir, a flood. Rain's what we want-that's to say, what you want; for it wad be no' that welcome to me. I could stan' it, but I'm no carin' for it; but neither the ta'en nor the t'ither o' us wants to be drooned."

"The burn is close at hand," said Evelyn, looking across the table, and pointedly addressing Miss Newbattle; "is it too rough-walking on the moor for you to come with me tomorrow, provided the water is in trim ?”

The silence and expectant looks of the other three made him repent, the moment he had put the question. It was evidently their custom to let the young lady alone, and he thought he could perceive some anxiety lest he should have done the wrong thing in making his suggestion.

She herself was evidently taken by surprise, and hesitated, looking at him as though uncertain what reply to make to a request so unusual.

"Noo then, Missy," said the farmer, encouragingly, "the Captain wants your company. Poohoo, Captain! she minds naethin' o' rough walking-and it's no' that rough, neither It's just a wheen bogs-saft to the feet; and there's a dyke or twa, but them she'll easy wun ower; and there's a bit path, a sheep-track, a mile or sae up, that'll gie ye a lift on. Oo ay, Missy can gang brawly."

"It'll do her gude," added his wife.

66

Say you'll go, dear," whispered Lizzie.

Evelyn wished anew he had not spoken.

"Why, Kate," he said, gaily, though inwardly vexed with himself for being the cause of her confusion, "you must not