He was sitting with her and Lady L. in the breakfast-room, which opens on the lawn. Speaking in answer to the account of his being supposed to have formed an unjustifiable intimacy, at least, if not a marriage, with Betsy Park, he said: "You must know, ma'am, the people of that village are always getting some one to swear that their daughters are married to every gentleman's son in the school, just to extort money. They consider it quite a trade, I assure you," he added; seeing that what he had said had made some impression. At this moment, a tradesman-like looking man appeared on the lawn. On perceiving Henry, instead of directing his steps to the regular entrance, he came up to the French window, or glass-door, which was standing open. Stopping a moment, he said, respectfully, to Mrs. Montgomery: "May I comeb ene, madam?" His dress and manner were so decent, and he seemed so much heated and fatigued, that, without hesitation, she said: "Certainly, sir." He put the lifted foot, which had waited in that position for her reply, over the threshold, and, turning to Henry, said, in a determined manner: "Where is my Bess, sir? Where is my bairn?" "You needn't ask me," replied Henry, turning pale, and speaking as though a lock-jaw were coming on; "the last I saw of her was in your own house." "Oh, doon't say so, Mr. Henry!" exclaimed the poor man, clasping his hands entreatingly. "It's very true though," said Henry, gaining courage. "It's not true!" returned David, with sudden fierceness, "or, if it is," he added, changing again to accents of despair; "there's nay body in this warld that kens whare she is!" He paused; then, with forced composure subjoined, "She gade oot o' the hoose, the morn after yee gade away, and she's niver cam back syne." "She is gone off with some sweetheart, I suppose," replied Henry, affecting carelessness. "For sham o' yeersel!" cried David, "for sham o' yeersel; and she at the doon-lying wid yeer bairn! Wha was she gang wid bit wid you? Ye ken weel enew, she was nane o' that sort, or ye wad niver have been forced til mack her yeer wife." "She's no wife of mine, man," interrupted Henry, "and don't dare to say so!" "I will dare," returned David, "til spack the truth." Henry switched his boots with his whip, and whistled a tune. David continued--"She is your wife, Mr. St. Aubin; and your lawfu' wife, afoor heaven, and lawfu' witnesses beside." "Neither you, nor your false witnesses, can say that you saw us married," said Henry, with a sort of laugh. "If we didna, we heard yee," replied poor David. "Then it would seem, by your own confession, that you have nothing but hear-say to found your story upon," wittily retorted master Henry. "You had better send the fellow away, ma'am," he added; turning, as he hurried out of the room, to Mrs. Montgomery; who, together with Lady L., had hitherto listened in mute astonishment.