The man looked about him: he could see no one in the room but his
mistress.

"There he is," she continued, pointing to the floor. "Take him away.
Get him up to the loft and lay him in the hay."

The man lifted his master like an unwieldy log and carried him,
convulsed, from the room.

Stephen's mother sat down again by the fire and resumed her knitting.




CHAPTER LXV.

THE LAIRD'S VISION.


Malcolm had just seen his master set out for his solitary ride when
one of the maids informed him that a man from Kirkbyres wanted him.
Hiding his reluctance, he went with her and found Tom, who was Mrs.
Stewart's grieve and had been about the place all his days.

"Mr. Stephen's come hame, sir," he said, touching his bonnet, a
civility for which Malcolm was not grateful.

"It's no possible," returned Malcolm. "I saw him last nicht."

"He cam aboot ten o'clock, sir, an' hed a turn o' the fa'in' sickness