"Hush, hush, Hobbie--not a word about that--it's a story better
forgotten."

"I dinna ken--if it had chanced amang our folk, we wad hae keepit it in
mind mony a day till we got some mends for't--but ye ken your ain ways
best, you lairds--I have heard say that Ellieslaw's friend stickit your
sire after the laird himsell had mastered his sword."

"Fie, fie, Hobbie; it was a foolish brawl, occasioned by wine and
politics--many swords were drawn--it is impossible to say who struck the
blow."

"At ony rate, auld Ellieslaw was aiding and abetting; and I am sure if
ye were sae disposed as to take amends on him, naebody could say it was
wrang, for your father's blood is beneath his nails--and besides there's
naebody else left that was concerned to take amends upon, and he's a
prelatist and a jacobite into the bargain--I can tell ye the country
folk look for something atween ye."

"O for shame, Hobbie!" replied the young Laird; "you, that profess
religion, to stir your friend up to break the law, and take vengeance
at his own hand, and in such a bogilly bit too, where we know not what
beings may be listening to us!"

"Hush, hush!" said Hobbie, drawing nearer to his companion, "I was nae
thinking o' the like o' them--But I can guess a wee bit what keeps your
hand up, Mr. Patrick; we a' ken it's no lack o' courage, but the twa
grey een of a bonny lass, Miss Isabel Vere, that keeps you sae sober."

"I assure you, Hobbie," said his companion, rather angrily, "I assure