"Yes. Our title is Kilspindie, an earldom. My son who was stolen--my only son and only child, alas!--is Lord Morven, if he be still alive. But who knows if I shall ever see him again?" "Hope for the best," said the vicar, gently. "God is over all!" "You are right, Mr Tempest. But how many weary years have I waited, and have had to comfort myself in that fashion. Now, when I had lost all hope, the advertisement roused it again. If I find the cup I may discover my boy, or, at all events, I may find out if he is alive or dead." "I am sure he is alive," said Sybil, impulsively. "Dear Lord Kilspindie, if there was no chance of your finding him I should not have been guided to put in that advertisement. It was entirely my own doing, and had I consulted with my father it would never have appeared." "It certainly would not," said the vicar, promptly. "I had placed the matter in the hands of Mr Marton, and I was angry when I saw the advertisement--very angry, indeed." "You must not be angry any more, Mr Tempest," said Kilspindie, with a smile, "seeing that it may lead to the discovery of my son. I owe much to Miss Tempest's indiscretion, as you no doubt call it." "No," said Sybil, resolutely; "I am sure papa does not call it that. I did it to help Leo, and I would do it again. But tell us the legend, Lord Kilspindie." The old man laughed. "If you have not the imagination of the Celt you will think it but a poor thing," he said. "In the days of Bruce, and on the Border, Nigel Grant, the head of the clan--my ancestor, Mr Tempest--was riding home from a foray against the English. He had been successful, and had collected a large mob of cattle, which were being driven to the castle by his followers. He was anxious to get home, for when he had left, two weeks previously, his wife was expected to give birth to a child. The chief eagerly desired that it might be a boy, for he had few relatives, and those he had were his bitterest enemies." "What!" said Tempest, "and the Scotch so clannish?" "They are more clannish in the Highlands than on the Border," replied the old lord. "Many of the Border families fought with one another. My clan did also for many a long day, although they are friendly enough now. However, you know the reason that Nigel Grant was so eager for an heir." "Wouldn't a girl have done?" asked Sybil mischievously. "By no means. The chief wanted a brave boy, to bestride a horse and wield a sword, and govern the unruly Grant clan with a strong hand. He had prayed to the Virgin to give him his heart's desire--they were all Roman Catholics in those days, remember. So you may guess he rode home at top speed, and as he neared the castle he was far in advance of his followers and alone. And then came the fairies." "The fairies!" echoed Sybil. "This is interesting," and she laughed.