But I caught a reflection of myself in the polished steel of the fireplace, and my spirits fell, for a more woebegone ruffian my eyes had never seen.

I was as dirty as a collier, my coat was half off my back from my handling on the moor, and there were long rents at the knees of my breeches.
Another door opened, and two persons entered.

One was a dapper little man with a great wig, very handsomely dressed in a plum-coloured silken coat, with a snowy cravat at his neck.

At the sight of the other my face crimsoned, for it was the girl who had sung Montrose's song in the rain.
The little gentleman looked at me severely, and then turned to his companion.

"Is this the fellow, Elspeth ?" he inquired.