had been nine times infeft in every square inch o' them-and now, what do you think of all this affair, Tammy Macdonald ?”

"Think? why, what should I think? I am sorry for Mrs Chisney, but of course-of course, I shall be rejoiced to see Miss Ellen have her right."

"I believe ye, Tom," says the old man, very quietly; "I'll believe you on your bare word, my lad, this time."

The bell rung just then, and a moment after Mr Keith's voice was heard in the lobby. "Plague on't," quoth Macdonald, "the Priest has fallen in with indifferent claret for once, I believe-I did na look for him these two hours-but, however, Tom, my dear, I fancy all's said that need have been said; you understand me completely-there's to be no hurrying-festina lente is to be our motto-we've the haill simmer afore us.

"I hope Sir Charles will not make any foolish opposition," says the Cornet.

"Pooh! pooh! Sir Charles, indeed! he may whistle on his thumb for me, my cock-I have him-I have him-do you mind your hits-but

I need not preach now, I believe; you colour, callant-weel, weel, be as blate as ye like wi' me, be bauld elsewhere.”

sae ye

"Father-hear me for a moment, father," says Tom, earnestly.

"Tutti tatti," quoth Glenstroan, “I have een my head as well as my neighbours-ye had a pleasant walk this forenoon, Tom ?"

in

"Yes, sir, certainly; we went down to the seacoast."

“Oo, ay—oo, ay—but eneugh, eneugh, I'm no wanting to hear the particulars, man-She's a sweet lassie, i' my faith, if she had not ae bawbee to rub on anither."

"Miss Catline ?"

"Wheesht, wheesht, young man-Miss Hesketh, you mean-keep a watch on your lips now, and take ye care how ye come rapping out with things afore the time-Keith's a keen chield, believe me, and no half sae deaf I sometimes think, as he would have us give him credit for. Be particularly cautious, Tom; in a week or two, maybe I'll have farther orders-" And with this the scribe drained the single bumper that remained of the

magnum; and pressing his finger once or twice significantly upon his lips, moved towards the door of the room. Tom heard him whistle a bar or two of "Tam Glen," as he went up stairs to the drawing-room, where Mr Keith had already joined the society of the two ladies.

CHAPTER V.

THE hurry of surprise (to say nothing of other emotions) with which Tom Macdonald received the intelligence of the preceding chapter, was such, that it was no wonder he had heard it to an end ere his mind could command itself to weigh, with anything approaching to sober deliberation, the whole bearings of the circumstances under which his newly-acquired knowledge left him. In the drawing-room, to which he was obliged to repair almost immediately, he conducted himself in a style that failed not to excite the attention both of his father and of Ellen, although it is true that they severally attributed what they could not but remark, to very different causes, and not less true, that neither of them was perfectly happy in conjecturing. Ellen not unnaturally conceived that the trying conversation of the morning had shaken Tom's nerves. Indeed, agitated as she had

been herself in consequence of it, how could she think otherwise? The old writer, on the other hand, contemplated the absent and abstracted demeanour of his son with occasional crafty glances of triumphant satisfaction. From the close intimacy which he had previously delighted in observing-but, above all, from the tender parting of which he had that very day obtained a glimpse while coming down to dinner-he had not the least doubt that his son and Ellen were lovers; and he now watched their eyes, which, to be sure, did not meet without betraying a little soft confusion, with a proud sense of self-congratulation. Yes! he had at last taken the right way-forcing young people upon each other was, after all, a folly; he had profited by his experience; this quieter and less obtrusive art had done its work; Tom had been flattered with the thought of acting independently, and now the silken fetters were rivetted beyond all possibility of bursting. Had he proclaimed even this angel an heiress, and commanded his son to woo her, such was the perversity of a young spirit, he might have commanded in vain. How exquisite was the balm of these