For within a few paces of her was a sportsman with his gun, a young man in dark undress tartan scarcely distinguishable from the green and brown of the hillside, walking slowly downwards among the heather bushes. Kirsteen raised her voice a little. She called to her assailant, “Ye can go your way, for here’s a gentleman!” with a ring of delight in her voice. The man clambering after her (he did “hirple” with the right foot, Kirsteen observed with pleasure) suddenly slipped down with an oath, for he too had seen the newcomer, and presently she heard his footsteps on the road hurrying away. “What is the matter, my bonny lass?” said the sportsman; “are ye having a quarrel with your joe? Where’s the impudent fellow? I’ll soon bring him to reason if you’ll trust yourself to me.” Kirsteen dropped over the bank without reply with a still more hot flush upon her cheeks. She had escaped one danger only to fall into another more alarming. What the country folk had said to her had piqued her pride; but to be treated by a gentleman as if she were a country lass with her joe was more than Kirsteen could bear. He had sprung down by her side however before she could do more than pick up the bundle and cloak which the tramp had not touched. “He’s a scamp to try to take advantage of you when you’re in a lone place like this. Tell me, my bonny lass, where ye are going? I’ll see you safe over the hill if you’re going my way.” “It is not needful, sir, I thank ye,” said Kirsteen. “I’m much obliged to you for appearing as you did. It was a sturdy beggar would have had my purse; he ran at the sight of a gentleman; but I hope there are none but ill-doers need to do that,” she added with heightened colour drawing back from his extended hand. The young man laughed and made a step forward, then stopped and stared, “You are not a country lass,” he said. “I’ve seen you before--where have I seen you before?” Kirsteen felt herself glow from head to foot with overpowering shame. She remembered if he did not. She had not remarked his looks in the relief which the first sight of him had brought, but now she perceived who it was. It was the very Lord John whose remarks upon the antediluvians had roused her proud resentment at the ball. He did not mistake the flash of recognition, and a recognition which was angry, in her eyes. “Where have we met?” he said. “You know me, and not I fear very favourably. Whatever I’ve done I hope you’ll let me make peace now.” “There is no peace to make,” said Kirsteen. “I’m greatly obliged to you, sir; I can say no more, but I’ll be more obliged to you still if you will go your own gait and let me go mine, for I am much pressed for time.”