The falls she alluded to I had never seen; and for this reason, but still more for that before hinted at, I gladly accepted the proposal of becoming one of the party to Lubdearg. While we were proceeding thither, my inviter contrived to drop a little way behind her friends; which perceiving, and conjecturing that she did so for the especial purpose of affording me an opportunity of speaking with her, I availed myself of it, with a degree of caution that prevented all appearance of connivance, and joined her. Being considerably apart from the others, she said, smiling-- "You have recognised me, I rather think, sir; but do you recollect where and under what circumstances it was that you saw me?" "I do not indeed; I have not the most distant idea," I said; "but I certainly do recollect having seen you before." "And I, too, recollect well of having seen you. It is impossible I should ever forget either you or the occasion that introduced me to you. Do you," she added, "recollect of a young woman calling on you one morning at your lodgings, to request of you to have a chaise in readiness, on the Greenock road, to aid"--and here she paused a moment, and betrayed great emotion--"the escape," she resumed, "of Angus M'Intyre." I need hardly say that, short as this sentence was, I knew ere it was half concluded that it was the deliverer of my unhappy friend who stood before me. "I do, I do, perfectly," I replied--"you are the very person. This is, indeed, strange--most singular--our meeting here again, and in this way. But who, in Heaven's name, are you?" I added; "that I have never yet known." The lady smiled sadly. "Did you ever hear your unfortunate friend speak of one Miss Eliza Stewart?" she said. "Often, often," I replied; "to that lady I always understood he was to have been married, had not that deplorable occurrence taken place, which so miserably changed his destiny, and marred all his prospects in life." "It was so," said my fair companion, with increased emotion. "I am that person." "Impossible!" "It is true; I am Eliza Stewart." "Then, here is more perplexity and mystery," said I. "How, in all the world, came you to appear to me in the dress and character of a servant girl--you, who are a lady both by birth and education?" (this I knew from M'Intyre) "and how, above all, did you effect the escape of our unfortunate friend?"