THE knock at the door was repeated--a louder knock than before.

"Are you deaf?" shouted Arnold.

The door opened, little by little, an inch at a time. Mr.Bishopriggs appeared mysteriously, with the cloth for dinner overhis arm, and with his second in c ommand behind him, bearing "thefurnishing of the table" (as it was called at Craig Fernie) on atray.

"What the deuce were you waiting for?" asked Arnold. "I told youto come in."

"And _I_ tauld _you,_" answered Mr. Bishopriggs, "that I wadnacome in without knocking first. Eh, man!" he went on, dismissinghis second in command, and laying the cloth with his ownvenerable hands, "d'ye think I've lived in this hottle in blindedeegnorance of hoo young married couples pass the time whenthey're left to themselves? Twa knocks at the door--and an uncotrouble in opening it, after that--is joost the least ye can dofor them! Whar' do ye think, noo, I'll set the places for you andyour leddy there?"

Anne walked away to the window, in undisguised disgust. Arnoldfound Mr. Bishopriggs to be quite irresistible. He answered,humoring the joke,

"One at the top and one at the bottom of the table, I suppose ?"

"One at tap and one at bottom?" repeated Mr. Bishopriggs, in highdisdain. "De'il a bit of it! Baith yer chairs as close togetheras chairs can be. Hech! hech!--haven't I caught 'em, aftergoodness knows hoo many preleeminary knocks at the door, diningon their husbands' knees, and steemulating a man's appetite byfeeding him at the fork's end like a child? Eh!" sighed the sageof Craig Fernie, "it's a short life wi' that nuptial business,and a merry one! A mouth for yer billin' and cooin'; and a' therest o' yer days for wondering ye were ever such a fule, andwishing it was a' to be done ower again.--Ye'll be for a bottleo' sherry wine, nae doot? and a drap toddy afterwards, to do yerdigestin' on?"

Arnold nodded--and then, in obedience to a signal from Anne,joined her at the window. Mr. Bishopriggs looked after themattentively--observed that they were talking in whispers--andapproved of that proceeding, as representing another of theestablished customs of young married couples at inns, in thepresence of third persons appointed to wait on them.

"Ay! ay!" he said, looking over his shoulder at Arnold, "gae toyour deerie! gae to your deerie! and leave a' the solid businesso' life to Me. Ye've Screepture warrant for it. A man maun leavefether and mother (I'm yer fether), and cleave to his wife. Mycertie! 'cleave' is a strong word--there's nae sort o' doot abootit, when it comes to 'cleaving!' " He wagged his headthoughtfully, and walked to the side-table in a corner, to cutthe bread.

As he took up the knife, his one wary eye detected a morsel ofcrumpled paper, lying lost between the table and the wall. It wasthe letter from Geoffrey, which Anne had flung from her, in thefirst indignation of reading it--and which neither she nor Arnoldhad thought of since.

"What's that I see yonder?" muttered Mr. Bishopriggs, under hisbreath. "Mair litter in the room, after I've doosted and tidiedit wi' my ain hands!"

He picked up the crumpled paper, and partly opened it. "Eh!what's here? Writing on it in ink? and writing on it in pencil?Who may this belong to?" He looked round cautiously toward Arnoldand Anne. They were both still talking in whispers, and bothstanding with their backs to him, looking out of the window."Here it is, clean forgotten and dune with!" thought Mr.Bishopriggs. "Noo what would a fule do, if he fund this? A fulewad light his pipe wi' it, and then wonder whether he wadna ha'dune better to read it first. And what wad a wise man do, in aseemilar position?" He practically answered that question byputting the letter into his pocket. It might be worth keeping, orit might not; five minutes' private examination of it woulddecide the alternative, at the first convenient opportunity. "Amgaun' to breeng the dinner in!" he called out to Arnold. "And,mind ye, there's nae knocking at the door possible, when I've gotthe tray in baith my hands, and mairs the pity, the gout in baithmy feet." With that friendly warning, Mr. Bishopriggs went hisway to the regions of the kitchen.

Arnold continued his conversation with Anne in terms which showedthat the question of his leaving the inn had been the questiononce more discussed between them while they were standing at thewindow.

"You see we can't help it," he said. "The waiter has gone tobring the dinner in. What will they think in the house, if I goaway already, and leave 'my wife' to dine alone?"

It was so plainly necessary to keep up appearances for thepresent, that there was nothing more to be said. Arnold wascommitting a serious imprudence--and yet, on this occasion,Arnold was right. Anne's annoyance at feeling that conclusionforced on her produced the first betrayal of impatience which shehad shown yet. She left Arnold at the window, and flung herselfon the sofa. "A curse seems to follow me!" she thought, bitterly."This will end ill--and I shall be answerable for it!"

In the mean time Mr. Bishopriggs had found the dinner in thekitchen, ready, and waiting for him. Instead of at once takingthe tray on which it was placed into the sitting-room, heconveyed it privately into his own pantry, and shut the door.

"Lie ye there, my freend, till the spare moment comes--and I'lllook at ye again," he said, putting the letter away carefully inthe dresser-drawer. "Noo aboot the dinner o' they twaturtle-doves in the parlor?" he continued, directing hisattention to the dinner tray. "I maun joost see that thecook's;'s dune her duty--the creatures are no' capable o'decidin' that knotty point for their ain selves." He took off oneof the covers, and picked bits, here and there, out of the dishwith the fork " Eh! eh! the collops are no' that bad!" He tookoff another cover, and shook his head in solemn doubt. "Here'sthe green meat. I doot green meat's windy diet for a man at mytime o' life!" He put the cover on again, and tried the nextdish. "The fesh? What the de'il does the woman fry the trout for?Boil it next time, ye betch, wi' a pinch o' saut and a spunefu'o' vinegar." He drew the cork from a bottle of sherry, anddecanted the wine. "The sherry wine?" he said, in tones of deepfeeling, holding the decanter up to the light. "Hoo do I know butwhat it may be corkit? I maun taste and try. It's on myconscience, as an honest man, to taste and try." He forthwithrelieved his conscience--copiously. There was a vacant space, ofno inconsiderable dimensions, left in the decanter. Mr.Bishopriggs gravely filled it up from the water-bottle. "Eh !it's joost addin' ten years to the age o' the wine. Theturtle-doves will be nane the waur--and I mysel' am a glass o'sherry the better. Praise Providence for a' its maircies!" Havingrelieved himself of that devout aspiration, he took up the trayagain, and decided on letting the turtle-doves have their dinner.

The conversation in the parlor (dropped for the moment) had beenrenewed, in the absence of Mr. Bishopriggs. Too restless toremain long in one place, Anne had risen again from the sofa, andhad rejoined Arnold at the window.

"Where do your friends at Lady Lundie's believe you to be now?"she asked, abruptly.

"I am believed," replied Arnold, "to be meeting my tenants, andtaking possession of my estate."

"How are you to get to your estate to-night?"

"By railway, I suppose. By-the-by, what excuse am I to make forgoing away after dinner? We are sure to have the landlady in herebefore long. What will she say to my going off by myself to thetrain, and leaving 'my wife' behind me?"

"Mr. Brinkworth! that joke--if it _is_ a joke--is worn out!"

"I beg your pardon," said Arnold.

"You may leave your excuse to me," pursued Anne. "Do you go bythe up train, or the down?"

"By the up train."

The door opened suddenly; and Mr. Bishopriggs appeared with thedinner. Anne nervously separated herself from Arnold. The oneavailable eye of Mr. Bishopriggs followed her reproachfully, ashe put the dishes on the table.

"I warned ye baith, it was a clean impossibility to knock at thedoor this time. Don't blame me, young madam--don't blame _me!"_

"Where will you sit?" asked Arnold, by way of diverting Anne'sattention from the familiarities of Father Bishopriggs.

"Any where!" she answered, impatiently; snatchi ng up a chair,and placing it at the bottom of the table.

Mr. Bishopriggs politely, but firmly, put the chair back again inits place.

"Lord's sake! what are ye doin'? It's clean contrary to a' thelaws and customs o' the honey-mune, to sit as far away from yourhusband as that!"

He waved his persuasive napkin to one of the two chairs placedclose together at the table.

Arnold interfered once more, and prevented another outbreak ofimpatience from Anne.

"What does it matter?" he said. "Let the man have his way."

"Get it over as soon as you can," she returned. "I can't, andwon't, bear it much longer."

They took their places at the table, with Father Bishopriggsbehind them, in the mixed character of major domo and guardianangel.

"Here's the trout!" he cried, taking the cover off with aflourish. "Half an hour since, he was loupin' in the water. Therehe lies noo, fried in the dish. An emblem o' human life for ye!When ye can spare any leisure time from yer twa selves, meditateon that."

Arnold took up the spoon, to give Anne one of the trout. Mr.Bishopriggs clapped the cover on the dish again, with acountenance expressive of devout horror.

"Is there naebody gaun' to say grace?" he asked.

"Come! come!" said Arnold. "The fish is getting cold."

Mr. Bishopriggs piously closed his available eye, and held thecover firmly on the dish. "For what ye're gaun' to receive, mayye baith be truly thankful!" He opened his available eye, andwhipped the cover off again. "My conscience is easy noo. Fall to!Fall to!"

"Send him away!" said Anne. "His familiarity is beyond allendurance."

"You needn't wait," said Arnold.

"Eh! but I'm here to wait," objected Mr. Bishopriggs. "What's theuse o' my gaun' away, when ye'll want me anon to change theplates for ye?" He considered for a moment (privately consultinghis experience) and arrived at a satisfactory conclusion as toArnold's motive for wanting to get rid of him. "Tak' her on yerknee," he whispered in Arnold's ear, "as soon as ye like! Feedhim at the fork's end," he added to Anne, "whenever ye please!I'll think of something else, and look out at the proaspect." Hewinked--and went to the window.

"Come! come! " said Arnold to Anne. "There's a comic side to allthis. Try and see it as I do."

Mr. Bishopriggs returned from the window, and announced theappearance of a new element of embarrassment in the situation atthe inn.

"My certie!" he said, "it's weel ye cam' when ye did. It's illgetting to this hottle in a storm."

Anne started. and looked round at him. "A storm coming!" sheexclaimed.

"Eh! ye're well hoosed here--ye needn't mind it. There's thecloud down the valley," he added, pointing out of the window,"coming up one way, when the wind's blawing the other. The storm'sbrewing, my leddy, when ye see that!"

There was another knock at the door. As Arnold had predicted, thelandlady made her appearance on the scene.

"I ha' just lookit in, Sir," said Mrs. Inchbare, addressingherself exclusively to Arnold, "to see ye've got what ye want."

"Oh! you are the landlady? Very nice, ma'am--very nice."

Mistress Inchbare had her own private motive for entering theroom, and came to it without further preface.

"Ye'll excuse me, Sir," she proceeded. "I wasna in the way whenye cam' here, or I suld ha' made bauld to ask ye the questionwhich I maun e'en ask noo. Am I to understand that ye hire theserooms for yersel', and this leddy here--yer wife?"

Anne raised her head to speak. Arnold pressed her hand warningly,under the table, and silenced her.

"Certainly," he said. "I take the rooms for myself, and this ladyhere--my wife!"

Anne made a second attempt to speak.

"This gentleman--" she began.

Arnold stopped her for the second time.

"This gentleman?" repeated Mrs. Inchbare, with a broad stare ofsurprise. "I'm only a puir woman, my leddy--d'ye mean yer husbandhere?"

Arnold's warning hand touched Anne's, for the third time.Mistress Inchbare's eyes remained fixed on her in mercilessinquiry. To have given utterance to the contradiction whichtrembled on her lips would have been to involve Arnold (after allthat he had sacrificed for her) in the scandal which wouldinevitably follow--a scandal which would be talked of in theneighborhood, and which might find its way to Blanche's ears.White and cold, her eyes never moving from the table, sheaccepted the landlady's implied correction, and faintly repeatedthe words: "My husband."

Mistress Inchbare drew a breath of virtuous relief, and waitedfor what Anne had to say next. Arnold came considerately to therescue, and got her out of the room.

"Never mind," he said to Anne; "I know what it is, and I'll seeabout it. She's always like this, ma'am, when a storm's coming,"he went on, turning to the landlady. "No, thank you--I know howto manage her. Well send to you, if we want your assistance."

"At yer ain pleasure, Sir, " answered Mistress Inchbare. Sheturned, and apologized to Anne (under protest), with a stiffcourtesy. "No offense, my leddy! Ye'll remember that ye cam' herealane, and that the hottle has its ain gude name to keep up."Having once more vindicated "the hottle," she made thelong-desired move to the door, and left the room.

"I'm faint!" Anne whispered. "Give me some water."

There was no water on the table. Arnold ordered it of Mr.Bishopriggs--who had remained passive in the back-ground (a modelof discreet attention) as long as the mistress was in the room.

"Mr. Brinkworth!" said Anne, when they were alone, "you areacting with inexcusable rashness. That woman's question was animpertinence. Why did you answer it? Why did you force me--?"

She stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Arnold insisted onher drinking a glass of wine--and then defended himself with thepatient consideration for her which he had shown from the first.

"Why didn't I have the inn door shut in your face"--he asked,good humoredly--"with a storm coming on, and without a place inwhich you can take refuge? No, no, Miss Silvester! I don'tpresume to blame you for any scruples you may feel--but scruplesare sadly out of place with such a woman as that landlady. I amresponsible for your safety to Geoffrey; and Geoffrey expects tofind you here. Let's change the subject. The water is a long timecoming. Try another glass of wine. No? Well--here is Blanche'shealth" (he took some of the wine himself), "in the weakestsherry I ever drank in my life." As he set down his glass, Mr.Bishopriggs came in with the water. Arnold hailed himsatirically. "Well? have you got the water? or have you used itall for the sherry?"

Mr. Bishopriggs stopped in the middle of the room, thunder-struckat the aspersion cast on the wine.

"Is that the way ye talk of the auldest bottle o' sherry wine inScotland?" he asked, gravely. "What's the warld coming to? Thenew generation's a foot beyond my fathoming. The maircies o'Providence, as shown to man in the choicest veentages o' Spain,are clean thrown away on 'em."

"Have you brought the water?"

"I ha' brought the water--and mair than the water. I ha' broughtye news from ootside. There's a company o' gentlemen onhorseback, joost cantering by to what they ca' the shootin'cottage, a mile from this."

"Well--and what have we got to do with it?"

"Bide a wee! There's ane o' them has drawn bridle at the hottle,and he's speerin' after the leddy that cam' here alane. Theleddy's your leddy, as sure as saxpence. I doot," said Mr.Bishopriggs, walking away to the window, "_that's_ what ye've gotto do with it."

Arnold looked at Anne.

"Do you expect any body?"

"Is it Geoffrey?"

"Impossible. Geoffrey is on his way to London."

"There he is, any way," resumed Mr. Bishopriggs, at the window."He's loupin' down from his horse. He's turning this way. Lordsave us!" he exclaimed, with a start of consternation, "what do Isee? That incarnate deevil, Sir Paitrick himself!"

Arnold sprang to his feet.

"Do you mean Sir Patrick Lundie?"

Anne ran to the window.

"It _is_ Sir Patrick!" she said. "Hide yourself before he comesin!"

"Hide myself?"

"What will he think if he sees you with _me?"_

He was Blanche's g uardian, and he believed Arnold to be at thatmoment visiting his new property. What he would think was notdifficult to foresee. Arnold turned for help to Mr. Bishopriggs.

"Where can I go?"

Mr. Bishopriggs pointed to the bedroom door.

"Whar' can ye go? There's the nuptial chamber!"

"Impossible!"

Mr. Bishopriggs expressed the utmost extremity of human amazementby a long whistle, on one note.

"Whew! Is that the way ye talk o' the nuptial chamber already?"

"Find me some other place--I'll make it worth your while."

"Eh! there's my paintry! I trow that's some other place; and thedoor's at the end o' the passage."

Arnold hurried out. Mr. Bishopriggs--evidently under theimpression that the case before him was a case of elopement, withSir Patrick mixed up in it in the capacity of guardian--addressedhimself, in friendly confidence, to Anne.

"My certie, mistress! it's ill wark deceivin' Sir Paitrick, ifthat's what ye've dune. Ye must know, I was ance a bit clerk bodyin his chambers at Embro--"

The voice of Mistress Inchbare, calling for the head-waiter, roseshrill and imperative from the regions of the bar. Mr.Bishopriggs disappeared. Anne remained, standing helpless by thewindow. It was plain by this time that the place of her retreathad been discovered at Windygates. The one doubt to decide, now,was whether it would be wise or not to receive Sir Patrick, forthe purpose of discovering whether he came as friend or enemy tothe inn.