Mr Steve's household was certainly kept up in a right lordly style. There was no stint in it of anything that was good. He had any number of beef-eating servants. He was a good customer to his tradesmen-- including his wine merchant,--who all, however, lived in Glasgow or London. It must, therefore, be confessed that he brought money into the country, and in this way did good; yet he was not liked in the glens nor villages, nor much relished by the proud old Highland families. He was no friend to the poor man, and his minions had been known ere now to shoot stray pet dogs, and even cudgel to death the cats of poor old lone women,--cats that probably were the only friends and companions they had in this world. So, to put it plain, Mr Steve was _not_ liked in the neighbourhood, and reference was often made of, and fond memories went back to, the dear old days, when good Laird McGregor owned the glen--now a wilderness,--when it was dotted over with peaceful if rustic cottages, from which, as sure as sunrise, every morning rose, with the smoke from the chimneys the song of praise to Him Who loves the poor man as well as the rich. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The guests were preparing to retire, when a liveried servant entered with a card on a gold salver. "Beg pardon, sir, but the gentleman would insist upon my presenting that 'ere card." "Take it away," said Mr Steve, reading the card, without even deigning to finger it. "Take it away. I can see no one to-night." "I'll tell him, sir; but on'y, sir, he said his business was of immense importance to yourself, and that he were a-going south by first train to-morrow morning." "Heigho!" sighed Steve, moving towards the door. "What a bore! You'll excuse me half a moment, gentlemen?" The stranger had been shown into the low-ceilinged but snug old-fashioned parlour, and rose and bowed as Steve entered. "I presume," he said, "I have the honour of addressing Mr Steve?" "You have," said Mr Steve; "and pray be brief, for my guests wait." "My business is of a private nature," replied the stranger, with a glance at the servant. At a nod from his master the latter retired. The stranger took the liberty of shutting the door, then confronted Mr Steve. He was a youngish man, of bold and gentlemanly appearance, and unmistakably Scotch, though with slightly foreign action while conversing. "Mr Steve," he said, "I will be very brief. I might have communicated with you through my solicitor, but thought it more fair to you, and more honourable in me, to come personally, for, after all, when you hear what I have to say, litigation will be unnecessary." "Litigation, sir? Pray go on," said Steve, smiling somewhat sarcastically. "You're not out of your mind, are you?" "You shall judge for yourself. You purchased this estate of Alva, sir, from the late Laird McGregor?" "I did, and paid for it handsomely."