with delight. But I caught a reflection of myself in the polished steel
of the fireplace, and my spirits fell, for a more woebegone ruffian my
eyes had never seen. I was as dirty as a collier, my coat was half off
my back from my handling on the moor, and there were long rents at the
knees of my breeches.

Another door opened, and two persons entered. One was a dapper little
man with a great wig, very handsomely dressed in a plum-coloured silken
coat, with a snowy cravat at his neck. At the sight of the other my
face crimsoned, for it was the girl who had sung Montrose's song in the
rain.

The little gentleman looked at me severely, and then turned to his
companion. "Is this the fellow, Elspeth?" he inquired. "He looks a
sorry rascal."

The minx pretended to examine me carefully. Her colour was high with
the fresh morning, and she kept tapping her boot with her whip handle.

"Why, yes, Uncle Gregory," she said, "It is the very man, though none
the better for your night's attentions."

"And you say he had no part in Gib's company, but interfered on your
behalf when the madman threatened you?"

"Such was his impertinence," she said, "as if I were not a match for a
dozen crazy hill-folk. But doubtless the lad meant well."

"It is also recorded against him that he assaulted one of His Majesty's
servants, to wit, the trooper John Donald, and offered to hinder him in