in this
feeling Mr Mowbray's own wife shared, although not, perhaps, to the same
extent. Not the least curious part, let us observe too, of this odd scene,
was that Mr Mowbray seemed to delight in the perplexity of feeling which
his proceedings excited in his friends, and appeared studiously to do
everything he could think of to increase them.

By and by, the promised repast was served up; and an exceedingly handsome
one it was. The party took their seats, no host or hostess having yet
appeared--Mr Mowbray placing his wife at the head of the table, and himself
taking the foot--and proceeded to do justice to the good things before
them. The repast over, wine was introduced. This done, Mr Mowbray--who, to
the now utterly inexpressible amazement, and even confusion, of both Mr and
Mrs Adair, had all this while been ordering away, right and left, as if he
had been in a common inn--desired all the attendants to retire. When they
had done so, he filled up a bumper of wine, lifted it, rose to his feet
and, advancing with smiling countenance and extended hand towards his wife,
bade her welcome to _her own house_!

"What!" shouted Mr Adair, leaping from his chair.

"Eh!" exclaimed his wife, doing precisely the same thing by hers.

"William," said Mrs Mowbray, in a voice faint with agitation, and
endeavouring to rise from her chair, into which, however, she was obliged
again to sink.

"True, my friends," said Mr Mowbray; "all true. This, Mr Adair, is your
daughter's house; all that is within it and around it. Welcome again, my
love, to your own fireside!" said Mr Mowbray, embracing his wife, "and
long may you live to enjoy all the comfort and happiness which Malton
House, and ten thousand a-year, are capable of affording!"

Here, then, ends our story, good reader; and as we do not think you would
choose to be much longer detained, especially with dry details of
explanation which are all that now remains to add, we shall be brief.

Mr Mowbray was a young man of large fortune, who, having been crossed in
love, had imagined that he had been thereby weaned from the world and all
its joys; and, under this impression, had sought to retire from the busy
scenes of life, with a determination never to return to them again. How he
kept to this resolution our story tells.

A HIGHLAND TRADITION.

On the summit of a bluff headland that projects into the Sound of Sky,
there stand the grey ruins of an ancient castle, which was