“Na, he’s no sae foolish as that, or sae enterprising, if that’s a better word? He’s weel off at home, and has nae inducement. He’s one of the gamekeepers to Mr. Eccles, of the Langholm. Before that we used to live up in Strathmore, in the parish of Drumglen, no far from Stainbyers, where he was aye glad of a job to attend upon gentlemen, either fishing or any kind of sport, and to take the charge of their dogs when they had dogs, or of their horses--and keep guns and rods in order--or even to give a hand at the lodge.” “That will do,” said Fanshawe, in sudden delight. “Give me your father’s address.” But here the lad paused. “He’s in a responsible position now,” he said, “a man with a great trust; he’s risen in the world. If ye could tell me what you wanted with him, I’ll write. It might be something that wadna be consistent with his position. I’m but twenty; I’m no heeding what I do; but my father’s had a hard struggle with the world, and now he’s got the better o’t, he maunna compromise himself. I’ll write and get an answer if you’ll tell me what it is you want.” Fanshawe had to exercise all his eloquence to overcome these delicate scruples. The lad was his mother’s son; but finally he got the information he wanted, and departed with a light heart in the steamer, carrying that precious address (already found out, though he did not know it) carefully enshrined in his pocket-book like a treasure. He was on his way to Marjory with this information on the very afternoon in which Mr. Charles trudged along the shore with his long legs, outstripping his companions. It would have been wiser, no doubt, to have gone and sought out the Macgregors at once, but Fanshawe, who was thinking little of the Macgregors, and much of Marjory, preferred to go to St. Andrews to let her know how promptly he had executed her commission. Travelling is not rapid in Fife; he had to make his impatient way through a network of railways, one interlacing the other, and leaving the unfortunate traveller an hour’s waiting here and there, at all sorts of out-of-the-way stations. His feelings during these delays need not be described; but he was compelled to submit, as all forlorn Britons are compelled to submit, to the vagaries of the railway companies. But for this he would have reached St. Andrews with his address, in time to join the party which had forestalled him. His information, of course, was not of the least importance by the time he reached his destination. He was just a few hours too late, as people so often are; but luckily he was unaware of the fact, and waited for Marjory in the room which was full of her presence, with a flutter at his heart, which prevented him from thinking very seriously of anything. He sat down by the window where he had seen her sitting, and looked out upon the sea and sky against which he had watched the outline of her features, thinking it like the picture of a saint; and all the