m his father, and on which
he had ever afterward lived.

"My brother," said Lord Glenallan, "is recently dead, which makes our
search the more difficult. Furthermore, I am not his heir. He has left
his property to a stranger, as indeed he had every right to do. But as
the heir is like himself a Protestant, he may be unwilling to aid the
inquiry--"

"I trust," interrupted Mr. Oldbuck, with some feeling, "that you will
find a Protestant can be as honest and honourable as a Catholic."

The Earl protested that he had no idea of supposing otherwise.

"Only," he continued, "there was an old steward on the estate who in all
probability is the only man now living who knows the truth. But it is
not expected that any man will willingly disinherit himself. For if I
have a living son, my father's estates are entailed on him, and the
steward may very likely stand by his master."

"I have a friend in Yorkshire," said Mr. Oldbuck, "to whom I can apply
for information as to the character of your brother's heir, and also as
to the disposition of his steward. That is all we can do at present. But
take courage, my lord. I believe that your son is alive."

In the morning Lord Glenallan returned to the castle in his carriage,
while Mr. Oldbuck, hearing from Hector that he was going down to
Fairport, in order to see that old Edie Ochiltree had fair play before
the magistrates, offered to bear him company.

Edie Ochiltree--in prison for thwacking the ribs of Dousterswivel, which
he had done (or at least poor Steenie Mucklebackit for him), and for
stealing the German's fifty pounds, which he had not done--willingly
revealed to Monkbarns what he had refused to breathe to Bailie
Littlejohn of the Fairport magistracy. After some delay Edie was
accordingly liberated on the Antiquary's bail, and immediately
accompanied his good friend to the cottage of old Elspeth Mucklebackit,
where, by the Earl's request, Oldbuck was to take down a statement from
her lips, such as might be produced in a court of law. But no single
syllable would the old beldame now utter against her ancient mistress.

"Ha," she said, at the first question put to her by the Antiquary; "I
thought it would come to this. It's only sitting silent when they
question me. There's nae torture in our days, and if there was, let them
rend me! It ill becomes a vassal's mouth to betray the bread which it
has eaten."

Then they told her that her mistress, the Countess Jocelin, was de