"A what, my dear?--a Pretender? I really scarcely know. That is a question that you should ask your papa. A Pretender?" "No, no, Adam. It is Adventurer. That was what the steward said. I know it, because that is the name of one of papa's books. I will show it you." "I know that," said Adam. "But Widow Fleming called it Pretender, too." "What's that?" cried Lady Carse, turning hastily from the window. "What are you talking about?" The children looked at each other, as they usually did when somebody must answer the lady. "What are you talking about?" "The steward says the Pretender has come: and we do not know what that means." "The Pretender come!" cried Mrs Ruthven, letting fall her work. "What shall we do for news? Run, my dears, and ask Widow Fleming all about it. I can't leave Lady Carse, you see." The children declared they dared not go. Widow Fleming was busy; and she had sent them away. "Then go and tell your father. Ask him to come in." Mr Ruthven was shocked into his usual manners when he saw Lady Carse unable to stand or speak. His assurances that he did not believe her in any personal danger, if the report were ever so true, were thrown away. Her consternation was about a different aspect of the matter. She at once concluded that the cause of the Stuarts would be triumphant. She saw in imagination all her enemies victorious--her husband and Lord Lovat successful in all their plottings, high in power and glory; while she, who could have given timely intimation of their schemes--she who could have saved the throne and kingdom--was confined to this island like an eagle in a cage. For some time she sat paralysed by her emotions; then she rose and went in silence to Annie's dwelling. The steward was just departing, and he seemed in the more haste for the lady's appearance; but Annie stopped him--gravely desired him to remain while she told the lady what it concerned her to know. She then said, "I learn from the steward, madam, that it is known throughout Edinburgh that you are still in life, and that you are confined to some out-of-the-way place, though, the steward believes, the real place is not known." "It is not known," the steward declared; "and it is anything but kind of you, in my opinion, Mrs Fleming, to delude Lady Carse with any hope of escape. Her escape is, and will always be, impossible." "I think it my business," said Annie, "to inform the lady of whatever I hear of her affairs. I think she ought to have the comfort of knowing that her friends are alarmed: and I am sure I have no right to conceal it from her." The steward walked away, while the lady stood lost in reverie. One set of ideas had driven out the other. She had forgotten all about the Jacobite news, and she stood staring with wide open eyes, as the vision of her escape and triumph once more intoxicated her imagination.