came home again from some point between the south and west. From the
study of a map, and in consideration of the great expanse of untenanted
moorland running in that direction towards the sources of the Clyde, he
laid his finger on Cauldstaneslap and two other neighbouring farms,
Kingsmuirs and Polintarf. But it was difficult to advance farther.
With his rod for a pretext, he vainly visited each of them in turn;
nothing was to be seen suspicious about this trinity of moorland
settlements. He would have tried to follow Archie, had it been the
least possible, but the nature of the land precluded the idea. He did
the next best, ensconced himself in a quiet corner, and pursued his
movements with a telescope. It was equally in vain, and he soon wearied
of his futile vigilance, left the telescope at home, and had almost
given the matter up in despair, when, on the twenty-seventh day of his
visit, he was suddenly confronted with the person whom he sought. The
first Sunday Kirstie had managed to stay away from kirk on some pretext
of indisposition, which was more truly modesty; the pleasure of
beholding Archie seeming too sacred, too vivid for that public place.
On the two following, Frank had himself been absent on some of his
excursions among the neighbouring families. It was not until the
fourth, accordingly, that Frank had occasion to set eyes on the
enchantress. With the first look, all hesitation was over. She came
with the Cauldstaneslap party; then she lived at Cauldstaneslap. Here
was Archie's secret, here was the woman, and more than that - though I
have need here of every manageable attenuation of language - with the
first look, he had already entered himself as rival. It was a good deal
in pique, it was a little in revenge, it was much in genuine admiration:
the devil may decide the proportions! I cannot, and it is very likely
that Frank could not.

"Mighty attractive milkmaid," he observed, on the way home.