He was thus sitting in quiet enjoyment of the solitude (which is so much sweeter a thing with the sense of the near vicinity of those we love than when we are really alone) and his own thoughts, when he saw, as Fred had done on a previous occasion, a tall figure rise as it were out of the soil and approach through the dark--a shadow, but with that independent movement of a living creature which is so instantly distinguishable from any combination of shadows. Mr. Wedderburn was not superstitious, but the figure as it came slowly towards him was one which he did not recognise, and he was astonished at its intrusion here. He rose up to intercept it--whether it was an unlawful visitor prowling round perhaps to see the handiest way of entry into an unsuspicious house, or some lover bound for a rendezvous, or some servant come out unconscious of observation to take the air. But the new-comer was not afraid of his observation, and he now made out that it was a large old woman in her checked shawl and white cap. Even then Mr. Wedderburn did not recognise the old woman, with whose appearance he was but slightly acquainted. She stopped when they met and made him a slow curtsey, leaning upon a stick. It was too dark for him to see her face. “Did you want anything with me, my woman?” said Mr. Wedderburn. “Ay, sir,” she said, “I just do that. You’ll maybe not know me. I’m Janet Macalister, that was nurse to Mr. Robert D’yell.” “I have often heard of you,” said Mr. Wedderburn, “and I am glad to see you, Janet; not that I do see you, for the night’s dark. And this is not an hour for you to be out at your years. If you have anything to say to me we would be better in the library or the hall.” “Sir,” said Janet, “what I have to say is not for any place where we can be seen. I came out here that naebody might suspect I took such a thing upon me; and yet I’m forced to it--though I canna tell you why.” “This sounds very mysterious,” said Mr. Wedderburn; “but I hope there’s nothing very wrong.” “Mr. Wedderburn,” said Janet, “you’re very often at our house.” “Eh!” cried Mr. Wedderburn, in amazement, “at your house? Oh, you mean at Yalton, I suppose. And have you any objections to that?” “Yes, sir,” said Janet firmly, “the greatest of objections. Do you not know, Mr. Wedderburn, that the mistress is still but a young woman (to have such a family), and that she is a widow with naebody to defend her good name--and here are you, a marriageable man, haunting her house every night of your life. Bide a moment, sir, and listen to me. Oh, it’s nothing to laugh at--it’s just very serious. You are here morning, noon, and night”--(here there was a murmur from the unfortunate man of “No, no! not so bad as that”)--“and I ask ye to take your ain sense and judgment to your help and tell me what folk will think that sees that?”