"Oh, bother her lover," cried Hugh John, impatiently; "_we_ don't want to hear about how they lived happy ever after. Tell us about the gipsy, Meg Merrilies--" "And about Dirk Hatteraick!" said Sir Toady Lion, getting his word in. "I just love Dirk!" "And how many people he killed wif his big knife, and if he was burnt up alive in the fire!" For Maid Margaret also delights in the most gory details, though she would not willingly tread upon a worm. "Yes, go on, tell us all--everything that happened!" said Sweetheart. "But do skip the lovering parts," cried the boys in chorus. So within these statutes of limitation I had perforce to recommence, without further preface, telling the fourth and last tale from _Guy Mannering_. THE FOURTH TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING" THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE IMMEDIATELY upon receiving the message of Meg Merrilies, brought by Dominie Sampson, Colonel Mannering had sent a carriage to the place designated. Bertram and his companion Dandie, having by the help of the gipsies, Meg's companions, made good their escape from the burning custom-house, took their places in it and were whirled through the darkness, they knew not whither. But it was at the door of the house of Woodbourne that they found themselves. Mr. Pleydell, the lawyer, had also arrived from Edinburgh, so that all were presently met together in the drawing-room, and it is difficult to say which of the party appeared the most surprised. In Captain Brown (or Harry Bertram, to call him by his own proper name), Colonel Mannering saw the man whom he had believed slain by his hand in India. Julia met her lover in her father's house, and apparently there by his invitation. Dominie Sampson stood half aghast to recognise the lost heir of Ellangowan. Bertram himself feared the effect which his sudden appearance might have on Julia, while honest Dandie wished his thick-soled boots and rough-spun Liddesdale plaid anywhere else than in a room filled with ladies and gentlemen. Only the lawyer, Mr. Pleydell, was wholly master of the situation, and bustled about, putting everybody at their ease. He saw himself in the thick of a great mysterious lawsuit which he alone could unravel, and he proceeded on the spot to cross-examine Bertram as to what he remembered of his life before he went to Holland. Bertram remembered, he said, quite clearly, a good-looking gentleman whom he had called father, a delicate lady who must have been his mother, but more distinctly than either he recalled a tall man in worn black who had taught him his lessons and whom he loved for his kindness. At these words Dominie Sampson could contain himself no longer. He rose hastily from his chair, and with clasped hands and trembling limbs cried out, "Harry Bertram--look at me! Was not I the man?" Bertram started up as if a sudden light had dawned upon him.