ong years since we spoke together in this way?"

"Ten years!" said Butler. "It's a long time--sufficient perhaps for a
woman to weary"

"To weary of her auld gown," said Jeanie, "and to wish for a new ane if
she likes to be brave, but not long enough to weary of a friend--The eye
may wish change, but the heart never."

"Never!" said Reuben,--"that's a bold promise."

"But not more bauld than true," said Jeanie, with the same quiet
simplicity which attended her manner in joy and grief in ordinary
affairs, and in those which most interested her feelings.

Butler paused, and looking at her fixedly--"I am charged," he said, "with
a message to you, Jeanie."

"Indeed! From whom? Or what can ony ane have to say to me?"

"It is from a stranger," said Butler, affecting to speak with an
indifference which his voice belied--"A young man whom I met this morning
in the Park."

"Mercy!" said Jeanie, eagerly; "and what did he say?"

"That he did not see you at the hour he expected, but required you should
meet him alone at Muschat's Cairn this night, so soon as the moon rises."

"Tell him," said Jeanie, hastily, "I shall certainly come."

"May I ask," said Butler, his suspicions increasing at the ready alacrity
of the answer, "who this man is to whom you are so willing to give the
meeting at a place and hour so uncommon?"

"Folk maun do muckle they have little will to do, in this world," replied
Jeanie.

"Granted," said her lover; "but what compels you to this?--who is this
person? What I saw of him was not very favourable--who, or what is he?"

"I do not know," replied Jeanie, composedly.

"You do not know!" said Butler, stepping impatiently through the
apartment--"You purpose to meet a young man whom you do not know, at
such a time, and in a place so lonely--you say you are compelled to do
this--and yet you say you do not know the person who exercises such an
influence over you!--Jeanie, what am I to think of this?"

"Think only, Reuben, that I speak truth, as if I were to answer at the
last day.--I do not ken this man--I do not even ken that I ever saw him;
and yet I must give him the meeting he asks--there's life and death upon
it."

"Will you not tell your father, or take him with you?" said Butler.

"I cannot," said Jeanie; "I have no permission."

"Will you let _me_ go with you? I will wait in the Park till nightfall,
and join you when you set out."

"It is impossible," said Jeanie; "there maunna be mort