he had seen her, but she was not there, either sleeping or waking.
"Rabina! Mrs. Colwan!" shouted he, as loud as he could call, and
then added in the same breath, "God save the king--I have lost my
wife!"

He sprung up and opened the casement: the day-light was
beginning to streak the east, for it was spring, and the nights were
short, and the mornings very long. The laird half dressed himself
in an instant, and strode through every room in the house,
opening the windows as he went, and scrutinizing every bed and
every corner. He came into the hall where the wedding festival
had been held; and as he opened the various windowboards,
loving couples flew off like hares surprised too late in the
morning among the early braird. "Hoo-boo! Fie, be frightened!"
cried the laird. "Fie, rin like fools, as if ye were caught in an ill-
turn!" His bride was not among them; so he was obliged to betake
himself to further search. "She will be praying in some corner,
poor woman," said he to himself. "It is an unlucky thing this
praying. But, for my part, I fear I have behaved very ill; and I
must endeavour to make amends."

The laird continued his search, and at length found his beloved in
the same bed with her Glasgow cousin who had acted as
bridesmaid. "You sly and malevolent imp," said the laird; "you
have played me such a trick when I was fast asleep! I have not
known a frolic so clever, and, at the same time, so severe. Come
along, you baggage you!"

"Sir, I will let you know that I detest your principles and your
person alike," said she. "It shall never be said, Sir, that my person