ce did not tell him the whole truth, and often thus
misled him more than if he had not said a word on the subject. Often,
too, he would startle him as he walked away by breaking out, as if
unconsciously, with "The prince will hae his ain again! The prince will
hae his ain again!"

"What do you mean by that, Lawrence?" exclaimed the baronet, one day,
with greater agitation than he usually exhibited.

"The meaning, coz?" said Lawrence, turning round and looking at him
hard. "The true meaning is this: that the king of the land will some
day come back, and put his own crown of gold on his head, in spite of
the rebels and all the cunning men who try to keep him from it."

A very uncomfortable sensation crept round the baronet's heart.

Poor Lawrence went his way, rejoicing under the belief that he had
frightened the stern, dignified baronet out of his wits. He little
understood the tough materials of which his cousin's mind was composed,
or dreamed of the injury the hints he had thrown out would induce him to
work against those he might suppose stood in his way. At present it was
Sir Marcus's wish to keep everything as smooth and pleasant at
Lunnasting, that he might be able to give an agreeable welcome to his
intended son-in-law.

Colonel Armytage had written word that he had engaged the same cutter
which had carried Sir Marcus and his daughter to Shetland. It was very
natural, therefore, that Edda should very frequently have her eye at a
large telescope Sir Marcus had brought with him, and which he had placed
in Hilda's room at the top of the tower. One day, as she was looking
through the glass, she exclaimed suddenly to her sister, "Oh Hilda,
Hilda, there is the cutter at last!"

Hilda looked, but her more practised eye told her that it was no cutter,
but a square-rigged vessel, which, with a fair breeze, under all sail,
was approaching the island. She was sorry to disappoint Edda, and for
sometime she did not tell her of her mistake. She herself went several
times to the glass, and was convinced, from the squareness of the
vessel's yards and the whiteness of her canvas, that she was a
man-of-war. Painful feelings crowded to her heart, for the vessel
approaching reminded her strongly of the "Saint Cecilia:" she stood on
boldly, as if those on board were well acquainted with the coast, and in
a short time Hilda ascertained, without doubt, that she was a
brig-of-war. Poor Edda, with a sigh, discovered that