During the dessert, Sir Archibald asked Lord Arandale, in a careless manner, how the pretty Mrs. Miller did. The Earl was at a stand for a few moments; but, throwing his recollections back some five and twenty years, he answered: “well, I believe—a beautiful creature she was,” he added.—“Was!” repeated Sir Archibald; “no accident, I hope has befallen the lady?” “Not any, to my knowledge,” replied the Earl. Then addressing Mrs. Morven aside, he added, “only, that the suns of twenty or thirty summers have withered the fresh bloom, and the snows of as many winters, whitened the bright locks of pretty Mrs. Miller; but poor Oswald, I see, is thinking of our adventure with that fair dame, as of a business of yesterday. How mysterious is the power of association!” And the Earl smiled, though with a mixture of melancholy, at his own recollections. Mrs. Morven requested a translation of the smile. “Shall I tell that good story, Oswald?” said Lord Arandale. Sir Archibald had become absent again, and replied only by a bow. Much curiosity, however, being expressed by the ladies, to hear what had been announced as a good story, the Earl was prevailed on to commence the following relation. “Oswald and myself were a pair of wild fellows, in those days,” he proceeded; “we happened to be riding together one fine morning, how long since I shall not say; when, passing through the village of Irvine, we saw seated in a window at work, but dressed gayly enough, a very beautiful young woman, no other than this said Mrs. Miller. We knew not, of course, who the lady might be, so went to a shop nearly opposite, to ask the question. Here we learned that the fair object of our enquiries, was the young wife of the old minister. We drew off, and put our horses’ heads together, to consult on the measures to be adopted next. “Old Miller, said I, will esteem it not only a compliment, but an eternal obligation, if I call on him; and I can take any friend with me, you know, that I please. We rode to the door, sent in our names, and were admitted into a small, smoky, dirty parlour; the inside of which I shall never forget. The perfumes of a lately removed dinner, of which a certain fragrant vegetable, and a no less odoriferous liquid, had evidently formed component parts, were overpowering; especially to people who had been just galloping their horses over the fresh heath of the open moorlands. The old minister, in his worsted hose and red nightcap, (but I shall not attempt to paint him,) met us, boo, booing, and returning thanks to my lordship for the honour conferred on him and his peur hoose, by my lordship’s visit; and declaring, with another boo to Oswald, that ony friend o’ my lordship mon be welcome.”