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Fear not, good hostess; It is a pleasant, sunny, open door, And bids me enter of its own accord; I cannot pass it by.—Good luck betide ye! (Exit, followed to the door by Sir Hubert.)

I will be sworn it is some noble chieftain, Though homely be his garb.

Ay, so will I: the Lord of Lorne himself Could not more courteous be.

Hush! hush! be quiet! We live not now amongst the Campbells, wife. Should some Maclean o'erhear thee—hush, I say. (Eying De Grey, who returns from the door.) And this man too; right noble is his mien; He is no common rambler.(To De Grey.) By your leave, If I may be so bold without offending, Your speech, methinks, smacks of a southern race; I guess at least of Lowland kin ye be. But think no shame of this; we'll ne'ertheless