hich so nearly touched the honour of
the Morays, and which had been agitating me at the very moment when
the bugle sounded in the Place d'Armes, became a secret shared by
three only. The regiment joined in the occupation of Paris, and did
not return to Scotland until the middle of December.

I had ceased to mourn for Mr. Mackenzie, but neither to regret him nor
to speculate on the mystery which closed his career, and which, now
that death had sealed Mr. Urquhart's lips, I could no longer hope to
penetrate, when, on the day of my return to Inverness, I was reminded
of him by finding, among the letters and papers awaiting me, a
visiting-card neatly indited with the name of the Reverend Samuel
Saul. On inquiry I learnt that the minister had paid at least three
visits to Inverness during the past fortnight, and had, on each
occasion, shown much anxiety to learn when the battalion might be
expected. He had also left word that he wished to see me on a matter
of much importance.

Sure enough, at ten o'clock next morning the little man presented
himself. He was clearly bursting to disclose his business, and our
salutations were scarce over when he ran to the door and called to
some one in the passage outside.

"Elspeth! Step inside, woman. The housekeeper, sir, to the late Mr.
Mackenzie of Ardlaugh," he explained, as he held the door to admit
her.

She was dressed in ragged mourning, and wore a grotesque and fearful
bonnet. As she saluted me respectfully I saw that her eyes indeed were
dry and even hard, but her features set in an expression of quiet
and hopeless misery. She did not speak, but left explanation to the
minister.

"You will guess, sir," began Mr. Saul, "that we have called to learn
more of the poor lad." And he paused.

"He died most gallantly," said I: "died in the act of saving the
colours. No soldier could have wished for a better end."

"To be sure, to be sure. So it was reported to us. He died, as one
might say, without a stain on his character?" said Mr. Saul, with a
sort of question in his tone.

"He died," I answered, "in a way which could only do credit to his
name."

A somewhat constrained silence followed. The woman broke it. "You are
not telling us all," she said, in a slow, harsh voice.

It took me aback. "I am telling all that needs to be known," I assured
her.

"No doubt, sir, no doubt," Mr. Saul interjected. "Hold your tongue,
woman. I am going to tell Colonel Ross a tale which may