Ah, my trusty foster-brother, knowest thou not what it is to love ?" "Alas, I too have had my fling.

(Does Grizel kiss your hand yet ?)" "(No, she winna, the limmer.) Sir Joseph, I go to her." "Methinks she is a haughty onion.

I prithee go not to-night." "I have given my word." "Thy word is a band." "Adieu, my friend." "Methinks thou ghost to thy damn.

(Did we no promise Elspeth there should be no swearing ?)" The raft Vick Lan Vohr is dragged to the shore, and Stroke steps on board, a proud solitary figure.

"Farewell!" he cries hoarsely, as he seizes the oar.
"Farewell, my leech," answers Corp, and then helps him to disembark.
Their hands chance to meet, and Stroke's is so hot that Corp quails.
"Tommy," he says, with a shudder, "do you--you dinna think it's a' true, do you ?" But the ill-fated prince only gives him a warning look and plunges into the mazes of the forest.