------------------------------------------------------------------------ After I had written this, came one of Grandmamma's extra assemblies--Oh, I should have altered my date! it is so troublesome--on Thursday evening, and I looked round, and could not see one red ribbon that was not mixed with white. A great many wore plain white, and among them Miss Newton. I sat down by her. "How do you this evening, Miss Newton?" I mischievously asked. "I am so delighted to see you become a Tory since I saw you last Tuesday." "How do you know I was not one before?" asked she, laughing. "Your ribbons were not," said I. "They were red on Tuesday." "Well, you ought to compliment me on the suddenness of my conversion," said she: "for I never was a trimmer. Oh, how absurd it is to make ribbons and patches mean things! Why should one not wear red and white just as one does green and blue?" "It would be a boon to some people, I am sure," said I. "Perhaps we shall, some day, when the world has become sensible," said Miss Newton. "Can you give me the date, Madam?" It was a strange voice which asked this question. I looked up over my shoulder, and saw a man of no particular age, dressed in gown and cassock. [Note 1.] Miss Newton looked up too, laughing. "Indeed I cannot, Mr Raymond," said she. "Can you?" "Only by events," he answered. "I should expect it to be after the King has entered His capital." I felt, rather than saw, what he meant. "I am a poor hand at riddles," said Miss Newton, shaking her head. "I did not expect to see you here, Mr Raymond." "Nor would you have seen me here," was the answer, "had I not been charged to deliver a message of grave import to one who is here." "Not me, I hope?" said Miss Newton, looking graver. "Not you. I trust you will thank God for it. And now, can you kindly direct me to the young lady for whom I am to look? Is there here a Miss Flora Drummond?" I sprang up with a smothered cry of "Angus!" "Are you Miss Drummond?" he asked, very kindly. "Flora Drummond is my cousin," I answered. "I will take you to her. But is it about Angus?" "It is about her brother, Lieutenant Drummond. He is not killed--let me say so at once." We were pressing through the superb crowd, and the moment afterwards we reached Flora. She was standing by a little table, talking with Ephraim Hebblethwaite, who spoke to Mr Raymond in a way which showed that they knew each other. Flora just looked at him, and then said, quietly enough to all appearance, though she went very white-- "You have bad news for some one, and I think for me." "Lieutenant Drummond was severely wounded at Prestonpans, and has fallen into the hands of the King's troops," said Mr Raymond, gently, as if he wished her to know the worst at once. "He is a prisoner now." Flora clasped her hands with a long breath of pain and apprehension. "You are sure, Sir? There is no mistake?" "I think, none," he replied. "I have the news from Colonel Keith."