"Surely I have heard that pipe and tune before," said Alice, throwing aside the standard and her needle, and going to a window. She uttered an exclamation of surprise, and started back.
"'Tis either Donald Iverach or the devil!" cried Ronald impetuously, as he sprung to her side.
"It is indeed poor old Iverach!" replied Alice, piteously.
"My father's piper a beggar in the streets of Edinburgh!—a mendicant in his old age!" muttered Ronald through his clenched teeth, striking the floor with his heel till a spur tore the carpet, while the ladies crowded round him with timidity and astonishment. "What cursed misfortune can have brought this about!"
"Dear Ronald! be composed a little," said Alice, taking his hands within her own; "you must obey me just now, and I will obey you by-and-by. I will desire Iverach to be looked after." She rang the bell violently.
The piper was now in front of the house. He stood at the curb-stone and paused a moment,—supposing, probably, that he should not play long in vain before so splendid a mansion. He was clad in the royal tartan; having come of a broken clan, he had always worn the family colours of the house under which his ancestors had been vassals. His kilt, plaid, and coat were worn to rags, and the once bright scarlet checks of the tartan were faded and dark; yet the dirk and claymore were swinging as of old at his nut-brown thigh. He was pale and wan, and evidently broken down with age, want, and sorrow. His silvery hairs were almost destitute of covering, and his feet were in the same condition. The proud expression of his eye was gone: he rarely raised it from the pavement, and when a coin was thrown from a window or the hand of a passer-by, his cheek grew red, and he picked up the gift with such confusion, that he forgot to thank the donor.
"Oh, Alice!" groaned Stuart; "now indeed I know that my father is no more. Death alone could separate Iverach from him; but I have long been prepared to expect the worst. Let some one take care of the old man, and bring him here."
While he was speaking, the piper was ushered in and stood near the door, bowing, bonnet in hand, to the ladies successively, with that native dignity and pride, mingled with respect, which a Highlander never, under any circumstances, loses. He bowed profoundly to Ronald, and his keen eyes wandered restlessly over his uniform. Then, as if some sudden recollection flashed upon his mind, the piob mhor fell from his grasp; he sprang forward, and bursting into tears, clasped Stuart round the neck.
"It's my ain pairn! It's Maister Ronald! Oich! oich! Got tam! I'm creetin' mair like a bit giglet o' a lassie, than a teuch auld carle that's come through sae muckle! Gude pe thankit we hae met at last, Maister Ronald! I have been wandering to meet ye through many a queer place; but sair and sad are the news I hae to tell ye,—sad and sair indeed! So joost prepare yersel for the warst!"
"I suppose you would speak of my father?" said Ronald with a quivering lip.