was not civil or right, Malcolm--an old man, too. Where is
he?"

"Just by the door--eh--and he's coming ben--the ill-mannered
loon!" cried Malcolm, angrily, as he interrupted the intruder--a
tall, gaunt figure wrapped in a shepherd's plaid, with the bonnet set
upon the grizzled head in that sturdy independence--nay, more than
independence--rudeness, rough and thorny as his own thistle, which is
the characteristic of the Scotch peasant externally, till you get below
the surface to the warm, kindly heart.

"I'm no ill-mannered, and I'll just gang through the hale house till I
find my lord," said the old man, shaking off Malcolm with a strength
that his seventy odd years seemed scarcely to have diminished. "I'm
wushing ane harm to ony o' ye, but I maun get speech o' my lord. He's
no bairn; he'll be ane-and-twenty the thirtieth o' June: I mind the day
weel, for the wife was brought to bed o' her last wean the same day as
the countess, and our Dougal's a braw callant the noo, ye ken. Gin the
earl has ony wits ava, whilk folk thocht was aye doubtful', he'll hae
gotten them by this time. I maun speak wi' himself', unless, as they
said, he's no a' there."

"Haud your tongue, ye fule!" cried Malcolm, stopping him with a fierce
whisper. "Yon's my lord!"

The old shepherd started back, for at this moment a sudden blaze-up of
the fire showed him, sitting in the corner, the diminutive figure,
attired carefully after the then fashion of gentlemen's dress, every
thing rich and complete, even to the black silk stockings and shoes on
the small, useless feet, and the white ruffles half hiding the twisted
wrists and deformed hands.

"Yes, I am the Earl of Cairnforth. What did you want to say to me?"

He was so bewildered, the rough shepherd, who had spent all his life on
the hill-sides, and never seen or imagined so sad a sight as this, that
at first he could not find a word. Then he said, hanging back and
speaking confusedly and humbly, "I ask your pardon, my lord--I dina
ken--I'll no trouble ye the day."

"But you do not trouble me at all. Mr. Menteith is not here yet, and I
know nothing about business; still, if you wished to speak to me, do so;
I am Lord Cairnforth."

"Are ye?" said the shepherd, evidently bewildered still, so that he
forgot his natural awe for his feudal superior. "Are ye the countess's
bairn, that's just the age o' our Dougal? Dougal's ane o' the
gamekeepers, ye ken--sic a braw fellow--sax feet