Simple in all his tastes and habits, Sir John had been unable to discover, in any of the manufactured beauties to whom he had been, from time to time, introduced while he resided in London, one to whom he could think of intrusting his happiness. The wife he desired was one fresh from the hand of nature, not one remodelled by the square and rule of art; and such a one he thought he had found during his adventure of the previous night. Bringing this digression, which we may liken to an interlude, to a close, we again draw up the curtain, and open the second act of our little drama with an exhibition of the residence of Mr Harrison at Todshaw. The house or farm-steading of this worthy person was of the very best description of such establishments. The building itself was substantial, nay, even handsome, while the excellent garden which was attached to it, and all the other accessories and appurtenances with which it was surrounded, indicated wealth and comfort. Its situation was on the summit of a gentle eminence that sloped down in front to a noisy little rivulet, that careered along through a narrow rugged glen overhanging with hazel, till it came nearly opposite the house, where it wound through an open plat of green sward, and shortly after again plunged into another little romantic ravine similar to the one it had left. The approach to Mr Harrison's house lay along this little rivulet, and was commanded, for a considerable distance, by the view from the former--a circumstance which enabled Jeanie Harrison to descry, one fine summer afternoon, two or three days after the occurrence of the events just related, the approach of the fiddler with whom she had danced at the wedding. On making this discovery, Jeanie ran to announce the joyful intelligence to all the other members of the family, and the prospect of a merry dancing afternoon opened on the delighted eyes of its younger branches. When the fiddler--with whose identity the reader is now as well acquainted as we are--had reached the bottom of the ascent that led to the house, Jeanie, with excessive joy beaming in her bright and expressive eye, and her cheek glowing with the roseate hues of health, rushed down to meet him, and to welcome him to Todshaw. "Thank ye, my bonny lassie--thank ye," replied the disguised baronet, expressing himself in character, and speaking the language of his assumed station. "Are ye ready for anither dance?" "Oh, a score o' them--a thousand o' them," said the lively girl. "But will your faither, think ye, hae nae objections to my comin?" inquired the fiddler. "Nane in the warld. My faither is nane o' your sour carles that wad deny ither folk the pleasures they canna enjoy themsels. He likes to see a'body happy around him--every ane his ain way." "An' your mother?" "Jist the same. Ye'll find her waur to fiddle doun than ony o' us. She'll dance as lang's a string hauds o't." "Then, I may be quite at my ease," rejoined Sir John.