sful throw. "Well done!" shouted the
astonished spectators. The heart of Peter Elliot warmed within him, and
he was hurrying forward to grasp the stranger by the hand, when the
words groaned in his throat, "It was just such a throw as my Thomas
would have made!--my own lost Thomas!" The tears burst into his eyes,
and, without speaking, he turned back, and hurried towards the house to
conceal his emotion.

Successively, at every game, the stranger had defeated all who ventured
to oppose him, when a messenger announced that dinner waited their
arrival. Some of the guests were already seated, others entering; and,
as heretofore, placed beside Mrs. Elliot was Elizabeth Bell, still in
the noontide of her beauty; but sorrow had passed over her features,
like a veil before the countenance of an angel. Johnson, crest-fallen
and out of humour at his defeat, seated himself by her side. In early
life he had regarded Thomas Elliot as a rival for her affections; and,
stimulated by the knowledge that Adam Bell would be able to bestow
several thousands upon his daughter for a dowry, he yet prosecuted his
attentions with unabated assiduity, in despite of the daughter's
aversion and the coldness of her father. Peter had taken his place at
the table; and still by his side, unoccupied and sacred, appeared the
vacant chair, the chair of his first-born, whereon none had sat since
his mysterious death or disappearance.

"Bairns," said he, "did nane o' ye ask the sailor to come up and tak a
bit o' dinner wi' us?"

"We were afraid it might lead to a quarrel with Mr. Johnson," whispered
one of the sons.

"He is come without asking," replied the stranger, entering; "and the
wind shall blow from a new point if I destroy the mirth or happiness of
the company."

"Ye're a stranger, young man," said Peter, "or ye would ken this is no a
meeting o' mirth-makers. But, I assure ye, ye are welcome, heartily
welcome. Haste ye, lasses," he added to the servants; "some o' ye get a
chair for the gentleman."

"Gentleman, indeed!" muttered Johnson between his teeth.

"Never mind about a chair, my hearties," said the seaman; "this will
do!" And, before Peter could speak to withhold him, he had thrown
himself carelessly into the hallowed, the venerated, the
twelve-years-unoccupied chair! The spirit of sacrilege uttering
blasphemies from a pulpit could not have smitten a congregation of pious
worshippers with deeper horror and consternation, than did this