Archy agreed that he should accompany him, and they took the road towards Annan together. It was a calm and glorious morning: the Solway flashed in the sunlight like a silver lake, and not a cloud rested on the brow of the majestic Criffel. For the space of three miles they proceeded in silence, but the old man sighed oft and heavily, as though his spirit were troubled. "Let us rest here for a few minutes," said he, as he sat down on a green knoll by the way-side, and gazing steadfastly in Archy's face--"Young man," he added, "your face brings owre my heart the memories o' thirty years--and, oh! persecuted as the name is--answer me truly if your name be Armstrong?" "It is!" replied Archy, "and perish the son o' Sandy Armstrong when he disowns it!" "An' your faither--your mother," continued the old man, hesitating as he spoke--"do they--does she live?" In a few words Archy told of his father's persecution--of his being hunted from the country like a wild beast--of the destruction of the home of his childhood--of his mother's death, and of her burial by his own hands in the wilderness. "Oh! my poor Elspeth!" cried the aged beggar, "Archy! my son! my son! I am your faither! Sandy Armstrong, the outlaw!" "My faither!" exclaimed Archy, pressing the beggar to his breast. When they had wept together,--"Let us gae nae farer south," said the old man, "but let us return to Tarras moss, that when the hand o' death comes, ye may lay me down in peace by the side of my Elspeth." With a sorrowful heart Archy told his father that he was flying from the law and the vengeance of the Scotts. "Gie them gowd as a peace-offering," said the old man, and he pulled from beneath his coarse cloak a leathern purse, filled with gold, and placed it in the hands of his son. For nearly twenty years Sandy had served in foreign wars, and obtained honours and rewards; and on visiting his native land, he had assumed the beggar's garb for safety. They returned to Tarras-side together, and a few yellow coins quashed the prosecution of "Fingerless Dick." Archy married the daughter of his former employer, and became a sheep-farmer; and, at the age of fourscore years and ten, the old freebooter closed his eyes in peace in the house of his son, and in the midst of his grandchildren, and was buried, according to his own request, by the side of Elspeth in the wilderness. THE DOUBLE-BEDDED ROOM. "Say you love His person--be not asham'd of't; he's a man, For whose embraces, though Endymion Lay sleeping by, Cynthia would leave her orb, And exchange kisses with him." _Massinger._