Continuing his train of thought farther than we think it necessary to record it, Nashon arrived at Outfieldhaugh House, at the door of which he met Esther Maclean, who presented to him a face so full of expression, that the ideas seemed to be struggling in all parts of it to get down to her mouth for vent. It was clear that something pertaining to the Eyrymount family had occurred during the few hours’ absence of her master; for few other subjects could have produced such a mute loquacity as her moving wrinkles exhibited when Nashon entered. “Your threat to big spinnin mills on the Well Burn has biggit your respectability, guid sir,” she exclaimed. “Read that, and then tak a turn into the stable.” Esther handed to Nashon, as she spoke, a letter from Madame Græme, finely perfumed, the sight and smell of which produced a convulsion in the old simple frame of mind of the quandam hind, which he did not care about exhibiting even to Esther. The application of his large coarse fingers to the _single drop_ of scented green wax with which the note was sealed, produced a mysterious kind of feeling of awe without a visible cause, which was entirely new to him; and the great array of Cupids and roses stamped on the margin of the fine hot-pressed paper, completed the effect of this mute Ariel from the regions of high life. The note was as follows:— “Mr. and Mrs. Græme, of Eyrymount, present their respects to Mr. Nashon Heatherton, and request the honour of his company to dinner at Eyrymount, on Wednesday se’enight, the 15th instant, at five o’clock.” On the other side of the note were a few lines, in another and a bolder hand, to this effect.— “Mr. Græme, who has had already the honour of conversing with Mr. Heatherton, presumes upon his character of feudal superior of Outfieldhaugh, to mark the introduction of a new vassal by some trifling consideration; and therefore, and as the Soho Club meet for the purpose of paying their respects to Mr. Reynard to-morrow at the Shaking Bridge over the Hazel Burn, he requests Mr. Heatherton’s acceptance of his favourite hunter, Springall, and the pleasure of his company at the chase.” “My auld maister wad hae tauld me what was in the letter,” said Esther, turning up her eyes expressively into the face of Nashon. “An’ yer new ane winna refuse ye the pleasure,” answered Nashon. “The braw folk o’ Eyrymount have invited me to dinner on Wednesday se’enight, and sent me a hunter for the chase, the morn, at the Shakin Bridge.” “An’ will ye gang?” said Esther. “Surely,” replied Nashon—“ordinary politeness seems to demand it; but what will I do for a huntin dress?” “Yer ancestor’s scarlet coat winna disgrace his heir,” replied Esther. “It’s up i’ the leather kist, i’ the blue parlour yonder; an’ I’ll mak oot to get a len’ o’ a pair o’ boots frae Squire Hawthorn’s butler, wha’ll never let on the thing to his maister.”