Mr Smith, I may tell the reader, was family solicitor to Mrs McGregor's brother, in whose house she had resided since her husband's death. The solicitor lived in London, but not unfrequently ran down to enjoy the sea or the land sport, so easily obtained in this lone but lovely isle of the Hebrides. "Surprised to see me, Mrs McGregor?" said the gentleman, as he shook hands and sat down. "Hope I didn't frighten you much? Just ran down from town to get a mouthful of sea-air. Been rather overworked of late. Tea, did you say? Yes, with pleasure, but Mary must really bring me something substantial to go along with it. My journey has made me hungry." "And you have seen my brother?" "Only two days ago, and he is looking hale and hearty, and hopes to return in a week." "Well, Mr Smith, you must stay here till he returns." "It is doubtful if I can; business, you know, business. What a lovely sunset, to be sure! Bodes a fine day to-morrow I should think." "You seem happy, Mr Smith?" "I feel as fresh as a daisy." "And yet, but a minute ago, you hinted at being fagged by over-work." "Oh!" replied the solicitor, shaking his head, "that was _before_ I left town. Bless you, madam, two gulps of Highland air set me on my legs again at any time." The two chatted very pleasantly together over the evening meal; but towards the end of it Mr Smith managed adroitly to turn the conversation to bygone times. "I seem to sadden you though," he said. "Oh! no: I'm resigned to everything now. My time will not be very long, and I know the good God in whom I trust has done all for the best. But the loss of my son was a great blow; then my husband's death." "Why, Mrs McGregor, do you make that distinction? You talk of your husband's death, but always speak of poor Harvey's _loss_." "Because, Mr Smith, I saw my husband die; my son went away, and ah! foolish though it may be, I cherish half a hope he may yet return to close his mother's eyes." "Well, well, I daresay stranger things may have happened," said the solicitor, thoughtfully looking and pretending to read a fortune in the grounds of his tea-cup. Now, the fact is, that no sooner had Harvey McGregor left Mr Steve's than he had hurried up to town, and called on Mr Smith, the only man-at-law he knew. He speedily convinced that gentleman of his identity, and got his mother's address. Heedless Harvey would have hurried away home--as he called it--at once, but wise Mr Smith would not hear of it. "Come a day after me," he had advised. "I'll go down and break the news, for, don't you know, my boy, that joy can kill?" Hence Mr Smith's present visit to the old castle. "Whose fortune are you trying to read in that tea-cup?" said Mrs McGregor, with a strange ring in her voice, a strange sparkle in her eye. "Give me the cup," she added. She turned it round and round.