how was he to reach it, or hold a dialogue with her, even should she recognize him, without being overheard by some of the family?  All this might have occurred to him at home, had he been sufficiently cool for reflection.  As it was, the only method of awakening her that he could think of was to throw up several handsful of small pebbles against the window.  This he tried without any effect.  Pebbles sufficiently large to reach the window would have broken the glass, so that he felt himself compelled to abandon every hope of speaking to her that night.  With lingering and reluctant steps he left the garden, and stood for some time before the front of the house, leaning against an upright stone, called the market cross.  Here he had not been more than two minutes, when he heard footsteps approaching, and on looking closely through the darkness, he recognized the figure of Nell M’Collum, as it passed directly to the kitchen window.  Here the crone stopped, peered in, and with caution gave one of the panes a gentle tap.  This was responded to by one much louder from within, and almost immediately the door was softly opened.  From thence issued another female figure, evidently that of Nanse M’Collum, her niece.  Both passed down the street in a northern direction, and Lamh Laudher, apprehensive that they were on no good errand, took off his shoes, lest his footsteps might be heard, and dogged them as they went along.  They spoke little, and that in whispers, until they had got clear of the town, when, feeling less restraint, the following dialogue occurred to them:—­

“Isn’t it a quare thing, aunt, that she should come back to this place at all?”

“Quare enough, but the husband’s comin’ too—­he’s to folly her.”

“He ought to know that he needn’t come here, I think.”

“Why, you fool, how do you know that?  Sure the town must pay him fifty guineas, if he doesn’t get a customer, and that’s worth comin’ for.  She must be near us by this time.  Husht! do you hear a car?”

They both paused to listen, but no car was audible.

“I do not,” replied the niece; “but isn’t it odd that he lets her carry the money, an’ him trates her so badly’?”

“Why would it be odd?  Sure, she takes betther care of it, an’ puts it farther than he does.  His heart’s in a farden, the nager.”

“Rody an’ the other will soon spare her that trouble, any way,” replied the niece.  “Is there no one with her but the carman?”

“Not one—­hould you tongue—­here’s the gate where the same pair was to meet us.  Who is this stranger that Rody has picked up?  I hope he’s the thing.”

“Some red-headed fellow.  Rody says he is honest.  I’m wondherin’, aunt, what ’ud happen if she’d know the place.”

“She can’t, girshah—­an’ what if she does?  She may know the place, but will the place know her?  Rody’s friend says the best way is to do for her; an’ I’m afeard of her, to tell you the truth—­but we’ll settle that when they come.  There now is the gate where we’ll sit down.  Give a cough till we try if they’re------whist! here they are!”