r Drimdarroch. And the
stupid body cannot find him! _We_ know who Drimdarroch is, do we not,
Sim? Monsher may have sharp eyes, but they do not see much further
than a woman's face if the same comes in his way. And Simon MacTaggart
(they're telling me) has been paying late visits to Doom Castle that
were not for the love of Miss Milk-and-Water. Sim! Sim! I gave you
credit for being less o' a Gomeral. To fetch the Frenchman to my
house of all places! You might be sure he would not be long among our
Indwellers here without his true business being discovered. Drimdarroch,
indeed! Now I will hate the name, though I looked with a difference
on it when I wrote it scores of times to your direction in the Rue
Dauphine of Paris, and loved to dwell upon a picture of the place there
that I had never seen, because my Sim (just fancy it!) was there. You
were just a Wee Soon with the title, my dear Traitour, my bonny Spy. It
might have been yours indeed, and more if you had patience, yes perhaps
and Doom forby, as that is like to be my good-man's very speedily. What
if I make trouble, Sim, and open the eyes of Monsher and the mim-mou'ed
Madame at the same moment by telling them who is really Drimdarroch?
Will it no' gar them Grue, think ye?"

Count Victor stood amazed when he had read this. A confusion of feelings
were in his breast. He had blundered blindly into his long-studied
reprisals whose inadequate execution he was now scarce willing to
regret, and Olivia had thought him capable of throwing her to this
colossal rogue! The document shook in his hand.

"Well?" said Olivia at last. "Is it a much blacker man that is there
than the one you thought? I can tell you I will count it a disgrace to
my father's daughter that she ever looked twice the road he was on."

"And yet I can find it in me to forgive him the balance of his
punishment," cried the Count.

"And what for might that be?" said she.

"Because, Mademoiselle Olivia, he led me to Scotland and to your
father's door."

She saw a rapture in his manner, a kindling in his eye, and drew herself
together with some pride.

"You were welcome to my father's door; I am sure of that of it,
whatever," said she, "but it was a poor reward for so long a travelling.
And now, my grief! We must steep the withies and go ourselves to the
start of fortune like any beggars."

"No! no!" said he, and caught her hand that trembled in his like a bird.
"Olivia!--oh, God, the name is like a so