to see descend from the open door of the carriage,--who
but the quiet Mr. Lovel.

He had brought with him the news that the alarm of invasion was false.
The beacon which Caxon had seen was only the burning of the mining
machinery in Glen Withershins which had been ordered by Oldbuck and Sir
Arthur to make a final end of Dousterswivel's plots and deceits.

But there was yet further and more interesting private news. The proofs
that Lovel was indeed the son of the Earl of Glenallan were found to be
overwhelming. His heirship to the title had been fully made out. The
chaplain who had performed his father's wedding had returned from
abroad, exiled by the French Revolution. The witnesses also had been
found. Most decisive of all, among the papers of the Earl's late
brother, there was discovered a duly authenticated account of his
carrying off the child, and of how he had had him educated and pushed on
in the army.

So that very night the Antiquary enjoyed in some degree the crowning
pleasure of his whole life, in bringing together father and son for the
first time. That is, if the marriage which took place soon after between
his young friend Lovel (or Lord William Geraldin) and Miss Isabella
Wardour of Knockwinnock Castle did not turn out to be a yet greater
pleasure. Old Edie still travels from farm to farm, but mostly now
confines himself to the short round between Monkbarns and Knockwinnock.
It is reported, however, that he means soon to settle with old Caxon,
who, since the marriage of his daughter to Lieutenant Taffril, has been
given a cottage near the three wigs which he still keeps in order in the
parish,--the minister's, Sir Arthur's, and best of all, that of our good
and well-beloved Antiquary.

THE END OF THE LAST TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY."

* * * * *

"Now," said Sweetheart, nodding particular
approval, "that is the way a story ought to end
up--everything going on from chapter to chapter,
with no roundabouts, and everything told about
everybody right to the very end!"

"Hum," said Hugh John, with a curl of his nose;
"well, that's done with! But it was good about the
Storm and the Duel! The rest was--"

"Hush," said Sweetheart, "remember, it was written
by Sir Walter."

"Sir," said I to Hugh John, heavily parental,
"_The Antiquary_ may not now be much to your
taste, but the day will come when you may probably
p