advent of the captain was much talked over by the maids, and even anticipated by Winsome herself as a picturesque break in the monotony of the staid country life.  Certainly he brought the essence of strength and youth and athletic energy into the quiet court-yard, when he rode in on his showily paced horse and reined him round at the low steps of the front door, with the free handling and cavalry swing which he had inherited as much from the long line of Greatorixes who had ridden out to harry the Warden’s men along the marches, as from the yeomanry riding-master.

Now, the captain was neither an obliging nor yet a particularly amiable young man, and when he took so kindly to fetching and carrying, it was not long before the broad world of farm towns and herds’ cot-houses upon which Greatorix Castle looked down suspected a motive, and said so in its own way.

On one occasion, riding down the long loaning of Craig Ronald, the captain came upon the slight, ascetic figure of Allan Welsh, the Marrow minister, leaning upon the gate which closed the loaning from the road.  The minister observed him, but showed no signs of moving.  Agnew Greatorix checked his horse.

“Would you open the gate and allow me to pass on my way?” he said, with chill politeness.  The minister of the Marrow kirk looked keenly at him from under his grey eyebrows.

“After I have had a few words with you, young sir,” said Mr. Welsh.

“I desire no words with you,” returned the young man impatiently, backing his horse.

“For whom are your visits at Craig Ronald intended?” said the minister calmly.  “Walter Skirving and his spouse do not receive company of such dignity; and besides them there are only the maids that I know of.”

“Who made you my father confessor?” mocked Agnew Greatorix, with an unpleasant sneer on his handsome face.

“The right of being minister in the things of the Spirit to all that dwell in Craig Ronald House,” said the minister of the Marrow firmly.

“Truly a pleasant ministry, and one, no doubt, requiring frequent ministrations; yet do I not remember to have met you at Craig Ronald,” he continued.  “So faithful a minister surely must be faithful in his spiritual attentions.”

He urged his horse to the side of the gate and leaned over to open the gate himself, but the minister had his hand firmly on the latch.

“I have seen you ride to many maids’ houses, Agnew Greatorix, since the day your honoured father died, but never a one have I seen the better of your visits.  Woe and sorrow have attended upon your way.  You may ride off now at your ease, but beware the vengeance of the God of Jacob; the mother’s curse and the father’s malison ride not far behind!”

“Preach me no preachments,” said the young man; “keep such for your Marrow folk on Sundays; you but waste your words.”

“Then I beseech you by the memory of a good father, whom, though of another and an alien communion, I shall ever respect, to cast your eyes elsewhere, and let the one ewe lamb of those whom God hath stricken alone.”