“Egad, ’tis a long story, John! But, briefly, you must know that chancing to have the better o’ my good cousin Lauchlan—‘the MacLean’—(o’er a point o’ strategy, if I mind rightly), I left the MacLean country and the hame o’ my forefaythers, though my heart was sair waefu’, John, an’ became a roofless wight—a hameless wanderer!” “And all by reason of a quarrel with your cousin, Hector?” “Aye, juist that! Ye see, Johnnie, it so happened the man was like tae dee!” “To die, Hector? How so?” “Why, the puir gentleman misjudged his distance, and my Andrew here took him a ding i’ the wame, Johnnie.” “Aha, a duel, was it? When was this, Hector?” “Twa-three years aboot, lad. So, bein’ a lone man and weary wi’ my wandering, y’ ken, I minded you, Johnnie, an’ cam’ Sussex-wards a-seekin’ ye. But, learnin’ ye were leevin’ in Parus an’ much too fine a gentleman for Sussex, I bought me a wee bit hoosie ower Alfriston way—an’ there I’m leevin’ yet, God be thankit.” “Why, then, Hector, since I intend living at High Dering henceforth, you must live there too. You shall have your old rooms in the north wing ... your study, Hector, with so few books and so very many weapons ... ’twas there you gave me my first lesson in fencing. Do you remember?” “Aye, I do, lad. And you were ower fond o’ the ‘point’ even then, John. But as for comin’ back yonder to live—whisht, laddie! Alfriston suits me fine, an’ ma bit hoosie is nane sae bad for a lonely man, y’ ken!” “Tush!” exclaimed Sir John, a trifle pettishly. “High Dering won’t seem home without you. And if you are so lonely——” “Why, I’m no’ juist solitary, John lad. I hae my company for a crack now an’ then and to smoke a pipe wi’ of an evening; there’s Geordie Potter an’ Peter Bunkle, an’ Joe Pursglove an’ Joe Muddle, an’ ane or two mair. So y’ see I’m no’ juist solitary.” “But you live alone, I suppose?” “Aye, I dae that—leastways, there’s Wully Tamson sleeps i’ my kitchen on account o’ his wife when he’s fu’—which is frequent.... But, Johnnie”—here Sir Hector paused to stare very hard at his short clay pipe—“I’ve lately had an idea—very lately! I’ve juist the noo come tae a fixed determination.... ’Tis like enough I shall be a lonely man nae longer, y’ ken.” “’S death, Hector man, you never think of marrying?” “Marryin’—me? Losh, man, dae I look like it? Dinna be sic a fule! I’m fair amazed at ye! No, John,” continued Sir Hector, his English suddenly precise, “I have, upon due consideration, determined to adopt the girl Rose——” “Aha!” exclaimed Sir John, with sudden laugh, but meeting Sir Hector’s glare of angered amazement, contrived to regain his gravity. “So you have determined to ... to adopt my Rose child, have you, Hector?” “I hae that!” “Have you put the matter to her?” “I hae so!” “And what said she?” “The puir, preety soul fair turned her back an’ weepit, John.” “Aha!” exclaimed Sir John again. “Hum! Wept, did she, Hector?” “She did that!”