lack-letter volume of great age and, unclasping it, showed him the very
motto of his vision. So far, however, from glowing with fire now, the
words remained in the ordinary calm chill of type. But when the
Antiquary told him that these words had been the Printer's Mark or
Colophon of his ancestor, Aldobrand Oldenbuck, the founder of his house,
and that they meant "SKILL WINS FAVOUR," Lovel, though half ashamed of
giving any credit to dreams, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood of
Knockwinnock Castle and of Miss Wardour for at least some time longer.

In vain Oldbuck made light of his vision of the Green Room. In vain he
reminded him that he had been showing that very volume to Sir Arthur the
night before in his presence, and had even remarked upon the appropriate
motto of old Aldobrand Oldenbuck.

Lovel was resolved to give his love for Miss Wardour one more chance.
And indeed at that very moment, under the lady's window at Knockwinnock
Castle, a strange love messenger was pleading his cause.

Miss Wardour had been trying to persuade old Edie Ochiltree to accept a
garden, a cottage, and a daily dole, for his great services in saving
her own and her father's life. But of this Edie would hear nothing.

"I would weary," he said, "to be forever looking up at the same beams
and rafters, and out upon the same cabbage patch. I have a queer humour
of my own, too, and I might be jesting and scorning where I should be
silent. Sir Arthur and I might not long agree. Besides, what would the
country do for its gossip--the blithe clatter at e'en about the fire?
Who would bring news from one farm-town to another--gingerbread to the
lassies, mend fiddles for the lads, and make grenadier caps of rushes
for the bairns, if old Edie were tied by the leg at his own cottage
door?"

"Well, then, Edie," said Miss Wardour, "if this be so, if you feel that
the folk of the countryside cannot do without you, you must just let me
know when you feel old enough to settle, and in the meantime take this."

And she handed him a sum of money. But for the second time again the
beggar refused.

"Na, na," he said, "it is against our rule to take so muckle siller at
once. I would be robbed and murdered for it at the next town--or at
least I would go in fear of my life, which is just as bad. But you might
say a good word for me to the ground-officer and the constable, and
maybe bid Sandy Netherstanes the miller chain up his big dog, and I will
e'en