On the whole, however, I could not make out whether _The Antiquary_ promised to be a favourite or not. The storm scene was declared "famous," but the accompanying prohibition to break their own or their family's necks, by pulling chairs up and down rocks, somewhat damped the ardour of the usual enthusiasts. As, however, the day was hopeless outside, the snow beating more and more fiercely on the windows, and hanging in heavy fleecy masses on the smallest twigs of the tree-branches and leafless rose stems, it was decided that nothing better could be imagined, than just to proceed with our second tale from _The Antiquary_. But before beginning I received two requests, somewhat difficult to harmonize the one with the other. "Tell us all about Miss Wardour and Lovel. He's nice!" said Sweetheart. "Skip ALL the love-making!" cried Hugh John and Sir Toady in a breath. * * * * * THE SECOND TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY" I. LOVEL FIGHTS A DUEL THE Antiquary, to whom Lovel told his dream, promptly pulled out a black-letter volume of great age and, unclasping it, showed him the very motto of his vision. So far, however, from glowing with fire now, the words remained in the ordinary calm chill of type. But when the Antiquary told him that these words had been the Printer's Mark or Colophon of his ancestor, Aldobrand Oldenbuck, the founder of his house, and that they meant "SKILL WINS FAVOUR," Lovel, though half ashamed of giving any credit to dreams, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood of Knockwinnock Castle and of Miss Wardour for at least some time longer. In vain Oldbuck made light of his vision of the Green Room. In vain he reminded him that he had been showing that very volume to Sir Arthur the night before in his presence, and had even remarked upon the appropriate motto of old Aldobrand Oldenbuck. Lovel was resolved to give his love for Miss Wardour one more chance. And indeed at that very moment, under the lady's window at Knockwinnock Castle, a strange love messenger was pleading his cause. Miss Wardour had been trying to persuade old Edie Ochiltree to accept a garden, a cottage, and a daily dole, for his great services in saving her own and her father's life. But of this Edie would hear nothing. "I would weary," he said, "to be forever looking up at the same beams and rafters, and out upon the same cabbage patch. I have a queer humour of my own, too, and I might be jesting and scorning where I should be silent. Sir Arthur and I might not long agree. Besides, what would the country do for its gossip--the blithe clatter at e'en about the fire? Who would bring news from one farm-town to another--gingerbread to the lassies, mend fiddles for the lads, and make grenadier caps of rushes for the bairns, if old Edie were tied by the leg at his own cottage door?"