y of guardian--addressed himself, in friendly
confidence, to Anne.

"My certie, mistress! it's ill wark deceivin' Sir Paitrick, if that's
what ye've dune. Ye must know, I was ance a bit clerk body in his
chambers at Embro--"

The voice of Mistress Inchbare, calling for the head-waiter, rose shrill
and imperative from the regions of the bar. Mr. Bishopriggs disappeared.
Anne remained, standing helpless by the window. It was plain by this
time that the place of her retreat had been discovered at Windygates.
The one doubt to decide, now, was whether it would be wise or not to
receive Sir Patrick, for the purpose of discovering whether he came as
friend or enemy to the inn.

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH.

SIR PATRICK.

THE doubt was practically decided before Anne had determined what to do.
She was still at the window when the sitting-room door was thrown open,
and Sir Patrick appeared, obsequiously shown in by Mr. Bishopriggs.

"Ye're kindly welcome, Sir Paitrick. Hech, Sirs! the sight of you is
gude for sair eyne."

Sir Patrick turned and looked at Mr. Bishopriggs--as he might have
looked at some troublesome insect which he had driven out of the window,
and which had returned on him again.

"What, you scoundrel! have you drifted into an honest employment at
last?"

Mr. Bishopriggs rubbed his hands cheerfully, and took his tone from his
superior, with supple readiness,

"Ye're always in the right of it, Sir Paitrick! Wut, raal wut in that
aboot the honest employment, and me drifting into it. Lord's sake, Sir,
hoo well ye wear!"

Dismissing Mr. Bishopriggs by a sign, Sir Patrick advanced to Anne.

"I am committing an intrusion, madam which must, I am afraid, appear
unpardonable in your eyes," he said. "May I hope you will excuse me when
I have made you acquainted with my motive?"

He spoke with scrupulous politeness. His knowledge of Anne was of the
slightest possible kind. Like other men, he had felt the attraction of
her unaffected grace and gentleness on the few occasions when he had
been in her company--and that was all. If he had belonged to the present
generation he would, under the circumstances, have fallen into one of
the besetting sins of England in these days--the tendency (to borrow an
illustration from the stage) to "strike an attitude" in the presence
of a social emergency. A man of the present period, in Sir Patrick's
position, would have struck an attitude of (what is called) chivalrous
respect;