"You must find me out a trustworthy person as porter, Henderson," he said, "and engage whatever other people may be needful for the service of the house, cooks, and sewers, and such persons. From what I see--we must have the help of women's hands also, in order that everything may be put into a better state, for the place is in a sad dusty condition, Henderson. I am sorry to see that it has been so neglected." "Why, you see, my lord," said the factor, who was one of those men who never want an excuse, "her ladyship your mother would but allow two poor old feckless women while you were beyond seas. They could not do much, poor bodies; but what they could do, they did do, I will say for them; but I'll see that your lordship's orders are obeyed, and everything put straight before you come back. Where I'm to get a porter, I do not know--oh, ay, there's Christie, I forgot him; he may do well enough--a quiet, stout man, just fit for a porter; and he's seeking service, too. Would your lordship like to see any of the accounts to-day?" "No, Henderson, no," answered the earl; "I must away to Dirleton as soon as possible. Let me have a cup of wine. This sad business distresses me sorely. I love not to have blood shed the very moment of my entering the town." "Nor I either, my lord," said Henderson. "It's a bad sign." The last words were spoken in a low tone to himself; and retiring, he brought the earl a small silver flagon and cup with his own hands. Gowrie drank; and after giving some farther orders, and waiting till the horses had consumed their corn, he remounted to ride on; but hardly had his horse gone fifty yards from the gates, when he was met by four men carrying a board, on which was stretched the body of the unfortunate Walter Matthison, followed by a number of the town's-people. Gowrie immediately stopped, and asked some questions, by the answers to which he found that the body was being removed to the house of a cousin of the deceased, named Symes, living in Water-street. "Tell the good man," said Gowrie, "that I grieve much for what has happened; that I have written to Sir George Ramsay about poor Matthison's family, and will myself take care that they are provided for according to their station." A murmur of applause and thanks followed, and the earl rode on, having gained rather than lost in the esteem of his fellow-townsmen by his demeanour on so painful an occasion. It was late at night before he arrived at Dirleton; but his mother was still up, expecting him, and he was soon pressed warmly to her bosom. His two young brothers also were there, all eager to claim affection; but after the first joy of meeting was over, the first question was, "But where is Beatrice?"