How lang Steenie lay there he could not tell; but when he came to
himsell he was lying in the auld kirkyard of Redgauntlet parochine, just
at the door of the family aisle, and the scutcheon of the auld knight,
Sir Robert, hanging over his head. There was a deep morning fog on grass
and gravestane around him, and his horse was feeding quietly beside the
minister's twa cows. Steenie would have thought the whole was a dream,
but he had the receipt in his hand fairly written and signed by the
auld laird; only the last letters of his name were a little disorderly,
written like one seized with sudden pain.
Sorely troubled in his mind, he left that dreary place, rode through
the mist to Redgauntlet Castle, and with much ado he got speech of the
laird.
"Well, you dyvour bankrupt," was the first word, "have you brought me my
rent?"
"No," answered my gudesire, "I have not; but I have brought your honour
Sir Robert's receipt for it."
"How, sirrah? Sir Robert's receipt! You told me he had not given you
one."
"Will your honour please to see if that bit line is right?"
Sir John looked at every line, and at every letter, with much attention;
and at last at the date, which my gudesire had not observed--"From my
appointed place," he read, "this twenty-fifth of November.
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