tions have diminished as they developed; her waist has grown
thicker, the roses on her cheek assumed a deeper vermilion, her voice
has acquired the rough and hoarse tone of her most faithful customers;
the slender young girl is transformed into a virago. Fortunately for
her, at the commencement of the eighteenth century, and especially
in Scotland, reputations did not vanish as readily as in our days.
Notwithstanding her increasing size and coarser voice, Catherine still
remained pretty Kitty, especially in the eyes of those to whom she
gave the largest credit.

Besides, if from year to year her beauty waned, a circumstance which
might tend to diminish the attractions of her establishment, like a
prudent woman she took care that her stock of ale and usquebaugh
should also from year to year improve in quality, to preserve the
equilibrium.

Undoubtedly the visits of lairds and great noblemen at her bar were
less frequent than formerly, but all the trades-people in town, all
the sailors in port, from the Gulf of Tay to the Gulf of Forth, still
patronized the pretty landlady.

Meanwhile Catherine was not yet married. The gossips of the town were
surprised, because she was rich and suitors were plenty; they
fluttered around her constantly in great numbers, especially when
somewhat exhilarated with wine. When their gallantry became obtrusive,
Kitty was careful not to grow angry; she would smile, and lift up her
white hand, tolerably heavy, till the offenders came to order.
Catherine possessed in the highest degree the art of restraining
without discouraging them, and always so as to forward the interests
of her establishment.

To maintain the discipline of the tavern, nevertheless, the presence
of a man was desirable; she understood this. Besides, the condition of
an old maid did not seem to her at all inviting, and she did not care
to wait the epoch of a third youth, before making a choice. But what
would the unsuccessful candidates say? Would not this decision be at
the risk of kindling a civil war, of provoking perhaps a general
desertion? Then, too, accustomed as she was to command, the idea of
giving herself a master alarmed her.

She was vacillating amid all these perplexities, when a certain
sailor, with cold and reserved manners, whose face bore the mark of
a deep sabre cut, and who had for some time past, frequented her inn
with great assiduity, without ever having addressed to her a single
word, took her asid