"What do you mean?" inquired Patient, cautiously. "Well, did you hear that he was likely to come into this neighborhood, or anything of that sort?" "I cannot say I havena heard that," was the quiet answer. "When did you hear that?" "He was expecting to come four years past, but he didna come; and I heard a short space back that he might be looked for afore long." Patient spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "Who told you that?" "My kinsman, Willie M'Intyre." "Are you a Scots woman?" "Ay," said Patient, with a flash of light in her eyes. "Humph!" muttered the Captain. "Difficult folks those mostly to get round. When did you see Willie M'Intyre?" "An eight days or two since." "Cannot you tell me the day?" "I dinna keep a diary book," responded Patient, dryly. "Whence had he come?" "Whence should he come but from Scotland?" "Where was he going?" "I didna ask him." Patient's information appeared to have collapsed all at once, and her Scotticisms to increase. "What is Willie M'Intyre?" "A harper." "How long was it since he left Scotland?" "You are a learned gentleman, Sir; ye ken better nor me how many days it would take." "What else did he tell you about Sir Edward Ingram?" "He told me he was looking unco sick when he saw him." "Anything more?" "I have na mair to say, Sir, without you have." "You are a clever woman," involuntarily admitted the Captain, passing his hand across his forehead as if in thought. "Well, and when did he tell you to expect Sir Edward?" "He didna tell me to expect him." "What did he say about him?" "The twa things I've told you." "When did he say he was coming?" asked the Captain, impatiently. "Afore lang." "But _when_?" "He didna name ony day." Captain Wallace was no match for Patient, as might be seen. "Have you seen Sir Edward since you saw M'Intyre?" "No, Sir." "Have you heard of his being here since then?" "Being where?" "Anywhere in this neighborhood." Patient's answer came slowly this time, as if she were considering something before speaking. But it was, "No, Sir." "Are you telling me the truth?" asked Captain Wallace, knitting his brows. "I couldna tell ye aught else," answered Patient. "'Tis no lawful to do evil that good may come. But no good will come, Sir, of your hunting a man to death to whom Christ hath given power to become one of the sons of God." "Oh dear! a Puritan!" murmured Wallace--"a Covenanter, for aught I know. Mr. Passmore, these are the most impracticable people you ever meet--these Puritans; particularly when they are Scots. There is not much loyalty among them; and what little there is is sacrificed to their religion at any moment." "I'm loyal, Sir," said Patient, softly--"to any covenanted King: but needs be to the King of Kings the first."