langhed even on, I cannot tell how long, so that I could hardly stop her; till, as I was standing at the window, I saw Lexie coming up the road, which had some effect upon the mirthfulness of Annie Orme. Just at that time, too, the milk-cart from Butterbraes drove away up on the road to Edinburgh, and Robbie, whom I have before mentioned, being in it, and seeing me at the window, took off his hat with an air that bewildered me, and gave me a bow. I never saw a man in Lasswade make such a grand bow, except the minister.

"Preserve, me, Annie," said I; "I wonder who that Robbie is--he surely must have come of better folk, and got a better up-bringing than the hinds here away; for, some way, I aye feel myself treating him as if he was a gentleman, and him only a farm servant. It is very strange to me."

To this which I said, Annie answered not a word, but sat down to her seam in a moment, and worked as busy at it as if it was for her life.

CHAPTER IV.

That night I went out myself to Robert White, the baker's, and in passing looked in at Mr. Mouter's shop, just to see what he was saying to it. He was in the shop himself, serving, and Phemie-I am sorry to think she is rather glaikit, having no mother over her, poor thing was standing at the door of the parlour, behind the shop, swinging it back and forward in her hand, and laughing loud at something a young man had said that was standing at the counter. Mr. Mouter himself looked very pleased to see me; and the first thing that Phemie said, when I crossed the door, was, "Eh, Miss Rechie! how's Annie Orme ?"

"Step in, Miss Rechie; the night's cold for the season, and there's a fire on in the parlour," said Mr. Mouter. "I think we're to have a hard winter this year. Mony haws, mony snaws,' the proverb says; and when I was up the other day at the Hewan, the bushes were just scarlet with them. You'll feel the east wind in yon house of yours, Miss Rechie?"

"Yes, Mr. Mouter,” said I, “it is exposed, no doubt; but then there's such a pleasant view, that we put up with the wind."

"Then I hope there's no weak chests among you, Miss Rechie; Miss Annie Orme looks delicate a little," said the young man.

"No such thing, Mr. Mouter," said I; "she's just been particular stout and well all her life, and the spirit that's in her keeps away all the

little troubles. Na, Annie Orme, I'm thankful to say, has uncommon health. She's a good lassie: I'm sure if any mortal ever deserved it, its my niece Annie.”

"Aye, I would think that," said Mr. Mouter. "She's a sensible, well-conducted young woman."

Well-conducted!

That anybody should

speak so of my niece, Annie Orme! But it was just the young man's manner of speech; and, besides, he was busy putting up some sugar for little Katie Hislop, a very small bairn, who could not get up to the counter.

"If Annie Orme's delicate, you should see and take her to a safe house, Tammas," said Phemie; "you that have so much interest in her."

It happened just at that moment that I was lifting up little Katie Hislop to put down her coppers on the counter, and to get the sugar; but whenever I set the bairn down again, I said

"If there was any need of a safer house, my sister Lexie and me would flit in a moment; for, though we've been twenty year and more where we are, I would rather leave the finest house that ever was than risk scathe to Annie Orme."

"Annie Orme's weel off," said Phemie. "The wives say she would make a guid wife, and the lads say she's bonnie, and at hame she's petted like as she was a princess: its a grand thing to be Annie Orme."

"Hold your peace, Phemie," said Mr. Mouter; "be thankful you have not to work for your bread; and see to the house, and dinna speak so much. Yes, I've no doubt Miss Annie would make a grand manager in a house, after all your good training, Miss Rechie; but a plentiful house, you see, with men in it, is different from a scrimpit, genteel family, that has only women-though, to be sure, a good principle is the thing. And, you see, to be a country place, Lasswade is a very dear place: its all with the strangers, Miss Rechie."

"But you have a very good shop, Mr. Mouter," said I; "if the like of you complain about things being dear, what should the poor folk do ?"

"Well, the business is not to complain of," said the young man; "but, you see, its not like a secure, settled income, and it takes thrift and management. I'm a careful man myself, Miss Rechie. I aye think the chief quality of a good wife is thrift; but step in bye, and take a rest."

So, as Phemie had gone in to the parlour, and was waving on me with her hand, I went

in at last, and by-and-bye Mr. Mouter came himself, leaving only the little boy in the shop, and we had a crack. Phemie is a fine girl, I believe, but she is ill-mannered; and all the time I was in, she was teazing Thomas about Annie in a way that made me think shame. Besides this, Phemie speaks too much about the lads-far too much.

"If I was the lads," said Phemie, "I'll tell you who I would be jealous of. Oh, I would be jealous of him, Miss Rechie, if I was them! There's no one like him in all Lasswade."

"Phemie, I wish you would learn some sense," said Mr. Mouter.

"And who is this bonnie lad, my dear?" said I.

"Its Robbie, at the Butterbraes. They say the folk remark him in Edinburgh-to see the like of him driving a cart; but its no that he's bonnie, Miss Rechie-its-I canna tell what it is-ask Annie Orme."

"Annie Orme!" said I, "what should Annie know about a lad that's only a servant-man to Mr. Lait?"

"Oh, may-be she doesna ken, Miss Rechie; but she looks up when he goes by, as well as other folk," said Phemie Mouter; "and its no that he's bonnie-I've seen folk bonnierbut he just has a look like no other person. Eh, what would a' body think if Robbie turned out a lord, or some grand gentleman in disguise!"

"Dear me," said I; "if there is any chance of that, somebody should speak to Mr. Laitit should not be allowed."

"Nonsense-nonsense-stuff; would you believe what the like of her takes into her head," said Mr. Mouter, looking angrier than he had any occasion to be. "For my part--"

But what Mr. Mouter thought, for his part, I never heard, seeing somebody came into the shop, and he had to go away.

So I gave him an invitation to call up and see us, and went upon my way likewise. On the road, I turned it over in my own mind with much consideration. This lad, Mr. Mouter, was may-be fully as prudent as it was pleasant to see a young man; and was seeking a wife to take care of himself and his goods and his gear, in a most calculating way, which I did not very well like. Then I fell into a thought about Annie Orme, why we should wish to set her away out of our house, and her the desire of our eyes. We would miss her every hour, not to say every day, and Lexie just as much as me; we would miss the very fash and trouble she sometimes gave us, when she would not be careful about changing her feet on wet

days, or consorting with common folk. I am sure the very thought that I would not have her white gown to iron for her in summer, nor her bits of collars and things to keep in order all the year round, was grievous to me. No doubt it was Lexie's doing this present project, and not mine; but still I'll not deny my own weakness. In spite of all the grief we would have missing her, I yet felt that I would like to see her in her own house, and to call her, my niece, Mrs. Mouter. When folk begin to look at their own minds, it is remarkable how they constantly find a contradiction-and so there was with me. My heart sank at the thought of her going, and yet I was both proud and pleased to think that she would go, and be head over a house of her own.

CHAPTER V.

A week or two passed after that, and we went on just in our ordinary way. Young Mr. Mouter sometimes came up, and sat half an hour, at night; but his discourse was mostly to me, for Lexie was always prim and grave when he came in, and he seldom addressed himself to Annie Orme. Neither was Annie, as I could perceive, the least caring about his company, but just treated him as she did old Mr. Wood, the secession elder, who was our landlord, or any other neighbour not being a young man; for, to tell the truth, Thomas Mouter is not like most young men-there is a sedateness and steadiness about the lad, that might have done much good to Annie; but, no doubt, things are best as they are appointed.

Peter Braird, too, called every now and then; but, indeed, I never could see that the lad heeded about Annie at all, but rather, if he had a notion of anybody, it was me, my own self, seeing I had been kind to him, as he thought, in various little ways. He was just about one-and-twenty, and had never once thought of being married, I believe; while all the time Lexie made out that he was just uncommonly taken up about Annie Orme.

So, two or three weeks went past, and it came to the end of October. The weather was rather cold, but as beautiful and clear as it could be; and the harvest was all well in, and the folk busy in the potato-fields. I like myself to see the gathering of the potatoes—no to say that they are the staff of life to many a one, and that a good year of them is a good year for the poor there is something cheery, besides, in seeing the women about the fields, and the gallant horses ploughing them up, and the lads whistling behind. Then, I like the fragrance

of the earth itself, and to see the shaw lying half buried in the furrow, with a cluster at the root of it like a cluster of grapes--and much more useful to man and blessed, well I wot. But, not to waste time telling what I like, and what I do not like-it was about this season. The nights were chilling into the winter, and Lexie and me were fain to sit near the fire, being older than we once were.

She was sitting in her own chair, doing white seam—a thing not common with Lexie; for with so much work as we had, it was little profit to us to labour at the plain things, that anybody could do. This, however, was a garment for Annie Orme, which Lexie was making just out of her own head, in a new pattern-and the neatest thing I ever saw. She was sitting, as I say, in her ordinary position, with her back to the window, and her feet on the footstool. My sister Lexie is tall and thin, and has been hard-favoured all her days, like me; but you have just to look at her to see she is not a common person; only she wears high caps, of not a pleasant fashion, and they give a peaked, sharp look to all her face, especially as I saw it in the shadow, now and then giving a bit nod upon the wall.

I was sitting, myself, on the other side of the fire, putting down in my little book some things I had been buying. A low chair suffices me, and I need no footstool; for, as I have before said, I am a little person by nature, and was a slender, too, till I began to turn stout, about fifteen years ago-so that I am not to call in ill-condition now. The candle was standing between us two, and there was a good fire in the grate. Lexie's thread and her scissors were on the table, and over the back of the wooden chair was her shawl, and she had put her bonnet in the big millinery-box; for Lexie had been up at Windlestrae, seeing the family, that afternoon. It was not quite tea-time, but very near it, and I was wondering to myself what could keep Annie Orme, who had gone out with a message in the gloaming, and how it was that I did not hear Beenic setting the cups in the kitchen, when suddenly the door was thrown back to the very wall, with a thud which made Lexic (being nervous) jump, and Beenie came fleeing in, crying out to me, 'Miss Rechie! Oh, Miss Rechie! here's Miss Annie walking down by the water-side with a grand gentleman!"

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You may think how my heart started, and began to beat! But when Beenie saw my sister, I thought she would have fainted; for Beenie was rather feared for my sister, and had come in to tell me this, thinking I was sitting my lane.

So Lexie and I looked each other in the face, without saying a word, and Lexie gripped the linen she had in her hand in a fierce manner, as if she thought it was young Mr. Mouter's hair, and was giving him an awful shake. For I had no doubt it was young Mr. Mouter, Annic having no other joes.

"Dear me, Beenie," said I, "where did you get such a like story-I'll go with you and see; but my niece Annie Orme kens better than to wander about at night with a strange man.'

"Sit still where you are, Rechie Sinclair," cried Lexie to me, in a great passion; "and you, Beenie, you born haverel, how dare you tell me such a thing? My niece Annie Orme! Do yo think I'm to believe that she's keeping trystes on the water-side, like ony common person's bairn?"

"If ye please, Miss Lexie, its no my blame; I couldna help seeing them," said Beenie, beginning to cry.

"Annie Orme! Oh, Annie Orme! that I should hear such a story of you!" said my sister; "but Mrs. Braird, at Windlestrae, was not just very stout when I was up this afternoon. It may-b -be was my niece Annie's cousin, Mr. Peter Braird, that was with her, Beenie, and there would be no ill in that."

"Na-they've a' such red heads," said Beenie, quickly; "I could not have missed kenning wha it was, if I had looked through the bushes at Mr. Peter."

Lexie got up the linen in her hand, as if she could have thrown it at Beenie, in her anger; but, instead of that, she rose, took her shawl from the wooden chair, and her bonnet out of the millinery-box, and put them on, looking with a fierce eye all the time upon me.

"I'll go myself, and see who is with this unfortunate lassie," said Lexie. "If its any friend of yours that you've given encouragement to, out of my knowledge, Rechie, and sacrificed the poor thing, like her mother!But I'll no permit it-nothing shall make me permit it. She shall be delivered, whatever I have to do. Beenie, follow me. I must be at the bottom of this before another hour." Feared out of her very senses, Beenie went creeping after my sister, and Lexie turned round as she went out, with a kind of defiance to me, and bade me "keep the house till she came home."

For awhile I sat still, and tried to add up my book-but I was all shaking with having angered Lexie, and with thoughts of what she would say to the poor bairn, and to the decent lad also, whom no doubt it was true I had encouraged in a way. I have no very great

skill at any time in adding up figures, but now, even though I took great pains, and counted them on my fingers, I could not get on; so at last I thought it was best to shut the book.

After that I sat for awhile just looking into the fire and pondering. There was not a sound in the house-nobody being in--but the clock in the passage ticking steady and slow, like a thing of wood and iron as it was, heeding not a pin that folk were distressed. But bye and bye, as I sat and listened to it in the quiet house, I thought it said "Annie Orme, Annie Orme, Annie O ne," in a voice like a ghost; and in spite of my own sense, and all I could say to myself, I could not help being feared.

Annie Orme-Annie Orme! oh, if the like of me had brought scathe upon the bairn!

So I went away at last, and opened the door very cannily; for though I knew that Lexie was a good distance away, I had still a dread of her hearing me. It was a most beautiful night; just on the other side of the road was a great park, looking dark in the moonlight, and in the hollow below that, was the Esk glimmering out in a bend, and all the angles and corners of the paper-mill rounded with silver. The moon in the skies was like a ship travelling upon the sea. Now and then she sailed away behind a cloud, and you lost wit of her; but then the edging of the cloud would brighten and brighten, and all the mist round it would gleam like fairy lace woven out of silver, and out she came herself, looking you full in the face, as if she had been hiding in play, and was young enough yet to be whiles a bairn, for all her dignity and state. All the time, just before her, as if it were guiding her track, went a little quiet star; it had a solitary, forlorn look about it, as if it knew well that the grand traveller behind would leave no kindly looks for a small light like what it seemed; and so as I stood out in the night, my heart grew wistful and solitary too, and sighs came out from it, or ever I knew-but it was true I had great cause to be anxious about Annie Orme.

I was looking down the road, expecting to see Lexie, and Annie, and young Mr. Mouter, all coming back together-for I could not think my sister would stand out about any pride of her own, if it was to hinder what Annie had set her heart upon-when I saw a dark figure coming up by the hedge, and a little one, crying like to break her heart, following after as fast as she could. "Dear me," said I, "here is Lexie and Beenie back again," and I opened the door wide to let them in, and consoled my

self with a thought that Beenie had been mistaken after all, and that whoever was walking by the waterside, it was not Annie Orme.

But my heart misgave me when I saw the moon for a moment shine on Lexie's face, and she passed me on the door-step without a word of what had happened. Beenie came into the house just behind my sister, and you could have heard her at the bridge she grat so loud, "Oh! Miss Rechie, its a' me," said Beenie, and there was a sob at every word-"its a' my wyte for telling upon Miss Annie."

I hurried into the room after my sister, being now really feared; Lexie was putting her bonnet away into the millinery box, and had off her shawl, but she never spoke a word, though she might easy see me standing shaking there, wondering what was the matter. Lexie's lips were closed firm, and she was holding her head up so stiff, that now and then it gave a little nod-I could not bear this any longer.

"Lexie,” said I, "say anything you like to me-miscal me as much as you are disposedbut speak to me, Lexie, and be pitiful to the bairn."

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"The bairn! the vulgar-minded, low-spirited, unthankful girl! Oh Rechie Sinclair, to think we should have wared our best days upon her, and her following in her mother's steps at last!" Lexie, woman! the lad is a very decent lad," said I, "he's no very grand, but he'll be always creditable, and he can keep her well. What way should ye make such a work about it ?"

"Rechie, you are a deceived woman," said Lexie, turning full round on me, and looking fierce in my face. "I tell ye, Peter Braird is too good for her-far too good for the notions she has I kent that-and not only so, but even your man, Thomas Mouter, who keeps a grocery shop, and is auld Sandy Mouter's sonhe's too good for her, Rechie Sinclair. She's chosen for herself-she's made her ain selection, and woes me that I should see this day."

Saying that, Lexie sat down upon her chair, and turned her face to the wall, and was silent for a time. I saw she was much moved, and that her frame shook, but she would not let wit to me. I laid my hand on her shoulder, and said, "Lexie, woman, dinna vex yoursel," but she shook my hand off with wrath, and would not turn round her head-for Lexie is very proud-it is just her one fault.

When she was done, she drew her chair into its usual place, and looked me in the face once

more.

"Well, what were you asking me," said Lexie, sharply.

"I was asking nothing, Lexie; but I would very fain hear indeed," said I," what it is that has angered ye at Annie-who was with her? ―ye might tell me.”

"Aye, I may tell you, and I'll tell herself before it be long," said my sister, "who was it? Oh Rechie Sinclair! I'm one auld fool, and

you're another. We were thinking her a truthful bairn and an obedient, that liked us, and had respect to our opinions-while she's been holding trystes all this time with Robbie at the Butterbraes!"

I was struck silent and dismayed-I could not make answer a single word.

BUT now we had again to face the fearful mob, and once more to endure the same indignities and insults that I have already described. We were almost supported along through the throng of negroes and camels, horses and mules, to the consular dwelling. Entering this by the low door in front, we gained access to an inner court, and were thence conducted to a large room that opened into it. I at once appropriated a sort of couch at one end of the room, and sank upon it, weary and exhausted.

Soon after, the wife of the consul entered; she nodded at me, and passed on to the further end of the apartment. There she threw herself upon a low sofa, made up of mats and rolls of carpetting. Many other ottomans of similar material were scattered around, so that the place had altogether somewhat the aspect of an English carpet warehouse. By the side of the lady's sofa stood the consul's own bed, it also was composed of alternate layers of the same kind of stuff, but it rose to the height of four or five feet from the floor.

The lady herself was to me an object of great curiosity, as she listlessly reclined at the further end of the room. Her person was fat and bulky, and bedizened with gold and silver lace; her countenance hard-favoured and dark, without any vestige of hair about it; and her legs and feet brown and bare, and manacled with heavy anklets of gold. As we were so far asunder, our intercourse for that evening began and ended with the preliminary nod. I did not, however, want amusement, for as soon as I had a little recovered from fatigue, my attention was rivetted to another part of the room. My husband and his host had seated themselves upon an ottoman, before a small writing-table; a feeble lamp illuminated their features sufficiently to show that they were earnestly whispering together in Italian. My husband's sun-burnt face was disturbed and anxious;

* Continued from page 74.

the Jew's was calm, but full of keen attention. I soon saw enough to tell me that an intrigue was in progress, and as one of the parties appeared to make proposition after proposition cautiously and hesitatingly, I knew that British sovereigns were gradually coming in as auxiliaries to the argument. By slow degrees the countenance of the Jew became complacent, relaxed into a smile, and, at last, nodded in assent. The golden reasons had proved unanswerable-a bribe had been offered and received. My husband had agreed to write the letter to the emperor in accordance with the governor's order, but he had coupled his agreement with the condition that he should write a second letter also, addressing it to the consul general at Tangier, and that the Jew should forward both at the same time, by special couriers, and should have a reward of fifty sovereigns for the service.

By the time that this important business was decided, and the despatches were prepared, it was midnight. Our lady hostess had been all this while asleep upon her rugs and carpets, entirely unconscious of the proceeding that had attracted my attention so painfully, as one that was probably fraught with life or death to us. Now that the affair was concluded, I became sensible that I was in a state of languor and prostration that was almost insupportable. I had fasted for twelve hours, and this, too, after a long period of sea-sickness. I therefore hailed, with unfeigned delight, signs which seemed to indicate that some kind of meal was in the course of preparation. The anticipated refreshment soon appeared; it consisted of pieces of cold black mutton, swimming in oil and garlic, with rue-tea and glasses of half putrid water. All these delicacies were served without bread of any kind. As our stomachs were not yet tamed down to this kind of fare, we immediately asked permission to retire to our mattress. The younger Jew of the blue coat came forward to act as our chamberlain,