At the hour which he had appointed the preceding evening, the indefatigable lawyer was seated by a good fire, and a pair of wax candles, with a velvet cap on his head, and a quilted silk night-gown on his person, busy arranging his memoranda of proofs and indications concerning the murder of Frank Kennedy. An express had also been despatched to Mr. Mac-Morlan, requesting his attendance at Woodbourne as soon as possible, on business of importance. Dinmont, fatigued with the events of the evening before, and finding the accommodations of Woodbourne much preferable to those of Mac-Guffog, was in no hurry to rise. The impatience of Bertram might have put him earlier in motion, but Colonel Mannering had intimated an intention to visit him in his apartment in the morning, and he did not choose to leave it. Before this interview he had dressed himself, Barnes having, by his master's orders, supplied him with every accommodation of linen, etc., and now anxiously waited the promised visit of his landlord. In a short time a gentle tap announced the Colonel, with whom Bertram held a long and satisfactory conversation. Each, however, concealed from the other one circumstance. Mannering could not bring himself to acknowledge the astrological prediction; and Bertram was, from motives which may be easily conceived, silent respecting his love for Julia. In other respects, their intercourse was frank and grateful to both, and had latterly, upon the Colonel's part, even an approach to cordiality. Bertram carefully measured his own conduct by that of his host, and seemed rather to receive his offered kindness with gratitude and pleasure, than to press for it with solicitation. Miss Bertram was in the breakfast-parlour when Sampson shuffled in, his face all radiant with smiles, a circumstance so uncommon, that Lucy's first idea was, that somebody had been bantering him with an imposition, which had thrown him into this ecstasy. Having sat for some time, rolling his eyes and gaping with his mouth like the great wooden head at Merlin's exhibition, he at length began-- "And what do you think of him, Miss Lucy?" "Think of whom, Mr. Sampson?" asked the young lady. "Of Har--no--of him that you know about?" again demanded the Dominie. "That I know about?" replied Lucy, totally at a loss to comprehend his meaning. "Yes, the stranger, you know, that came last evening in the post vehicle--he who shot young Hazlewood--ha, ha, ho!" burst forth the Dominie, with a laugh that sounded like neighing. "Indeed, Mr. Sampson," said his pupil, "you have chosen a strange subject for mirth--I think nothing about the man, only I hope the outrage was accidental, and that we need not fear a repetition of it." "Accidental! ho, ho, ha!" again whinnied Sampson. "Really, Mr. Sampson," said Lucy, somewhat piqued," you are unusually gay this morning." "Yes, of a surety I am I ha, ha, ho! face-ti-ous--ho, ho, ha!"