"How hot it is!" said Ellen, fanning herself with her handkerchief; "it really reminds me of the weather we had at Geneva." "It does, indeed, dear. I wonder how long this weather will continue? If it will only hold up for two days more I do not care; you know on Wednesday we have our grand picnic at Cessford's Peel." "Oh, I hope it will! Look, I see the Marquis, and--" "My brother, Wentworth," said the Marchioness, finishing Ellen's sentence; "so like him, Ellen; see he has got a cask of beer, for those poor weary haymakers; how hot they must be working under such a sun." The two ladies had now approached within fifty yards of the rustic group; conspicuous above all was Johnny mounted on the top of a huge rick, waving his cap on the end of a rake. Beneath the rick the Earl presided over an immense cask of ale, from which old Andrew was busily engaged handing foaming mugs of the refreshing beverage to the weary labourers, who, as they wiped the toil-drops from their brows, and drained the beakers, bestowed many a blessing on the stout Earl; the sons of Erin, of whom the greater number was composed, were loudest in their benedictions, and declared they would serve his grace's honour to the last drop of their blood! Others stood near, cap in hand, waiting their turn. A little to the right, leaning over a smaller rick, the Marchioness perceived the tall form of her husband; he was flirting with a very pretty girl, who stood smiling on the other side, leaning on the handle of a rake. This was Jenny Forbes, the acknowledged belle of the neighbourhood. Still further sat a young man on horseback, talking to a stout yeoman, John Forbes, the father of the village belle. Dressed as he was, in a light Indian military costume, with a white handkerchief wound turban-like round his brow, his hot, sunburnt face, high and well-chiselled nose, and dark moustache, gave quite an oriental look to Captain de Vere, who, hot as it was, still smoked his favourite black pipe. Near him, stretched at their listless ease, or seated on the new-mown grass, were several gentlemen in various attitudes, talking or laughing to each other, as they leant over, or lay full length on the ground, with handkerchiefs spread over their heads to protect them from the fiery rays. Sir Richard Musgrave, and Captain Wilson, a naval commander, were amongst these. As the two ladies approached, a general movement took place through the company. The Earl walked forward to meet his guest, Johnny slipped down off the rick; the gentlemen arose; the Marquis started back from his position, and tried to put on an innocent expression as he strolled towards his lady. The Captain alone moved not; but went on with his conversation, which, to judge from his earnestness, was very interesting. "Ha! you have found us out at last, Miss Ravensworth," said the Earl. "Is not this quite Swiss? Blue skies, and haymaking with the sun shining. You must have seen many a scene like this in Bern, I am sure."