"He is--he is--" The door opened and Mrs. Ritson entered the room, followed close by the Laird Fisher. "Mr. Ritson, your sheep, them black-faced herdwicks on Hindscarth, have broke the fences, and the red drift of 'em is down in the barrowmouth of the pass," said the charcoal-burner. The statesman got on his feet. "I must gang away at once," he said. "Mr. Bonnithorne, I must put thee off, or maybe I'll lose fifty head of sheep down in the ghyll." "I made so bold as to tell ye, for I reckon we'll have all maks of weather yet." "That's reet, Mattha; and reet neighborly forby. I'll slip away after thee in a thumb's snitting." The Laird Fisher went out. "Can ye bide here for me until eight o'clock to-neet, Mr. Bonnithorne?" There was some vexation written on the lawyer's face, but he answered with meekness: "I am always at your service, Mr. Ritson. I can return at eight." "Verra good" Then, turning to Mrs. Ritson, "Give friend Bonnithorne a bite o' summat," said Allan, and he followed the charcoal-burner. Out in the court-yard he called the dogs. "Hey howe! hey howe! Bright! Laddie! Come boys; come, boys, te-lick, te-smack!" He put his head in at the door of an out-house and shouted, "Reuben, wheriver ista? Come thy ways quick, and bring the lad!" In another moment a young shepherd and a cowherd, surrounded by three or four sheep-dogs, joined Allan Ritson in the court-yard. "Dusta gang back to the fell, Mattha?" said the statesman. "Nay; I's done for the day. I'm away home." "Good-neet, and thank." Then the troop disappeared down the lonnin--the men calling, the dogs barking. In walking through the hall Mr. Bonnithorne encountered Hugh Ritson, who was passing out of the house, his face very hard, his head much bent. "Would you," said the lawyer, "like to know the business on which I have been called here?" Hugh Ritson did not immediately raise his eyes. "To make his will," added Mr. Bonnithorne, not waiting for an answer. Then Hugh Ritson's eyes were lifted; there was one flash of intelligence; after that the young man went out without a word. CHAPTER V. Hugh Ritson was seven-and-twenty. His clean-shaven face was long, pale, and intellectual; his nose was wide at the bridge and full at the nostrils; he had firm-set lips, large vehement eyes, and a broad forehead, with hair of dark auburn parted down the middle and falling in thin waves on the temples. The expression of the physiognomy in repose was one of pain, and, in action, of power; the effect of the whole was not unlike that which is produced by the face of a high-bred horse, with its deep eyes and dilated nostrils. He was barely above medium height, and his figure was almost delicate. When he spoke his voice startled you--it was so low and deep to come from that slight frame. His lameness, which was slight, was due to a long-standing infirmity of the hip.