e shook with this emotion. To exhibit her unconcern,
which, in truth, was most sadly affected, she mingled amongst the
company in the porch, and leant against the door-post. Still the
whistling continued, with no symptom of retreat, and Mary impatiently
walked towards the further end of the house. "John Ramsay makes a fool
of himself," she muttered peevishly. "Hasn't he the sense to see I
cannot get out? What keeps the simple man dallying shilly-shally at the
fence, as if he actually wanted them to take him? I don't believe in the
mighty sense and wisdom of these men! If John had half an eye he would
see that I couldn't get away to-night."

As the maiden grew fretful, her fears had less mastery over her; and
now, taking heart of grace, she returned to the porch.

"Sergeant," said Macdonald, calling to one of his men, "take two files
and patrole the road until you ascertain who that fellow is who makes
himself so merry to-night. I thought it some fool," he continued,
addressing himself to Allen Musgrove, "who, as the poet says, 'whistled
as he went for want of thought,' but he seems to have a hankering after
these premises that is not exactly to my mind. Perhaps, after all,
Mary," he added privately in the maiden's ear; "it is the lad I was
telling you of; and as he is a bashful youth, we will bring him in by
force. You know, he can't help that; and old dad here can never blame
you if I should make the fellow come to see you against your will.
Sergeant, treat the man civilly, you understand."

"It is not worth your while to be sending after Adam Gordon," said Mary,
with some slight confusion in her accent; "he is only half-witted; and
almost the only thing he does for a living, is to come down of nights
here to the mill-dam, to bob for eels. If it wasn't for that, his mother
would go many a day without a meal."

"No matter, we will bring Adam in," replied the lieutenant, "and if he
is good at his sport, why we will go and join him."

"He is shy of company," said Mary, still faltering in her speech, "and
will not come amongst strangers."

Partly from a spirit of resignation, partly to avoid further exposure of
her feelings, and in part too, perhaps, from some slight feeling of
remorse, such as is natural to a virtuous and youthful mind at being
obliged to practise a deceit however lawful (as I contend it was in
this case), the maiden withdrew into the parlor, where, unseen by any,
she offered up a short and earnest