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THE DOCTOR'S VICTIM: I I A STORY OF THE BURKE I AND HARE TRAGEDIES. i I BY R. T. CASS ON, I Author of "Bonnie Mary," "A Modern Isbmasl," I "The Doctor's Doorn," Maggie Ray," "Dorcas I Delane," "Faithless Florence, &c., &c. I SYNOPSIS OF OPENING CHAPTERS. I The story opens in the city of Edinburgh, where I paft Jamie, a well-known "natural," is met wandering I in the streets at a late hour by Gordon Munro, a I young medical student, and assistant to the cele- I brated Dr. Knox, the liiiatoiiiiijt. Munro take* Jamie I to the doctor's rooms, and, in the dark, located him I in the dissecting-room. Waking up suddenly, Jamie I finds the room lighted, aud sees the head of a. man I on a table near him. Terribly frightened, Jamie I Screams, and quits the house, making his way to a I country house where he is sure of shelter. Gordon I |tunro ifi also a visitor at Thistleden, and to Mary I *fterson, the heroine of the story, Daft Jamie tells I ■J'hat, he saw in the doctor's house at Edinburgh. I the night am tttempt is made by a gang of I "Urglars to enter the house, but the captain of the I "Urglars being seized l\v one of the dogs, the attempt I J" frustrated, Gordon Munro assisting the robber I leader to escape. Gordon Munro is present at Thistle* I as the lover of Jessie Macduff, a niece of t.ie ■ ^ird, and cousin of Mary Paterson, and Munro suc- I 'n persuading Jessie to rob the secret hoard ol ■ laird, hidden in the cavee beneath the house. I Whilst stealing the money Javie is seen by one of the I labourers, Sandy Macnab, and, to silence him, ■ ^fuuro invokes tin aid of the notorious body-snatchers, ■ Burke and Ilare, v ho murder Sandy, aud sell his ■ body to Munro for dissecting purposes. I On a subsequent evening, respecting that the two I hatching some mischief, Mary Paterson is an un- I "cen listener at an intervieiv between Jessie and I Gcrdon Mur.ro, but her presence in the caves being I Suspected, the expediency of getting rid of her is H oiscutsed by Jessie rnd her lover. That night Mary ■ I'att-rson is walking in her sleep, and, followed by ■ Jessie, Mary descends to the caves, Jessie going there I y an outside entrance. Marv, still in a somnam. ■ buligtic state, enters a dungeon, and Jessie then I j^nfolds her murderous design on the life of her oo<ifin. ■ 3.he heavy door of the dungeon id bolted on the out- ■ Bide, and Mary left a prisoner; but, being missed in ■ the morning, her cousin George goes to the cavee ■ Prad releases her. For the safety of herself and ■ lover, Jessie deemed it expedient to renew the ■ attempt upon Mary's life, and by poisoning her broth ■ Bupper would htive got rid of her courin. But Daft ■ Jainio l^q yecn Jessie putting Bonn-thing jn Mary's ■ «a»in, and manages to upset the basin, as if by accl- ■ Oent, afterwards" telling Mary why he ha*'J spilt her H Ijrotli The Jaird is informed, and Jwsie banished ■ from Thietledon. As a result. Gordon Munro bribes ■ and Hare to murder Daft Jamie. Alary is Uien ■ Jittered by ber nncle to marry a wealthy factor, and ■ Mnight have been constrained to yield had she not dis- H covered that she was not dependent upon her uncle, ■ but an heiress. The laird now discovers a banknote, ■ part of the money stolen from him by Jes-ie, and the ■ tiot(-, being trace(f to Gordon Munro, he is in danger ot ■ Pitsecutien, and, to save himself, induces Burke and ■ Hare to murder the laird. Just at this time the ■ laird'a brother, Stephen, is coming on a visit from I lfI'erica' a" c"v'-t'n? i»is brother's property, David I h, Cl'u^ contrives to throw him over a precipice when I TKk' on t'le W to Thistleden. I broti 'air^ to obtain possession of his ■ is 0 i 8 wea'th succceds for a time. No suspicion I rt.oJ1 w,t'aiv'ed by the household at Thistleden that the ■ 3^7™^ was not ^V1,( Macduff. But when Jessie ■ SWi Vl8it:-S the man she supposes to be her Uncle ■ coiS a stranger, she makes the startling dis- ■ that David has personated his brother, and ■ secret him ulake ternw w'lth her t0 teep l"| I 'thon introduces his readers to one of M house of Edinburgh, known as Major ■ ti-'rriino. f1"1' hl thR West Bow. Gordon Munro is re- ■ iiitj a iu,n'on''e at a late hour, and se«i8 four men carrv- ■ flue*. i!,t« the deserted house. Curiosity m- th;evps t*' follow, and he is caught by a band ^Und'a^i taken possession of Hip old house. ■ out, of ,(1 sagged, Munro is a witness to the carrying ■ 0r»R 0f .V1' .sentence of death parsed by the band on ;if'.v. »n'r Iuiniber, who has been guilty of trea- 'he oMi> nvarfts, to save his own life, Munro takes H i ^c-injrtJI ;f"Criatioc to the Bandit Brotherhod. ■ tvi»nnisP wl at Thistleden, Jessie soon commences to deriiK, iiVer her uncle, her demands for money Sain v,-ni. ij1Q laird desperate, ami lie makes a j r~J 0!1e w jl0 t"ui'kn and Hare to help him to get rid;0i ,Tessie \r,inv too much to make life agi-eeab.e. ■ lair,l r!'0l.!nR ^as fond of # glass of old rort- a.^ ■ aUftunum me of this whereby to drug her with |lQ,l hanrtp,! T,n l'6 carried her down to the caves, ■ «er to bp he,r wer to Burke and Hare. Believing v^"c'iest onia they packed her roughly in an old ■ *nox. \vv.ii 'ler to the dissecting-rooms of Dr. ■ "Onion Mi.i. -u*ke and Hare were bargaining with <°nseio,!S|r_ro tor the supposed corpse Jessie regains ■ 'n"rder w ,r B"rke would have completed the ?r°m the h,1., Dr'>' Pistol in hand, iJrove the men ■ horror of hei-8,?' .CS8'e lias been driven mad by the "ln asylum fjP°sition, and in the morning is sent to I ■ni'e makes ii! laird 's at breakfast when Daft ■ laird that, ho aPPearanoe, and tells the astonished house to tho \aw, Jp!S'e taken away from Dr. Knox'« Marv Palp™ • • Afterwards Daft Jamie see9 Jessie Mnr un(' tells her the same story about thioiijj}, hiin 'ler la"yer, Mr. Buclian. and, the asvli-m il,tnVe' rw.*iM8 an order to fee Jessie H^tor ii,<'), ,Tessie is still raving mad, and the ,!e-' fousim 'i'i. i to P^tpone lier interview with ■ ^!at he leaves hornedVaf 80 ,friKhtened the laird H have f„sn<1<.t"i' .f11!1 two of his farm lahfiarers, ■ brother Steele v ^ster's I^tion of Ills ■ J'ault of the M i^hiffa rai'lnigbt vi&'t to the family ■ tile surino'fd i aiid find the coffin in which ■ V hl» d,-WtS Tterrfd quite emPtv- uhatic » rK,n l»cr cousin Jessie at tire ■ fttenm-p/r'1'.311'.1 JeA4'e relates the etorv of 'her H • ir'l, an t Poisoning hy their uncle, the ■ "J the t terrible awakening when nonfined ■ J},. ohest in the ('i.-eecting room st<)rv i. j Mary afterwards tells ;? take 'stp, r lawyer. Mr. Bucban, wlio promises ■ i Myliijv,tor procuring Jessie's discharge from H e'rPfi8, (■' Hearing accidentally that Mai^' is »n H ?larry li,.r Munro determines, if possible, to ■ letter fthe meantime the laird re^'eives a H t?pri'e h li:.q siMtr-r-in-law. the widow of his brother H iTa-v to' 'r/1- n',er "fnouncemenl that she is on her ■ she J-V;st'fin tiUs biin with alarm. He fears H and o0pa discover his personation of ber husband, Jjfivea at •?, ^'th to meet her. Bat Mi's. Steen.e ''uv p 'Instledeu without having seen I'm, and H J'on of 1,-t1?0" ,;5akes known to her aunt the impofi'- ■ that ),p .,1(;ti the laird has been guilty. Hciirmi; ■ 111 1.01,(1, loV;r' Graham Campbell, has disappeared ri!fif'ts ilU'.v goes tlither in search of li.m. and H °n tillip. a series of misadventures, but- discover- H r»»mnv "ni-nown cousin, BWie Murray, in whose '^tith ,^kT, ^art« on her return home, bj- the i rHAP'l'i-'R XT ■ f ^LSIK MI-RBAY^'PEksOXATIOlf. ■ "as Mary Puterson's first experience of ■ Itio Mea'* an<^ soon after the sliip left tne H an'! °i" th3 Thames she became very ill, ■ M did not leave the lower deck. Elsie ■ to rray, her new friend, was more accus- m li^d to the sea, and waited upon Marv H he! a sister. She talked enthusiastically of ■ iuf, t'^turn tn Scotland, and. being eager for I W'lmati°n respecting their j°\nt, fw tratl^ .t()l<l lier much of -vvliat hi'd vec??j ■ Seeded at Thistleden. to winch Els.e never tireel of listening- ■ *W\\ry lay awake all that night, wishmg u refused to yield to Elsies preference, e &ea, and envying lier newly-foun^ "Fell over a Rope.* I cousin's ability to sleep. Just before day- light a thick fog came on, and, although the chief officer believed the ship to be .me distance from shore, he took all possible precautions. Suddenly he perceived dimly through the fog. at a distance of not more than 100 yards, the cliffs of Filey Head. It was too late to stop the vessel going ashore, and the only thing the captain, who had rushed on deck from his cabin, could do was to endeavour to run his ship ashore in a spot where the crew and passengers might have some chance for their lives. A dreadful scene of terror and confusion ensued. When the vessel first struck, a number of persons attempted to get on to the rocks from the bows, and about a dozen so succeeded in landing. It was soon seen that tne vessel was sinking, and the star- board quarter boat was immediately filled by a number of the passengers; but in the hurry and confusion of the moment proper care was not taken to secure the ropes, and the great weight caused the boat to slip from her davits into the sea, when she instantly swamped, and all in her perished. The lar- board quarter boat was then lowered, for- tunately with more success. On reaching the water, however, it was found that the boat was leaking fast, and must have gone down in a short time were it not for the coolness and presence of mind of the cap- tain's steward, a youth, who, searching with his hand, found that the plug-hole was open, and stopped it with his fingers. Elsie Murray was in this boat, with Mary s carpet-bag in her hand. Self-preservation was a stronger feeling than cousinly affection, and scarce a pang of regret did she feel 'when she and the other people in the boat saw the ship go down, bow foremost. The boat was rowed away with all speed, and the occupants were landed on the rocks about half a mile north of Filey. There Elsie waited for two days, hoping that Mary might in some way nave been saved, but she could learn no things of the rest of the crew and passengers. and was at length forced to the conclusion that Mary had been drowned when the vessel went down. "Poor Mary She will not enjoy her in- heritance; who will claim it, I wonder? How I wish it 'were mine!" And then an insidious temptation assailed her. If she assumed the name of her cousin was it likely she would be detected? "I should be a rich woman, and no one the loser. She has neither brother nor sister -1 will do it." Mary's bag contained her best dress and mantle, and also linen, all of which Elsie, assumed at the hotel in which the rescued passengers stayed that day, and on the fol- lowing0 morning Elsie pursued her journey to Edinburgh by the mail coach. But the nearer she drew to her destination the greater became her fears lest she should be at once detected as an impostor. "If the worst comes to the 'worst, I can prove mv relationship to Mary, and lead them to believe that I have done it all as a joke:, although they will think it a sorry, one," she said to herself. It happened that the Laird of Thistleden was expecting a friend from Newcastle by the London coach, and thus saw Elsie Murray as she alighted. The laird, having heard that Mrs Steenie Macduff had left Thistleden, had ventured back to the hall, and the sudden appearance of Ins niece-for he had not the slid,W suspicion that Elsie was not las old favourite—somewhat disconcerted him. Elsie noticed the sudden start he gave on seeing her. but. not feeling sure of lier ground, she took no further notice. How are you, Mary, after your long jaunt?" said the laird, with a great snow ü1 f' .end^nes^ I started on board the Lovelv'Mary. but the vessel >wAs wreckea on the Yorkshire coast, and many of the nassono-ers drowned. P The bird stared at her very strangely, she n. tlw crucial moment had come. » W-, the place is not what it used to be while you nr £ absent. ii-isli it." "Yes I will cnmc-, If you wisn }t.. Mar- had told her of her luiele Dav;;ls; a4mpWof his brother Steenie s personality a»,I tol »l-» that j ever induce her to go back to Tm>f._rten but Elsie knew that, if she would succeed m the scheme she had embarked upon _it must not begin by making an enemy rn the laird She would give him no ie.^on fm w shine"her harm, if she «>uld so manage it, And 'the laird was still more puzzled by, h-r acquiescence in his plans. Had ab-ence from home blunted the feelings m anger s.«- must have felt '"hen banisned from ha oid ll0"That shipwreck must have touched her brain." he decided, when tney] .arrived at, Thistleden, and he noticed that his niece d d not seem very familiar with the place N.ot, for an instant did he suspect that the g il he had brought home was not Mary ±-atei*on that knowledge was to be his later. "This is vour mistress—my niece, be said to the servants, as they came to the door to see the new arrival. And as they weie l ve- wise new to the place, they made no remark. "She will have the blue room Janet, he continued, and Elsie thus got out oi a threatened difficulty by follow i»g the servants upstairs. "So far r &m safe," said Elsie to herself, as she surveyed the bedroom—the most gor- geously-furnished one in the house. The laird wished to make a good impression on his niece, and thought locating her in the famous "blue room" would go some way towards appeasing the anger she must have felt when so unceremoniously turned out of Thistleden. But the very splendour of the apartment drove sleep from Elsie's eyes. And the knowledge that she would be in danger of detection every moment for some time to come did not tend to allay her anxiety as she descended to the breakfast-room on the first morning of her appearance at Thistleden. "Good morning, Mary; Daft Jamie's in the kitchen, longing for a sight of you. I told him you were back again." Elsie's face instantly turned scarlet. Who was Daft Jamie? Intuitively she guessed that he would not be deluded by her ex- traordinary resemblance to the girl 'whose name and place she had stolen; hence she hesitated. "I am not at all well, this morning, uncle, she said at last. And the laird could well believe her, for her flushed face had changed to a deathly white. But before he could make any further remark one of the servants came in. and in- timated that Dick Laurie was waiting to speak to the laird, on private business, as soon as convenient. "Dick Laurie? Wtat can he want with me? muttered the laird, suspicion*ly. So far, David Macduff had kept out of the way of the old hands on the farm. but now he was to be "bearded in his den." After some natural hesitation, he decided that it would be better to face the matter now. and, relying on the alteration in his personal appearance, lie bade the servant show Laurie into the library. I ''Clasped a pitdh plaster.1" The blinds of the room had not been drawn, and the laird 'was seated in a dark corner as Dick Laurie entered, bonnet in hand. ''Ye'il maybe have heard that Sandie M'Bride is a bit daft?' began Laurie, twirling his cap. ''No, I had not been told; what caused it ?'' "Weel, laird, when you 'I"ere away frae hame, Sandie and I were coming hame rather late frae the city, and passing Roslin kirk- vard we saw Daft Jamie going through the wicket gate. Wondering what he wanted there at sic a late hour, we followed him, so quietly that he did not hear us. He must have managed to steal the keys frae the old sexton, for he went down the steps to the vault, unlocked the door, and went in. I shouted, and Jamie came out in sic a. hurry that he did not shut the vault door. Then Sandie peeped in. and I was close behind him. We had a horn lantern, and could see that the laird's coffin had been shifted. We went closer, and found the coffin empty. I was -.0 scared that I rushed out. and the wind must have closed the door, for Sandie was found there in the morning, nearly crazed. That is all, laird. David Macduff was secretly rejoiced at the startling intelligence that the corpse of his brother Steenie had been stolen, doubtless by the resurrectionists, but he must not show his real feelings. "Then the body of the laird, my poor brother, has been taken away by those scoun- drels who deal in such thing*, and has likely been dissected by now. We can do nothing. Keen it to yourself, my man; such a scandal must not be published around the neiglibour- '-But his wife ought to be told," remarked Laurie, with a strange look at his master. "Whose wife? The late laird was not married, as you must know." "it's nae use. laird; 1 ken vou weel enough. The Gorse Farm will be vacant at the term; ye'll^give me the lease on't, laird, if Ve are wise." "You are surely mad, my man. "It's V6,11 be 'mad, gin ye say no. For I then I shall go to the procurator fiscal, and tell him all I k'tow, and all I suspect as I weel." I I "I'll think on 't, and tell you to-morrow." Dick Laurie consented to the delay, and thereby sealed his death-warrant. That evening the laird went to the city, managed to find Burke comparatively sober, money having been scarce of late with him. He was ready enough to listen to the laird's proposals, but seemed rather dubious when he knew exactly what was required of him. The prof- fered bribe of JB20. in addition to whatever sum might be obtained for the body, proved sufficient to sweep away any objections Burke had to the hazardous nature of the job. Be- sides, a medical student who had quarrelled with Gordon Munro, and was now attending the classes of a rival of Dr. Knox's, had given a broad hint to Burke that Dr. Gillespie wanted a "subject" or two, and would pay the full price-£10. To the doctor went Burke, after the laird had left him, and arranged for someone the doctor could trust to wait for the coming of the "subject," pro- bably in the small hours of the following morning. David Macduff, being 'well acquainted with Dick Laurie's habits, had told Burke that Laurie visited the Castle Inn, at Roslin, almost every evening, and stayed until nearly midnight. Since his fright. Sandie M'Bride had shown an unconquerable aversion to being out after dark, and, therefore, Liurie would return home alone. Events turned out exactly as the laird had predicted. A few minutes after midnight Dick Laurie was staggering along the bye- way leading from the highroad to Thistleden, when he fell over a rope stretched across the road, and before he could raise himself from the ground, or make any resistance, the mur- derous twain, Burke and IlaTe, were upon him. It was necessary that the "shot" should show no signs of foul play, and, there- fore, their usual method of taking life was again resorted to. Burke lay 'with his whole weight upon the hapless victim, planting one knee in Laurie's chest to expel the air, whilst Hare had one hand over the man's mouth, his nostrils being firmly closed with the other. The doomed man was too much in- toxicated to make much resistance, and in a few minutes he ceased to breathe, and was quickly bundled into an accommodating old tea-chest, which had previously done duty on a somewhat similar occasion. About an hour afterwards, Burke and Hare having a. trap with them, the "subject" was safely ensconced in the dissecting-room at Dr. Gillespie's, the two murderers had £5 ea,ch in their pockets, and David Macduff was rid of another enemy. The laird, however, was anything but easy in mind. He did not sleep a wink that night; he felt intuitively that his myrmidons were carrying out his instructions—earning the bribe of L20 promised them for taking away an innocent man's life; and David Macduff was not yet so case-hardened in wickedness that he could contemplate, with- out some qualms of conscience, the cool- blooded murder of one of his oldest farm- hands. And so haggard did he look as he saw him- self in the glass that lie did not go down to breakfast. Elsie was alone, and, finding that the laird 'was not inclined to join her, she set off for a walk in the ncighlxmrliood of the estate. She had noticed Roslin Castle as they passed on their way to Thistleden. on her first appearance, and now determined to visit the old pile. Nearing Roslin, she met Gordon Munro. and wondered why he stared at her so strangely and intently. Could he be the Cousin George her Cousin Mary had talked about? As this fancy took pos- session of her she smiled slightly at Munro whose surprise grew stronger. But lie did not speak, and she passed on. Two hours afterwards, when she returned to the house, she was arrested at the door of the dining-room by t.he sound of voices, raised in anger. Gordon Munro. wondering 'whether the laird had had anything to do with the attempt upon Jessie Macduff's life, had decided to pay a visit to Thistleden. David Macduff would have refused to see Munro had he known of his coming, but the laird was caught walking in the grounds. Munro started with astonishment as he saw David Macduff only a few paces away. "What a truly marvellous resemblance this Stephen Macduff bears to his dead brother Can it be possible? Yes, this man is David: why has he adopted such a risky scheme ? His brother's 'wealth, doubtless. And he must let me have a finger in the golden pie. or he shall be compelled to disgorge." "Good morning, laird." "I have not the pleasure, sir "Xo earthly use, laird, trying to deceive me. I know you to be David Macduff, and can prove my contention to the satisfaction of any judge or jury in the kingdom." "Hush Come into the house. Mr. Munro." "i-irst point scored; rest of game easv." muttered Gordon Munro. as he followed the laird into the dining-room. I It was an exceedingly bitter pill that Munro compelled the laird to swallow, but such fear as the laird felt was a potent factor in overcoming his reluctance to part with money, and Munro had pocketed the laird's cheque for B500 when Elsie neared the dining- room. ° "But you must help me, laird," Munro was saying, when his quick ears caught the sound of footstep outside the door, causing him'

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to hold up his hand in a warning manner. Shaking -with apprehensive fear, fancying that some eavesdropper had been listening t» their conversation, the laird sprang up and went to the door. "Come in. Mary: Mr. Munro and I ivei-a just talking about you." She entered, but so different was her mannei to that which Munro knew Mary Paterson would have assumed that he gazed at her more intently than lie would otherwise have. done, and knew that, like the laird, she waiv an impostor. But could lie not turn her im- position to his own advantage? The likeness she bore to Mary was so extremely remark- able that it was not surprising the laird,, rather short-sighted, had been deceived. True, there would be Mr. Buchan to deal with, if this girl were to claim Mary's for- tune, but she could keep out of Mr. Buchan's wav for a time, and then it would be easy enough to hoodwink him also, Munro not knowing tnat i>iary s friendship with her agent had become stronger of late. 1 Munro chatted awav to Elsie for some time, and then asked her to accompany him for a mile or so on his way back to Fosliu, wherehehad left his horse. Elsie shyly consented, and resumed her hat and mantle. i "Well, wonders will never cease said the laird to himself, as he saw them go off to- gethtr. Before they had gone many yards beyoml the gate of the mansion, however, Elsie felt inclined to fly from the man by her side. "Where did you leave Mary Paterson, young lady?" was Munro's first startler. j "Sir!" was all Elsie ventured upon. "Not a bit of use. mv dear. If the laird is deceived, I am not. What have you done with Mary Paterson?" 1 "She was drowned, on the way from Lon-, don to Leith," replied Elsie, in a trembling whisper. "Tell me all about it." t And Elsie felt compelled to comply. "Do you know what the laird and I werè discussing when you came and interrupted us? I was asking him to use his interest^ with you in my behalf. Marry me, withial three days, in the name of Mary Patersoll,1 and you are safe; refuse, and in two hours, you will be in the Tolbooth. What do say ?" £ "Yes," she faintly replied. .1 CHAPTER XII. A MARY'S NARROW ESCAPE. When the boat in which Elsie escaped from the sinking ship was rowed a/way Mary. Paterson was on deck, fully dressed, but still feeling wretchedly ill and weak, having eaten nothing since they left London. "Up that ladder, my good girl; it is our onlv chance for life. Don't be afraid; yotv will not fall if you are careful. I shall ba close behind." < The speaker was the vessel's second mate, í and a Scotchman, who took compassion on Mary's deathly-white face. She pluckily mounted the rope ladder aø directed, although the lurching of the ship made climbing a narrow rope ladder some-3 what difficult as well as dangerous. "Up higher yet, my lassie it is our oest chance." And when the vessel sunk the masts were above water, five others, all men. having climbed the rigging. A few minutes after-: wards a boat from a passing vessel came to- their succour, the fog having now lifted, ana the little party of seven were taken from, their perilous position. Mary. however, losfc her footing when descending the ladder, and fell into the sea, but was caught by a sailor when she arose to the surface. It was a very, cold, raw morning, and she sat shivering in her wet clothes for nearly an hour before being landed on the coast near Hunmanby, the sailors who manned the boat having gone south, in the direction their ship waa sailing. News of the wreck had reached the village, and when it became known that a young lady survivor had been put ashore, and was having her clothes dried at a fisherman's cot- tage, the vicar of Hunmanby went to see Mary, and was so much interested in her that he invited her to the vicarage to recruit her strength before she resumed her journey to Edinburgh. It 'was fortunate for our heroine that she had thus fallen into good hands, for the next morning she was very ill, and the doctor being summoned declared that she was in for an attack of rheumatic fever. Mary's illness proved to be even more serious than at first anticipated, and for several days she was delirious. And when consciousness returned the doctor prohibited all conversation, so that Mary was unable to make known her safety to her friends, first and foremost of whom she regarded as Graham Campbell, if he were still alive, 01 which she had no knowledge. A month thus elapsed before Mary told her story—such parts of her chequered life- history as she deemed expedient—to the vicar's wife, who had personally attended to her stranger patient for a considerable portion of the time during which she was too weak to help herself. "Dear me dear me How anxious youff friends mu.t be Probably they will hav* given you up as lost, especially if your com- panion ha.s reached Edinburgh in safety. But I will write to Mr. Buchan for you. an& set their minds at rest as to your welfare." And thus was Mary's agent informed of lief rescue from the stranded ship. He had nothing whatever of his 'ward since his return to Edinburgh, the news of the arrival of Elsie Murray at Thistleden not having reached him. He sent a cheque for £20, to enable Mary to recompense the good vicar for his kindness and pay the doctor's bill, but tlia vicar declined any payment, and the doctor only charged her a couple of guineas. Mary was not to be thwarted, however, and one of the first things she did after reaching Edinburgh was to see the vicar's son, -.viifv was then at Edinburgh University, and pre-c sent the youth with a nice pony" on whiclg, he rode home for the vacation." then nearly at hand. A few days after her return. Mary was oi* for a walk with MM. Steenie Macduff, oflf their way home after seeing Mr. BuethaV