eplace. "Come, let us count the money."

I durst no longer oppose him; indeed, I was very much affected by the
sight of so much disorder in a man usually so controlled; and we sat
down together, counted the money, and made it up in packets for the
greater ease of Colonel Burke, who was to be the bearer. This done, Mr.
Henry returned to the hall, where he and my old lord sat all night
through with their guest.

A little before dawn I was called and set out with the Colonel. He would
scarce have liked a less responsible convoy, for he was a man who valued
himself; nor could we afford him one more dignified, for Mr. Henry must
not appear with the free-traders. It was a very bitter morning of wind,
and as we went down through the long shrubbery the Colonel held himself
muffled in his cloak.

"Sir," said I, "this is a great sum of money that your friend requires.
I must suppose his necessities to be very great."

"We must suppose so," says he, I thought drily; but perhaps it was the
cloak about his mouth.

"I am only a servant of the family," said I. "You may deal openly with
me. I think we are likely to get little good by him?"

"My dear man," said the Colonel, "Ballantrae is a gentleman of the most
eminent natural abilities, and a man that I admire, and that I revere,
to the very ground he treads on." And then he seemed to me to pause like
one in a difficulty.

"But for all that," said I, "we are likely to get little good by him?"

"Sure, and you can have it your own way, my dear man," says the Colonel.

By this time we had come to the side of the creek, where the boat
awaited him. "Well," said he, "I am sure I am very much your debtor for
all your civility, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is; and just as a last word,
and since you show so much intelligent interest, I will mention a small
circumstance that may be of use to the family. For I believe my friend
omitted to mention that he has the largest pension on the Scots Fund of
any refugee in Paris; and it's the more disgraceful, sir," cries the
Colonel, warming, "because there's not one dirty penny for myself."

He cocked his hat at me, as if I had been to blame for this partiality;
then changed again into his usual swaggering civility, shook me by the
hand, and set off down to the boat, with the money under his arms, and
whistling as he went the pathetic air of "Shule Aroon." It was the first
time I had heard that tune; I was to hear it again, words and all, as
you sh