he _haras_ of a French nobleman,
where my experience is valued. But, my dear Sir, the wages are so
exceedingly unsuitable that I would be ashamed to mention them, which
makes your remittances the more necessary to my daughter's comfort,
though I daresay the sight of old friends would be still better.

"My dear Sir,

"Your affectionate, obedient servant,

"JAMES MACGREGOR DRUMMOND."

Below it began again in the hand of Catriona:--

"Do not be believing him, it is all lies together.

"C. M. D."

Not only did she add this postscript, but I think she must have come
near suppressing the letter; for it came long after date, and was
closely followed by the third. In the time betwixt them Alan had
arrived, and made another life to me with his merry conversation; I had
been presented to his cousin of the Scots-Dutch, a man that drank more
than I could have thought possible, and was not otherwise of interest; I
had been entertained to many jovial dinners, and given some myself, all
with no great change upon my sorrow; and we two (by which I mean Alan
and myself, and not at all the cousin) had discussed a good deal the
nature of my relations with James More and his daughter. I was naturally
diffident to give particulars; and this disposition was not anyway
lessened by the nature of Alan's commentary upon those I gave.

"I canna make head nor tail of it," he would say, "but it sticks in my
mind ye've made a gowk of yourself. There's few people that has had more
experience than Alan Breck; and I can never call to mind to have heard
tell of a lassie like this one of yours. The way that you tell it, the
thing's fair impossible. Ye must have made a terrible hash of the
business, David."

"There are whiles that I am of the same mind," said I.

"The strange thing is that ye seem to have a kind of a fancy for her
too!" said Alan.

"The biggest kind, Alan," said I, "and I think I'll take it to my grave
with me."

"Well, ye beat me, whatever!" he would conclude.

I showed him the letter with Catriona's postscript. "And here again!"
he cried. "Impossible to deny a kind of decency to this Catriona, and
sense forbye! As for James More, the man's as boss as a drum; he's just
a wame and a wheen words; though I'll can never deny that he fought
reasonably well at Gladsmuir, and it's true what he says here about the
five wounds. But the loss of him is that the man's boss."

"Ye see, Alan," said