LAST NIGHTS.


"Good-night, Macleod!"--"Good-night!"--"Good-night!" The various voices
came from the top of a drag. They were addressed to one of two young men
who stood on the steps of the Star and Garter--black fingers in the
blaze of light. And now the people on the drag had finally ensconced
themselves, and the ladies had drawn their ample cloaks more completely
around their gay costumes, and the two grooms were ready to set free the
heads of the leaders. "Good-night, Macleod!" Lord Beauregard called
again; and then, with a little preliminary prancing of the leaders, away
swung the big vehicle through the clear darkness of the sweet-scented
summer night.

"It was awfully good-natured of Beauregard to bring six of your people
down and take them back again," observed Lieutenant Ogilvie to his
companion. "He wouldn't do it for most folks. He wouldn't do it for me.
But then you have the grand air, Macleod. You seem to be conferring a
favor when you get one."

"The people have been very kind to me," said Macleod, simply. "I do not
know why. I wish I could take them all up to Castle Dare and entertain
them as a prince could entertain people--"

"I want to talk to you about that, Macleod," said his companion. "Shall
we go upstairs again? I have left my hat and coat there."

They went upstairs, and entered a long chamber which had been formed by
the throwing of two rooms into one. The one apartment had been used as a