Lovel and Lieutenant Taffril, with the surgeon, came upon the ground with a purpose of a nature very uncongenial to the soft, mild, and pacific character of the hour and scene. The sheep, which during the ardent heat of the day had sheltered in the breaches and hollows of the gravelly bank, or under the roots of the aged and stunted trees, had now spread themselves upon the face of the hill to enjoy their evening’s pasture, and bleated, to each other with that melancholy sound which at once gives life to a landscape, and marks its solitude.--Taffril and Lovel came on in deep conference, having, for fear of discovery, sent their horses back to the town by the Lieutenant’s servant. The opposite party had not yet appeared on the field. But when they came upon the ground, there sat upon the roots of the old thorn a figure as vigorous in his decay as the moss-grown but strong and contorted boughs which served him for a canopy. It was old Ochiltree. “This is embarrassing enough,” said Lovel:--“How shall we get rid of this old fellow?” “Here, father Adam,” cried Taffril, who knew the mendicant of yore--“here’s half-a-crown for you. You must go to the Four Horse-shoes yonder--the little inn, you know, and inquire for a servant with blue and yellow livery. If he is not come, you’ll wait for him, and tell him we shall be with his master in about an hour’s time. At any rate, wait there till we come back,--and--Get off with you--Come, come, weigh anchor.” “I thank ye for your awmous,” said Ochiltree, pocketing the piece of money; “but I beg your pardon, Mr. Taffril--I canna gang your errand e’en now.” “Why not, man? what can hinder you?” “I wad speak a word wi’ young Mr. Lovel.” “With me?” answered Lovel: “what would you say with me? Come, say on, and be brief.” The mendicant led him a few paces aside. “Are ye indebted onything to the Laird o’ Monkbarns?” “Indebted!--no, not I--what of that?--what makes you think so?” “Ye maun ken I was at the shirra’s the day; for, God help me, I gang about a’ gates like the troubled spirit; and wha suld come whirling there in a post-chaise, but Monkbarns in an unco carfuffle--now, it’s no a little thing that will make his honour take a chaise and post-horse twa days rinnin’.” “Well, well; but what is all this to me?” “Ou, ye’se hear, ye’se hear. Weel, Monkbarns is closeted wi’ the shirra whatever puir folk may be left thereout--ye needna doubt that--the gentlemen are aye unco civil amang themsells.” “For heaven’s sake, my old friend”-- “Canna ye bid me gang to the deevil at ance, Mr. Lovel? it wad be mair purpose fa’ard than to speak o’ heaven in that impatient gate.” “But I have private business with Lieutenant Taffril here.” “Weel, weel, a’ in gude time,” said the beggar--“I can use a little wee bit freedom wi’ Mr. Daniel Taffril;--mony’s the peery and the tap I worked for him langsyne, for I was a worker in wood as weel as a tinkler.” “You are either mad, Adam, or have a mind to drive me mad.”