--Hector coloured, and then grew pale.

Sir Arthur answered, "My daughter is much obliged to you, Monkbarns; but
unless you'll accept of her yourself, I really do not know where a poor
knight's daughter is to seek for an alliance in these mercenary times."

"Me, mean ye, Sir Arthur? No, not I! I will claim privilege of the
duello, and, as being unable to encounter my fair enemy myself, I will
appear by my champion--But of this matter hereafter. What do you find in
the papers there, Hector, that you hold your head down over them as if
your nose were bleeding?"

"Nothing particular, sir; but only that, as my arm is now almost quite
well, I think I shall relieve you of my company in a day or two, and go
to Edinburgh. I see Major Neville is arrived there. I should like to see
him."

"Major whom?" said his uncle.

"Major Neville, sir," answered the young soldier.

"And who the devil is Major Neville?" demanded the Antiquary.

"O, Mr. Oldbuck," said Sir Arthur, "you must remember his name
frequently in the newspapers--a very distinguished young officer indeed.
But I am happy to say that Mr. M'Intyre need not leave Monkbarns to
see him, for my son writes that the Major is to come with him to
Knockwinnock, and I need not say how happy I shall be to make the young
gentlemen acquainted,--unless, indeed, they are known to each other
already."

"No, not personally," answered Hector, "but I have had occasion to hear
a good deal of him, and we have several mutual friends--your son being
one of them. But I must go to Edinburgh; for I see my uncle is beginning
to grow tired of me, and I am afraid"--

"That you will grow tired of him?" interrupted Oldbuck,--"I fear that's
past praying for. But you have forgotten that the ecstatic twelfth
of August approaches, and that you are engaged to meet one of Lord
Glenallan's gamekeepers, God knows where, to persecute the peaceful
feathered creation."

"True, true, uncle--I had forgot that," exclaimed the volatile Hector;
"but you said something just now that put everything out of my head."

"An it like your honours," said old Edie, thrusting his white head from
behind the screen, where he had been plentifully regaling himself with
ale and cold meat--"an it like your honours, I can tell ye something that
will keep the Captain wi' us amaist as weel as the pouting--Hear ye na
the French are coming?"

"The French, you blockhead?" answered Oldbuck--"Bah!"

"I have not had time," said S