'Nothing,' answered Ericson, soothingly,--'only death.--I should like to see Miss St. John once before I die. Do you think she would come and see me if I were really dying?' 'I'm sure she wad. But gin ye speik like this, Miss Letty winna lat me come near ye, no to say her. Oh, Mr. Ericson! gin ye dee, I sanna care to live.' Bethinking himself that such was not the way to keep Ericson quiet, he repressed his emotion, sat down behind the curtain, and was silent. Ericson fell fast asleep. Robert crept from the room, and telling Miss Letty that he would return presently, went to Miss St. John. 'How can I go to Aberdeen without him?' he thought as he walked down the street. Neither was a guide to the other; but the questioning of two may give just the needful points by which the parallax of a truth may be gained. 'Mr. Ericson's here, Miss St. John,' he said, the moment he was shown into her presence. Her face flushed. Robert had never seen her look so beautiful. 'He's verra ill,' he added. Her face grew pale--very pale. 'He asked if I thought you would go and see him--that is if he were going to die.' A sunset flush, but faint as on the clouds of the east, rose over her pallor. 'I will go at once,' she said, rising. 'Na, na,' returned Robert, hastily. 'It has to be manage. It's no to be dune a' in a hurry. For ae thing, there's Dr. Gow says he maunna speak ae word; and for anither, there's Miss Letty 'ill jist be like a watch-dog to haud a'body oot ower frae 'im. We maun bide oor time. But gin ye say ye'll gang, that 'll content him i' the meantime. I'll tell him.' 'I will go any moment,' she said. 'Is he very ill?' 'I'm afraid he is. I doobt I'll hae to gang to Aberdeen withoot him.' A week after, though he was better, his going was out of the question. Robert wanted to stay with him, but he would not hear of it. He would follow in a week or so, he said, and Robert must start fair with the rest of the semies. But all the removal he was ever able to bear was to the 'red room,' the best in the house, opening, as I have already mentioned, from an outside stair in the archway. They put up a great screen inside the door, and there the lan'less laird lay like a lord. CHAPTER XXI. SHARGAR ASPIRES. Robert's heart was dreary when he got on the box-seat of the mail-coach at Rothieden--it was yet drearier when he got down at The Royal Hotel in the street of Ben Accord--and it was dreariest of all when he turned his back on Ericson's, and entered his own room at Mrs. Fyvie's. Shargar had met him at the coach. Robert had scarcely a word to say to him. And Shargar felt as dreary as Robert when he saw him sit down, and lay his head on the table without a word. 'What's the maitter wi' ye, Robert?' he faltered out at last. 'Gin ye dinna speyk to me, I'll cut my throat. I will, faith!' 'Haud yer tongue wi' yer nonsense, Shargar. Mr. Ericson's deein'.' 'O lord!' said Shargar, and said nothing more for the space of ten minutes.