e, and fight high in air the battle which
foretold the fall of the Cymry before the Sassenach invader.

One thing, indeed, troubled Elsley,--that Claude was his only companion;
for Valencia avoided carefully any more _tete-a-tete_ walks with him.
She had found out her mistake, and devoted herself now to Lucia. She had
a fair excuse enough, for Lucia was not just then in a state for rambles
and scrambles; and of that Elsley certainly had no right to complain; so
that he was forced to leave them both at home, with as good grace as he
could muster, and to wander by himself, scribbling his fancies, while
they lounged and worked in the pleasant garden of the hotel, with Bowie
fetching and carrying for them all day long, and intimating pretty
roundly to Miss Clara his "opeeenion," that he "was very proud and
thankful of the office: but he did think that he had to do a great many
things for Mrs. Vavasour every day which would come with a much better
grace from Mr. Vavasour himself: and that, when he married, he should
not leave his wife to be nursed by other men." Which last words were
spoken with an ulterior object, well understood by the hearer; for
between Clara and Bowie there was one of those patient and honourable
attachments so common between worthy servants. They had both "kept
company," though only by letter, for the most part, for now five years;
they had both saved a fair sum of money; and Clara might have married
Bowie when she chose, had she not thought it her duty to take care of
her mistress; while Bowie considered himself equally indispensable to
the welfare of that "puir feckless laddie," his master.

So they waited patiently, amusing the time by little squabbles of
jealousy, real or pretended; and Bowie was faithful, though Clara was
past thirty now, and losing her good looks.

"So ye'll see your lassie, Mr. Bowie!" said Sergeant MacArthur, his
intimate, when he started for Aberalva that summer. "I'm thinking ye'd
better put her out of her pain soon. Five years is ower lang courting,
and she's na pullet by now, saving your pardon."

"Hoooo--," says Bowie; "leave the green gooseberries to the lads, and
gi' me the ripe fruit, Sergeant."

However, he found love-making in his own fashion so pleasant, that, not
content with carrying Mrs. Vavasour's babies about all day long, he had
several times to be gently turned out of the nursery, where he wanted to
assist in washing and dressing them, on the ground that a