I did, seeking to read in them some reference to himself or those he

loved. It was to these marks that my uncle now directed my attention,

struggling, as he did so, with an evident reluctance.

'Do ye see yon scart upo' the water?' he inquired; 'yon ane wast the gray

stane? Ay? Weel, it'll no be like a letter, wull it?'

'Certainly it is,' I replied. 'I have often remarked it. It is like a

C.'

He heaved a sigh as if heavily disappointed with my answer, and then

added below his breath: 'Ay, for the _Christ-Anna_.'

'I used to suppose, sir, it was for myself,' said I; 'for my name is

Charles.'

'And so ye saw't afore?', he ran on, not heeding my remark. 'Weel, weel,

but that's unco strange. Maybe, it's been there waitin', as a man wad

say, through a' the weary ages. Man, but that's awfu'.' And then,

breaking off: 'Ye'll no see anither, will ye?' he asked.

'Yes,' said I. 'I see another very plainly, near the Ross side, where

the road comes down--an M.'

'An M,' he repeated very low; and then, again after another pause: 'An'

what wad ye make o' that?' he inquired.

'I had always thought it to mean Mary, sir,' I answered, growing somewhat

red, convinced as I was in my own mind that I was on the threshold of a

decisive explanation.

But we were each following his own train of thought to the exclusion of

the other's. My uncle once more paid no attention to my words; only hung

his head and held his peace; and I might have been led to fancy that he

had not heard me, if his next speech had not contained a kind of echo

from my own.

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