tibly
diminishing. This source of anxiety was for the present removed. On my
arrival at the Hall I found that Sir Hildebrand and all his offspring had
gone down to the little hamlet, called Trinlay-knowes, "to see," as
Andrew Fairservice expressed it, "a wheen midden cocks pike ilk ither's
barns out."

"It is indeed a brutal amusement, Andrew; I suppose you have none such in
Scotland?"

"Na, na," answered Andrew boldly; then shaded away his negative with,
"unless it be on Fastern's-e'en, or the like o' that--But indeed it's no
muckle matter what the folk do to the midden pootry, for they had siccan
a skarting and scraping in the yard, that there's nae getting a bean or
pea keepit for them.--But I am wondering what it is that leaves that
turret-door open;--now that Mr. Rashleigh's away, it canna be him, I
trow."

The turret-door to which he alluded opened to the garden at the bottom of
a winding stair, leading down from Mr. Rashleigh's apartment. This, as I
have already mentioned, was situated in a sequestered part of the house,
communicating with the library by a private entrance, and by another
intricate and dark vaulted passage with the rest of the house. A long
narrow turf walk led, between two high holly hedges, from the turret-door
to a little postern in the wall of the garden. By means of these
communications Rashleigh, whose movements were very independent of those
of the rest of his family, could leave the Hall or return to it at
pleasure, without his absence or presence attracting any observation. But
during his absence the stair and the turret-door were entirely disused,
and this made Andrew's observation somewhat remarkable.

"Have you often observed that door open?" was my question.

"No just that often neither; but I hae noticed it ance or twice. I'm
thinking it maun hae been the priest, Father Vaughan, as they ca' him.
Ye'll no catch ane o' the servants gauging up that stair, puir frightened
heathens that they are, for fear of bogles and brownies, and lang-nebbit
things frae the neist warld. But Father Vaughan thinks himself a
privileged person--set him up and lay him down!--I'se be caution the
warst stibbler that ever stickit a sermon out ower the Tweed yonder, wad
lay a ghaist twice as fast as him, wi' his holy water and his idolatrous
trinkets. I dinna believe he speaks gude Latin neither; at least he disna
take me up when I tell him the learned names o' the plants."

Of Father Vaughan, who divid