Willie and I retire there now and then for a quiet chat.
On this particular occasion Willie was declaiming the exciting verses where FitzJames and Murdoch are crossing the stream
"That joins Loch Katrine to Achray,"
where the crazed Blanche of Devan first appears:—
"All in the Trosachs' glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high—
'Murdoch! was that a signal cry?'"
"It was indeed," said Francesca, appearing suddenly at an upper window overhanging the garden. "Pardon this intrusion, but the castle people are here," she continued in what is known as a stage whisper,—that is, one that can be easily heard by a thousand persons,—"the castle people and the ladies from Pettybaw House; and Mr. Macdonald is coming down the loaning; but Calamity Jane is making her toilette in the kitchen, and you cannot take Mr. Beresford through into the sitting-room at present. She says this hoose has so few conveniences that it's 'fair sickenin'.'"
"How long will she be?" queried Mr. Beresford anxiously, putting "The Lady of the Lake" in his pocket, and pacing up and down between the rows of cabbages.
"She has just begun. Whatever you do,
