"What is there to amuse me?" said Stephen sulkily, as he took off his hat again and flung it into a corner. "You can come and help me to scrape the hog I killed this morning," replied Miss Jennet Grace Lucretia M'Blee as she left the room, and descended by a staircase, which Stephen had not observed before, into some kitchen or cellar below. He paced up and down in silence, secretly resolving to make his escape the first favourable opportunity, and congratulating himself upon the fortunate circumstance, that Kilvert had defrayed all their expenses on the journey, thus leaving him master of the untouched twenty guineas which Andrew had provided. He thrust his hand into his breeches pocket, to enjoy the tangible satisfaction of knowing he had such a friend available for his designs, when lo! the leathern purse was gone! He rummaged all his pockets, turned them inside out, shook his clothes,-no purse dropped unexpectedly on the floor to gladden and astonish him. VOL. I. L This discovery confounded him. He never once suspected (how should he indeed ?) that Kilvert, that very morning while he slept, had warily abstracted it in precise anticipation of the use to which it had already been hypothetically assigned. He considered it more than probable Stephen would feel discontented with his situation at first; and though gold cannot accomplish all things, yet as few things can be accomplished without it, he knew that so long as he was Stephen's treasurer, no step, of which money must be the necessary agent, could take him by surprise. 1 CHAPTER XIX. Steal I can: It is a thing I ever was brought up to; MIDDLETON's "More Dissemblers besides Women." It was late in the afternoon when Kilvert returned, accompanied by Nichol Ramsay. This was his patronymic; but he was always called by his cognomen, Three Farthing Nick. He was the individual whose pale features, and generally superior air, had attracted Stephen's notice the first night, when they were all assembled at supper. They had been admitted without giving the usual pass-words; and when the door was opened, Kilvert chid Jennet sternly for her neglect, which the fierce cat-o'-mountain bore without a murmur from one who was both her favourite and terror. Had she only feared him, and it had been her mood to be quarrelsome, she would have turned upon his wrath even at the certain price of blood. Stephen perceived that Kilvert and his companion had come home laden with some of those "comfortables" Jennet spoke of; and from the state of the tarpaulin with which they were covered, he concluded they had been exposed to the spray of the sea. As soon as he could draw Kilvert aside, he imparted his loss to him. He appeared surprised; insisted the purse could only have been mislaid; questioned Jennet (to whose keeping he had entrusted it) roughly upon the subject, and seemed not only much vexed at the circumstance, but exceedingly puzzled to account for it. At last, patting Stephen on the shoulder, "I have it, Squire!" said he, " I have it." "Oh, very well," replied Stephen, rubbing his hands for joy, "it's all right if you have it." "Nonsense! I have not got your purse; I have only got a notion how you lost it." "I had rather it were the twenty guineas," rejoined Stephen. "I dare say you would, Squire, but they are twenty fathom under water, I guess. Doesn't it strike you?" he continued, with a most significant look. 66 No," said Stephen, in a tone of sulky disappointment. "I thought so. I warrant it slid out of your pocket like an eel, when you were kicking up your own heels last night, and is now where you would have been yourself, if I had not given you the benefit of a strong pull in the very nick of time." Stephen considered this explanation the more reasonable, for he remembered how very slippery the mare's bridle was after they were both dragged out of the waves by Kilvert, and he resigned himself to the disaster with a heart all the lighter, because Kilvert assured him, there were plenty of guineas in |