Roderick having bestowed his companion safely in the shieling of Stephen Boague, did not linger. He started at once down the glen by the path beaten by the shepherd and his family. Down a glen, over a mountain shoulder, across rolling upland, zig-zagging between marsh and peat bog, at length coming out on the road, and in course of time gaining the inn from which they had started in the forenoon. There was no lifting or clearing away of the mist, it had thickened rather, and filled the air with a diffused drizzling spray, which settled drenchingly on every thing, trickling down rock and herbage, soaking into clothing and ground, till like sponge, they were distended with moisture.
He was wet already, as well as more or less bruised, battered, and foot-sore from his late experience, therefore the drizzle did not add materially to his discomfort, besides, the ferment in his mind made him insensible to bodily pains. He had heard from Mrs. Sangster's own lips when apparent danger had momentarily removed the restraints of civilized life, and her native egotistic worldliness and greed for once spoke out for themselves, that she was contemplating a match between Sophia and Wallowby. His Sophia, for whom like another Jacob earning his Rachel, he had laboured and borne so long. He had not gone out each morning for fourteen years, it is true, driving the cattle before him on the pastures of Auchlippie; but these are not the days in which human life is measured by centuries. Out of what the insurance companies would call his presumption of life, he had bestowed a far larger percentage on Sophia, than were the fourteen years devoted by the patriarch to winning his bride, not to mention difference in intensity. Notwithstanding the beauty of the sacred episode, one cannot but suspect some coolness, along with the much patience required to watch the beloved object drifting from the bright bloom of girlhood into the sun-burnt maturity of thirty summers, and still keep waiting to work out the bargain. Roderick had been working out his bridal on the other line, not ministering to the greed of a grasping father-in-law, but submitting to whims, exactions, and pretensions innumerable from the coarse-fibred mother of his charmer. How she had taken upon her to regulate his orthodoxy!--had sat in judgment on all that he did! reproved and exhorted him! and how he had borne it all, and attributed it to ignorant good intentions, for the love of Sophia! Sophia, whom he had picked blaeberries for in childhood, and worshipped openly ever since.
And had he not been given fair encouragement too? When he returned from Edinburgh for his college vacations, had he not always met a special welcome there, and received invitations to come and stay as frequently as even he could desire? And since then, had he not become in every respect what this most fickle of mothers the most approved? Had he not cast aside the offer of a good manse and stipend, and come forth with the faithful to suffer tribulation for righteousness' sake? Had he not been zealous, and showed his desire to spend and be spent in the cause of truth? True, he had obeyed the command of conscience, and not of Mrs. Sangster in all this; but his line of conduct had been the one she belauded as most noble and holy, and she had already, in the earlier time, let him clearly see that personally she approved him, and had given him every facility for becoming intimate with her girl. And now without the pretence of falling out or complaint against him, she was deliberately contemplating to marry her to another man. Was ever such treachery, fickleness, worldly-mindedness, and all that is worst?
Poor young man! It was bad treatment looked at from his point of view,--it was black, and deserving of all the hard names he applied to it; but then there are more points of view than one, and who shall decide which is to prevail over the others? His was the suitor's point of view, but there is also that of the sought, and likewise that of her family. A family can wed its flower and pride but once, and it is neither unnatural nor improper that it should try to do its best, which, speaking in the general, means to secure a rich husband for the girl. The most mercenary will admit that riches do not necessarily bring happiness, but the moral point is whether happiness is possible without them. Many have doubted whether happiness is compatible with poverty, but no one has ventured to assert that the poverty is an element in the happiness.
Therefore, friend Roderick, there is something to be said on the side of the old woman. It is not to your interests she can be held bound, further than the truth and justice due to all our fellow creatures require, but to her daughter's. As to how the case may appear from the daughter's point of view, you have no right to say, or even to think, as you have never put it in her power to tell you, and a maiden may not divulge the secret of her preferences unasked. She has encouraged you, you say? But how? Answered you civilly when you spoke to her? Could a lady do less? Has not been averse to your company? Why should she be? Could she civilly have shown a distaste for it? And supposing she felt no distaste, but rather liked it? Must a woman be prepared to marry any man whose company she finds pleasurable, or less irksome than solitude? You never spoke the word, my friend, that would have called her to speak for herself, and therefore you have no right to complain; though I grant that Mrs. Sangster may have been inconsiderate and fickle, and may be mercenary. Still, if when she extended her encouragement, you did not tender your proposal, and thereby nail her, she must be allowed to change her mind if she desires. As to Sophia herself, the probability is, that her affections are, and will remain, in an amorphous form, or let us say in solution, until such time as her relatives provide her with a husband round whom they may properly crystallize, as they no doubt will, and she will prove a pattern wife and mother. I fear, however, that as regards the nucleus round which her affections are to gather, as in the case of sugar (another sweet substance), any stick will answer quite well.
Love is blind, and young love headstrong, therefore it is little wonder if these cold-blooded reflections did not occur to Roderick. He fretted and fumed as he walked along, and was thoroughly miserable, while the moisture dripped steadily from his hat brim, and meandered in little brooks down his neck.
Eventually he reached the inn, and bade the landlord send out a gig or tax-cart at once, to bring in Mrs. Sangster. The landlady came forward, officious to welcome a guest, and eager to show hospitality to her minister.
'Wae's me, sir, but ye are drouket! Past a' kennin', ye micht hae been soomin' e'y loch, forby climbin' the craig. Stap in by, aside the twa gentlemen, an' warm yersel'. An' I'se bring ye a drap toddy to het yer insides, an' syne ye'll gang to yer bed, an' I'se toast yer breeks afore the kitchen fire. Lord pity me! the man's as blae as a corp about the gills--clean fushionless an' forfuchan wi' cauld an' weet! Gude grant he bena taeh doon wi' a fivver o' tap o't. Ye'll be for yer denner, sir, whan Mrs. Sangster comes in? But that winna be for twa hours yet; sae gang tae yer bed, sir, ey now, an' I'se see to dryin' yer claes.'
Roderick entered the room where sat Peter Sangster and his friend. A roaring fire of wood billets and peat blazed on the hearth, each had a smoking tumbler at his elbow, and soothed himself with a pipe. There was a steaminess and a flavour of broadcloth and shoe leather diffused about the apartment, but it was evident the gentlemen themselves were nearly dried, and subsiding into a sort of drowsy comfort under the united influence of warmth, toddy, and tobacco.
'Ahoy! Sir preacher! Turned up at last? and what have you done with my mother?'
'She is safe in a shieling up one of the cross glens, and I have already ordered a gig to be sent for her. You may expect her in little more than an hour. We very nearly got lost on the hill in consequence of waiting to look for an eye-glass she had dropped. When that was found, you had gone out of hearing, and we found ourselves alone. Eventually we had recourse to the old device of following running water, and a pretty course it led us, over slippery rock faces, and into pools of ice-cold water. Your mother thought she was drowned more than once, and at last gave up all hope of getting home alive, and but that she could hear the barking of dogs and the cries of children a little way below, she would have collapsed altogether.'
'Hm,' said Peter, 'I can imagine--I am glad it was you and not me! The old lady is apt to cut up rough under difficulty. However I had my own troubles. See my coat! Split right up the middle and only held together by the collar and the two pins which Mrs. Tuppeny here has tagged it together with. I have to sit bolt upright, or they run into me like skewers whenever I lean back. Perhaps they are skewers.'
'Ha!' broke in Wallowby, 'we heard a screach overhead, and when I looked up, there were a pair of boot heels within a foot of my eye, the legs belonging to them were only dimly visible, and whatever was above that was out of sight in the mist. The guide got hold of one, I took the other, while Miss Sophia stood well to the one side. Then we said one, two, three, and gave a pull together. There was a crack of rending broad-cloth and oh! such an unearthly howl. He must have fancied he was being dragged down into the pit of darkness. Eh, Peter? and there stood my gentleman clutching his fingers into the cravats of his two preservers and panting like a steamboat!--Pretty exhibition of nerves, my fine fellow!--What will they say at the club when they hear of it?'
'You shut up! for a clumsy blunderbuss! You nearly dislocated my hip joint with your idiotic wrenching, and then wonder that I cried out!'
'What has become of Miss Sophia?' asked Roderick.
'Tea and bed upstairs,' replied Wallowby with a guffaw; 'the landlady marched her up stairs to bed first thing, like a naughty child who had wet her frock, and I heard her say, she would dry her coats for her. What are coats by the way? Scotticé for garters? I know what breeks are.'
'Here's a lad speerin' for Mistress Sangster, gentlemen,' said Mrs. Tuppeny opening the door and pushing in a damp and touselled-looking youth, who grasped his dripping 'Tam o' Shanter' tightly in both hands.
'I was to speer for Mistress Sangster hersel.'
'She has not come in yet, but I am her son.'
'An' there's Master Brown, the young leddy's brither,' added Mrs. Tuppeny, 'I'm thinkin' it'll be a' richt.'
'A weel, sir, General Drysdale sends his compliments to Mistress Sangster---- He sends his compliments' (and he looked into the crown of his hat as though he expected to find them there) 'an' he's taen the leeberty o' bringin' Miss Brown hame wi' him til Inchbracken, to dry hersel', an' he'll tak her hame the morn. He fand her e'y glen, down by fornent the Herder's Scaur, a' weel an' droukit like, an' for fear she suld tak the cauld, he juist on wi' her til a pownie, an' they're gane skelpin' hame til Inchbracken.'
'Very kind of General Drysdale,' said Roderick, giving the messenger a shilling. 'Here! Mrs. Tuppeny, give him a jorum of your toddy! He looks as wet as any of us.'
'An it's yer pleasure, sir, I'se gie him a gude drink o' yill---- Cock the like o' him wi' the best Glenlivet! An' I'm no for giein' toddy to thae hafflin callants, no ways; they dinna need it, an' it's an ill trick to learn them. The weet's nae harm tae cottar folks' bairns, they're aye plouterin' e'y burns, an' it juist keeps them caller. But say the word, sir, an' he's hae the yill!' and so saying she pulled the messenger out before her and closed the door.
'I can't say much for your sister's politeness, Brown,' said Peter. 'When a lady accepts a man's escort, she is bound to stick to it, I should say, and not go off with the first stranger who rides up in the mist, without even a word of apology or farewell. I don't see why she could not have stuck by me.'
'And broken her neck down that precipice where you so nearly stuck fast yourself?' said Roderick. 'Your hands seem to have been full enough taking care of yourself. I think one may without presumption or profanity regard General Drysdale's opportune appearance as providential.'
'But it wasn't General Drysdale's opportune appearance! It was that stuck-up puppy his son.'
'And a far more ominous appearance for your peace, too, my boy,' said Wallowby with a chuckle. 'But grin and bear it, old man. You will only be laughed at if you get mad.'
Mrs. Tuppeny looked in again.
'Mister Brown! yer room's ready up the stair. Come awa, sir, an' tak aff yer claes, an' I'se dry them for ye. Ye'll get yer death, sir, an' ye bena quick! Juist see til the dub ye're stan'in' in! A' dreepit frae yersel! An' the reek frae yer fore pairts as ye staund fornent the lowe--ne'er mind the drap toddy-come awa! I'se brew ye a soup better an' stronger whan ye're in ower amang the blankets.'
So Roderick, half pushed and half exhorted, found himself forthwith upstairs and in bed, while Mrs. Tuppeny stood beside him with a noggin of her hottest and strongest toddy.
'Drink it down, sir! It wadna harm a sookin' bairn. An' ye're needn't. Noo see gin ye canna sleep a wee. It wad do ye gude. Gin ye dinna tak tent, ye'se no wag yer pow in a poopit this mony a day.'
When Mrs. Sangster found herself safe in a human habitation, she relaxed the tense control in which she had held her faculties, and let nature have its way.
She sank into a chair beside the fire, and trembled and shivered and wept profusely for some time. Mrs. Boague heaped fuel on the fire, removed her shoes, chafed her feet, disencumbered her by degrees of her outer and wetter garments, which she hung up to dry, and wrapped her in warm plaids and blankets. The warm cup of tea which she then offered was fortified with a dash from her husband's private bottle, very privately added and not mentioned. It acted like a charm in restoring vigour and composure to the way-worn lady.
'Your tea is most refreshing, Mrs. Boague. I feel greatly better, and very thankful to you for your kind attention.'
'An' kindly welcome ye are, mem, an' mair I wad like to do gin I juist kenned what ye wad like. It's no often a kenned face, or ony face ava for that matter, comes by here-awa, forbye a wheen gillies, raxin' their breekless shanks alang the braes ahint the gentles. I'm a laich country woman mysel', an' I hae sma' brew o' the hieland folk, wi' their kilts an' their pipes, the daft antics. An' forbye that, we're no e'y Hielands here! Ye'll gang twenty mile afore ye'll come on the Gaelic. It's juist a maggit the General's gotten intil's heid, to pet his folk in kilts like a curran playactors, an' please my leddy wha cam frae the North. An' are ye comin' round, mem? Ye were sair forfuchan whan ye gat down first.'
'Greatly better, thank you; I think I could take another cup of your tea, it seems quite to invigorate me. The rich cream, I suppose, and the fine mountain air. You have many mercies, Mrs. Boague, many mercies, and I hope you are duly thankful.'
'Ou ay, mem. Rael thankfu'; but I'm thinkin' it's what cam frae Stephen's crame pat 'at maks the tea sae nappy. It's Luckie Tuppeny's gill stoup gae that crame, an' no the kye here-awa I'm thinkin'. An' as for thankfu'ness for our mercies, we beut a' to hae that, as the minister says. It's o' the Lord's mercies we're no consumed, gentle and simple thegither; we're a' John Tamson's bairns sae far as that gangs, or aiblins Auld Nick's, wha kens? gin we dinna repent.'
'Ah! very true, and a solemn thought,' said Mrs. Sangster. She was accustomed to do the Scripture quoting and solemn warnings herself, when she visited her poorer neighbours, sandwiching her dole-bread with rich and succulent slices of good advice; but here for once the tables were turned. It was Mrs. Boague this time, who was performing the act of mercy, and she realized the privileges of her position. While proud and pleased to show hospitality to Mrs. Sangster, she was not going to submit to exhortation such as flesh and blood can only tolerate in view of an eleemosynary accompaniment. Mrs. Boague saw in Mrs. Sangster a fellow-member of the Free Church, a Christian sister, and was disposed to be very sisterly indeed. Mrs. Sangster liked Christian sisterhood too, but it was sisterhood with Lady Grizel Pitlochrie, and other Free Churchwomen of noble birth. We all like to look upwards, even in bestowing our best and purest affections, and feel it easier to realize the brotherhood of man in connection with Lord Dives in his coach, than with poor Lazarus who sweeps the crossing, and gets the mud spatters from his Lordship's wheels.
Mrs. Sangster held the old-fashioned notion, that God, having made her a lady, meant her to rule, instruct, rebuke and direct the lower classes in the paths of holiness; but, alas! the Free Church movement, which gave this idea increased occupation, was sapping the foundations on which it rested. A secession from, and a protest against authority in Church and State, it asked the rich to induce and influence the poor, while itself courted them by dwelling strongly on their equal standing in the Church. It has certainly led to a more democratic state of feeling in the country, and this may or may not be a good thing, according as the democracy is wise or the reverse. Meanwhile, it has loosened old ties of interdependence, and helped to widen the gulf between the classes; but then all advancement has to be paid for--Adam and Eve got their eyes opened, but, to compensate, they were turned out of the garden. The question in either case is, is the gain worth the price paid for it?
The price Mrs. Sangster had to pay for her entertainment, and she was quick enough to see it at once and to submit, was familiarity: so she repeated, 'Very true, indeed, Mrs. Boague, and really Stephen's cream-pot brings out the flavour of the tea. It's a grand idea, I must give Mr. Sangster some the next time he is kept late at a meeting of the Presbytery or the Kirk-session. He comes home so tired sometimes. These are searching times, Mrs. Boague, we have all need to keep our loins girded and our lamps burning. But you know that yourself, Mrs. Boague. And a sweet quiet home you have here, and such fine healthy children. It must be sweet to live here in the great solitude of nature, and most imposing. Away from the temptations of the world, you must have much time for meditation and the perusal of the Word.
'I'm no sae sure o' that, mem. Gin ye had sax bairns to tent an' skelp an' do for, ye'd find yer haunds braw an' fu', no to mention the ither clout that's aye wantin' on yer gudeman's breeks. It's sma' time I hae for Bible readin' 'at canna get a steek peuten in my ain claes whiles. Whaur wad I be gin I gaed meditatin', an' a' thae bairns wi' naething i' their wee wames, skirlin' for a piece, round a teum aumbry? Na, na, mem! The better pairt's no for puir folk! gin that means glowerin' at print. It maun be for you gentles, 'at gars ither folk do yer wark, an' sits a' day fornent the fire toastin' yer hirdies.'
'Ah, Mrs. Boague! wealth and station bring great anxieties, duties, and temptations. The rich are not to be envied.'
'Belike no, mem; but I ne'er saw the ane wad gie up the siller sae lang as they cud hing on til't. An' as for the solitude o' natur, what thocht ye o't yersel', whan ye cam spielin' doun the braeside an hour syne?'
'Ah! Indeed, Mrs. Boague, that was a painful experience, and very thankful I am to be in bigget land again. Indeed, I almost gave up hope of ever coming down alive, and if it had not been for Roderick Brown, that good young man, I believe I would have stuck fast. It was a fearsome road. We came through burns and down crags, but he has brought me safe down, like the good pastor he is, guiding the trembling steps of a lamb of his flock.'
'Ou ay, mem; mony's the time my gudeman Stephen diz the same, whan he finds some teough auld yow stucken faur up amang the scaurs. He juist pu's her doon by the lug an' the horn, an' she'll come hirplin' hame ahint him, juist sic like as it micht be yersel'.'
'Ah yes! a shepherd's work. It seems an appropriate thing to have been done by my pastor. Reminds one of many beautiful passages, and brings them home with a force which I feel most improving. I shall certainly mention it to the next minister I meet. Poor Roderick. He's young yet, and I could hardly expect him to guide me, that might be his mother, through the rough places of dark and difficult doctrines; but he has done his part in the physical difficulty, and no doubt in future years he may have a like privilege in spiritual things. Oh yes, a good young man, and a faithful shepherd!'
'Wha kens? Gin a' the folk says be true, he's liker the wolf in sheep's clothin' 'at's mentioned in Scripter, than a faithfu' shepherd. Gin I had a dochter come to the age o' speerin' for, its no him suld come keekin' round my toun wi' his souple tongue an' his holy sough, I'se warrant. But ye ken yer ain business, mistress, an', ony gate, ye were wise to keep him in yer ain hands, an' no hae him danderin' round wi' the lassie.'
'What do ye mean, woman? I have known Roderick Brown since he was born, and there never was a better, steadier, or more pious young man in the parish. Man or boy, you will hardly find his like between here and Edinburgh.'
'Belike mem!--belike--Folk's a' gude till they're fand out. Wha kens whaur ony o' us wad stand, gin a' was kenned? But ye see mem, it's like a' to be fand out concernin' his misdoin's, an' it's but a cracket pig, or a broken cistern his repitation's like to pruive whan a's kenned.'
'Woman!--What do ye mean?'
'Wummin yersel' mem! I ken I'm a wummin, an' sae are ye! But I'm a decent man's wife, an' his name's Stephen Boague. Sae dinna misca' me. I'm no beggin'.'
'But what can you mean? No calumny surely could touch the character of Mr. Brown!'
'I ken naething o' calumny, an' I never lee. But gin ye like to hear as was telled to me ye're walcome. Ye'll ken auld Tibbie Tirpie 'at bides down by Glen Effick, an' belike ye'll mind her lassie; young Tib, folk ca's her, a pridefu' scart 'at shoos whiles at the castle, an' cocks her neb ower ither folic, wi' her veil an' her parrysol an' the gumflowers in her mutch, like's decent folk was na gude eneugh for her! Aweel mem, an' wae I am to say the like o' ony puir lass, but she's gane wrang, an' wha but the minister to blame for't.'
'Nonsense! Mrs. Boague, I don't believe a word of it!'
'Juist what I said mysel', mem. But bide a wee, till ye hear the pruifs. Ye see, mem, the lass gaed awa, naebody kenned whaur, an' fient a word spak her mither about it. An' lang she stayed, till ae dark nicht, yon terrible nicht, ye'll mind it? Hame she comes e'y coach, a' happit up, an' hidin' like, an' greetin' sair, an' out she slinks at her mither's door, an' nane wad hae kenned ocht about it but for Mistress Briggs my leddy's woman, down by. An' that same nicht, aff gaes the minister, in a' yon wind an' ren. It was lang after decent folk was in their beds, an' naebody was steerin' to see him gang. An' next day he brings hame a bairn, an' gies't til his sister to tak tent on--the puir young leddy! To mak a fule o' her that gate, wi' a merry-begotten wein! That caps a', says I, whan I heard it. An' syne naething maun do but baptis't, an' mak a fule o' the Kirk's solemn ordinance. An' there was Tib, I saw her wi' my ain e'en, keekin ower the folk's heads, like's she thocht shame to be at the preachin' ava, an sae weel she micht. An whan it cam to bringin' out the bairns, awa she slinks hame, wi the niepkin stappit in her mouth to keep in the greet. I saw't a' mysel', mem, an what mair pruif wad a body hae? Folk dinna do their deeds o' darkness in day licht an' a' body lookin' on, sae it's juist by pettin' that an' that thegither, ye can houp to find them out. But there's mair yet. O' Sawbith nicht whan a' was dark, wha suld be seen comin' out o' Tibbie s door but the minister? An' wha gangs down to Peter Malloch's shop o' Monday mornin' but Tibbie? an' she had siller wi'her, a pund note an' nae less. A note o' the Bank o' Peterhead, 'at naebody round here ever has but Mester Brown, an' his siller a' comes frae there. Noo, what say ye til a' that? Mistress Sangster. The wicked man diz his deeds e'y dark but the Lord will bring them t'ey licht, that's what I say, an it's scriptur, or gye an like it. Belike it was a minister I heard preachin't--But is't no terrible?'
'I am confounded, Mrs. Boague! Who ever could have supposed it? But the evidence is so circumstantial, it is impossible to doubt. It seems providential that I should have come here to learn all this. And that he should have presumed to come to Auchlippie, philandering after Sophia! Would nothing less than my daughter do for him? The reprobate! But oh! He shall smart for it!'
'Ca' canny! mem. Has the young leddy a kindness for him, think ye? It's sair wark to bawk young luve. He's a likely chield eneugh, an' micht mak no sae ill a gudeman, noo the daffin's by. It's no aye the warst o' the men gangs wrang about the lasses. As for that limmer, Tib Tirpie, I'd bring her to shame. The cuttie stule's a' she's gude for, wi' her gumflowers an' her veils, cockin' her neb at decent folk, an' scancin' at my tuscan bonnet, that was gien me by my ain gudeman, the year he married me. But, as I was sayin', gin the young leddy had a rael kindness for him, ye're no bund to ken a' 'at gaed afore; and let byganes be byganes. It'll a' blaw ower.'
'But there's nothing. He no doubt has paid my daughter some attention, or at least has come a great deal to the house; but she is far too well-principled a young woman, to have any liking for a man who has not proposed and been accepted by her parents. In our rank of life, Mrs. Boague, things are not done exactly as they are in yours.'
'Aiblins no, mem. Ye think ower muckle o' the gear for that!' said the other, the radical once more rising within her, and the colour coming to her face. But the rattle of wheels without and a knock at the door changed the current of their thoughts, before the two had time to join in wordy battle, in which, perhaps, victory might not have chosen the gentlewoman's side.
Mrs. Sangster, with profuse thanks and salutations, climbed into the tax-cart, while the anxious mother busied herself in pulling her numerous brood from among the horse's feet. The vehicle at length was safely started on its return down the glen, without damage done to any of the children. Mrs. Boague returned indoors, bearing the most refractory of her offspring in her arms, and the last that was heard of her was the sound of maternal discipline and the wails of the culprit, echoing down the glen till it was smothered in the mist.
Arrived at the inn, Mrs. Sangster found the gentlemen ready for dinner. She grumbled at the delay, but submitted; she would, however, on no account allow the minister's repose to be disturbed, and assured Mrs. Tuppeny that with his delicate constitution, it might be as much as his life was worth, to let him get up again that afternoon.
Having dined, the party made haste to be gone, under pressure of the old lady's impatience; for of all the anxieties of that anxious day the most harassing to her now was that Roderick would come down and join them on the home-going. That would be dreadful, yet how was she to forbid him? He had come as her guest, and he had, in all probability, saved her life a few hours since on the hill. It needed advice and consideration to decide what she should do or say at their next meeting, in view of the dreadful revelations of his depravity which had been made to her.
She wanted to sleep over it, and felt, to use her own pietistic phrase, deeply thankful, when at last the inn was safely vanishing in the distance, without her having met him.
Had she but known she might have spared her fears. Roderick was really ill; too ill to observe that she neither came nor sent to enquire for him. He tossed about on the bed where he had lain down some hours before, hardly asleep and not quite awake. The heat of a fire and a feather bed, too many blankets, and Mrs. Tuppeny's toddy, had thrown him into something like a fever, yet fatigue and general oppression had stupified him past seeking relief. When the stupor lessened, a dull hot aching was in every joint, and he moved restlessly on the bed. Then the heavy eyes would close again in a kind of slumber, but the restless thoughts refused to go to sleep. An inarticulate anxiety clung to him, and he climbed up endless precipices in his dreams. Up and up he would drag himself, and anon Sophia would appear higher up still on a peak above him, and he would climb and climb to reach her. As he approached, her features would change, and, slowly taking the likeness of her mother, she would spurn him, and then with a cry he would lose his hold, and begin to fall down and down through endless depths of nothing, till at last in utter panic his limbs would move, and the spell of the nightmare broken, he would awake.
Thus between waking and sleeping, the afternoon and the weary long night wore away. The sun was shining at last upon another day, and though manifestly ill, he was able to get into a gig and be driven home to Glen Effick.
It was a revival of the dear dead past to Mary Brown, to find herself again at Inchbracken. General Drysdale took her in to dinner, and, perhaps because he would not touch upon the present, leading, as it must, to her brother's defection from the national Church, nor, in fact, on that young man in any way or respect whatever, he talked to her about her father and mother.
She found it very grateful to listen to their praises; and something like a tear glistened in her eye while she looked in the old gentleman's face, and the faint colour of her cheek deepened into a warmer pink.
We value our powers to interest others most when we feel them leaving us, and it is not often that an old man's conversation can bring a flush or a tear to the cheek of youth and beauty. General Drysdale felt pleased as he marked the effect of his words. It recalled, who can say what associations with the time when he was a young man, and an object of more interest to the fair, and he became more and more warmed himself, out of sympathy, as he dwelt on the charities and the worth of Mary's parents.
Julia, from her place across the table, remarked with surprise the General's unusual animation and loquacity, and his unwonted inattention to the high duty of the hour--dining. Mary's eyes were shining, and in her plain black dress with the roses, she bloomed a brighter flower than they, radiant in pure content. So, at least, it was evident that Kenneth thought. He sat at some distance from her, and had even to lean forward somewhat to see, but his eyes were ever travelling in that direction, and he appeared to answer the gentlemen on either side of him in so distraught and unsatisfactory a manner, that they soon ceased to disturb his musings by further talk.
Julia had arrayed herself for conquest. She always dressed well and carefully, but on the present occasion her effort had risen into the region of art. Arrayed in some combination of white and green, which cured any tendency to yellowness in her complexion (and her shoulders at times were a trifle too suggestive of old waxwork), her pale eyes twinkled with quite an unwonted lustre, and there was positively a bloom on her cheeks and lips, while the falling ringlets were longer and more poetic than ever. When Briggs went into her room during the dressing hour, she had surprised her in the act of locking something very like a paint-box into her desk, and she had made a pretty sharp survey while she added the few pins that were all the office required of her; but, as she remarked subsequently, 'I could not take my oath of it, Mrs. Kipper; if she do, she manages uncommon clever.' Painting is a fine art, and Julia had studied it as well as all the others, and would have thought it but a paltry achievement to deceive the stupid eyes of poor Briggs.
There were several strange gentlemen at table, and Julia was on her mettle. The two who sat next her found her most agreeable, but sparkle her best, she failed to catch one glance of appreciation from Kenneth's eyes. At the end of the table she saw Mary, and the General still smiling and engrossed in their talk, and confessed to herself that she had undervalued the strength of the enemy. To think that that slip of a girl, brought up in a country manse, should manage so splendidly, and contrive to win the old gentleman to her side as well as the young one! How was it done? Through all the years she had dined at his table, she had never been able to extract more conversation from him than a casual remark between the courses, and latterly she had ceased even to expect that.
Matters did not progress much more satisfactorily in the drawing-room. Julia had sat down to the piano, and played her best, which is saying a great deal, for she was a brilliant performer. She also sang, and although her voice was thin, it had had the best training, and she could warble through the most intricate compositions with consummate taste and execution. She soon had all the gentlemen gathered around her in silent admiration, all, that is to say, except the General, who was in his usual corner, by his own lamp, his eye-glass on his nose and a blue book in his lap. As one of the legislators of this great nation, he felt it incumbent to fall asleep--to fall asleep over its affairs every evening; it reminded him of the House in fact, where he had had many a good nap in his day. However, as he never spoke, and always voted straight with his party, that made no difference. Kenneth too was wanting. Mary Brown sat on a low stool beside Lady Caroline's arm-chair, who,--the lady that is, not the chair--was chatting drowsily to her, while she swayed her great fan to and fro, and Kenneth, with his elbow on the chimney-piece, hung over both. Julia was by no means insensible to the admiration of the strangers,--at another time it would have given her great satisfaction; but just at present, the defection of Kenneth and his father out-weighed it all.
There is now but one chance to outshine her rival--to get her to the piano and try how her poor little efforts will sound after her own finished performance. After one more song, therefore, which she took care should be the chef d'œuvre, she declared she could sing no more, but suggested that some one should ask Miss Brown. Miss Brown was asked, and would fain have declined, but Lady Caroline recollected how sweetly her mother used to sing old Scotch ballads, and enquired if she had not taught them to Mary. Mary had to admit so much, and thereupon was led to the piano, while Julia seated herself in full view to enjoy a triumph.
It is no doubt perfectly true that Scotch music is by no means the highest development of that delightful art. It is but the outcome of natural feeling in a simple age and among an unsophisticated people; yet it does not by any means afford a good or safe medium for the beginner or the bungler to display to advantage his slender skill, while proficients in operatic music will find little opportunity to display their vocal feats, and it is quite probable that they may not be able to render it at all. It has an accent of its own which is not expressed in the musical notation, and is beyond the reach of any but a native, and attained but by few of them. Mary Brown's musical opportunities had not been great, but she had a full pure voice, always in perfect tune, and she had been accustomed to hear and to sing Scotch ballads all her life, and she entered into their spirit. Before she had sung two verses, the General's drooping head had steadied itself, he had risen to his feet, joined the group by the piano, and was beating time with his eye-glass to the quaint old measure. Lady Caroline too had risen, a most unusual exertion for her to make after dinner, and was standing with the rest.
In this highly cultured age, we are all most learnedly musical. Beethoven, Bach, Spohr, we pay guineas to hear their works rendered, and are immensely pleased of course; though perhaps there are more of us than the one of whom it is recorded, who could very well mistake the tuning of the fiddles for the choicest morceau of the evening, and who certainly prefer the grand finale to all the rest. But the effect of a well-sung Scotch song on a roomful of Scotch people is something markedly different from the conventional and sometimes fictitious enjoyment of high music. Like the spiders which issued from the crannies of his cell when the Bastile prisoner touched his lute, so the inherent nature of the Scot will out and show itself at the sound of the national music, the dullest eye brightens and the heaviest foot would join the strathspey. It is in the blood. The artificial and conventional culture is scarce fifty years old, while the individual and peculiar nationality, of which our music is the voice, has come down in the blood through twenty generations, from before Bannockburn and the wars of independence, and is still present behind the whitewash of cosmopolitan pretence.
Lady Caroline wiped her eyes under the rendering of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray's sad fate, and declared it reminded her of the old nursery at Pitthevlis, when she was a child. The General (who would have thought it?) was most interested by the woes of true love; and the 'Mill dams of Binnorie' and 'Barbara Allan' made him tug his moustache very hard. The strangers each had his special favourite, and Mary knew them all; then at length she was permitted to rise from the piano, and she did so amid an ovation of thanks. Julia's plan to belittle her had not succeeded.
The following forenoon Kenneth drove her over to Glen Effick. They stopped at the inn by Gortonside, where they were told of Roderick's illness, and how he had started for home only an hour before. That was the single bitter drop in Mary's cup. She had spent a delightful day at Inchbracken, and now, undreamed of joy, Kenneth was driving her home himself. He was, oh! 'so nice,' and was saying----. No matter what he said, but it seemed the sweetest song she had ever listened to.
Lady Caroline and Julia had stood together at the window, and watched the pair drive away.
'It is not often Kenneth is so attentive to any one,' she observed to Julia. 'The two appear to have settled themselves for a most comfortable chat. And really she is a nice girl, and so pretty. I am not surprised at Kenneth's fancy, and if anything comes of it I shall make no objection. I once tried to bring on an attachment between him and one of the Pitthevlis girls, quite as much for Pitthevlis' sake and the girl's as for Kenneth's, for I know she won't have sixpence; but she thought she could secure a title then, and was disposed to reserve us for a consolation stake, if the other venture miscarried. That was more than I could brook, as you may suppose, considering it was they were to be the gainers, and not I, so Edith has never been asked to Inchbracken again, nor will be, till either she or Kenneth is married. Not that it matters, very likely, for of course the plan was only between Pitthevlis and myself. With his long family and the mess he has made of his affairs, it was the only way I could think of to help him, and he appreciated it, but the girl and her mother were both fools. However, it is doubtful if Kenneth would have fancied her in any case, he is so whimsical and critical. I have had half-a-dozen good fortunes staying with me at different times,--and a shocking ordeal it is, my dear, to undergo, I can tell you; the monkeys seem so thoroughly to understand why they are there, and presume so abominably upon it. But the very fact of my having brought them, seemed to set him against them. He is so wilful and headstrong. I remember, when he was a baby, the trouble we had with him,--insisting on feeding himself long before he could hold the spoon. I suppose it is the same temper that will not allow his old mother to help him in finding a wife. I have quite made up my mind to acquiesce in his choice, whatever it may be, for it will do no good to remonstrate; and if this is the girl he has set his fancy on, I confess I think he might go farther and fare worse.
Julia listened. Lady Caroline's discourse generally poured itself forth, irrespective of an interlocutor. She simply thought aloud to an auditor, who, of course, in the nature of things, must lend an attentive and sympathising ear to whatever a daughter of Pitthevlis might choose to say. Considering what had been her own views, it was hardly an agreeable subject of conversation, but the pain was not very great. There was nothing emotional, neither jealousy nor wounded love, in the matter. Next to a cool head a cold heart is perhaps the best outfit for one who has to get on in the world by the exercise of his own wits. Julia was a good deal like a spider, thinking that when one web has been swept, no time should be lost in beginning to weave another. Hate, spite, jealousy, are all unremunerative; worse, they are waste of force. Yield to the inevitable, and try a new scheme when the old miscarries. Julia had to be settled in life, and so soon as the one desirable party became manifestly unattainable, it was time to cast about for another.
From Mary Brown she led the conversation back to the circumstance which had brought her to Inchbracken, and that naturally led back to the companions who had shared with her the dangers of the mist.
'Would it not be proper, Lady Caroline,' she said, 'since Craig Findochart is on the Inchbracken property, and a serious accident might so easily have occurred, to enquire for the people and how they got home? If you think well, I could drive over and leave your card.'
'I see no objection, my dear, if you want the drive; but she is so pushing, she will be returning the visit forthwith, and I dread that. She stifles me. Her very deference is aggravating.'
'I think I should like the drive, dear Lady Caroline, and you shall have all the news I can pick up on my return.'
It was dark before the wanderers alighted at Auchlippie. Mr. Sangster had already retired. He was always up in time to superintend the feeding of his stock and to see his men begin work punctually at six o'clock, and he generally became drowsy early in the evening.
Every one was cold, weary, and perhaps a trifle cross. Supper was a necessary, but it proved by no means a cheerful meal, and each one sought his candlestick as soon as possible. Mrs. Sangster followed.
All through the afternoon she had been in a state of suppressed excitement, she found it hard to refrain from saying what was uppermost in her thoughts, yet, what she would have said, she felt she could not say before her daughter, nor even her son and his friend. She had been restless and irritable all the way home, breaking in upon and interrupting the rather listless chat of the others, yet unable to furnish talk herself. Arrived at home, and unable to get speech of her spouse, she had fallen foul of the supper arrangements, and rated the parlour-maid soundly, till that injured damsel withdrew in tears, and informed the denizens of the kitchen that 'something had come ower the mistress, for she was carrying on ben the house, like a hen on a het girdle.'
Having seen all safe for the night, she sought her chamber. There she seated herself on the chair by the bed-head of her slumbering lord, and laying her hand on his shoulder, she imperiously whispered, 'James.'
James opened his eyes. 'Is that you, Kirsty? Put out your candle and come to bed.'
'But I couldn't sleep a wink, James, till I have talked it all over with you. So waken up!'
'I'm sleeping already, and I won't be disturbed. If you wanted to talk over things, you should have come home sooner. Come to bed!'
'I cannot lay down my head to-night, or sleep one wink till I have talked it all over.'
'Then, sit up, by all means, if it pleases you; but put out the candle and hold your tongue. I've got to be up early in the morning, and I want to sleep,' and thereupon he turned round on the other side.
'James Sangster! Wake up at once! and listen to me! I'm the mother of your children, and the wife of your bosom! Saint Peter says you are to give honour to your wife as the weaker vessel, and I insist on your attending to what I have to say!'
'Saint Peter wasn't married to a Scotch woman, or he'd have known better. Small weakness I see in any of you!'
'Mister Sangster! I will not allow the Scriptures to be spoken of in that irreverent manner. And you an elder of the Fre Church! For shame!'
'The Scriptures command wives to obey their husbands, and I tell you to put out your candle, and hold your tongue!'
'I won't have Scripture bandied in his irreverent way! Pray who are you? to take its sacred precepts in your lips, you worldly-minded man. But it's none of your fleeting temporal concerns I'm thinking about! It's the Church itself.'
'Well, my dear, it can keep till morning; it can't take fire to-night. That's one advantage of it's not being built yet! And you've deaved me often enough before about Widow Forester's kale-yard and all the rest of it--Get to bed!'
'It's not the church stance I'm thinking about. It's our souls! I'm afraid, nay I know we have been placing our immortal interests in the hands of a man of Belial!'
'What are you havering about, now, gude-wife?--man of Belial?--speak plain English or honest Scotch!'
'It's true! James Sangster, Roderick Brown is a man of sin!'
'We're all sinners, my dear. If you'd only mind that always, and that it includes yourself, you'd speak more charitably of your neighbours. I wish I was as sure of myself, or you either, as I am of young Brown. He's a true christian--the very salt of the earth!'
'The salt has lost its savour, then, for he's a bad man!'
'Oh fie, Mrs. Sangster! And it's not a month yet since you were talking of marrying him to our Sophia! and I really felt like agreeing with you for once. He'd make a better man for her than that whiskered gomeral down stairs--for all his siller. I'm thinking its the Englishman's bawbees, mistress, have changed your tune.'
'I am not mercenary!' retorted Mrs. Sangster, stiffening herself in her dignity and her best English; 'and you well know it! Though but for my christian prudence, your standing in the world, and your balance at the bank, which is more within your narrow comprehension, would not be what they are!'
'Hoity toity, woman! no offence! Well! you've woke me up, at any rate now, (the pertinacity of these weaker vessels!) so say your say and have done!' and thereupon he sat up in bed, adjusting the white nightcap with its tufted summit over his red sun-burnt face. The clouds of sleep had entirely dispersed themselves, and with them every shadow of ill-humour; but there was a twinkle at the corner of his eye at the absurdity of his wife's vehemence, which she found harder to bear up against. 'Tell away, my dear, I'm listening.'
His wife cleared her voice and opened her lips, but nothing came.
'A mountain in labour and out comes a mouse! "ridiculus mus" we used to say at the Grammar School of Forfar.'
'There's nothing ridiculous about it!' retorted the lady, snatching at an excuse to become indignant again, and so bear up under the tranquil cynicism in her husband's face. 'But you men are always for casting ridicule on serious things. You think it shows your superiority, I suppose.'
'Never mind, my dear, go on with your story.'
'Well, as I said already, he's a bad man. He has brought the innocent confiding daughter of that poor lone, widow Tirpie to harm, and now he is not only concealing his sin, but, as one may say, glorying in it, and trading on it to get a reputation for beneficence before the whole parish. He brings it home as a poor foundling rescued from the sea, persuades his sister to adopt it, and actually has the effrontery and the profanity to hold it up for baptism, and take on himself the vows before the whole congregation.'
'Did old Tibbie Tirpie tell you all that? Is she publishing the disgrace of her own child?'
'It wasn't she who told me, but I have no doubt when you call her and the girl up before you in the Kirk Session, they will confess the whole.'
'And if Tibbie is not your informant, pray is it the daughter? And what corroborating evidence can she show? I wonder you would lend so ready an ear to the assertions of a designing quean, whose conduct, by her own confession, has shaken her claim to credit.'
'Oh you men! you are all hard alike, and scornful, when a weak woman is the sufferer--is that your manliness? But it was not the girl who confessed to me. I venture to think that not the most impudent would come to me with such a tale. I trust my character as a virtuous matron stands high enough to save me from contamination such as that.'
'No doubt, my dear--I should not like to be in her shoes, at any rate, if she did venture so far--your virtue would be too much for her--and would not spare her.'
'I hope not, Mr. Sangster! Though you say it as though it were a disparagement. The evidence is all circumstantial, as it must necessarily be, in a case of secret sin and hypocrisy; but it fits so well together, and is so conclusive, I have no doubt whatever in the matter. Less has hung a man before now; but then that was in cases of sheep stealing--a very different affair. Sheep are property, and you men are keen enough where that is concerned. This is a case of souls, and till women and ministers get a voice in your law-making, there's little justice to be looked for.'
'The Lord grant I may be removed before that day arrives. The women and the ministers ride us roughly enough at home, but when it comes to making our laws, and governing us publicly I hope I shall be away--But, to return to our mutton--not the sheep-stealing, but the matter in hand--what is your circumstantial evidence? And where did you hear it?'
'The most startling circumstances, as far as I can recollect them at present, are, that it was on that dark night of the storm, that the girl returned home after a long and unexplained absence. That same night, as I am informed, in the dark and storm, when nobody could see him, he stole away, and the next morning brought in the child. Observe the coincidence. Then there was the conduct of the girl at the child's baptism. It was quite startling as described to me. So like the workings of an awakened conscience! And the unwillingness she showed to look at the destroyer of her peace. She actually rose and left the meeting before he stood up to offer the child for baptism. As I was not an eye-witness of that, however, I cannot express it so strongly to you as it was impressed on me. Then he has been seen coming out of the Tirpie cottage, after dark. Oh! repeatedly! And he has been giving them large sums of money. The old woman has carried pounds of it into the village, and it is known that no people about here pass notes of the Peterhead bank except the Browns. Now! what do you say to all that, James Sangster?'
'Nothing, my dear, at present. Who told you it all?'
'It came to me in quite a providential way, seeing that I felt rather under an obligation to Roderick Brown just then, and therefore softened to him in the matter of his courtship to our Sophia. We got lost in the mist this forenoon on Craig Findochart, and we all got scattered. If it had not been for Roderick Brown, I believe I might have been there yet. But we got down at last, and came right upon a shepherd's shieling, where I waited and got dried, till a vehicle could be sent for me from the inn. The shepherd's wife,--Boague is her name, and I owe her some flannel for her hospitality,--seems a very worthy woman, and an earnest adherent of the church, and it was she told me it all. Told it in a very proper spirit. I believe she is a worthy woman, and seemed to deplore most properly the sad falling away of one of our office-bearers. But do you not agree with me, such a man should be made an example of?'
'Made an example of? Whom would I make an example of? I would make an example of the idle tattling woman who makes free with the names and reputations of her betters! If I lived in the good old times when my father was Provost of Forfar, and if I filled his shoes, I would have her tawed through the town at the cart's tail, and so teach her to weigh her words. And as for you, Kirsty! I am surprised that a good woman should lend so ready an ear to foolish slander, without a shred of proof to support it. You have known the Browns all their lives, and yet you will let the idle blathers of an ignorant cottar wife set you against them! I thought you had set your mind on getting the girl for Peter. How will circulating slanders against the brother help you there?'
'The girl, Mr. Sangster, has other views, it would appear. She left Peter in the mist and rode away with Captain Drysdale to Inchbracken. Brother and sister seem both tarred with the same stick. But she shall never have it to say that she jilted my Peter! When her brother is disgraced that 'will be reason enough why Peter should not press his suit with the young lady.'
'Don't let your tongue run away with you, my dear. I see no prospect, and I hope there is none, of your ever disgracing Roderick Brown, and I warn you never to repeat to any one the trumpery story you have woke me up to listen to; your husband will have heavy damages to pay, if you so far forget yourself.'
'But it is a spiritual matter, and will go before the Church Courts.'
'Even if it did, my dear, a civil action would lie, so you had better take care. The damages would be perhaps a thousand pounds, besides expenses.'
'But what did we leave the Establishment for, if we are still to be answerable to the Court of Session.'
'If we left it for that purpose, my dear, it was a false move, for we are still the Queen's'subjects, and liable to be sued in all her courts. If you circulate a slander to a man's civil injury, you must pay for it, and your circulating it through the Courts of the Free Church will not save you from the consequences, and very properly, too! So take my advice for once, and say no more about it. Now, get to bed.'
Mrs. Sangster had much too high an opinion of her own perspicacity to be moved an inch from her belief in the minister's wrong-doing, by anything her spouse could say; in fact, as a superior woman, she felt bound to believe it all the more on that account. At the same time his plain common sense impressed her uncomfortably, and though she would have scouted to own its influence, she yet had no wish to meet it in collision. She therefore forbore to say anything on the subject next day, though it was much in her thoughts; just as the owner of some delicate fancy article will be careful how he brings it within the brutal swing of a sledge hammer, though he does not therefore part with his property.
Sophia had a bad cold, and Peter was laid up with toothache, swelled face, rheumatism, and most of the other aches and pains possible to frail humanity after being drenched to the skin. Mr. Sangster had gone off to attend a fair, and only the hostess was left to amuse the guest. Mr. Wallowby had sauntered round the garden, the stable, and the cattlepens, consuming much tobacco as he went, and now he was returned indoors. Mrs. Sangster had provided him with newspapers, magazines and such light reading as she could lay her hands on; he had looked at them and laid them down; and now the two were confronting each other in the drawing-room making themselves miserable in abortive conversation. Neither was more stupid or worse informed than people in general; on the contrary, both were sharp enough; but by no device could they contrive to make their ideas run in parallel trains. Whatever was said by the one was answered by the other at cross purposes, till both felt themselves sinking into helpless fatuity. Wallowby held up his book that he might yawn behind it, the lady went to the window, that she might take the same relaxation undisturbed.
The sight of a carriage approaching was a welcome apparition, mingled too with a little surprise as she descried the Inchbracken liveries, and bethought her that there was no election in prospect; for it was seldom, save for reasons of state and the good of the nation, that Lady Caroline vouchsafed the light of her countenance on the dwellers at Auchlippie.
Mrs. Sangster was immensely gratified by the kind interest in her welfare which had prompted Miss Finlayson's visit, and was pathetic in her regrets for the severe headache which had deprived her of the sight of her ladyship in person that forenoon.
Miss Finlayson then turned to Mr. Wallowby, enquired the length of his stay in the neighbourhood, and expressed Lady Caroline's regret that she had not seen him at dinner the day he shot with Captain John, and mentioned the many interesting things they had been disappointed of showing him.
Mr. Wallowby was a radical, and therefore enjoyed the idea of having excited interest in a titled lady--all democrats like distinguished company. The American variety live, when possible, exclusively among Colonels and Judges; but in England where these are few, a lord or a lady is a being whom it is happiness to have spoken to. He expressed his wish to call before leaving the neighbourhood, and she, by enumerating the real or imaginary engagements of her ladyship for all the days but one, secured that if the visit were made it should be on a day when the gentlemen would be absent. She dared not inflict a distasteful guest upon them, but she knew she could coax Lady Caroline into complaisance for one afternoon. She also produced a few of her best smiles and pretty speeches, and offered them tentatively to the gentleman, who rose to them freely; and, to change the metaphor, was indeed in very high feather.
When the visit came to an end, he manifested considerably more empressement in seeing the lady to her carriage than Mrs. Sangster thought was at all called for, and she went up stairs at once to her daughter's room to see if she could not be brought down, and make a little way with him in his present lively mood, or show at least how much handsomer she was than the agreeable young person who had just driven away. Alas! poor Sophia's cold in the head was too severe, her face was swollen and flushed, her eyes were watery, and several letters of the alphabet were beyond her power of speech. The mother sighed, but had the wisdom to admit she was best in her own room.
Wallowby went up to see Peter, who was trying to deaden his pains with tobacco, to tell what a remarkably fine girl had just left the house. Peter would not admit the fineness, but he mentioned what told more strongly in her favour-her relationship to the noble family of Pitthevlis.
'Really aristocratic!' said Wallowby. 'I knew it, the moment I saw her. A most elegant person, and she seems to know a well-looking Englishman when she sees one. Most remarkable, Peter, how well we got on together!--seemed to understand each other from the very first. You know I am rather a stiff and reserved fellow in general, with perhaps just a shade of hauteur. But somehow, we just dropped into each other's way at once. Most remarkable!' Somehow he forgot to say anything about the intended visit to Inchbracken. In fact he meant to make that alone, and he trusted to Peter's rheumatism lasting long enough to prevent his wishing to accompany him.