He was for a moment confused; his face flushed.  ’Well, well, I must be getting you something to eat, but it will not be for six,’ he added, with a smile:  ’only what we can get smuggled out.  There is my aunt in the road, you see,’ and he locked me in again with the indignant hens.

I always smile when I recall that young fellow; and yet, if the reader were to smile also, I should feel ashamed.  If my son shall be only like him when he comes to that age, it will be a brave day for me and not a bad one for his country.

At the same time I cannot pretend that I was sorry when his sister succeeded in his place.  She brought me a few crusts of bread and a jug of milk, which she had handsomely laced with whisky after the Scottish manner.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said:  ’I dared not bring on anything more.  We are so small a family, and my aunt keeps such an eye upon the servants.  I have put some whisky in the milk—­it is more wholesome so—­and with eggs you will be able to make something of a meal.  How many eggs will you be wanting to that milk? for I must be taking the others to my aunt—­that is my excuse for being here.  I should think three or four.  Do you know how to beat them? or shall I do it?’

Willing to detain her a while longer in the hen-house, I displayed my bleeding palms; at which she cried aloud.

’My dear Miss Flora, you cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs,’ said I; ’and it is no bagatelle to escape from Edinburgh Castle.  One of us, I think, was even killed.’

‘And you are as white as a rag, too,’ she exclaimed, ’and can hardly stand!  Here is my shawl, sit down upon it here in the corner, and I will beat your eggs.  See, I have brought a fork too; I should have been a good person to take care of Jacobites or Covenanters in old days!  You shall have more to eat this evening; Ronald is to bring it you from town.  We have money enough, although no food that we can call our own.  Ah, if Ronald and I kept house, you should not be lying in this shed!  He admires you so much.’

‘My dear friend,’ said I, ’for God’s sake do not embarrass me with more alms.  I loved to receive them from that hand, so long as they were needed; but they are so no more, and whatever else I may lack--and I lack everything—­it is not money.’  I pulled out my sheaf of notes and detached the top one:  it was written for ten pounds, and signed by that very famous individual, Abraham Newlands.  ’Oblige me, as you would like me to oblige your brother if the parts were reversed, and take this note for the expenses.  I shall need not only food, but clothes.’

‘Lay it on the ground,’ said she.  ‘I must not stop my beating.’

‘You are not offended?’ I exclaimed.

She answered me by a look that was a reward in itself, and seemed to imply the most heavenly offers for the future.  There was in it a shadow of reproach, and such warmth of communicative cordiality as left me speechless.  I watched her instead till her hens’ milk was ready.