l the Splendid! throughither a bit, and better at promise than
performance, but at the core as good as gold, and a fellow you would
never weary of though you tramped with him in a thousand glens. We call
him Splendid, not for his looks but for his style."

The object of my friend's description was speaking into the ear of
MacCailein Mor by this time, and the Marquis's face showed his tale was
interesting, to say the least of it.

We waited no more, but went out into the street I was barely two closes
off from the Tolbooth when a messenger came running after me, sent by
the Marquis, who asked if I would oblige greatly by waiting till he
made up on me. I went back, and met his lordship with his kinsman and
mine-manager coming out of the court-room together into the lobby that
divided the place from the street.

"Oh, Elrigmore!" said the Marquis, in an offhand jovial and equal
way; "I thought you would like to meet my cousin here--M'Iver of the
Barbreck; something of a soldier like yourself, who has seen service in
Lowland wars."

"In the Scots Brigade, sir?" I asked M'lver, eyeing him with greater
interest than ever. He was my senior by about a dozen years seemingly, a
neat, well-built fellow, clean-shaven, a little over the middle height,
carrying a rattan in his hand, though he had a small sword tucked under
the skirt of his coat.

"With Lumsden's regiment," he said. "His lordship here has been telling
me you have just come home from the field."

"But last night. I took the liberty while Inneraora was snoring. You
were before my day in foreign service, and yet I thought I knew by
repute every Campbell that ever fought for the hard-won dollars of
Gustavus even before my day. There were not so many of them from the
West Country."

"I trailed a pike privately," laughed M'lver, "and for the honour of
Clan Diarmaid I took the name Munro. My cousin here cares to have none
of his immediate relatives make a living by steel at any rank less than
a cornal's, or a major's at the very lowest Frankfort, and Landsberg,
and the stark field of Leipzig were the last I saw of foreign battles,
and the God's truth is they were my bellyful. I like a bit splore, but
give it to me in our old style, with the tartan instead of buff, and the
target for breastplate and taslets. I came home sick of wars."

"Our friend does himself injustice, my dear Elrigmore," said Argile,
smiling; "he came home against his will, I have no doubt, and I k