The stranger laughed, and having, as it seemed, no particular scruples of pride, sprang lightly up on the front of John’s cart, and thanked him for the promised “hurl.” It was a very frosty, chill night; John somewhat gruffly threw one of the rough home-made plaids, of which he had been making a cushion for himself, over the knees of the newcomer. “Ye’ll ken the Laird?” said John, as they emerged out of the Main Street. “No--at least I have never seen him,” said the young man. John uttered a discontented “humph,” and changed his tactics. “It’s a mair inviting place noo than it used to be, for young folk.” “Is it?” said the impracticable stranger. “I have never been at Mossgray.” “Ay,” said John, dryly, fancying he was now sure of a more satisfactory answer; “but ye’ll ken the young lady it’s like?” “The young lady!” exclaimed his companion in evident astonishment. “Is there a young lady at Mossgray?” John Brown was brought to a stand-still--he was half angry at his failure. “Ay, nae doubt there’s a young lady; ye maunna hae been living nearhand here or ye would have heard of the young lady of Mossgray.” “You don’t mean,” said the young man, hurriedly, “that Mr Graeme is married?” A long gruff laugh answered the question, to the considerable relief of the inquirer, before John was able to say,-- “Man, ye may ken mony things, but ye dinna ken the Laird!” “No, indeed I do not,” said the stranger, echoing John’s laugh; “but pray tell me who the young lady is.” “Ye see,” said John, “the Laird was to have been married langsyne--the time’s past minding--it was lang or ever ye were born or heard tell o’; but ye’ll no prevent the lass frae seeing somebody she likit better,--and a shilpit chield he was, no fit to haud the candle to Mossgray;--sae the short and the lang o’t is, that the twaesome ran away, and the Laird was left without his bride, and took it sair to heart, as I have heard. Aweel, there was nae mair word o’t till a young lady came to the Mount--that’s where I am--to learn the young lasses the kind of havers that’s guid enough for the like o’ them; and wha should this be but the daughter of the Laird’s auld joe, and nae suner was’t found out, than she behoved to gang hame to Mossgray, and as muckle wark made about her as if she had been a crowned head, let alane a bit peenging lassie: and there she’s been, ever since, mistress and mair. The word gangs that she’ll get a’ the land; but I canna think that Mossgray would pass ower his ain bluid for a stranger, and they say there are some of the name to the fore yet.” The young man made no answer, and just at this crisis John Brown pulled up his horse opposite a lane which sloped down to the waterside. “Ye see yon light? it’s in the Laird’s study, for he’s an awfu’ feelosophical man. Yon’s Mossgray; if ye hand straight down ye canna miss’t.”