I stood with my arms folded, feeling as glum as ever I did in my life, until their cutter was only a square hickering patch of white among the mists of the morning.  It was breakfast time and the porridge upon the table before I got back, but I had no heart for the food.  The old folk had taken the matter coolly enough, though my mother had no word too hard for Edie; for the two had never had much love for each other, and less of late than ever.

“There’s a letter here from him,” said my father, pointing to a note folded up on the table; “it was in his room.  Maybe you would read it to us.”

They had not even opened it; for, truth to tell, neither of the good folk were very clever at reading ink, though they could do well with a fine large print.

It was addressed in big letters to “The good people of West Inch;” and this was the note, which lies before me all stained and faded as I write: 

“My friends,—­ I didn’t thought to have left you so suddenly, but the matter was in other hands than mine.  Duty and honour have called me back to my old comrades.  This you will doubtless understand before many days are past.  I take your Edie with me as my wife; and it may be that in some more peaceful time you will see us again at West Inch.  Meanwhile, accept the assurance of my affection, and believe me that I shall never forget the quiet months which I spent with you, at the time when my life would have been worth a week at the utmost had I been taken by the Allies.  But the reason of this you may also learn some day.”

“Yours,” “BONAVENTURE DE LISSAC” “(Colonel des Voltigeurs de la Garde, et aide-de-camp de S.M.I.  L’Empereur Napoleon.”)

I whistled when I came to those words written under his name; for though I had long made up my mind that our lodger could be none other than one of those wonderful soldiers of whom we had heard so much, who had forced their way into every capital of Europe, save only our own, still I had little thought that our roof covered Napoleon’s own aide-de-camp and a colonel of his Guard.

“So,” said I, “de Lissac is his name, and not de Lapp.  Well, colonel or no, it is as well for him that he got away from here before Jim laid hands upon him.  And time enough, too,” I added, peeping out at the kitchen window, “for here is the man himself coming through the garden.”

I ran to the door to meet him, feeling that I would have given a deal to have him back in Edinburgh again.  He came running, waving a paper over his head; and I thought that maybe he had a note from Edie, and that it was all known to him.  But as he came up I saw that it was a big, stiff, yellow paper which crackled as he waved it, and that his eyes were dancing with happiness.

“Hurrah, Jock!” he shouted.  “Where is Edie?  Where is Edie?”

“What is it, man?” I asked.

“Where is Edie?”

“What have you there?”