question, like one exhausted by some uncommon effort. At length, recovering himself, as if with a sudden and painful effort he asked Cuddie, "if Lady, Margaret Bellenden still lived."
"She does," replied Cuddie, "but in a very sma' way. They hae been a sad changed family since thae rough times began; they hae suffered aneugh first and last—and to lose the auld Tower, and a' the bonny barony and the holms that I hae pleughed sae often, and the Mains and my kale-yard that I suld hae gotten back again, and a' for naething, as a' body may say, but just the want o' some bits of sheep-skin that were lost in the confusion of the taking of Tillietudlem."
"I have heard something of this," said the stranger, deepening his voice and averting his head. "I have some interest, in the family, and would willingly help them if I could. Can you give me a bed in your house to-night, my friend?"
"It's but a corner of a place, sir," said
