“Ye maunna open the window. Leddy Janet has the rheumatics a' dandering aboot her back a' the morning,” said Sir Andrew, approaching the group; and then, turning to Cashel, said, “Glad to see ye, sir; very glad indeed; though, like Prince Charlie, you're on the wrang side o' the wa'.” “Dear me!” sighed Meek, lifting his eyes from the newspaper, and assuming that softly compassionate tone in which he always delivered the most commonplace sentiments, “how shocking, to keep you out of your own house, and the air quite damp! Do pray be careful, and change your clothes before you come in here.” Then he finished in a whisper to Lady Janet, “One never gets through a country visit without a cold.” “Upon my word, I'll let him in,” said Aunt Fanny, with a native richness of accent that made her fair nieces blush. “At last!” said Cashel, as he entered the room, and proceeded to salute the company, with many of whom he had but the very slightest acquaintance,--of some he did not even remember the names. The genial warmth of his character soon compelled him to feel heartily what he had begun by feigning, and he bade them welcome with a cordiality that spread its kindly influence over all. “I see,” said he, after some minutes, “Lady Kilgoff has not joined us; but her fatigue has been very great.” “They say my Lord 's clean daft,” said Sir Andrew. “Oh, no, Sir Andrew,” rejoined Roland; “our misfortune has shaken his nerves a good deal, but a few days' rest and quiet will restore him.” “He was na ower wise at the best, puir man,” sighed the veteran, as he moved away. “Her Ladyship was quite a heroine,--is n't that so?” said Lady Janet, tartly. “She held the rudder, or did something with the compass, I heard,” simpered a young lady in long flaxen ringlets. Cashel smiled, but made no answer. “Oh, dear,” sighed Meek, “and there was a dog that swam--or was it you that swam ashore with a rope in your mouth?” “I grieve to say, neither man nor dog performed the achievement.” “And it would appear that the horrid wretch--what's his name?” asked Mrs. White of her friend Howie. “Whose name, madam?” “The man--the dreadful man, who planned it all. Sick--Sickamore--no, not Sickamore--” “Sickleton, perhaps,” said Cashel, strangely puzzled to make out what was coming. “Yes, Sickleton had actually done the very same thing twice before, just to get possession of the rich plate and all the things on board.” “This is too bad,” cried Cashel, indignantly; “really, madam, you must pardon my warmth, if it even verges on rudeness; but the gentleman whose name you have associated with such iniquitous suspicions saved all our lives.” “That's what I like in him better than all,” whispered Aunt Fanny to Olivia; “he stands by his friends like a trump.” “You have compelled me,” resumed Cashel, “to speak of what really I had much rather forget; but I shall insist upon your patience now for a few minutes, simply to rectify any error which may prevail upon this affair.”