There is one letter in the escritoir" (digesting a temporary swelling of the heart as he spoke), "which I beg the favour of you to deliver with your own hand." "I understand," said the sailor.

"Nay, my friend, never be ashamed for the matter--an affectionate heart may overflow for an instant at the eyes, if the ship were clearing for action; and, depend on it, whatever your injunctions are, Dan Taffril will regard them like the bequest of a dying brother.

But this is all stuff;--we must get our things in fighting order, and you will dine with me and my little surgeon's mate, at the Graeme's-Arms over the way, at four o'clock." "Agreed," said Lovel.
"Agreed," said Taffril; and the whole affair was arranged.
It was a beautiful summer evening, and the shadow of the solitary thorn-tree was lengthening upon the short greensward of the narrow valley, which was skirted by the woods that closed around the ruins of St.Ruth.

* * [Supposed to have been suggested by the old Abbey of Arbroath in * Forfarshire.] [Illustration: St.Ruth (arbroath Abbey)] Lovel and Lieutenant Taffril, with the surgeon, came upon the ground with a purpose of a nature very uncongenial to the soft, mild, and pacific character of the hour and scene.

The sheep, which during the ardent heat of the day had sheltered in the breaches and hollows of the gravelly bank, or under the roots of the aged and stunted trees, had now spread themselves upon the face of the hill to enjoy their evening's pasture, and bleated, to each other with that melancholy sound which at once gives life to a landscape, and marks its solitude .-- Taffril and Lovel came on in deep conference, having, for fear of discovery, sent their horses back to the town by the Lieutenant's servant.