There was only the partial light of the moon to guide the stranger, as he turned the sudden angle of one of the accumulated buildings, which formed the house of Mossgray. Dimly seen, and in glimpses, as these clouds flitted across the moon, the old house looked grand and imposing to the inexperienced eyes eagerly gazing upon it. A thrill of family pride, the first he had ever felt, made the young man draw himself up, and hold his head higher, as he looked at the heavy bulk of the old tower rising between him and the sky. In the projecting turret high up yonder, and from the small deep windows in its rugged wall, gleams the light which John Brown pointed out. The Laird’s study--the heart of the adventurer beat high, as he tried to prepare himself to meet this stern Laird, half dreaded, half defied. Lower down in a more modern part of the house, from larger windows of some household sitting room, warm light was shining, and close beside the visitor as he stood surveying the dark mass of building, was the cheerful kitchen fire and lamp. The young man did not perceive that at the uncurtained kitchen window there were curious faces watching him. He lingered with natural hesitation before presenting himself to the unknown Mossgray, whose welcome was so dubious; but while he lingered, another face appeared at the low window near him. The old housekeeper, with excited curiosity, had come to see for herself who the intruder was. A loud exclamation aroused him. “God preserve us!--we never did ye ill. Have ye come to warn us of our end, Charlie Graeme?” He saw an aged face, strangely convulsed with terror, fall back upon the shoulder of a strong middle-aged woman who stood behind, as the shrill cry ceased; and hastily advancing, he discovered the kitchen door, and knocked. For some time his summons was not attended to; at last a decent gray-haired elderly man opened it, and looked out, not without timidity. The young man asked for Mr Graeme, and was silently admitted. In an old elbow-chair by the fire sat the housekeeper of Mossgray, hysterically wringing her withered hands. “I never did him ill! Oh guid send he be come for me, and no for the innocent callant that he did enow mischief too, when he was in the flesh; but ye saw it, Saunders Delvie--ye saw the Appearance as weel as me.” “I tell ye, Auntie,” said Janet, “it was nae Appearance; it was a mortal lad, as life-like as either you or me.” “Will you be so good as tell me,” said the stranger, “if Mr Graeme is at home?” The old woman sat stiffly erect, gazing at him with rigid terror. “And where should the Laird be, I would like to ken,” said Janet, testily, “but just in Mossgray?” The young man smiled. The light of the fire fell full upon his ruddy, animated face. Mrs Mense’s fears began to abate; he was no Appearance after all. “Wha are ye?” asked the old woman, with some solemnity. “Tell me that you’re no Charlie Graeme?”