Scotland if that fellow were to come here again."

"You 're not likely to be driven to such an extremity, I suspect; but
here comes papa, and I think he has been down at the Burnside; let us
hear what news he has."

"It has no interest for me," said he, walking away, while she hastened
out to meet Sir Arthur.

"No tidings, Alice,--at least, none that I can learn. Mrs. Butler's
headache still prevents her seeing me, though I could wager I saw her at
work in the garden when I turned off the high-road."

"How strange! You suspect that she avoids you?"

"I am certain of it; and I went round by the minister's, thinking to
have a talk with Stewart, and hear something that might explain this;
but he was engaged in preparing his sermon, and begged me to excuse
him."

"I wish we could get to the bottom of this mystery. Would she receive
me, do you think, if I were to go over to the cottage?"

"Most likely not I suspect whatever it be that has led to this
estrangement will be a passing cloud; let us wait and see. Who are
those coming up the bend of the road? The horse looks fagged enough,
certainly."

"The Grahams, I declare! Oh, I must find Mark, and let him be caught
here when they arrive."

"Don't let the Commodore get at _me_ before dinner; that's all I ask,"
said Sir Arthur, as he rode round to the stables.

When Alice entered the house, she found Mark at the open window watching
with an opera-glass the progress of the jaunting-car as it slowly wound
along the turns of the approach, lost and seen as the woods intervened
or opened.

"I cannot make it out at all, Alice," said he; "there are two men and
two women, as well as I can see, besides the driver."

"No, no; they have their maid, whom you mistake for a man."

"Then the maid wears a wideawake and a paletot. Look, and see for
yourself;" and he handed her the glass.

"I declare you are right,--it is a man; he is beside Beck. Sally is on
the side with her father."

"Are they capable of bringing some one along with them?" cried he, in
horror. "Do you think they would dare to take such a liberty as that
here?"

"I 'm certain they would not. It must be Kenrose the apothecary, who
was coming to see one of the maids, or one of our own people, or--"
Her further conjectures were cut short by the outburst of so strong an
expletive as cannot be repeated; and Mark, pale as death, stammered out,
"It's Maitland! Norman Maitland!"

"But how, Mark, do they know him