air
with delight. But I caught a reflection of myself in the polished steel
of the fireplace, and my spirits fell, for a more woebegone ruffian my
eyes had never seen. I was as dirty as a collier, my coat was half off
my back from my handling on the moor, and there were long rents at the
knees of my breeches.

Another door opened, and two persons entered. One was a dapper little
man with a great wig, very handsomely dressed in a plum-coloured silken
coat, with a snowy cravat at his neck. At the sight of the other my
face crimsoned, for it was the girl who had sung Montrose's song in the
rain.

The little gentleman looked at me severely, and then turned to his
companion. "Is this the fellow, Elspeth?" he inquired. "He looks a
sorry rascal."

The minx pretended to examine me carefully. Her colour was high with
the fresh morning, and she kept tapping her boot with her whip handle.

"Why, yes, Uncle Gregory," she said, "It is the very man, though none
the better for your night's attentions."

"And you say he had no part in Gib's company, but interfered on your
behalf when the madman threatened you?"

"Such was his impertinence," she said, "as if I were not a match for a
dozen crazy hill-folk. But doubtless the lad meant well."

"It is also recorded against him that he assaulted one of His Majesty's
servants, to wit, the trooper John Donald, and offered to hinder him in
the prosecution of his duty."

"La, uncle!" cried the girl, "who is to distinguish friend from foe in
a mellay? Have you never seen a dog in a fight bite the hand of one who
would succour him?"

"Maybe, maybe," said the gentleman. "Your illustrations, Elspeth, would
do credit to His Majesty's advocate. Your plea is that this young man,
whose name I do not know and do not seek to hear, should be freed or
justice will miscarry? God knows the law has enough to do without
clogging its wheels with innocence."

The girl nodded. Her wicked, laughing eyes roamed about the apartment
with little regard for my flushed face.

"Then the Crown assoilzies the panel and deserts the diet," said the
little gentleman. "Speak, sir, and thank His Majesty for his clemency
and this lady for her intercession."

I had no words, for if I had been sore at my imprisonment, I was black
angry at this manner of release. I did not reflect that Miss Elspeth
Blair must have risen early and ridden far to be in the Canongate at
this hour. 'Twas justice only that moved her, I tho