“Bauby, you forget we’re to leave Kellie at twelve,” said Lady Anne, interrupting this conclusive logic, “and the things are not all ready. We’ll hear the true news about the Prince in Edinburgh.” “We’ll see him, bless him! for he’s marching on Edinburgh, driving a’ thae cowards before him like a wheen sheep,” said Bauby, triumphantly. “I couldna keep the guid news to mysel, my lady; but now I maun awa.” And Bauby hastened from the room, letting her voice rise as she went through the gallery, enough to convey to Katie’s ear her wish— “To see guid corn upon the rigs, And banishment to a’ the Whigs.” After this interruption, the packing went on busily, and for a considerable time in silence. It was the memorable year of Scottish romance—the “forty-five;” and there were few hearts on either side which could keep their usual pace of beating when the news of the wild invasion was told. But like all other times of great events and excitement, the ordinary platitudes of life ran on with wonderfully little change—ran on, and wove themselves about those marvels; so that this journey to Edinburgh, even in Lady Anne Erskine’s eyes, at present bulked as largely, and looked as important, as the threatened revolution; and to little Katie Stewart, her new gown and mantle were greater events than the advent of the Chevalier. “Are you no feared to go to Edinburgh, Lady Anne, and the Chevalier and a’ his men coming?” asked Katie at length. Katie’s own eyes sparkled at the idea, for the excitement of being in danger was a more delightful thing than she had ever ventured to anticipate before. “Afraid? He is the true Prince, whether he wins or fails,” said Lady Anne; “and no lady need fear where a Stuart reigns. It’s his right he comes for. I pray Heaven give the Prince his right.” Katie looked up with some astonishment. Very few things thus moved the placid Lady Anne. “It would only be after many a man was killed,” said Katie; “and if the King in London comes from Germany, this Chevalier comes from France; and his forefathers were ill men, Lady Anne.” “Katie Stewart,” said Lady Anne, hastily, “it’s ignorance you’re speaking. I will not hear it. I’ll hear nothing said against the right. The Prince comes of the true royal blood. He is the son of many good kings; and if they were not all good, that is not his fault. My fathers served his. I will hear nothing said against the Prince’s right.” Little Katie looked up wonderingly into her friend’s face, and then turned away to conclude her packing. But, quite unconvinced as she was of the claims and rights of the royal adventurer, his young opponent said no more about Prince Charles. CHAPTER X.