Successively, at every game, the stranger had defeated all who ventured to oppose him, when a messenger announced that dinner waited their arrival. Some of the guests were already seated, others entering; and, as heretofore, placed beside Mrs. Elliot was Elizabeth Bell, still in the noontide of her beauty; but sorrow had passed over her features, like a veil before the countenance of an angel. Johnson, crest-fallen and out of humour at his defeat, seated himself by her side. In early life he had regarded Thomas Elliot as a rival for her affections; and, stimulated by the knowledge that Adam Bell would be able to bestow several thousands upon his daughter for a dowry, he yet prosecuted his attentions with unabated assiduity, in despite of the daughter's aversion and the coldness of her father. Peter had taken his place at the table; and still by his side, unoccupied and sacred, appeared the vacant chair, the chair of his first-born, whereon none had sat since his mysterious death or disappearance. "Bairns," said he, "did nane o' ye ask the sailor to come up and tak a bit o' dinner wi' us?" "We were afraid it might lead to a quarrel with Mr. Johnson," whispered one of the sons. "He is come without asking," replied the stranger, entering; "and the wind shall blow from a new point if I destroy the mirth or happiness of the company." "Ye're a stranger, young man," said Peter, "or ye would ken this is no a meeting o' mirth-makers. But, I assure ye, ye are welcome, heartily welcome. Haste ye, lasses," he added to the servants; "some o' ye get a chair for the gentleman." "Gentleman, indeed!" muttered Johnson between his teeth. "Never mind about a chair, my hearties," said the seaman; "this will do!" And, before Peter could speak to withhold him, he had thrown himself carelessly into the hallowed, the venerated, the twelve-years-unoccupied chair! The spirit of sacrilege uttering blasphemies from a pulpit could not have smitten a congregation of pious worshippers with deeper horror and consternation, than did this filling of the vacant chair the inhabitants of Marchlaw. "Excuse me, sir! excuse me, sir!" said Peter, the words trembling upon his tongue; "but ye cannot--ye cannot sit there!" "O man! man!" cried Mrs. Elliot, "get out o' that! get out o' that!--take my chair!--take ony chair i' the house!--but dinna, dinna sit there! It has never been sat in by mortal being since the death o' my dear bairn!--and to see it filled by another is a thing I canna endure!" "Sir! sir!" continued the father, "ye have done it through ignorance, and we excuse ye. But that was my Thomas's seat! Twelve years this very day--his birthday--he perished, Heaven kens how! He went out from our sight, like the cloud that passes over the hills--never--never to return. And, O sir, spare a father's feelings! for to see it filled wrings the blood from my heart!"