m," said I, "I hope it may be said without offence, but (except the
Castle of Edinburgh) I cannot think upon the spot from which I would so
readily be absent."

At this, to my relief, I thought I could perceive a vestige of a smile
to steal upon that iron countenance and to be bitten immediately in.

"And if it is a fair question, what do they call ye?" she asked.

"At your service, the Vicomte Anne de Saint-Yves," said I.

"Mosha the Viscount," said she, "I am afraid you do us plain people a
great deal too much honour."

"My dear lady," said I, "let us be serious for a moment. What was I to
do? Where was I to go? And how can you be angry with these benevolent
children who took pity on one so unfortunate as myself? Your humble
servant is no such terrific adventurer that you should come out against
him with horse-pistol and"--smiling--"bedroom-candlesticks. It is but a
young gentleman in extreme distress, hunted upon every side, and asking
no more than to escape from his pursuers. I know your character, I read
it in your face"--the heart trembled in my body as I said these daring
words. "There are unhappy English prisoners in France at this day,
perhaps at this hour. Perhaps at this hour they kneel as I do; they take
the hand of her that might conceal and assist them; they press it to
their lips as I do----"

"Here, here!" cried the old lady, breaking from my solicitations.
"Behave yourself before folk! Saw ever any one the match of that? And on
earth, my dears, what are we to do with him?"

"Pack him off, my dear lady," said I: "pack off the impudent fellow
double-quick! And if it may be, and if your good heart allows it, help
him a little on the way he has to go."

"What's this pie?" she cried stridently. "Where is this pie from,
Flora?"

No answer was vouchsafed by my unfortunate and (I may say) extinct
accomplices.

"Is that my port?" she pursued. "Hough! Will somebody give me a glass of
my port wine?"

I made haste to serve her.

She looked at me over the rim with an extraordinary expression. "I hope
ye liked it?" said she.

"It is even a magnificent wine," said I.

"Awell, it was my father laid it down," said she. "There were few knew
more about port wine than my father, God rest him!" She settled herself
in a chair with an alarming air of resolution. "And so there is some
particular direction that you wish to go in?" said she.

"O," said I, following her example, "I am by no means such a vagrant