y and dull. Anne turned from the window, as she had turned from the
room. She was just making the hopeless attempt to rest her weary limbs
on the sofa, when the sound of voices and footsteps in the passage
caught her ear.

Was Geoffrey's voice among them? No.

Were the strangers coming in?

The landlady had declined to let her have the rooms: it was quite
possible that the strangers might be coming to look at them. There was
no knowing who they might be. In the impulse of the moment she flew to
the bedchamber and locked herself in.

The door from the passage opened, and Arnold Brinkworth--shown in by Mr.
Bishopriggs--entered the sitting-room.

"Nobody here!" exclaimed Arnold, looking round. "Where is she?"

Mr. Bishopriggs pointed to the bedroom door. "Eh! yer good leddy's joost
in the bedchamber, nae doot!"

Arnold started. He had felt no difficulty (when he and Geoffrey had
discussed the question at Windygates) about presenting himself at
the inn in the assumed character of Anne's husband. But the result of
putting the deception in practice was, to say the least of it, a little
embarrassing at first. Here was the waiter describing Miss Silvester
as his "good lady;" and leaving it (most naturally and properly) to the
"good lady's" husband to knock at her bedroom door, and tell her that he
was there. In despair of knowing what else to do at the moment, Arnold
asked for the landlady, whom he had not seen on arriving at the inn.

"The landleddy's just tottin' up the ledgers o' the hottle in her ain
room," answered Mr. Bishopriggs. "She'll be here anon--the wearyful
woman!--speerin' who ye are and what ye are, and takin' a' the business
o' the hoose on her ain pair o' shouthers." He dropped the subject of
the landlady, and put in a plea for himself. "I ha' lookit after a' the
leddy's little comforts, Sir," he whispered. "Trust in me! trust in me!"

Arnold's attention was absorbed in the very serious difficulty of
announcing his arrival to Anne. "How am I to get her out?" he said to
himself, with a look of perplexity directed at the bedroom door.

He had spoken loud enough for the waiter to hear him. Arnold's look of
perplexity was instantly reflected on the face of Mr. Bishopriggs.
The head-waiter at Craig Fernie possessed an immense experience of the
manners and customs of newly-married people on their honeymoon trip.
He had been a second father (with excellent pecuniary results) to
innumerable brides and bride