It had been written that morning before leaving the town, and bore traces
of hasty composition. It ran as follows:--
"SIR,--This is to let ye know, dear Oliver, that I'm sure M. has got a
bee in his bonnet. I'm thinking that some one we know has tell't him she
will hae no trokings with him in the way he wants. I dinna ken for
certain, mark ye, but they were taegither last night, and this morning
he's not hanging round to pit us in ye carriage, as he ordinarily does,
and she is pale and quiet, and says she wishes her father was at hand, and
I like it not, dear Oliver. I call you dear Oliver because y'are such a
guid laddie, just as I'm a guid girl. Davie tell't me how you stood up and
saluted him, and I was glad I'd kissed ye ance upon a time, though it was
only to plague ye. Remember what I tell't ye about these Highland boddys.
M. is like all the rest of 'em, and moreover the Prince made ye his
aide-de-camp, and it was to have been him, tho' he didna mind at the first
because it left him free to be courting his leddy, but noo he'll hae it
rankling in his heart like poison. And keep your eye on that chiel,
Donald.
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