that swept downward through the pass far below. For a moment he felt that if the stranger had been still in his power, he could have given him up to justice, to be dealt with as a murderer; but reason made him blush, by bringing back to him his high and chivalric sense of honour in its fullest force, so that he turned to go homewards possessed with a very different train of thought. When his lady met him, she was eager in her enquiries, and deeply depressed when she learned that Inverawe had now lost all chance of delivering up the murderer. "Alas!" said she, in an agony of tears, "the time is now past." "Do not allow this matter to distress you so, my love," said Inverawe, endeavouring to sooth her into a calm, which he could by no means command for himself. "The more I think of it, the more I am persuaded that the whole has been a phantasm of the brain. Let us have a cup of wine, and laugh all such foolish fancies away ere we go to bed. This perplexing and distressing adventure has now passed by, and this night I hope to shake off all such vapours of the imagination." Inverawe had little sleep that night, but he was undisturbed by any re-appearance of the apparition. Unknown to his wife, he made a circuitous excursion next day to Ben-Cruachan, where a more accurate examination of the cave and its environs satisfied him that the stranger was indeed gone. And he was gone for ever, for Inverawe never afterwards saw him,--nor, indeed, did he ever again hear the slightest intelligence regarding him. Days, weeks, and months rolled away, and by degrees the gloom which these extraordinary and portentous events had brought upon Inverawe, as well as upon his lady, began to be in a great degree dissipated. His son had long since returned home in full health and vigour, and things fell gradually into their natural and usual course. Inverawe was one night sitting in social converse with his wife and his son, and their friend, young George Campbell--the same individual who, as you may remember, was the giver of the toast of the roof-tree of Inverawe--when a packet of letters was brought in, and handed to the laird. "What is all this?" exclaimed he, quickly breaking the seal, and hastily examining the contents. "Ha! the old Black Watch again! this is news indeed!" "What?--What is it?" cried his lady. "Glorious news!" cried Inverawe, rubbing his hands. "I am appointed to the majority of the Highlanders; and here is an ensign's commission for you, young gentleman," said he, addressing George Campbell. "And my friend Grant, who writes to me, tells me that he has got the lieutenant-colonelcy. What can be more delightful than the prospect of serving in such a corps, under the command of so old a friend?" "Glorious!--glorious!" cried young George Campbell, jumping from his chair, and dancing through the room with joy. "A bumper to the gallant Highlanders, and their brave commander!" cried Inverawe, filling the cups.