s he turned away his head.
"This man touches strings whose vibrations harrow me. Sir," he added,
"were you ever yourself in the situation of him whose feelings you have
thus, from good motives, quickened so painfully?"

"What Whitecraigs and she who lives now in the house yonder were or are
to you, Scotland and my kindred were to me; but the house where I was
born knows me not, and the bed and the cradle do not own me. But Alice
Scott recognised me as a fellow-creature, whatever more I say not; and
even that, from one so good, and, even yet, so beautiful--is something
to live for. No more. I know all. Will you risk a meeting?"

"Mr. Pringle will answer for me," replied he, as he turned, with a full
heart, to the window.

"And I will answer for Mr. Pringle," said Wallace.

"But who will answer for _her_?" rejoined the other.

"Stay there," said Wallace. "I will return in a few minutes."

And, bending his steps to Whitecraigs House, he was, for a time, engaged
with Alice and her mother. He again returned to Homestead; and, in a few
minutes after, the three were walking towards the mansion. The eye of
the young man glanced furtively from side to side, as if to catch
glimpses of old features which had become strange to him; but in the
direction of the house he seemed to have no power to look--lagging
behind, and displaying an anxiety to be concealed, by the bodies of the
others, from the view of the windows. On arriving at the house, Wallace
and Pringle went into an apartment where the mother was seated. Hector
stood in the passage: he feared that Alice was there, and would not
enter.

"Think you," whispered Wallace, quickly returning to him, "that I, whom
you accused of touching tender chords, am so little acquainted with
human nature as to admit of witnesses to your meeting with Alice Scott?
There, the green parlour in the west wing," he continued, pointing up
the inside stair to a room well known to the youth. "If you cannot
effect it, who may try? Go--go!"

"I cannot--I cannot!" he replied, in deep tones. "My feet will not carry
me. That room was my mother's favourite parlour. A thousand associations
are busy with me. And now, who sits there?"

"Come, come!" said Pringle, as he came forth, in consequence of hearing
Hayston's irresolution. "What did you expect on coming here? Alice to
come and fly to you with open arms?"

"No, sir; to reject me with a wave of disdain!" replied the youth. "I am
smitten from wi