"Be seated, Sir Allan," said Mr. Stuart, bowing politely, though he felt his stiffness and hauteur rising within him, and endeavoured to smother it. "To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit? which, I must have the candour to acknowledge, is most unexpected." "Lochisla," replied the other, addressing him in the Scottish manner by the name of his property, "to the gallantry of your brave boy, Ronald, but for whose exertions I should at this moment have been sleeping at the bottom of the Linn at Corrie-avon. I have deemed it incumbent upon me to visit Lochisla, to return my earnest thanks personally for the signal service he has rendered to me, and I regret that the terms on which you—on which we have lived, render, in your estimation, my visit rather an honour than a pleasure." A shade crossed the brow of the Highlander, but on hearing the particulars he congratulated Sir Allan on his escape in a distant and polite manner, while the twinkle of his bright eyes showed how much satisfaction he enjoyed at the brave conduct of his son. While Sir Allan was relating the story, Mr. Stuart placed near him a large silver liqueur frame, containing six cut-glass bottles, the variously coloured contents of which sparkled behind their silver labels. "Come, Sir Allan, fill your glass, and drink to my boy’s health: one does not experience so narrow an escape often, now-a-days at least. Come, sir, fill your glass,—there is sherry, brandy, port, and the purer dew of the hills; choose which you please." "You Stuarts of Lochisla have long borne a name for hospitality, but it is rather early to taste strong waters,—’tis not meridian yet." "Our hospitality was greater in the olden time than it is now; but it is not often that this old hall has within it one of the Lisles of the Inch, and you must positively drink with me," answered his host, compelling him to fill his glass from the decanter of purple port. "Our visits have been fewer, and less friendly, than I trust they will be for the future. Your health Lochisla," he added, sipping his wine. "’Tis sixty years and more, I think, since my father came up the Strath with his followers, when—" "We will not talk of these matters, Sir Allan," exclaimed Stuart, on whose features was gathering a stern expression which Sir Allan saw not, as he sat with his face to a window and looked through his glass with one eye closed, watching a crumb of the bee’s wing floating on the bright liquor. "They are the last I would wish to think of when you are my guest." "Pardon me, I had no wish to offend; we have ever been as strangers to each other, although our acres march. I have had every desire to live on amicable terms with you, Mr. Stuart; but you have ever been prejudiced against me, and truly without a cause."