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 3IHM^<:^^SBi
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 WORKS BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Each in One Volume, Crown Svo, with Frontispiece^ bs. 
 
 Adam Graeme. 
 
 The Laird of Xorlaw. 
 
 Agnes. 
 
 The Life of the Rev. 
 
 Edward Irving. 
 A Rose in June. 
 
 Phcebe, Junior. 
 
 HUBST & BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MAKLBOKOUGH STREET.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS 
 
 BY 
 
 (^Mus. oltphant) 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "MRS. MARGARET MAITLAND," "AGNES," 
 "ADAM GRAE^tlE OF MOSSGRAY," 
 
 ETC., ETC. . 
 
 Truly, youiig gentlemen . . . there was no great matter in the ditty. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1883. 
 
 All r'ujhts reserved.
 
 
 V 
 
 ,/
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE stands in one of the northern counties 
 of Scotland, in the midst of a Avdld and 
 wooded landscape, Avith the backgTOund of a 
 fine range of hills, and the Aacinity of a noble 
 trout-stream, a great palace, uninhabited and 
 unfinished. It is of the French-Scottish style 
 of architecture, but more French than Scotch — 
 a little LouA^re planted in the midst of a great 
 park and fine Avoods, by Avhich, could a traA-^eller 
 pass, as in the days of Mr. G. P. R. James, on a 
 smnmer evening Avhen the sun had set, and find 
 himself suddenly face to face A\dth such an edi- 
 fice amid such a solitude, the efibct CA^en upon 
 the most hardened British tourist Avould be 
 VOL. I. B
 
 .5JJ87. 
 
 2 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 something extraordinary. There it stands, white 
 and splendid, raising its tnrreted roofs, such a 
 house as a prince might hve in, for which scores 
 of servants wouki be needfnl, and which wonkl 
 accommodate dozens of guests ; but all naked, 
 vacant, and silent, the glassless windows like 
 empty sockets without eyes, the rooms all un- 
 finished, grass growing on the broad steps that 
 lead up to the great barricaded door, and weeds 
 flourishing upon the approach. 
 
 Round about it are avenues of an exotic 
 splendour, like the building, tall araucarias of 
 Idn to nothing else that flourishes in Scotland, 
 blue- green pines of a rare species, and around 
 these, in long-drawn circles, lines of level green 
 terraces, upon which you can walk for miles — 
 terraces more fit for Versailles than for Murkley, 
 where the grass is generally wet, and prome- 
 nades of this kind not very practicable for the 
 greater part of the year. The pines have taken 
 hold of the soil, have thriven and flourished, the 
 araucarias are unequalled in Great Britain. 
 Nature and the landscape have assimilated them, 
 and made them free of the country in which 
 they are to stand for ages. But the house, 
 being of human-kind, cannot be thus assimilated.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 3 
 
 No kindly growth naturalises it, no softening of 
 years makes it fit into its place. It is too big 
 and imposing to be rmi over by honeysuckles 
 and roses like a cottage ; it stands like a ghost 
 among all the paths that lead to its blocked-up 
 door. The rows of melancholy openings where 
 windows ought to be glare out in their empti- 
 ness, in contrast Avith that door which never 
 opens, and makes all natural access to the place 
 impossible. An army of tramps might clamber 
 in at the windows, and make carnival in the 
 vacant rooms, but the master of the house could 
 not without an organised assault find admittance 
 in the recognised way. At night, or when the 
 evening glooms are falling, nothing can bo more 
 starthng than to stray into the presence of this 
 huge thing, which is not a habitation, and Avhich 
 seems, all complete yet so incomplete, to have 
 strayed into regions quite uncongenial and out 
 of sympathy with it, where it stands as much 
 out of its element as a stranded boat. 
 
 But all the same there is nothing ghostly or 
 terrible about Mm-kley Castle. It involves no 
 particular mystery of any kind — nothing but 
 the folly of a man who built a house without 
 counting the cost, and who found himself with- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 out means to complete, far less enjoy, the palace 
 he had constructed. Not the less is it a strange 
 featm-e in the landscape, and it would be still 
 stranger if po|)ular superstition did not see 
 sights and hear sounds in it of nights, for which 
 the ^\"iser persons in the country declared they 
 could not account, though of course they did 
 not believe in anything supernatural. Tliis Avas 
 the reason given by the driver of the gig from the- 
 ' George ' at Kilmorley for the round he wanted 
 to make on a certain June night in the lingering- 
 daylight, as he conducted the gentleman reck- 
 oned as No. 5 in the books at the ' George ' to 
 Murkley village, where this ill-advised person, 
 not knowing when ho was ^vell off, as the 
 ' George ' was of opinion, meant to establish 
 himself at the village inn, which was no better 
 than a public-house. 
 
 ' It's no from ony superstition,' the driver said. 
 ' I'm no a man, I hope, to be feared for ghosts ; 
 Pm mair feared for flesh and blood. I've a 
 good Avatch in my pocket, and life's sweet, and 
 if it's tramps, as is maist likely, that have a 
 howff" in the auld castle, and mak' a' thae 
 noises to frichten the countryside, the mair 
 reason, say I, to gi'e the auld castle a Avide 
 berth.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 5 
 
 ' But it's daylight,' said the traveller ; for, 
 after all, as in the days of Mr. G. P. R. James, 
 it is a traveller of whose early impressions the 
 liistorian avails himself ; ' and there are two ( )f 
 us ; and that beast of yours could surely show a 
 clean pair of heels ' 
 
 He spoke with a slight accent Avhich was 
 foreign, but which the countryman took to be 
 ' high English :' and had certain little foreign 
 ways, which Duncan was not clever enough 
 to understand. Ho responded, cautiously, 
 
 ' Oh, ay ; she'll gang weel enough — l)ut a 
 mare ye see's a flighty creature— they're niair 
 nervous than a fine leddy — and, if they 
 think they see something they canna account 
 for ' 
 
 ' But, man alive !' cried the stranger, ' you're 
 not afraid of ghosts in broad daylight.' 
 
 ' I'm no speaking about ghosts — and ye ca' 
 this braid daylicht ! It's just the eeriest licht 
 I ever saw. Do you ken what o'clock it is ? 
 Nine o'clock at nicht, and ye can see as plain 
 as if it was nine in the morning. I come from 
 the South mysel', and I'm no used to it. Nor 
 it's no canny either. It's no the smi, it's no 
 the moon ; Avhat is it ? Just the land of tune,
 
 6 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ill my opinion, that ye might see onything — 
 even if it wasna there ' 
 
 This lucid description gave our traveller great 
 pleasure. 
 
 ' I had not thought of that,' he said, ' but it 
 is quite true. Here is a half-cro^vn for you, if 
 you will drive by ]\Iurkley~is it Murldey you 
 said V 
 
 ' You kent a' about j\Iurkley when you made 
 up your mind to make your habitation there,' 
 said Duncan, ^vith a glance of suspicion. ' If 
 you ken the \dllage, ye maun ken the castle. 
 They're ower proud to have such a feiiy near 
 them, thae ignorant folk.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to win the half-crown,' said 
 the other, with a good-humoured laugh. 
 
 Duncan, who had slackened his pace when 
 the offer was made, and evidently, notmth- 
 standing his ungracious remark, contemplated 
 turning, which was not so easy in the narrow 
 road, here suddenly jerked his mare round with 
 an impatience which almost brought her on her 
 liind quarters. ' It's of nae consequence to me,' 
 he said. 
 
 But this clearly meant not the half-crown, but 
 the change of route. They went in through a
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 7 
 
 gate, to which a castehated lodge had been 
 attached, but the place was empty, like the 
 castle itself. A slight imcertaiuty of light, hke 
 a film iu the air, began to gather as they came 
 in sight of the house, not darkening so much 
 as confusing the silvery clearness of the sky 
 and crystalline air. This was all new to the 
 stranger. He had never been out in such an 
 unearthly, long-continued day. It was like 
 fairyland, or dreamland, he could not tell which. 
 The evenings he had known had been those 
 rapid ones, in which darkness succeeds day ^vith 
 scarcely any interval ; this fairy radiance gave 
 Inm a strange delight, the pleasure of novelty 
 mingling with the higher pleasme of a beauty 
 which is exquisite and has scarcely any parallel. 
 It seemed to him the very poetry of the North, 
 the sentiment — ^far less glovdng and passionate, 
 yet, at the same time, less matter of fact than 
 that to which he was accustomed — of the vision- 
 ary land into which he had come. He did not 
 know Scotland, nor yet England, though no- 
 body could more pride liunself on the quality 
 of an Enghshman. He knew Ossian, which 
 had delighted him, as it delights the fancy of 
 those who know nothing about its supposed
 
 8 TT ^VAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 birthplace. To be sure, storm was tlie Ossianic 
 atmospliere, and nothing could be more com- 
 pletely removed from any indication of storm 
 than this. The sky was like an opal descending 
 into purest yellow, remounting into a visionary 
 faint blue, just touched vdth gossamer veils of 
 cloud. It was not like the glories he had read 
 of a midnight sun. It was like nothing he had 
 ever read of. And into this strange, unearthly 
 light suddenly arose the great wliite bulk of 
 the palace, with its rows upon rows of hollow 
 eyes looking out into space. Lewis Grantley 
 started, in spite of himself, at the sight, and, 
 what was more remarkable, the mare started 
 too, and required all the efforts of her driver 
 to hold her in. 
 
 ' I tellt ye !' Duncan said, with a smothered 
 oath, directed at the horse or his companion, 
 it Avould be difficult to say which. He did not 
 himself so much as look at the great house, 
 giving his entire attention to the mare, Avhom 
 he held in -svith all his might, Avitli a lowering- 
 countenance and every sign of unwilling sub- 
 mission, when Grantley bid him draAv up in front 
 of the castle. Two or three minutes afterwards, 
 the stranger waved his hand ; and the animal
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 9 
 
 darted on like an arrow from a 1)0W, She 
 scarcely drew breath, flashing along thi-ongli 
 the avenue at full speed, till they reached the 
 further gate, which was opened for them by a 
 respectable woman, neat and tiim, as one under 
 the eye of her master. Lewis could only 
 perceive among the trees the small tonreUes 
 of an old house as they darted out of the 
 gate. 
 
 ' I'll no get her soothered down till she's in her 
 ain stable,' Duncan said. ' Your half-a-crown's 
 hard won. She'll just pu' my hands off on the 
 road hame, with her stable at the hinder end, and 
 this pawnic in her. xA.nd now ye have seen it 
 are you nmckle the bettor for it ? That's what T 
 aye ask when folk risk their necks for the pleas- 
 ure of their een.' 
 
 ' My good fellow,' said LcAvis, ' are all Scotch- 
 men, I w^ould hke to know, as uncivil as you 'V 
 
 A spark of humour kindled in Duncan's eyes. 
 
 'No — no a',' he said, with a somewhat per- 
 plexing confusion of vowels, and burst into a 
 sudden laugh. ' And even me, my bark's worse 
 than my bite,' he added, with an amused look. 
 Then, after a pause, ' You're a gentleman that 
 can tak' a joke. I like that sort. The Englisli
 
 10 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 are maistly awfu' serious. Tliey just glower at 
 ye. You've maybe been in this countryside 
 before T 
 
 ' Never before. 1 have never been in Scot- 
 land before, nor in England either, for that 
 matter,' said the young man. 
 
 ' Lord sake !' cried Duncan, ' and where may 
 ye belong to, when you are at hame ?' 
 
 But the stranger did not carry his complacency 
 so far as this. He said, somewhat abruptly, 
 
 ' Do you kno^\" anything about the family to 
 whom that place belongs V 
 
 ' Do I ken onything about It's weel seen 
 
 you ve no acquaintance with tiiis countryside,' 
 said Duncan. ' AVhat should a person ken about 
 if no the Murrays ? Was it the Murrays ye Avere 
 meaning? I ken as much about them as ony 
 man, whaever the other may be. My sister 
 cam' frae Mofljitt with them — that's my caulf- 
 ground — and my little Bessy is in the kitchen, 
 and coming on grand. I can tell you everything 
 about them, if that's what you want.' 
 
 ' Oh, not so much as that,' said Grantley ; ' I am 
 not so curious. Do they intend to finish the 
 Murkley Castle?' he asked. 
 
 ' Finish it ! Oh, man, but it's little you ken.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 1 1 
 
 I'll tell ye the liaill story, if you like. You see 
 tliere Avas old Sir Patrick. He was the man that 
 biggit yon muckle castle ; but his siller failed, 
 and ho took a disgust at it ; then he gaed 
 abroad, and things turned, and he got his money 
 back. But do ye think he Avas the man to do 
 like other folk, to let it go to them that had a 
 right 'i Na, na, ye're out of yom- reckoning. He 
 was an auld fool — him that had a son, and 
 grandcliildren, and a' that — what must he do 
 but take up with some luchin he picked out of 
 the streets, and pet it, and make of it, and set 
 it up for a gentleman, and leave all his siller to 
 that.' 
 
 Lewis Grantley had started again at this 
 description. He said, hastily, 
 
 ' How do you know that it was out of the 
 
 streets '? How do you know ' and then he 
 
 stopped short, and laughed. ' Tell the story, my 
 good fellow, your own way.' 
 
 ' I'll do that,' said Duncan, Avho despised the 
 permission. ' Out o' the streets or no out o' the 
 streets, it was some adventurer-lad that took 
 the fancy o' the auld man. True flesh and 
 blood will not aye make itself over agreeable, 
 and the short and the long is that he left all his
 
 12 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 siller to the young fellow, that Avas not a drap's 
 blood to him, and left the muclde castle and the 
 little castle and twa-three auld acres mortgaged 
 to their full valley to his son. He couldn't help 
 that, that was the bit that was settled, and that 
 he couldn't will away.' 
 
 The yoimg man listened with gi-eat interest, 
 Avith now and then a movement of surprise. He 
 did not speak at first ; then he said, w^ith a long- 
 breath, 
 
 ' That was sm-ely a very strange thing to do.' 
 
 ' Ay was it — an awfii' strange thing — but Sir 
 Patrick was aye what's ca'ed an eccentric, and 
 ye never could tell Avhat he wouldna do. That's 
 Mm-kley cloAvai yonder, on the water-side. Ye'll 
 be a keen fisher, I'm thinking, to think o' living 
 there.' 
 
 ' And the son V said the yoimg man. ' I sup- 
 pose he had behaved badly to his father. It 
 could not be for nothing that he was disinherit- 
 ed. You people who know everything, I sup- 
 pose you know the cause too.' 
 
 ' The general T said Duncan. ' Well, he wasna 
 a saint : and when an auld man lives twice as 
 long as is expected, and his son is as auld as 
 himself, there's little thought of obedience to him
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. IS 
 
 then, yc may weel suppose. The general had 
 a Avay of pleasing himself. He mamed a lady 
 tliat Avas thought a grand match, and she turned 
 out to have very little ; and syne when she was 
 dead he married anither that had nothing ava, 
 and I suppose he never asked Sir Patrick's con- 
 sent. If it was that, or if it Avas something else, 
 how can I tell ? But you'll no find many men 
 to beat the general. They're a' very proud of 
 him in this countryside.' 
 
 ' I thought he Avas dead,' said the young man,, 
 hiu'riedly. 
 
 ' Oh, ay, he's deed : and now it's the misses that 
 has it. I haA'e the maist interest in them, for, 
 as I tellt ye — but ye Avere paying no attention — 
 Moffiitt, Avhero their little bit place is, is my 
 caulf-ground. They're living in the auld castle, 
 just by the gate Ave came through. Lord, if he 
 had been content Avith the auld castle, it Avould 
 haA^e been better for them a' this day. But 'deed 
 1 shouldna say that matters. It Avould have gane 
 in every probability to yon creatui-e I Avas telling* 
 ye of, the foreign lad.' 
 
 'You don't seem,' said the stranger, Avith a 
 laugh, 'to haA^e much charity for this foreign 
 lad. Are you sure he is foreign, by the way?'
 
 14 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' Ye'll maybe ken him, that ye ha'e a doubt,' 
 said the sharp-witted countryman. 
 
 'How should I know hiniT the young man 
 rephed, with a pecuhar smile. 
 
 ' I say foreign, for nae Englishman — or maybe 
 rather nae Scotchman, for I am no so clear of 
 the other side — Avould do such a dirty trick. Take 
 a doited auld man's siller that had kith and kin 
 and la"\\^u' progeny of liis ain. Fiech ! I couldna 
 do it if I was starving. And I ha'e a wife and 
 banns, Avliich are things that are aye craving for 
 siller. The Lord hand us out o' temptation ! 
 But I wouldna do it — no, if I was master of 
 mysel'.' 
 
 ' I did not know,' said Grantley, vntli a 
 forced gaiety, 'that you were so scrupulous 
 in Scotland. It is not the character you usu- 
 ally get in the world. But you are harsh 
 judges all the same. Perhaps this imfortunate 
 fellow did not know the circumstances. Per- 
 haps ' 
 
 ' Unfortinate ! with the Lord kens how mony 
 thoosands ! I dinna ca' that misfortune, for my 
 part.' 
 
 'But then to balance the thousands he has 
 not the pri^^lege of possessing your esteem,'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 15 
 
 Grantley said. He had an air of" anger and pain 
 under the pretended Hghtness of his tone, and 
 meant to be bitterly satirical, forgetting e\'ident- 
 \y, in the Avarmth of the feelings raised by these 
 anunadversions, that the critic by his side was not 
 very likely to be reached by shafts of this kind. 
 
 Duncan gave him a stolid stare. 
 
 ' Ye'll be joldng?' he said. 
 
 The young man perceived the ludicrousness of 
 his attempted sarcasm, and burst into a laugh 
 which was somewhat agitated, but betrayed no 
 secret to Duncan, who jomed in it quite good- 
 humoiu'edly; but, growing grave immediately, 
 added, 
 
 ' That's a' very weel. What I'm thinking of 
 him's nae miportance, nor what's thought in the 
 countryside ; but for a' that it's an ill thing to 
 scandaleeze yom- fellow-creatures, whether they're 
 folk of consequence or no. Yen's the "Murkley 
 Arms," and Adam at the door. Ye maun be an 
 awfu' keen fisher, sir, as I Avas saying, to leave a 
 grand house like the " George " for a country 
 public, for it's no to call an inn — just a public, 
 and no more. Here, Adam, here's a gentleman 
 I've brought you ; you'll have to give me a good 
 dram for handsel, and him your best room, and
 
 16 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 as many trout as he can set liis face to. He 
 deserves it for coming here.' 
 
 The person thus addressed was a tall man, with 
 a red beard, revealing only about a quarter of a 
 countenance, who stood smoldng and leaning 
 against the doorway of the ' ]\Iurkley Arms.' He 
 looked up, but somewhat languidly, at the ap- 
 peal, and said, 
 
 'Ay, Duncan, is that youf Avith the greatest 
 composm-e without deranging himself. There- 
 upon Duncan jumped down, throwing the reins 
 on the mare's neck, who was much subdued by 
 her rapid progress, and besides had the habit of 
 standing still before the door of a ' pubhc' 
 
 ' And hoo's a' wi' ye, and hoo's the fushingf 
 Duncan said, plunging into an immediate con- 
 versation with his friend, at which Grantley, first 
 in consternation, afterwards in amusement, listen- 
 ed Avitli only partial understanding, but a most 
 comical sense of his own complete unimportance 
 and the total want of interest in him of the new 
 world into which he was thrown. He sat for 
 about five minutes (as he thought) quietly sm- 
 vejdng from that elevation the village street, the 
 river in the distance, the homely sights and 
 sounds of the evening. Cows were coming home
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 17 
 
 from the riverside meadows, aud wondering- 
 no donbt why night and milking-time were so 
 long of coming ; the children were still about in 
 the road, the men in groups here and there, the 
 women at the doors. They said to each other 
 as a chance passenger went by, ' It's a bonnie 
 nicht,' inteiTupting the quiet now and then by a 
 .scream at Jeanie or Jackey adjuring tliem to 
 ' come in to their beds.' ' They should be a' in 
 their beds, thae bairns; but what can ye do 
 when it's sae lang light f the mothers said to 
 each other. 
 
 Young LeAvis Grantley in the leism^e and 
 sm-prise of his youth, still fresh and pleased with 
 everything novel he saw, was well enough occu- 
 pied in contemplating all this, and in no hurry to 
 assert Ins own consequence as a visitor. But 
 by-and-by he got tired of his eminence and 
 jumped doAvn from the dog-cart ; the sound dis- 
 tm'bed the lively conversation at the inn door. 
 
 ' Lord, we've forgotten the gentleman/ said 
 Duncan. 
 
 Long Adam took no notice of the gentleman, 
 but he put his hand to his mouth and called 
 'Jennit!' in a sort of soft bellow, thunderous 
 and rolling into the air like a distant explosion. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 In 0. minute more quick steps came pattering 
 along tlie brick-paved passage. 
 
 ' What's it noo V said a brisk voice. ' A gen- 
 tleman. Losli me ! what am I to do with a gen- 
 tleman ? — no a thing in the house, and the 
 curtains aif a' the beds. I think ye're crackit, 
 Duncan Davidson, to bring a gentleman to me.' 
 
 ' He's crackit himself to want to come, but I 
 have nae w^vte o't,' said Duncan. ' Would vou 
 have had me tak' him to Luckie Todd's? 
 They'll take him in, and welcome there.' 
 
 ' No, T wouldna be so ill willy as that,' said 
 the woman, with a laugh : and she advanced 
 and looked curiously at the neat portmanteau 
 and dressing-bag, Avhich no one had attempted 
 to take down from the dog-cart. ' Ye'll be for 
 the fushin',' she said, dubiously ; but the ab- 
 sence of all a fisherman's accountrements struck 
 Janet with surprise. She added, with a slight 
 sigh of care, ' I can give you a good bed, sir, if 
 you're no particular about your curtains ; the 
 cm'tains is a' doon on account o' the hot wea- 
 ther ; and something to eat, if you can put 
 up with onything that's going for the night. 
 I'll promise you a fine caller trout the morn,' 
 she said, with a smile. ' But, ye see, it's rare,
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 19 
 
 rare that we have onybody here by the folk of 
 the town ; and it's drink that's a' they're heed- 
 ing,' she added, Avith a shake of her head. 
 
 ' I am not hard to please,' said Grantley, with 
 the little accent which Dmican had taken for 
 * high English.' 
 
 Janet, better informed, made a little panse, 
 and looked at her visitor again. The hngering 
 light had got more and more confused, though 
 it was nothing hke dark. Janet's idea of 'a 
 foreigner,' which was not flattering, was that 
 of a dark-bearded, cloak-enveloped conspirator. 
 The light, ^^outhful figure, and smooth face 
 of the new arrival did not intimidate her. She 
 took down the bag briskly from the dog-cart, 
 and bid her husband give himself a shake and 
 see if he had spirit enough to bring in the 
 gentleman's portmanteau ; then at last, after so 
 many delays, beckoned to him to follow her, 
 and led the way upstairs. 
 
 c2
 
 20 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 THE village of Murkley next morning bore an 
 aspect wonderfully different from that of 
 the enchanted di-eamland of the previons night. 
 In that wonderful hght, everything had been 
 softened and beatified— a sort of living ro- 
 mance Avas in the air; the evening softness 
 and the strange magic of the lingering light 
 had given a charm to everything. When Lewis 
 Grantley looked out next morning, the prospect 
 was not so idyllic. The ' Murkley Arms ' was in 
 the centre of the village, where the street 
 w-idened into a sort of i:)lace by no means 
 unlike that of a French country town of small 
 dimensions. The house exactly opposite was 
 an old one, with a projecting gable and outside 
 stair, washed with a warm yellow, such as the 
 instincts of an earher age found desirable, and
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 21 
 
 witli excellent effect, in a climate never too 
 brilliant. There were two or three of these 
 old houses about, which gave a quiet brightness 
 to the grey stone and blue slate which, alas, 
 were in the majority. The road was partly 
 causewayed and partly in a state of nature — 
 and mud : though the di-yness of the weather 
 about which everybody remarked, though it 
 had not specially struck the stranger, had kept 
 this in check. A handful of hay dropped here 
 and there, a few stalks of straw or other litter, 
 gave a careless look to the place, which other- 
 wise \Vas not disorderly. The little stone 
 houses, with the blue-slated roofs, had a look 
 of comfort. It was not half so pretty, but it 
 was a great deal more well-off than many 
 villages the stranger knew, and he recognized 
 the difference. He could scarcely, by craning 
 his neck, get a glimpse from his window of the 
 river, which, with one or two rare bits of 
 meadow on its bank, disappeared umnediately 
 below under woods and over-hanging cliffs. 
 
 The room from which Lewis Grantley made 
 these observations was immediately above the 
 front-door, where he had stood so long, with 
 amused astonishment, watching the leisurely
 
 22 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 proceedings of liis liosts, downstairs. It was 
 an old-fasliioned parlour, with a red and green 
 carpet on the floor, a red and blue cover on 
 the table, furniture of mahogany and black 
 haircloth, and a large sideboard like a cata- 
 falque. A sHght mustiness, as of a place long 
 shut up, was in the aii-, but this was counter- 
 acted by a huge bouquet of hawthorn thmst 
 into a large jug which stood upon the side- 
 board. The blossom of the thorn is not May 
 in Scotland : were it to take the name of a 
 month, it would be June. There was not much 
 refinement in the manner of this decoration, 
 but it was fresh and fragrant ; and the win- 
 dows were open, and the ' caller trout,' for 
 which Mrs. Janet had pledged herself, cook- 
 ed as fish can only be cooked when it is 
 newly out of the water, was on the table, along 
 with the tea, 'masked' to Janet's own taste, 
 black and bitter, but ^Yith. a jug of mollify- 
 ing cream by the side of it, ' baps ' and ' scones,' 
 by no means to be despised, and sweet butter, 
 free from any suspicion of salt, fui-nished forth 
 the table. Grantley did not disdain these 
 dainties. He made an excellent breakfast ; and 
 everything was so fresh and new to him, that
 
 IT VrAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 23 
 
 to look out of tlie windoAV was onougli to 
 amuse liim, and the absence of a newspaper, 
 and of various other accompaniments of break- 
 fast in town, did not disturb his comfort in the 
 least. Grantloy did not knoAV anything about 
 toAvu indeed, and had no regrets when he found 
 himself in the silent atmosphere of this strange 
 little place. He had a very serious purpose 
 in coming, but apart from that it was pleasant 
 enough to see new sights, and breathe an air to 
 which he was unaccustomed. 
 
 His upbringing had been of a curious kind. 
 He was the son of English parents, born (let 
 us say for the sake of brevity, and according 
 to the fashion of our country) ' abroad,' which 
 may, of course, be anywhere, from one side of the 
 world to the other : but was, in the present case, 
 on the European continent, and amidst the high- 
 est civilization. Ho had grown up there rather in 
 the subjection and quiescence of a French boy 
 during his school-time, than in the freedom of an 
 English one, and at seventeen had been left or- 
 phaned and penniless amid people who were 
 very kind to him, but who did not know what 
 to do with the desolate boy. It was at this 
 crisis, in his mourning clothes, his eyes dim
 
 24 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 with watching and weeping, that he attracted 
 the attention of a desohite okl Enghshman, wan- 
 dering vaguely about the world, as it seemed, 
 with nothing to interest or attract him. It is 
 not necessary to be good in order to be hind, 
 and old Sir Patrick Murray, though he had cast 
 off his own family, and cared nothing for his 
 flesh and blood, was not without a capacity of 
 love in him, and was as desolate in his old age 
 as any orphan could be in his youth. He was 
 appealed to, as being an Englishman, in favom- 
 of the child of the Enghsh pair who were dead. 
 They were not of exalted condition ; the father 
 was a cleric in the Vice-Consul's office, the mo- 
 ther had come ' abroad ' as a nursery governess, 
 no more. Then- child spoke Enghsh badly, and 
 though he was fmious in defence of his nation- 
 ality, knew nothing about the habits of his race, 
 and had never been in England in his life. Sir 
 Patrick took him as he might have taken a 
 puppy in the same desolate circumstances. The 
 lad was about his house for a month or two, 
 reading for him, arranging his papers, fulfilling 
 offices which were only ' not menial,' as the 
 advertisements say. He was browner than an 
 Enghsh lad, and more domestic, with no pres-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 25 
 
 sure upon Mm of games to bo played or athletic 
 duties to fulfil, and perhaps more soft in his 
 manner, with warmer demonstrations of grati- 
 tude and youthful enthusiasm for his benefactor 
 than an English youth could have shoA\ai. By 
 degrees he got into the old man's heart. They 
 left the place of young Grantley's birth, and 
 thus cut all the ties he had of human associa- 
 tion. There were some relatives at home he 
 had never seen, and one of them had written to 
 say that his sister's son should not want while 
 he had anything, and that the boy ' of com-se ' 
 must come to him ; Ijut none of the others took 
 any notice, and even this open-hearted person 
 was evidently very glad and reheved in no 
 small degree when he w^as informed that a rich 
 old Englishman had taken his nephew up. 
 
 ' I hope you will do nothing to forfeit his 
 kindness,' this uncle wrote, ' for, though you 
 should have come to us and w^elcome had you 
 been destitute, wo are poor people, and it is far 
 better that you should have to depend on your- 
 self.' 
 
 This was all Lewis had in the Avorld out of 
 old Sir Patrick's favom-, but that favour was 
 bestowed upon him all the more liberally that
 
 26 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 lie had nobody, just as tlio old man declared he 
 had nobody, to care for him. 
 
 ' We'll stand by each other,' Sh Patrick said. And 
 no donbt there is a standing ground npon which 
 old age and youth can meet which is wanting 
 when one of the two involved is an old man and 
 the other a middle-aged one. Sir Patrick scarcely 
 remembered his son, who had been away from 
 him by far the greater part of his life, and had 
 shown very clearly, Avhen they met, that a man 
 of fifty is on too great an equality with another 
 man of seventy-five to leave much room for filial 
 feeling. The general thought his father (frank- 
 ly) an old bore, and could not forgive him for 
 tliat ridiculous palace, the new Murkley, which 
 Sir Patrick had built in his youth. But to Lewas 
 Grantley his noble patron was no old bore, but 
 the most gracious of gentlemen and the kindest 
 of fathers. The lad looked up to him with a 
 kind of adoration. What did he know about 
 the Scotch relations? and, if he had known, he 
 would not have cared. It seemed natural to 
 him that a man should Icnow nothing about his 
 relations. It was his own case. 
 
 They travelled about everywhere, the old 
 man and the young one, the tie between them
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 27 
 
 gro-\ving closer every day. When Sir Patiick 
 got too weak to travel, Lewis nni-sed and served 
 liini like the most devoted of sons. It was only 
 when a letter came ^vith prodigious black bor- 
 ders, about a year before Sir Patrick's death, 
 amionncing that of General j^Inrray, that the 
 young fellow became aware that his old friend 
 had a son. But except that a dinner-party was 
 put off, and a hatband put on, no other notice 
 Avas taken of the loss, and it faded out of the 
 favomite's mind as a matter of no importance 
 either to himself or anyone else. When Sir 
 Patrick died, Lcaa^s mourned as sincerely as 
 ever child momiied a parent, and was as much 
 startled to find himself the master of a large 
 fortune, left to him by this second father, as if 
 ho had been seventeen instead of twenty-five ; 
 for all this time, eight long years, had passed 
 since Ms adoption by the kind old man to whose 
 sei-vice he had devoted himself with an insouci- 
 ance more characteristic of the country of his 
 birth than of the race to which he belonged. 
 
 Duiing Sir Patrick's life he had received an 
 allowance which "svas enough for his wants, and 
 he had scarcely begun to awaken out of his 
 grief to the consciousness that he must do some- ■
 
 28 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 tiling else for his living when the extraordinaiy 
 intimation was made to him that he was a rich 
 man. It may be thought strange that a young 
 man of five-ancl-twenty should continue, without 
 a profession or any further apparent hopes, de- 
 voted to the service of an old benefactor who 
 had never made him any promises, and taking 
 no thought as to what his future was to be, 
 when that old benefactor in the coiu^se of nature 
 should be taken from him. But such things are 
 possible enough. The young man was not 
 afraid of the future. He had never expected 
 anything but to face it when the time came. 
 He was of an easy temperament, not troubled 
 about what would happen to-morrow. And 
 why should Sir Patrick die ? He did not fore- 
 stal that event, nor make sure of it till it came. 
 Afterwards he must do what he could — he was 
 not afraid. 
 
 But it overwhelmed the young man when he 
 was told of all he had gained by the death of his 
 old friend. He had not even known how rich 
 Su- Patrick was. His income might have ended 
 with him for anything Lewis knew ; he had 
 never inquired Avhat his means were. When 
 this astounding news suddenly burst upon him,
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 29 
 
 lie was so much touclied and overwhelmed by 
 so aTcat a token of the old man's love that no 
 other circimistances had much weight with him. 
 But by-and-by he began to inquire and luider- 
 stand. The Avill was a very emious will. It 
 began by enumerating the property which was 
 settled and out of his power by his son's mar- 
 riage settlement, and which would natm-ally go 
 to his son's daughter ; to other daughters men- 
 tioned as the elder and the second, but Avithout 
 names, which probably had been forgotten, he 
 left each a sum of money, two thousand pomids, 
 the residue being entirely for ' the use and benefit 
 of my beloved young fiieud, Lewis Grantley, 
 Avho has been a true son to my old age.' 
 
 This will, as we have said, came upon LeA\ds 
 lilve a thunderbolt. That he himself shotdd 
 suddenly be turned into a rich man Avas Avonder- 
 ful enough, but that his old friend had relatives 
 so nearAvas still more Avonderful. After the first 
 shock of sensation, Avhich Avas naturally excited 
 by his own personal share of the revelation, the 
 mind of the heir turned with a A^ague curiosity 
 to those unknown personages. It did not for a 
 long time occur to Lewis that he had in any 
 way Avronged them ; indeed, it is \'ery doubtful
 
 30 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 •wlietlier it would ever have done so, had not 
 the suggestion been thrown uito his mind by the 
 lawyer who had the management of Sir Patrick's 
 affairs. When the agent and the heir met some 
 time after the old man's death, the former con- 
 gratulated his client significantly that 'the 
 family ' did not seem to have any idea of dis- 
 puting the will. 
 
 ' The family — disputing the will !' Lewis said, 
 with astonishment. He was bewildered by the 
 suggestion. The agent had come from Scotland 
 on purpose to give the young man full informa- 
 tion concerning his fortune. 
 
 ' They might, you know, have pleaded undue 
 influence, or even that Sir Patrick was old, and 
 unfit to judge for himself: that he had been 
 bullied into it, or coaxed into it.' 
 
 'Bulked into it — or coaxed into it!' Lewis 
 echoed the words in utter amazement and 
 chsmay, with that slightest touch of foreignness 
 in his accent which in the circumstances made 
 the lawyer's blood boil, for he was an old family 
 lawyer, who had managed the Murray property 
 for generations, and his indignation was un- 
 speakable, as may be supposed. 
 
 ' Just so,' he said, coldly. ' I Avas consulted
 
 IT WxVS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 31 
 
 on tlie subject ; but I could ouly say there was 
 no evidence — nothing that had come under my 
 observation ; so you need not fear any opposi- 
 tion on that point.' 
 
 ' But this is very mysterious,' said Lewis. 
 ' Why shoukl. they entertain such an opinion of 
 me ?' 
 
 He asked the question in all imiocence, fixing 
 his eyes upon the lawyer's face ; and ]\Ir. Allener- 
 ly, though so prejudiced, could not help being- 
 moved by this entirely straightforward regard. 
 
 ' You see,' he said, a little abashed, ' they know 
 nothing about you.' 
 
 ' That is true enough,' said Lewis, reassured. 
 
 ' They know nothing about you ; all that they 
 know is, that somebody has stolon into their 
 gTandfather's regard, and got all their money — 
 somebody that has nothing to do with the family. 
 That's rather a bitter pill, for they're not rich. 
 You might be an angel from heaven, and yet as 
 you are not a Murray the family would feel it ; 
 but you may make yom*self easy on the subject. 
 There will be no opposition.' 
 
 The insinuation and the re-assurance were 
 ahke astonishing to Lewis. 
 
 ' If there is any ground on which to oppose
 
 32 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 it, 1 slioiikl wish that there should be opposition. 
 I did not Avant Sir Patrick's money. I never 
 thought of it — never knew ho had any.' 
 
 ' You couldn't suppose,' said Mr. AUenerly, 
 Avith some disdain, ' that all this Avas kept up 
 on nothing- V 
 
 They Avere in Sir Patrick's rooms, Avhere the 
 voung man liad remained. 
 
 ' That is true. No, sm-ely it could not be kept 
 up Avithout money — and there Avas plenty of 
 money — of course, I must have been aAvare of 
 that ; but I never thought of it — not for myself.' 
 
 The laAvyer Avas very prejudiced and extreme- 
 ly miAvilling to alloAV himself to say anything, 
 but after a little hesitation he burst forth, as if 
 the confession had been forced from him, ' I be- 
 lieve that.' 
 
 ' Then Avhy should they think so badly of 
 me?' LeAvis said. 
 
 He did not make any rash proposal to giA^e 
 up the property, as perhaps a hot-headed young 
 Englishman might have done. People Avho 
 have been brought up abroad have more respect 
 for money in itself than Ave have. If they do 
 not seek after it so enterprisingly, neither do 
 they separate themselves from it so lightly.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 33 
 
 There Avas no indignant flash of a proposal to 
 undo Sir Patrick's will, and prove his disinter- 
 estedness beyond a question, in what Lewis said. 
 That would have been foreign to all the habits 
 of his mind. But he grew very grave from that 
 time forth, a mood which suited well enough 
 with his mourning. An intention formed itself in 
 his mind almost immediately, which he did not 
 at once carry out for a number of petty reasons 
 each entirely unimportant in itself, but mounting 
 up together into a certain reasonableness. It 
 was not his grief, for he was young and his 
 patron old, and the natural tears were wiped 
 soon ; nor the necessity of settling all his foreign 
 affairs, getting rid of the house, selling or 
 storing up the furniture and pictures, providing 
 for the servants ; but there were a number of 
 other small things, including an illness which 
 very naturally followed his long devotion to a 
 sick old man. 
 
 At last, however, but not till Sir Patrick had 
 been dead nearly a year, he set off for Scotland 
 to carry out his intention. He was not seduced 
 to London on the way, or to make any acquaint- 
 ance with the wonders of England. London, to 
 be sure, was growing empty and the season near 
 
 VOL. T. D
 
 34 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 its end. He came direct from one of the Dutch 
 ports to Leith, and "without any pause proceeded to 
 the town which was the nearest, so far as he could 
 make out, to Murkley. One night he had reposed 
 himself in Edinburgh, and one in the ' George.' 
 It was but three days now since he had crossed 
 the sea, and here he was in Mm-kley, in the 
 native place of his benefactor, on the very 
 estate which had been liis, near the house in 
 which he was born. All this had produced a 
 great effect upon the young man, and so did the 
 conversation with Duncan and the new view of 
 himself and his own conduct suggested by that 
 Avorthy. Passing gusts of anger and uneasiness 
 had crossed his mind, which were neutralized 
 indeed by the amusing circumstances of his 
 arrival and the novelty of the scene around. 
 But when he had found himself alone that first 
 evening, and the outer world shut out, it could 
 not be denied that the usual peace of his mind 
 was much disturbed. He no longer felt sure of 
 himself, and that tranquil consciousness of hav- 
 ing done and of meaning to do liis best, which 
 gave serenity to his character, failed him almost 
 for the first time in his life. It was a painful ex- 
 perience to go through, but there was a satis-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 35 
 
 faction in the thought that he was now on the 
 sjDot at least, and in the way of ascertaining 
 exactly Avhat the state of the matter was, and 
 how he could best amend it, or if amendment 
 was possible. 
 
 This cheering thought and the influence of 
 the morning restored his satisfaction in the 
 external world, and his hopes for what Avas 
 before him, and the sense of being surrounded 
 with novel ch-cumstances in a new country with 
 everything to learn and to enjoy, restored his 
 spirits. One thing gave him a momentary 
 annoyance, which, however, ended soon in the 
 half mischievous, boyish pleasure which he felt 
 in the expedient he thought of to meet it. The 
 annoyance was his sudden recollection that the 
 name of Lewis Grantley was no doubt well knoAvn 
 at Murkley Castle. To allow himself to be known 
 as that detested personage would baffle him in all 
 his intentions. The w^ay of eluding this was a suffic- 
 iently simple one, that of dropping his own name. 
 Accordingly he took the first step in conciliating 
 the family by doing the thing of all others at 
 which they were most indignant — assuming the 
 name of Murray, as Sir Patrick had wished. Sir 
 Patrick had expressed a wish on the subject, but it 
 
 d2
 
 36 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 was not mentioned in the will, nor was there 
 any such stipulation made. And Mr. Allenerly 
 had thought it inexpedient. Therefore it had 
 been understood that Grantley he should con- 
 tinue to be. The best disguise he could assume, 
 he felt, was to take the name which would be 
 supposed to be the most luilikely he could 
 hit upon, and yet to which he had a certain 
 right. The idea of doing so amused while it 
 annoyed him. Sir Patrick would have Hked 
 it. It would have been a pleasure to the old 
 man; and to himself it Avould be a shield in 
 this country of the Murrays where every third 
 person to be met with bore the name. If at the 
 same time a sense of deception and unreality 
 crossed the young man's mind, he put it away 
 as a piece of folly. He had nothing but a good 
 meaning in this visit to his adversary's country, 
 to the neighbom^hood of the people whom he 
 had wronged without knowing it, most imio- 
 cently because altogether unawares. 
 
 This serious background of thought occupied 
 his mind much while he lay awake in the still- 
 ness of the night. But the stillness did not 
 continue long. The darlaiess was not much 
 more than the tAvinkhng of an eyelid, he thought,
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AXD HIS LASS. 37 
 
 and the bii-ds were all awake in a multitudinous 
 chorus, and tlie sun sMning into liis room before 
 drowsiness overcame him. At five and twenty, 
 however, a great deal of noise and tumult is neces- 
 sary to keep sleep away from the eyes, and Lewis, 
 when he got the tangle of his cares unloosened, 
 soon lost consciousness of the birds. And when 
 he woke in the morning and found himself in a 
 new world, -svith everything about hhn novel 
 and unfamiliar, amusement and pleasure got the 
 upper hand with scarcely an effort. Let the 
 countryside think what it would of him, he knew 
 himself better, and it would go hard with him, 
 he said to hunself, if he did not conquer even 
 the countryside.
 
 38 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 YE'LL be for the fushin', sir ? Adam, that's 
 my man, ^vill give ye a' the information. 
 He's fell at the samnon ; and muckle need to 
 be fell at something,' added Janet ; ' for a 
 mair fusionless man about a house doesna exist. 
 He's no made for an innkeeper. I'm aye telling- 
 him that ; but I might just as weel keep my 
 breath for ither purposes. It never does him 
 ony good.' 
 
 ' It is all the more to your credit, Mrs. ' 
 
 ' Oh, you needna fash your head about the 
 mistress. I've aye been Janet, and Janet 
 I'll be to the end o' the chapter. If there had 
 been ony pith in the man, we might, maybe, 
 have risen hke the rest of the world ; for he's no 
 ignorant, nor yet a gommeral, though ye might 
 think sae to see him : but no pith in him — you
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AXD HIS LASS. 39 
 
 would call it spiiit, maybe, in English. That's 
 " the stalk o' carle-hemp in man,'' that Robert 
 Bm-ns speaks about. You'll maybe mind 1 
 Na, he's no an ill man, but there's nae carle- 
 hemp in him. Sae I have a' upon my shoulders. 
 And, if everything shouldna be just as you 
 wish, it'll be real kind to name it, Mr. Mm-ray. 
 So you're Murray, too ? there are a hantle 
 Mm-rays hereabout. Ye'll be of the Athol 
 family, or ' 
 
 ' I have lived abroad all my life,' said Lewis, 
 ' and I have been an orphan since I was very 
 young — so that I know very httle about my 
 relations.' 
 
 He felt very self-conscious as he made this 
 little explanation, and thought it so awkward 
 that he must be found out, but Janet was 
 entirely unsuspicious, and accepted it as a 
 matter of course. 
 
 ' Eh, that's an awfu' pity," she said, sjTnpa- 
 thetically ; then added, ' If ye've been, abroad 
 so lang as that, ye'll maybe have met wdth 
 aidd Sir Patrick about the world. That's the 
 grandfather of our misses here — a real grand- 
 looking auld gentleman as ever I set eyes on 
 — but, I'm feared, sn, no sae good as he looked.
 
 40 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 He's been aye abroad sin ever I mind, and the 
 general and him didna gree ; and he has left 
 every penny of his siller that he could meddle 
 with, away frae his family. It's an awfu' hard 
 case,' Janet said. 
 
 ' I have heard something of that : and 1 think 
 — I have met Sir Patrick.' 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Janet, ' if ye've seen the lad 
 that chd a' the mischief?— a young French- 
 man or foreigner he was — that creepit into 
 the auld gentleman's heart, and turned him 
 ag-ainst his ain flesh and blood. I wouldna 
 have that man's conscience for a' the siller.' 
 
 ' I've seen,' said Lewis, colouring in spite of 
 himself, ' a young man — to whom Sir Patrick 
 had been very kind — and who loved him as 
 if he had been his father. They were hke father 
 and son for years. I don't think he knew any- 
 thing about the money.' 
 
 ' Eh, that's mair nor I can beheve,' said Janet, 
 shaking her head. ' What Avas a' that for, if 
 he kent nothing about the money? I canna 
 believe that.' 
 
 ' Do you think foreigners, as you call them, 
 are such canaille — I mean, such brutes and 
 dogs '
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 41 
 
 ' I ken very well what canailye means,' said 
 Janet. ' Well, I wouldna be imcharitable. 
 There's maybe some that are man* high-minded, 
 but the most of them, yon'U allow, sn, are just 
 for what they can got — 'deed the English are 
 maistly the same, in my opinion ; — and twa-three 
 Scots, too, for that matter,' she added, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 ' You are entirely wT.-ong in that,' said Lewis, 
 with some heat. ' Don't you know, in other 
 places, it is the Scotch Avho are said to be 
 so interested and greedy — always grasping at 
 advantage, always thinking what is to pay.' 
 
 ' Weel,' said Janet, ' that just shows what I'm 
 saying, how little we ken about om- neighbom-s. 
 Murkley folk canna bide the Braehead, and Brae- 
 head has aye an ill word center J\Im'kley. That's 
 just the way o' the world. Me that's a philoso- 
 pher's Avife, if I'm no philosophical mysel' ' 
 
 ' Are you a philosopher's wife V said Lewis, 
 restored to good-humour, as she probably meant 
 he should be, by this statement. 
 
 ' Oh, sir, do you no ken that ? That shows 
 you're little acquaint with this countryside,' said 
 Janet. < And yonder he is, just starting for the 
 water; and if I was a fine young gentleman
 
 42 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 like you, instead of 'biding in the house this 
 fine morning, I would just be afF to the water, 
 too, with Adam. Ye'll find him a diverting 
 companion, sir, though it's maybe no me that 
 should say it. He has a gi-eat deal to say for 
 himself when he is in the humour. Hi!' she 
 said, raising her voice, and tapping loudly on 
 the window, ' here's the gentleman coming with 
 you, Adam.' 
 
 This way of getting him out of the house 
 amused Lewis greatly. He did not resist it, 
 indeed the sun was shining so brightly, yet 
 the air Avas so cool and sweet, a combination 
 little knoAvn to the stranger, that he had already 
 felt his blood frisking in his veins. Adam was 
 going leisurely along, with his basket slung 
 round him, and a great machinery of rods and 
 lines over his shoulder. He scarcely paused to 
 let Lewis come up with him, and all he said 
 by way of salutation was, ' Ye've nae rod,' said 
 somewhat sulkily, Lewis thought, out of the 
 depths of his beard and his chest. And it 
 cannot be said that the description of Janet 
 Avas very closely fulfilled. Adam Avas much 
 intent upon his Avork. If he could be ' diA^eii- 
 ing ' when he Avas in the humour, he was not in 
 the humour to-day.
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 43 
 
 He led the way down to the riverside with 
 scarcely a word, and crossing the unsheltered 
 meadow which lay along the bank, with only a 
 few trees on the edge, soon got mthin the 
 shelter of the woods. Tay was smooth and 
 smiling as he passed by the meadows and the 
 village ; a few yards Tip the stream there was 
 a ferry, with a large boat, intended to carry 
 horses and carriages over the water, but here, 
 where the fisherman established himself, the 
 placid reach ended abruptly in rapids, rushing 
 among huge boulders, through which the water 
 foamed and fretted, with cliffs rising high on 
 the opposite bank, and an abundance of great 
 trees bending over the water's edge and on the 
 bank, and nodding from the cliif that looked like 
 a ruined tower. 
 
 'I Avas about to ask you if you had much 
 boating here,' Lewis said, with a laugh ; ' but 
 Nature seems to have stopped that.' 
 
 ' You'll no boat much here,' said the philoso- 
 pher, grimly, wdiich was not a profound remark. 
 
 He came to a pause upon a green bank, a 
 little opening between the trees opposite the 
 great cliif which reared itself like a great forti- 
 fication oi\t of the water. The -v-illage, the bit 
 of level meadow, the stillness and serene air
 
 44 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 of comfort seemed to have passed away in a 
 moment to give place to a mountain torrent, the 
 dark water frowning and leaping against the 
 rocks. Adam took some time to arrange all his 
 paraphernalia, to fit his rod, and arrange his bait, 
 dm-ing which time he did not deign to address a 
 word to his companion, who watched him with 
 curiosity, but, unfortunately, wdth a curiosity 
 which was that of ignorance. After he had ask- 
 ed several questions which made this very dis- 
 tinct, the philosopher at last tm-ned round upon 
 him with a sort of slow defiance. 
 
 ' You're no a fisher,' he said. ' What will have 
 brocht ye here V 
 
 This was to Adam the most simple and 
 natural of questions ; but it somewhat disturbed 
 Lewis, who was conscious of intentions not per- 
 fectly straightforward. Necessity, which is the 
 best quickener of wit, came to his aid. He be- 
 thought himself of a httle sketch-book he had 
 in his pocket, and drew that out. 
 
 ' There are other things than fishing to bring 
 one into a beautiful country,' he said. 
 
 ' Oh, ay,' said Adam, ' if you're o' the airtist 
 class — ' Perhaps there was a shade of contempt 
 in his tone. But, if so, he changed it quickly.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 45 
 
 with a respect for his companion's feelings, which 
 was the height of pohteness. ' There's mony 
 comes this way, but to my mind they should a' 
 gang a wee further. AVe're naething in com- 
 parison with the real Highlands.' 
 
 For nearly an hour he said no more ; the Kttle 
 click of the reel, the sweep of the water, the 
 occasional leap of a fish, the nuiltitudinous hum 
 of insects were all the sounds about. Lewis 
 seated himself on the grass, and began to justify 
 his title of artist by beginning a sketch at once. 
 He had a pretty amateur talent, and could 
 accomplish without much difficulty the kind of 
 sketch which seems to promise great things. The 
 promise was never fulfilled, but that mattered 
 little. The bold chfF opposite, the mass of rock 
 half way across the stream, which at that point 
 lashed the rapid water into fury, the deejDer 
 shadow under the bank, the blaze of hght where 
 the trees opened, and flickering intermixture of 
 hght and shade where the foliage was thicker, 
 gave exactly the picturesque effect necessary 
 for such a composition as amateurs love. 
 
 As he sat on the gTass, sketching this un- 
 famihar landscape, with the silent figure by his 
 side, manipulating his hne, and the rush of the
 
 46 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 water in Lis ears like a new language, Lewis 
 could not but smile to himself at the strange 
 revolution in his own thoughts and suiTOundings. 
 His connections had been entirely urban. Old 
 historical towers, churches, and palaces had been 
 the shrines at which he had paid his devotions. 
 Of Nature he knew next to nothing, and to think 
 that his first acquaintance with her should be 
 made on the banks of the Tay was strange in- 
 deed. The Tiber would have been more likely, 
 that yellow stream to which its sons paid a most 
 undeserved compliment when they hailed the 
 noble Tay as its resemblance. But there was 
 something in the coolness and sweetness of 
 this still hour which moved Lewis strangely. 
 He had been more used to the cicali in the trees 
 than to the endless twitter of the northern 
 woods, the perpetual concert in which ' the mavis 
 and the merle were singing,' and to avoid the 
 grass as perhaps full of snakes, and to fear the 
 sun as it is feared where its fury gives sudden 
 death. He sat in the full blaze of it now with a 
 pleased abandonment of all precautious. It was 
 altogether like a pleasant dream. 
 
 ' Is that a house behind the cliff high up 
 among those trees T he said. He could not
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 47 
 
 help tliiiikiug of a similar corner of old masomy 
 peering througli the olive groves on a slope of 
 the Aj)ennines ; but how different this was ! 
 ' And who may live there, I Avonder T he added, 
 pausing to look sidew^ays at his sketch, in the 
 true artistic jjose. 
 
 Adam was very busy at that moment ; he 
 gave a sort of oblique glance upwards from the 
 corner of his eyes, but he was struggling with 
 his first fish, which was far too important a 
 crisis to be mixed up with talk, or vain answers 
 to useless questions. It Avas not till he had 
 pulled out his prize, and deposited the glisten- 
 ing, gasping trout upon the gTass Avitli a grmit 
 of fatigue and satisfaction, that he took any 
 notice of Avhat his companion said. LcAvis got 
 up to look at it as it leaped its last in a convul- 
 sive flutter. He Avas no sportsman — indeed, ho 
 Avas so little of liis race that the sio:ht of dA'inG- 
 was painful to him CA'cn in this iminteresting 
 example. But he Ivnew. better than to shoAV 
 this. 
 
 ' That's a fine ane,' said Adam — ' no so big as 
 mony, but a strong creature ; he has most 
 strained my Avrist Avi' his acteevity. Ye Avere 
 asking~what house is yon. It is old Stormont
 
 48 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Tower, a bit poor place, but as old as the hills 
 themselves. You that makes pictm-es, did ye 
 ever see a bonnier picture than that f 
 
 ' Is it for the value of the fish or the pleasure 
 of catching it,' said Lewis, « that you put a stop 
 to its enjoyment ? That's a more pleasant pic- 
 ture, I think,' and he pointed to the sudden 
 gleam of a salmon leaping in the middle of the 
 stream. 
 
 Adam cast a glance at him of mingled cmn- 
 osity and disdain. 
 
 ' I said ye were nae fisher the first look I got 
 at ye,' he said. ' And ye find more pleasure in 
 making scarts upon paper than in sport 1' he 
 added, a minute after, in a solemn tone. 
 
 ' At least, the scarts on the paper do no one 
 any harm,' said Lewis, laughing. But he ac- 
 knowledged the inefiectualness of his occupa- 
 tion by forthwdth putting away his sketch-book. 
 
 Adam saw this too with the comer of his eye, 
 and apparently was mollified by the withdrawal 
 of that peaceful competitor Art from the regions 
 sacred to a stouter occupation. After a while, 
 he spoke again, 
 
 ' Sport,' he said, ' I'll no deny, is a mystery. 
 That ye should take yom* pleasure in what's
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 49 
 
 pain and dcatli to anotlier poor creatm-e, maybe 
 just as good as yoursel' — it's a real funny thing 
 wlaen you come to think o't. I can gi'e no ex- 
 planation. I've taken mony a thought on the 
 subject mysel'. That's how we're made, I sup- 
 pose — to see the thing fecht for its life, that's 
 your pleasm-e, and to battle wi' 't and get the 
 upper hand. I canna be sorry for a trout,' he 
 said, casting a slow glance at the fish ; ' it's just 
 made for a man's dinner, and that's the short 
 and the long of it ; but a deer, noAv — a grand 
 creature, carrying yon muclde horns like a king 
 his crown, and a wheen skulking murderers 
 lying in wait for him, letting fly when the poor 
 beast comes up unsuspecting ! I'm not a deer- 
 stalker,' said Adam, with more simpHcity than 
 philosophy, making up 
 
 ' For sins lie was iuclined to 
 By d — ning those he had no miud to,' 
 
 ' and I just canna bide yonj 
 
 Upon which he cast his hue once more, and 
 Lewis, though he did not feel any pleasure in 
 the sight of the last convulsions, began to watch 
 with interest, which gradually grew into excite- 
 ment, the skill with which Adam phed his trade, 
 the cunning arts by which he beguiled a wary 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 old Tay trout, up to a great many things, into 
 acceptance of the fly which dangled before liis 
 nose. The trout was experienced, but the man 
 was too much for him. Then there ensued that 
 struggle between the U^o which strained the 
 fisherman's sldll and patience to the utmost. 
 The little drama roused the spectator out of his 
 calm and almost repugnance. He followed it 
 to its conclusion with almost as much real, and 
 considerably more apparent, excitement than 
 Adam himself, and scarcely repressed a ' hurrah !' 
 of triumph when the prey was finally secured. 
 
 'I tell't you sae,' said Adam. 'That's just 
 the way with man ; ye canna get the pleasure 
 without the killing o' the creatm-e. It's a queer 
 thing, but most things are queer. You'll have 
 been at the college, and studied pheelosophy, 
 nae doubt ? but you'll no explain that to me ; 
 nor me, I can give no explanation, that have 
 turned the thing o'er and o'er in my head. 
 Life's just a long puzzle from the beginning o't 
 to the end o't, and if you once begin to question 
 Avhat it means, ye'll never be done, nor ye'll 
 never get any satisfaction,' Adam said. 
 , Lewis did not take this bait as perhaps a 
 young scholar, one of the Oxford men to whom
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 51 
 
 Adam was accustomed, who liannted these banks 
 in the antmnn, or still more keenly an argu- 
 mentative youth from Aberdeen or St. Andrews 
 might have done. He had laiown no college 
 training, and had little reading of the graver ' 
 sort, but ho pleased the fish'erman almost as 
 much by his conversion to the excitement of 
 sport to which indeed he was as little accus- 
 tomed as to pliilosophy. The hom-s passed on 
 quickly in the sweet ah' and sunshine, with the 
 rhythm of the quick flowing river and the 
 dramatic episodes of trout catching, and all the 
 novelty and freshness of the new Avorld which 
 was widening out around the young man. He 
 tried to beguile Adam to talk about matters 
 Avhich were still more interesting to liimself, but 
 the philosopher had not that lively interest in 
 his fello"\v-creatures, at least of the human kind, 
 which usually characterizes the village sage. 
 
 When Adam's creel was full they went back, 
 but by a round which brought them in sight of 
 the gate which Lems remembered ha\aug 
 passed through on the pre^sdous night ; the 
 turrets of the old house showed over the trees, 
 and the yomig man looked at them with a 
 quickened beating of his heart. He w^as strangely 
 
 E 2
 
 52 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 simple in some matters, straightforward in his 
 ideas as Enghshmen rarely are, and the secret 
 intention in his mind which had actuated his 
 coming here moved all his pulses at this 
 sudden reminder. He looked curiously at the 
 trees which hid this chvelling-place. He did 
 not know how to get access to it, how to carry out 
 his intention ; but there it was, the aim of his 
 journey, the future scene of — how could he tell 
 what ? The futm-e was all vague, but yet alight 
 ■\^dth pleasant chances, he did not even know 
 whether to call them hopes. He was standing 
 .still gazing at the old house when he suddenly 
 heard voices behind him, Idnd salutations to 
 Adam, to which the fisherman replied with some 
 cordiality. Le^ns turned round quickly, for the 
 voices were feminine and refined, though they 
 had a whiff of accent to which he was as yet 
 unaccustomed. It was a group of three ladies 
 Avho had paused to speak to Adam, and were look- 
 ing with interest at his fish. They were all in 
 black dresses, standing out in the midst of the 
 sunshine, three slim, clear-marked figm-es. The 
 furthest from him was shorter than the others, 
 and wore a veil which partially concealed her 
 face ; the two who were talking were evidently
 
 IT WA.S A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 53 
 
 sisters and of ripe years. They talked both 
 together, one voice overlapping the other. 
 
 ' What fine fish you have got, Adam !' ' And 
 what a creelful ! you've been lucky to-day.' 
 ' If Janet can spare us a couple, the cook will 
 be very thankful.' ' Dear me, that will be 
 pleasant if Janet can spare us a couple,' they 
 said. 
 
 After a few more questions they passed on, 
 noddmg and waving their hands. ' Come, 
 Lilias,' they called both together, looking back 
 to the third, who said nothing but ' Good day, 
 Adam,' in a younger, softer voice. 
 
 Lewis stood aside to let them pass, and took 
 off" his hat. It was evidently a surpiise to the 
 ladies to see the stranger stand uncovered as 
 they passed. They looked at him keenly, and 
 made some half audible comments to each other, 
 ' Who will that be now, Jean T 'It will be 
 some English lad foi- the fishing, Margaret,' 
 Lewis heard, and laughed to himself. Though 
 he did not Icnow much about Scotland, he had 
 of course picked up a Scotch novel now and 
 then, and knew well enough that what he 
 profanely and carelessly, in the unconscious in- 
 solence of his youth, called eccentric old ladies
 
 54 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ■were figures invariable in such productions. 
 These no doubt were the Miss Grizzy and Miss 
 Jacky of Murkley. The Httle encounter pleased 
 him. He should no doubt make acquaintance 
 with them and see the humours of the country 
 at first hand. The third little figm-e with the 
 blue veil scarcely attracted his eye at all ; he 
 saw her, but did not observe her. The blinding 
 gauze hid anything that might have raised his 
 cmiosity. She was less imposing in every Avay, 
 and when they both turned agaui ^vith a ' Come, 
 Lilias,' their air gave their little companion the 
 aspect of a child. He quickened his pace to 
 make up to Adam, who, though he seemed to 
 plod along with slow, large steps which had no 
 appearance of speed, .yet tasked his younger 
 companion, who was easily beguiled by an}- 
 temptation of the way, to keep up ^vith 
 him. 
 
 ' Ai-e those village people ?' Le^vis said. 
 
 ' Eh ? What was that you were sa^dng T 
 
 ' Are those two ladies — village people ? I 
 mean do they live hereabout f 
 
 Adam turned slowly half round upon him. 
 His large and somewhat hazy blue eyes uprose 
 from between the bush of his shaggy eyebrows
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 55 
 
 and the redness of his beard, and contemplated 
 the young man curiously. 
 
 ' Yon's — the misses at the castle,' Adam said. 
 
 ' The misses T Still Le^vis did not take in 
 what AYas meant ; he repeated the word A^dth a 
 smile. 
 
 ' Our misses, the leddies at the castle,' said 
 Adam, laconically. 
 
 Le^vis was so profoundly astonished that he 
 gave a cry of dismay. 
 
 'The ladies at the castle?— Miss Murray of 
 Murkley T he said. 
 
 ' Ay,' said Adam, once more fixing him with a 
 tranquil but somewhat severe gaze. Then after 
 a minute's reflection, ' And wherefore no V 
 
 Then Lewis laughed loud and long, Avith a 
 mixtm-e of excitement and derision in his aston- 
 ishment : the derision was at himself, but Adam 
 was not aware of this, and a shade of offence 
 gradually came over as much as Avas A'isible of 
 his face. 
 
 ' You're easy pleased Avith a joke,' he said. 
 ' I canna say I see it.' And Avent on AAdth his 
 long steps dcA^'ouring the Avay. 
 
 Lewns followed after a little, perhaps slight- 
 ly ashamed of his self-betrayal, although
 
 56 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 there was no betrayal in it save to liimself. 
 As lie looked round again lie saw the group 
 of ladies standing at the Murkley gate. Pro- 
 bably their attention had been roused by the 
 sudden peal of his laughter, of which he now 
 felt deeply ashamed. They were going in at 
 the smaller gate, which the lodgekeeper stood 
 holding open for them, but had paused apparent- 
 ly to look what it was that called forth the 
 young stranger's mirth. He was so self-con- 
 scious altogether that he could scarcely believe 
 that the occasion of his laugh must be a mystery 
 to them, and felt ashamed of it as if they had 
 been in the secret. His impulse was to rush 
 up to them, to assme them that it did not 
 matter, "^vith an eagerness of shame and com- 
 punction which already made his face crimson. 
 What was it that did not matter? But then 
 he came to himself, and blushed more deeply 
 than ever, and slunk away. He did not hear 
 the remarks the ladies made, but divined them 
 in his heart. What they said was brief enough, 
 and he had indeed divined it more or less. 
 
 ' What is the lad laughing at ? Do you think 
 he is so ill-bred as to' be laughing at us, 
 Jeanf
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 57 
 
 ' What could lie j&nd to laugh at in lis, 
 Margaret T 
 
 ' 'Deed that is what I don't know. Let mo 
 look at you. There is nothing Avi-ong about you 
 that I can see, Jean.' 
 
 'Nor about you, Margaret. It is, maybe, 
 Lilias and her blue veil.' 
 
 ' Yes ; it's odious of you,' cried the tliird, 
 suddenly seizing that disguise in her hands and 
 plucking it from her face, ' to muffle me up in 
 this thing.' 
 
 ' You will not think that, my dear, when you 
 see how it saves your complexion. No doubt it 
 Avas just the blue veil ; but he must be a very 
 ill-bred young man.'
 
 58 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THIS was also the opinion of Janet when she 
 heard of the enconnter on the road. Her 
 demeanom' was very grave when she served 
 her guest with his dinner, of which one of 
 the aforesaid tront constituted an important 
 part. She did not smile upon him as m the 
 morning, nor expatiate upon the diverse dishes, 
 as was her wont, but was curt and cold, put- 
 ting his food upon the table Avith a thud of 
 her tray Tvliich was something hke a blow. 
 Lewis, Avho had not been used to the mechanical 
 attention of English servants, but to attendants 
 who took a great deal of interest in him and 
 what he ate, and how he liked it, felt the change 
 at once. He was very simple m some matters, 
 as has been said, and the sense of disapprobation
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 59 
 
 quite woimded him. He began to conciliate^ 
 as was bis natm-e. 
 
 • This is one of Adam's tront,' he said. 
 
 * Just that ; if it wasna Adam's trout, w^here 
 w^ould I get it V said the ungracious Janet. 
 
 ' That is true ; and a great deal better than 
 if it came from a shop, or had been carried for 
 miles.' 
 
 ' Shop !' cried Janet, wnth lively scorn. ' It's 
 little you ken about our comitryside, that's clear. 
 Where w^ould I get a shop if I w^intit it ? And 
 wha would gang to sic a place that could have 
 trout caller out of the water.' 
 
 ' Don't be so angry,' said Lewds, with a smile. 
 ' After all, you know, if I am so ignorant, it is 
 my misfortime, not my fault. If I had been 
 asked Avhere I wanted to be born, no doubt I 
 should have said the banks of Tay.' 
 
 ' That's true,' said Janet, mollified. ' But 
 you would do nothing o' the sort,' she added. 
 ' You're just making your jest of me, as yoii did 
 of the misses.' 
 
 ' I — jest at the — misses,' said Lewis, with 
 every demonstration of indignant innocence. 
 ' Now, Mrs. Janet, look at me. Do you think 
 I am capable of laughing at — anyone — espoci-
 
 60 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ally ladies for whom I would have a still higher 
 respect — if I knew them. I — jest ! Do you 
 think it is in me T he said. 
 
 Janet looked at him, and shook her head. 
 
 ' Sir,' she said, but with a softened tone, 
 * you're just a whillie whaw.' 
 
 ' Now, what is a whillie whaw ? I don't mind 
 being called names,' said Lewis, ' but you must 
 not call me a ruffian, you know. If one has 
 no politeness, one had better die.' 
 
 ' Losh me ! it's no just so bad as that. I 
 said sae to Adam. A young gentleman may 
 have his joke, and no just be a scoundrel.' 
 
 ' Did Adam think I was a scoundrel ? I am 
 sorry I made such a bad impression upon him. 
 I thought we had become friends on the river- 
 side.' 
 
 ' Oh, sir, you're takin' me ower close to my 
 word. I Avasna meaning so bad as that ; but, 
 according to Adam, when you set eyes upon 
 the misses, ye just bm'st out into a muckle 
 guffaw : and that's no mainners — besides, it's not 
 kind, not like what a gentleman's expected to 
 do — in this country,' Janet added, deprecatmg 
 a little. ' For onything I ken,' she added, 
 presently, ' it may be mainners abroad.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 61 
 
 'It is not manners anywliere,' said LeAvis, an- 
 grily. ' But Adam is a great deal too hard upon 
 me, Mrs. Janet. I did not break into a loud — 
 anything when I saw the ladies — why shonld I ? 
 I did not know who they were. Bnt after- 
 wards when I discovered their names You 
 
 must sympathise with me. I had been looking 
 for young ladies, pretty young ladies,' he said, 
 with a laugh at the recollection. ' There is 
 something more even that I could tell you. 
 There had been some idea of an arrangement 
 — of making a marriage, you understand — be- 
 tween a Miss ]\Iurray and a — gentleman I know; 
 — if the friends found everything suitable.' 
 
 ' Making up a marriage, ' Janet echoed, 
 with bewilderment, 'if the friends found it 
 suitable !' 
 
 ' Just so — nothing had been said about it,' 
 said the yoimg man, ' but there had been an idea. 
 And when, knowing he was young, I beheld — 
 two old ladies ' 
 
 ' I dinna know what you call old,' said Janet, 
 with a Httle resentment. ' If Miss Margaret's 
 forty, that's the most she is. She's twa-three 
 years younger than me. Ay, and so there was 
 a marriage thought upon, though your friend
 
 62 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 had never seen tlie leddy ? and maybe the leddy 
 was no in the secret neither.' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly not,' Lewis cried. 
 
 ' It would be for her siller,' said Janet, very 
 gravely. ' You would do well to warn your 
 friend, sir, that there's awfu' little siller among 
 them; they've been wranged and robbed, as I 
 was telling you. Not only they're auld, as ye 
 say, but they're puir, that is to say, for leddies 
 of their consequence. I would bid him hand 
 away with his plans and his marriages, if I were 
 you.' 
 
 ' Oh, there was, perhaps, nothing serious in it ; 
 it was only an idea,' said Lewis, lightly. ' The 
 trout has been excellent, Mrs. Janet. You cook 
 them to perfection. And I hope you are no 
 longer angry with me or think me a scoundrel, 
 or even — the other thing.' 
 
 ' Oh, ay, sir, ye're just the other thing — ye're 
 a whilhe whaw — ye sjieak awfu' fair and look 
 awfu' pleasant, but I'm no sure how you're 
 thinking a' the time. When I'm down the stairs 
 getting the collops you'll maybe laugh and say, 
 " That's an old fuil " to yoursel.' 
 
 ' I should be an ungrateful wretch if I did,' 
 said Lewis, ' especially as I am very anxious to
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 63 
 
 see what pleasant surprise you have prepared 
 for me uuder the name of collops.' 
 
 ' Ah !' said Janet, shaking her head, but re- 
 laxing in spite of herself, ' you're just a w^liillie 
 wliaw.'. 
 
 When she was gone, however, Lewis shook 
 his head still more gravely at liiniself. ^A^as 
 it not very imprudent of him to have said any- 
 thing about that project? — and it was scarcely 
 even a project, only an idea ; and now it was 
 ridiculous. He had been very imprudent. No 
 doubt tliis woman would repeat it, and it would 
 get into the air, and everyone would know. 
 The question now was whether he should con- 
 fine himself in future to the collops, or whether 
 he should explain to Janet that he had meant 
 nothing, and that his communication was confi- 
 dential. He had certainly been a fool to speak 
 at all. To tell the truth, he had never been alone 
 in a totally new world without any outlet for 
 his thoughts before, and his laugh had been so 
 inevitable, and the explanation so simple. 
 When Janet re-appeared with the collops, how- 
 ever, she was in haste, and nothing more was 
 said ; and by-and-by he forgot that he had said 
 anything that it was not quite natm'al to say.
 
 64 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 The presence of this young stranger at a httle 
 village inn so miimportant as the 'Mmidey Arms' 
 was a surprising event in the village, and set 
 everybody talking. To be snre an enthnsiastic 
 fisherman like Pat Lindsay, from Perth, had 
 been known to live there for a month at a time 
 dming the season, and to nod his head with 
 great gusto when Janet's merits as a cook were 
 discussed. Most people in Murkley were quite 
 aware of Janet's merits, but the outside world, 
 the travellers and tourists who passed, so to 
 speak, on the other side, had no information on 
 the subject. This was one of the points, indeed, 
 in which it -was an endless vexation to her that 
 her husband had ' nae pith ' nor spirit in him. 
 Had the little house been furbished up and made 
 into a fine hotel, Janet knew that she had it in 
 her to make that hotel a success ; but with a man 
 who could neither look imposing and dignified 
 at the head of such an establishment, nor do any 
 of the hard work necessary, what could a woman 
 do ? She had to give up the hope of rising in 
 the world ; but, when it so happened that a 
 guest did come, Janet's treatment of him was 
 royal. And she felt a certain gratitude to the 
 visitor who gave her an opportunity of show- 
 ing what was in her.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 65 
 
 ' What is lie licre for?' she said. 'What for 
 shoiikl ho no be here, if ye please? He's here 
 for his ain pleasure. He's from foreign parts, 
 and it's good for him to see what the life is in a 
 real quiet, honest place. They havena ower 
 much of that abroad. They have your gambhng- 
 tables, and music playing morning, noon, and 
 nicht. Eh, but they maun be sick o't ! A band 
 once in a way I say naething against, and when 
 it's a regiment marching it's grand ; but trumpets 
 blaring and flaring like thae Germans, losh me ! 
 it would send a body out of her wits in nae 
 time. He's come away from that, and I think 
 he's a wise man. And though he's no fisher him- 
 self he likes to see Adam catch the trout. And 
 he's a fine lad. He's welcome to bide as long as 
 he Hkes, for me,' 
 
 This was her answer to the many questions 
 with which at first she was plied on the subject. 
 The minister, Avho was a man of very liberal 
 mind and advanced views was soon interested in 
 the stranger, and made acquaintance with him as 
 he lingered about on Sunday after chm-ch look- 
 ing at the moniunents in the churchyard. Lewis 
 went to church cheerfully as a sort of tribute to 
 society, and also as the only social meeting to 
 
 AT'OL. I. F
 
 QQ IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 wliicli lie could get admittance. He loved to 
 be among liis fellow-creatnres, to see other peo- 
 ple round him, and, imknowii as he was, this 
 was almost his only way of enjo}ang the 
 pleasm-e. The minister, whose name was Seton, 
 accosted him ^^dth very friendly intentions. 
 
 ' Yon will find, I fear, a great difference in om- 
 services from those you are used to,' he said. ' I 
 Avould fain hope things were a little better "with 
 us than they used to be ; but we're far behind in 
 ritual. The sister church has always held up a 
 far different standard.' 
 
 ' Which church is that?' said Lewis, with his 
 friendly candour of mind. ' I am a very great 
 ignoramus.' 
 
 ' Ah, I suppose you are High,' said the minis- 
 ter, ' and don't acknoAvledge our orders. Of 
 com-se, you cannot expect me to consent to 
 that. The Church of England is a great insti- 
 tution, but apt to carry things with a high hand, 
 and look down upon Protestant brethren.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes — but I don't know anything about 
 England,' said Lewis, still puzzled ; upon which 
 Mr. Seton made many apologies. 
 
 ' I ought to have known — of coui'se, your 
 complexion and all that; you come from the
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 67 
 
 land of enlightenment, where everything is sub- 
 servient to intellect. How glad I shall be of 
 the opportunity to ask your advice about some 
 passages I am in doubt about ! Your fatherland 
 is the home of biblical science.' 
 
 ' I am not a German,' said Lewis, ' but I know 
 the language well enough, and if I can be of 
 
 any use Oh, no, I am an Englishman, though 
 
 I never was in England — unless I may call this 
 England.' 
 
 ' Which you certainly must not do,' said the 
 minister; 'we've fought hard enough on that 
 account in our day. I suppose you are here for 
 the fishing,' he added, as everybody did, but 
 with a little disingenuousness, for by this time 
 all the world was aware that Lewis did not fish, 
 nor pretend to fish, nor, indeed, do anything but 
 what the good people of Murkley called idling 
 his time aAvay. 
 
 ' I am no fisher,' he said — ' not a sportsman 
 at all, and not much of an artist either. I am 
 not very good at anything. I came hero be- 
 cause it struck my fancy.' 
 
 He laughed somewhat uneasily, because it 
 was not true, and he was a bad deceiver ; but 
 then Mr. Seton had no reason to suppose that it 
 
 f2
 
 68 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 was not true, and he took it with great com- 
 posure as a natural reason enough. 
 
 ' It is a fine country,' he said. ' I am free to 
 say it, for it is not my country. I am from the 
 south myself.' 
 
 'The south!' said Lewis, deceived in his turn, 
 and looking with a little sm-prise at the fine 
 burly form and grizzled locks of the clergyman, 
 Avho seemed to him of the same type as Adam, 
 and not like anytliing that he realised as the 
 south. ' Do you mean of France, or still nearer the 
 mezzo-gioruo ? Oh, 1 know the south very well. 
 I have been through the ^vildest parts of Sicil}^ 
 and Calabria, as well as most civilized regions.' 
 
 ' I meant Dumfriesshire,' said the minister, 
 w^th a blush. He felt as if he had been guilty 
 of false pretences. ' That is south to us. You 
 have been a gi-eat traveller, Mr. ' 
 
 ' Mm-ray,' said Lewis, quickly. 
 
 'You are a Murray, too? Then I suppose 
 you had ancestors in this district. That's very 
 common ; I have had people come here from all 
 the ends of the world anxious to look at the 
 tombstones or the parish register.' 
 
 ' I shall not need to do that,' the young man 
 said. ' The name came to me wdth some pro-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 69 
 
 perty,' he added, with his usual mixture of cau- 
 tion and imprudence — ' from my god-father,' 
 he added, after another pause. This was so 
 far true that it was the name by which the 
 young dependent on his bounty had been used 
 to call old Sir Patrick ; his voice softened at the 
 word, Avluch he had not used for so long. ' He 
 brought me up — he was very good to me. I 
 have lost him, there is about a year.' 
 
 The minister felt that it was necessary to 
 reply in his professional capacity. 
 
 ' Ah,' he said, ' such losses shatter the world 
 to us ; but so long as they tm-n our thoughts to 
 better things, to the land whither we must all 
 travel ' 
 
 Lewis was not used to spiritual consolation ; 
 ho gave his companion a nod of not imcheerful 
 assent. 
 
 ' He always wished me to travel,' he said. 
 ' It has become to me a second nature. I am 
 told that it is to the Highlands that tourists go, 
 but otherwise this pleases me very much.' 
 
 ' And you are comfortable at Adam Burnet's i 
 He is a character — the sort of mind that we 
 flatter ourselves is peculiarly Scotch,' said the 
 minister. ' I hope you will gratify my wife and
 
 70 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 me by taldng yoiir lunclieon Avith us. A stranger 
 is always welcome,' he coutiniied, leading the 
 way after LeAvis had consented Avitli a smile 
 and bow and flourisli of his hat, which made 
 Mr. Seton smile, ' in a Scotch manse ; and if you 
 are maldng a long stay, Mv. IMnrray ' 
 
 It was thns that Lewis made his first entry 
 into society in the village. 
 
 ' You should have seen his bow, my dear,' the 
 minister said ; ' he is just awfully foreign, but a 
 good fellow for all that, or else my sldll in faces 
 is at fault.' 
 
 This was to prepare Mrs. Seton to receive the. 
 stranger, whom, indeed, the minister brought in 
 Avith a sense of an unauthorized uiterference in 
 Avhat Avas not his department. He Avas at hberty 
 to bring an old elder, a brother minister, even a 
 farmer of a superior description ; but IMrs. Seton 
 Avas particular about yomig men. Katie was 
 sixteen, and ' there was never any telhng,' her 
 mother said. In the present case the risks Avere 
 even greater than usual, for this young man 
 was without an introduction, nobody to answer 
 for hhn or his respectability, and a foreigner 
 besides, Avhich Avas at once more terrible and 
 more seductiA'e than an mtruder native born.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 71 
 
 ' Your father is so iiiipiTident,' she said to 
 Katie. ' How can we tell who he is V 
 
 'He looks very innocent,' said that young 
 woman, who had seen the stranger a great many 
 tunes, and found him entirely unhke her ideal. 
 Innocent was not what Miss Katie thought a 
 yomig man ought to look. She followed her 
 mother to the early Sunday dinner, which Mr. 
 Seton entitled lunch, without the slightest ex- 
 citement, but there was already some one in 
 the room whose presence disturbed Katie's 
 composm-e more. Of the three gentlemen there 
 assembled, Lewis was the least in height and the 
 least impressive in appearance. The two stal- 
 wart Scotchmen, between whom he stood, with 
 \'igour in every hue of their long limbs and 
 every curl of then crisp locks, thi-ew him into 
 the shade. He was shortei-, shghter, less of him 
 altogether. His han was light, and not very 
 much of that. In all probability when he was 
 older he would be bald, and people who depre- 
 ciated Lewis were apt to say of him that he was 
 all one colom, lian and complexion. His dress 
 had a little of a foreign cut, or rather it was 
 elaborately English a la mode de Paris, and he 
 was not at all indifferent about his reception
 
 72 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 here, but sincerely anxious to please and make a 
 favoui'able impression, and did not in tlie least 
 hesitate to show that he was so. This went 
 against him with the party generally, but Le^vis 
 was quite imaware of that. 
 
 The other yoimg man Avhom he had found 
 there, when the minister shoAved him into the 
 little drawing-room and went to report what he 
 had done to his wife, was in reality half a head 
 taller, and looked t^vice the size of Lewis. He 
 was brown and ruddy like most of the men 
 about, accustomed to expose himself to the 
 weather, and to find his occupation and pleasure 
 out of doors. He was shghtly shy, but yet 
 quite at his ease, knowing that it was his duty 
 to talk and be friendly to the stranger, and 
 doing his duty accordingly, though he had none 
 of Lewis's eager desire to make himself agreea- 
 ble. When the minister entered they were 
 introduced to each other as Mr. IMun-ay and Mr. 
 Stormont, upon which Lewis said immediately, 
 with a httle effusive pleasm'e, 
 
 ' Ah, I know yoiu" name very well ; you must 
 belong to the tower on the other side of the 
 river. I attempt to sketch you almost every 
 day.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 73 
 
 ' Oh !' said young Stormout, and in his mind 
 he added, ' It's an artist,' which seemed to 
 accomit for the stranger at once. 
 
 ' My attempts have not been very successful,' 
 Lewis added, laughing. 'I go out with Adam 
 when he goes to fish, and when a trout is very 
 interesting my sketch-book falls out of my 
 hands.' 
 
 ' You can't see much of the tower from the 
 other side,' said Stomiont. ' I hope you will 
 come and study it near at hand.' 
 
 ' That I will do with great pleasm-e,' cried 
 Lewis. It exhilarated him to find himself again 
 in good company. ' You are very Idnd to admit 
 me into yom^ house,' he said, with frank gi'atifi- 
 cation, to the minister. ' JMrs. Janet and her 
 husband are very interesting ; they throw a 
 gTcat light upon the coimtry: but I began to 
 long to exchange a little conversation with 
 persons — of another class.' 
 
 ' I am siu-e we are very glad to see you,' said 
 Mrs. Seton. ' It must be lonely in an inn, 
 especially if you have come out of a family. 
 We have seen you passing, and wondered what 
 you could find in Murkley. There is no society 
 here. Even the tourists going out and in are a
 
 74: IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 variety when you are fiirtlier nortb, but here we 
 are just dropped in a corner and see nothing. 
 Oh, yes, okl Pat Lindsay who thinks of nothing 
 but his trout. Trout are nice enough things on 
 the table, but not as the subject of conversation. 
 Even Mr. Stormont here is away oftener than we 
 would like him to be.' 
 
 ' Only for the shooting,' said Stormont, 
 'and a little while in Edinburgh in the ^vm- 
 ter, and sometimes a run up to town in the 
 spring.' 
 
 ' How much does that leave T said the lady, 
 playfully. ' But never mind, we cannot expect 
 to bind a young man here. I thiidv of the time 
 when my own boys will grow up and want to be 
 moving. Thanks be to Providence, Katie's a 
 girl and will stay at home.' 
 
 Katie's eyes, which were bright and brown 
 like the Tay, opened a little wider at tliis, and 
 gave out a glance which Avas half laughter 
 across the table. Lewis, looking on with great 
 interest, felt that the glance was winged to 
 somewhere about that part of the table where 
 young Stormont sat, and felt a great sympathy 
 and interest. He met her eyes with a slight 
 smile in his, making unconscious proffer of that
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 75 
 
 s^aiipathy, which made Katie blush from head to 
 foot, and grow hot with indignation as well, as if 
 she had been found out. 
 
 ' Mr. Murray has ])cen a great traveller,' said 
 the minister, ' and, Katie, you should seize the 
 opportunity to try how your German sounds, my 
 dear. ■ It is apt to bo one thing on a book and 
 another in the mouth. I made so dreadful a 
 failure in the speaking of it myself the first time 
 I tried to do it that I never made the attempt a 
 second time. But I suppose one language is the 
 same as another to you.' 
 
 ' Katie speaks it very w^ell, I believe,' said her 
 mother ; ' but, dear me, Avhere is the use of it 
 here ? We are out of the Avay both of books 
 and people, and how is a girl to keep it up ? 
 There's a great deal of nonsense about teaching 
 children foreign languages, in my opinion. But, 
 whisht, let me think what company we have that 
 would suit Mr. Murray ; everybody is so far off. 
 To be sure, there is one family, but then they are 
 all ladies — the Miss Murrays at the castle. We 
 must not leave them out, but they would bo 
 little resource to a young man.' 
 
 ' And perhaps they are not so kind, so hospita- 
 ble as you,' said Lewis. ' I have already, I fear.
 
 76 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 offended them, or if not them then then ad- 
 mirers. It is they who are called the Misses ? 
 Then I thought that must mean young ladies, 
 very young. It was foolish, but I did so. And 
 when in the road with Adam Ave encountered 
 these old ladies ' 
 
 ' Oh, stop, stop, not old. I cannot have them 
 called old,' cried Mrs. Seton. ' Bless me, Miss 
 Jean is not much more than my age.' 
 
 ' And it does not matter whether they are 
 old or young,' said Katie ; ' we are all very fond 
 of them.' 
 
 ' And I,' said Lems, putting his hand on his 
 heart, ' respect them infinitely. I am much in- 
 terested in those ladies. The oldness is nothing 
 — it does not affect me. I wish to know them 
 above everything. I have known their grand- 
 father — abroad.' 
 
 ' Bless me,' said Mrs. Seton ; ' old Sir Patrick ? 
 This is most interesting. I never saw him ; he 
 was aAvay before we came here. And what did 
 you think of him? He was a tyrant, I've always 
 heard, and a tenible egotist : thinking of nothing 
 but his own pleasure. You know the story, 
 I suppose, of how he left all his money away 
 from the family ; and nothing to any of them
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 77 
 
 l)ut the old house and that great big folly of 
 a new one. I wonder they don't pull that 
 place down.' 
 
 ' Oh, mamma, if money was to come into the 
 family ! that is Avhat Lilias says. If some 
 uncle they never heard of was to come from 
 India, or somebody they had been kind to die 
 all at once, and leave them a fortime.' 
 
 ' I will not have you see so much of Lilias, 
 if she fills your head full of nonsense,' said Mrs. 
 Seton. ' Such folly ! for they have no uncle in 
 India, that ever I heard tell of; and people now-a- 
 days don't make those daft-like wills — though, 
 to be sure. Sir Patrick's an example. Did you 
 ever see, ]\Ir. Miuray, the young man we've 
 heard so much about V 
 
 ' The fellow that got the money,' young 
 Stormont said. 
 
 ' What kind of a being was it V said the 
 minister. ' Some supple foreign lad that flat- 
 tered the silly old man. It has always been 
 strange to me that there was nobody near to 
 speak a word for justice and truth.' 
 
 * You are hard upon foreigners,' said Lewis. 
 ' It is not their fault that they arc foreign. 
 Indeed they would not bo foreign there, you
 
 78 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 know, but the people of the conntiy, and we 
 the foreigners. I kneAV this fellow, as you say. 
 He Avas not even foreign, he was English. 
 The old gentleman was very fond of him, and 
 good to him. He did not know anything about 
 the monev.' 
 
 'Ah, Mr. Murray, you'll never persuade me 
 that. Would a young man give up years ot 
 his life to an old one without any expectations? 
 No, no, I cannot believe that,' 
 
 ' Did he give up years of his life ? Oh, yes, 
 I suppose so. No one thought of it — in that 
 light. He loved him like his father. There 
 was no one else to take care of him, to make 
 him happy. I see now from the other point of 
 view. But I do not tlnnk he meant any 
 harm.' 
 
 This LeAvis said much too seriously and anxi- 
 ously for his role of spectator, but at the mo- 
 ment, there being no suspicion, no one remarked 
 his nervous earnestness. He cast a sort of ap- 
 pealing glance round the table, with a Avistful 
 smile. 
 
 ' No one,' he said, ' there, thought any harm. 
 He was the most astonished himself.' 
 
 'And what kind of a fellow was he,' said
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 79 
 
 Stormont, ' a gentleman, or just some cad the 
 old man had picked up V 
 
 At this Lewis grew red in spite of himself, 
 then did his best to laugh, though the effort 
 was great. 
 
 ' I do not know,' he said, ' having always 
 lived abroad, what is exactly a cad, and also 
 what, Avhen you come to its exact meaning, is a 
 gentleman ?' 
 
 ' Oh, a gentleman — ' said Mrs. Seton, ' Bless 
 me, wdiat a question ! It is just — not to be 
 
 mistaken : there is no two w^ords about it 
 
 No, no — describe it! how could I describe it i 
 A gentleman ! my dear ]\Ir. Murray, you can 
 be in no doubt about that.' 
 
 'And a cad is just a cad,' said young Stor- 
 mont, ' a fellow, don't you know, that's not a 
 gentleman — just as a hill isn't a river, and can 
 never be.' 
 
 ' As distinct as that V said LeAvis. ' It is hard 
 upon us who have always lived abroad. It 
 means, to be well educated and well bred ' 
 
 ' And well born, Mr. JMmray ; you must not 
 leave out that. "Well born, above all things ; 
 there's everything in race.' 
 
 ' But those whom you meet only in society,'
 
 80 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 said Le"svis, ' even on tlie Continent — whore 
 every man must have ses jJcipiers — ^he does not 
 carry them about with him. He does not pin 
 a httle carnet on his sleeve. You must take him 
 on trust.' 
 
 ' That is just the danger of promiscuous 
 society,' said Mrs. Seton, briskly. ' That is Avhat 
 I always say to papa. It is so easy to be taken 
 in by a fair exterior ; and when you don't 
 know who people are, and all about them, it's 
 a serious thing,' said the lady, shaldng her head, 
 ' especially where there are young people. Oh, 
 it is a very serious thing, ]\Ir. ]\ImTay. I am 
 sure I always say about ball-room acquaintances 
 and persons of that sort, if harm comes of it, 
 really you have nobody to blame but yom-self.' 
 
 There was a pause after this, and a great 
 sense of embarrassment. Katie looked at her 
 mother mth airxious, telegraphic communica- 
 tions, of which Mrs. Soton either would not or did 
 not take any notice. Even Mr. Stormont, 
 though not very quick, saAv the dilemma. Lewis 
 was the most self-possessed. 
 
 ' I must be more grateful than ever,' he said, 
 tm-ning to his hostess, Avith that conciliatory 
 smile which was so natural to him, ' that you
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 81 
 
 have given your hospitality so kindly to one 
 who has no vouchers, no one to speak for him — • 
 a stranger.' 
 
 ' Bless me, ]\Ir. ]\Iurray, I hope yon never 
 
 thought Dear, clear, yon might be sure that 
 
 was the last thing in niv mind. Present com- 
 pany, yon know, of course ; and then in some 
 cases the fii'st look is enough,' said Mrs. Seton, 
 with a gi*acions bow to her guest. 
 
 This little episode distracted the company 
 altogether from the question propounded by 
 Stormont about Sir Patrick Mm-rav's heh, and 
 during the rest of the meal Lewis exerted him- 
 self to keep away from dangerous subjects : 
 which was a greater mental effort to him, per- 
 haps, than any he had ever made in liis life. 
 For he w'as ready by nature to take everybody 
 he met into his confidence. He had the most 
 unbounded trust in his fellow-creatures, and he 
 wanted to be approved, to have the sympathy 
 of those about him. He, whose impulse it was 
 to be always looking out of the window — how 
 could he put up shutters, and retire into seclu- 
 sion and mystery? It Avas the thing of all 
 others most difficult to him. But he w^as quick 
 and ready, and kept his Avits about him, having 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 been thus put on liis guard. He betrayed some- 
 thing else with great and simple pleasure — his 
 own accomplishments, which were, in Mrs. Se- 
 ton's opinion, many. He showed them his ama- 
 teur sketch-book, which seemed the work of a 
 great artist to these miinstructed people, and, 
 indeed, was full of fairly brilliant dashes at 
 scenery and catchings up of effect, wdiich he 
 himself was well aware were naught, but which 
 were very attractive to the uncritical. And it 
 was all they could do to keep him from the 
 piano, where he sadly wanted to let them hear 
 one or two morceaux from the last opera. Mrs. 
 Seton had to place herself in front of the instru- 
 ment with an anxiety to prevent the desecration 
 of the Sabbath T\dthout exposing herself to the 
 charge of narrow-mindedness, which was highly 
 comic. 
 
 ' That will be for to-morrow,' she said. ' We 
 must not have all our good things at once. No, 
 no, w^e must leave something for to-morrow. 
 The servants, you see, have prejudices — we 
 have to consider so many things in a manse. 
 A clergyman's family are always talked about : 
 and then economy's my principle, Mr. Murray ; 
 we must keep something, you know, for to-
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. , 83 
 
 morrow. And that just reminds me that I hope 
 jon will come in a friendly way and spend the 
 evening — we have no parties, you know, here — 
 but if you will just come in a friendly way : and 
 then it will give us the greatest pleasure,' oMrs. 
 Seton said, nodding her head and smiling. 
 
 Thus immediate advantage sprang from the 
 over-boldness of his foreign Avays ; and when ho 
 left the manse, young Stormont, though some- 
 what contemptuous of a man who ' went in for ' 
 music and spoke all sorts of languages, yielded 
 to the ingratiating ways of the stranger, and in- 
 vited him half surlily to lunch with him next 
 day at the tower, which Lewis accepted with 
 his usual cordiality. 
 
 He went back with a sense of exhilaration to 
 the parlour overlooking the village street, all so 
 still in the drowsy Sunday afternoon. 
 
 'Me voici lance,' he said to himself, with 
 glee. He had known the excitements of society 
 very different from that of Murkley, but he knew 
 the true philosophy of being not only contented, 
 but pleased, when you cannot get everything you 
 like, with what you are lucky enough to be able 
 to get. 
 
 G "Z
 
 84 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 ' \^7"^ must ask just 
 \ \ said Mrs. Sei 
 
 k just whoever there is to ask,' 
 Setoii. ' You see, there will 
 be no difficulty in entertaining them, vnth that 
 young man. He will play his music as long as 
 anybody will listen to him, or I'm mistaken. 
 Pliilip Stormont is coming; I had to ask him, 
 as he was there ; and you can send Johnnie 
 over with a note to the Borrodailes, Katie, and 
 ril ^\Tite up to the Castle myself. Then there's 
 young Mr. Dunlop, the assistant at Braehead. 
 He is of a better class than most of the young- 
 men : and the factor — but there's thi-ee ghls there, 
 which is a terrible band of women. If you were 
 very good, and all things went well, and there 
 were two or three couples, Avithout disturbing 
 other folk, and papa had no objection '
 
 IT WAS A LOVER A\D HIS LASS. 85 
 
 ' We might end off with ;i dance — that was 
 what I expected,' cried Katie, chipping her 
 hands. ' 111 put on my hat and rmi up to the 
 Castle to save yon writing.' 
 
 ' Stop, stop, yon hasty thing ! — on a Sabbath 
 afternoon to give an invitation ! No, no, I can- 
 not allow that. Sit doMai and Avrite the notes, 
 and yon can date them the 15th' (which was 
 next morning), ' and see that Johnnie is ready 
 to ride by seven o'clock at the latest. But I 
 would not let you go to the Castle in any case, 
 even if it had not been Sunday, for most likely 
 they would not bring Lilias. I will just ask 
 IMiss Margaret and ]Miss Jean to their tea. If 
 there was a word of dancing, there would be 
 no chance ; they would just say, " She's not 
 ouC ' 
 
 'And neither am I out,' cried Katie, with 
 impatience. 
 
 ' You — you're just nobody, my dear ; there 
 will be no grand ceremony, no Court train and 
 feathers, for you, a simple minister's daughter. 
 Not but what I might be presented, and you too, 
 if I liked, and it was Avorth the expense,' said J\Irs. 
 Seton. ' Lady Lorraine would do it in a mo- 
 ment ; but you are not an heiress, Katie. Still I
 
 80 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 tliink they're over-particular — oh, yes, certamly 
 they are over-particular; the poor thing will 
 miss all the little amusement that's going. But 
 perhaps they'll bring her, if they think they are 
 only asked to their tea.' 
 
 ' The only thing I don't like in them,' cried 
 Katie, ' is tjang Lihas up in that blue veil, and 
 not letting her go to parties — that's odious ! 
 But for all the rest, that Mr. ]\Iurray — that per- 
 
 s,on you are so fond of ' 
 
 ' Me ! fond of liini ! I think he will be an 
 
 acquisition,' said Mrs. Seton, calmly ; ' and now 
 
 that I've been driven into asldng him for the 
 
 evening we may as ^vell make the best of it. Yes, 
 
 my dear, I was driven into it. You Avouldn't have 
 
 me be impolite ? And you know, if the piano had 
 
 been heard going at three o'clock on a Sunday 
 
 afternoon, where would yoin* character have 
 
 been, Eobert ? I would not say but they avouIcT 
 
 have had you up before the presbytery. I have 
 
 to think of you as well as of myself. Oh, well, 
 
 I don't just say that I would have liked it much 
 
 myself. Opera music on a Sunday is a step 
 
 fm-ther than I would like to go, though I hope 
 
 I'm not narrow-minded ; so I was just obliged 
 
 to ask him for a Aveck night. And if you will
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AXD HIS LASS. 87 
 
 make allowance for the difFerence of foreign 
 manners I cannot but think that he looks a 
 gentleman. Yes — yes, he looks a gentleman — 
 and it is not as if he w^as going to settle here, 
 when, of conrse, w^e wonld need to knoAv a great 
 deal more about him ; but you must take some- 
 thing on trust in the w^ay of society, and if he 
 can play so well, and all that ' 
 
 'My dear, you are always blaming me for 
 going too far, but yet you are the one that goes 
 the farthest,' the minister said. 
 
 'Toots,' replied his wife, good-humom-edly, 
 ' you're just an old croaker. Did any harm ever 
 come of it '? Did I ever go farther than w^as 
 justified ? I think, though I don't vash to seem 
 vain, that I have just an instinct for things of 
 that sort.' 
 
 This w^as, indeed, the con\dction of the neigii- 
 boiu'hood in general, Avhich profited by the im- 
 promptu parties which the minister's A^'ife 
 was so clever in getting up. They were 
 frequent enough to be reckoned upon by 
 the people Av-ithin reach; her oaati explan- 
 ation of them was quite true and scarcely 
 flattered. 
 
 ' We cannot do anything great,' she said, ' we
 
 88 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 have no room for it. I couldn't give a regular 
 dance like you. In the first place it would put 
 Mr. Seton out, for, though you would not think 
 so, there is nobody more nervous or that wants 
 more care taken of him, not to disturb his studies : 
 and in the second place we have no room for it. 
 No, no, you're all very kind making allowances, 
 but we've no room for it. And then Katie's but 
 a child ; she is not out. Oh, I don't make a fuss 
 of her not being out like Miss Jean and Miss 
 Margaret, they have some reason, you know, to be 
 particular ; but to make such a phrase about a 
 minister's daughter Avould be perfectly ridiculous. 
 Yes, yes, when she's eighteen I'll take her to the 
 Hunt Ball, and there will be an end of it. But 
 at present she is just in the school-room, you 
 know. A little turn of a waltz just by accident, 
 when I have asked a few friends to tea, that 
 counts for nothing, and that is all I ever pretend 
 to give.' All this Avas so well known that there 
 was no longer any need for saying it, though 
 ]\Irs. Seton from habit continued to say it pretty 
 often, as was her way. 
 
 But the preparations made were almost as 
 careful as if it had not been impromptu. The 
 furniture was deftly, pushed, and edged, and
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 89 
 
 sided oIF to bo as little in the way as possible. 
 The piano was drawn into the corner which, 
 after much experiment, had been settled to 
 be the best ; there was mmsiml sweeping oft 
 repeated to clear the room of dnst. Flowers 
 were gathered in the most prodigal profusion. 
 The manse garden ^v^as old-fasliioued, and well 
 sheltered, nestling under a high and sunny 
 wall. The June fulness of roses had begun, 
 and all sorts of sweet smelling, old-fasliioned 
 flowers filled the bprders. 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' Mrs. Seton said, ' we must just be 
 content with what we can get. My poverty, 
 but not my will, consents, as JShakspere says. 
 No doubt but I would have a fine show of pelar- 
 goniums, or Tom Thumbs, and a border of 
 lobelias, and the centre calceolaria, if I could. 
 That is all the fashion now. No, no, I don't 
 make any grievance of it. I just content myself 
 with what I've got — old larkspurs and rockets, 
 and so forth, that have been there since my 
 mother-in-law's time ; but they're just good 
 enough, when you can't get better,' this true 
 philosopher said. She had her other prepara- 
 tions made in the same spirit. ' A cold ham at 
 the bottom of the table, and two or three
 
 90 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 cliickens at tlie top, and as miicli salad as thej 
 can set their faces to, and curds and cream, 
 wliicli the young ones are all very fond of, and 
 stewed gooseberries, and anything else that may 
 be in the garden, that is all the phrase I make,' 
 said Mrs. Seton, who Avas sufficiently Scotch to 
 employ a French word now and then "without 
 laiowing it ; but would have resented the im- 
 putation. Katie had her little white frock, which 
 was as simple as a child's, but very dainty and 
 neat for all that, laid out upon her httle white 
 bed, with a rose for her belt and a rose for her 
 hair, fresh gathered from the bushes, and smell- 
 ing sweet as summer. Tea was set out in the 
 dining-room, where afterwards the cold ham and 
 chickens were to take the place now occupied 
 by scones of kinds innumerable, cookies, and 
 jams, and shortbread, interspersed with pretty 
 bouquets of flowers. It was much prettier than 
 dinner, Avithout the heavy fames Avhich spoil that 
 meal for a summer and daylight performance. 
 But Ave must not jump at once into the heart of 
 an entertainment which cost so much pains and 
 care. 
 
 ]\Irs. Seton's note Avas delivered early at the 
 Castle next morning. Truth compels us to admit
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 91 
 
 that it was written on Sunday niglit ; but it was 
 dated Monday morning, for why should anyone's 
 feelings be hui-t even by an appearance of dis- 
 respect for the Sabbath day. (' There is none 
 meant,' the minister's wife said, who had done 
 all her duties thoroughly, taught her Sabbath 
 class, and heard her children their lessons, 
 and listened devoutly to two sermons before she 
 turned to this less sacred duty.) 
 
 ' I am asking one or two friends to tea,' she 
 wrote, ' and I hope you will come. A gentle- 
 man Mall be Avith us who is a great performer 
 on the piano.' It was in this T\^ay that the more 
 frivolous intention was veiled. But, unfortunate- 
 ly, as is the case A^-ith well known persons in 
 general, Mrs. Seton's friends judged the past by 
 the present, and wore aware of the risks they 
 would rmi. 
 
 ' It A\all be one of her usual affairs,' said ]\Iiss 
 Margaret, with a glance of intelKgence and 
 warning to her sister. 
 
 ' Just that, Margaret, I should suppose,' said 
 Miss Jean. 
 
 ' Then it Avill not l)e worth while for Lilias to 
 take the trouble of dressing herself, Jean — a 
 few old ladies iuA-ited to their tea.'
 
 92 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' That was what I was going to say, ]\Iargaret. 
 I would not fash to go, if I was LiHas. She can 
 have Katie here to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Sisters !' cried LiKas, springing up before 
 them, ' yon said that hist time, and there was 
 a dance. It is very hard upon me, if I am 
 never to have a dance — never till I am as old as 
 yon.' 
 
 The two ladies were seated in two chairs, 
 both large, with high backs and capacious arms, 
 covered with faded velvet, and with each a 
 footstool almost as large as the chair. They 
 were on either side of the Avindow, as they 
 might have been, in winter, on either side of a 
 fire. They wore black dresses, old and dim, but 
 made of rich silk, wliich was still good, though 
 they had got ever so many years' wear out of 
 it, and small lace caps upon their heads. Miss 
 Jean was fair, and Miss Margaret's brown locks 
 had come to resemble her sister's by cUnt of 
 grooving grey. They had l)lue eyes, large and 
 clear, so clear as almost to be cold ; and good, 
 if somewhat large, features, and resembled each 
 other in the delicacy of their complexions in which 
 there was the tone of health, with scarcely any 
 colour. Between them, on a small, very low
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 93 
 
 seat, not sitting with any dignity, Ijut plumped 
 doAvn like a child, was the third, the heroine of the 
 veil, whose envelope had disguised her so com- 
 pletely that even the lively mind of Lewis had 
 not been roused to any cmiosity about her. 
 She had jumped up when she made that obser- 
 vation, and now flung herself doAvn again with 
 a Idnd of despairing abandon. She looked 
 eighteen at the utmost, a small, slight creature, 
 not like the other ladies in a single feature, at 
 any time ; and now, with her broAV puckered, 
 the corners of her mouth drooping, her eyes 
 wet, more unlike them, in her young excitement 
 and distress than ever. 
 
 ' Now, Lilias, don't be unreasonable, my dear. 
 If it's a dance, it stands to reason you cannot 
 go ; but what reason have you to suppose it 
 is a dance ? none whatever. " I am asking one 
 or two fiiends to tea." Is that like dancing? 
 She would not ask Jean and me, I su23pose, if 
 that Avas what she meant. We are going to hear 
 a gentleman who is a great performer on the 
 piano. It appears to me that will be rather a 
 dreary style of entertainment, Jean ; and I am 
 by no means certain that I will go.' 
 
 'Well, Margaret,' said Jean, 'ha^dng always
 
 •94 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 been the musical one of the family, it's an in- 
 dncement to me ; but Lilias, poor thing, would 
 not care for it. Besides, I have always been 
 of the opinion that we must not make her cheap, 
 taking her to all the little tea-parties.' 
 
 ' Oh, how can you talk such nonsense, when 
 you never take me to one, never to one ! and 
 me close upon eighteen,' the girl cried. ' Katie 
 goes to them all, and knows everybody, and 
 sees whatever is going on ; but I nmst do 
 nothing but practise and read, practise and 
 read, till I'm sick of everything. I never have 
 any pleasure, nor diversion, nor novelty, nor 
 anything at all, and Katie ' 
 
 ' Katie ! Katie is nothing but the minister's 
 daughter, Avith no expectations, nor future be- 
 fore her. If she marries a minister like her 
 father, she will do all that can be expected from 
 her. How can you speak of Katie ? .Jean and 
 me,' said Miss Margaret, ' have just devoted our- 
 selves to you from your cradle.' 
 
 ' Not quite from her cradle, Margaret, for we 
 were then young om-selves, and her mother, 
 poor thing ' 
 
 ' Well, well, I did not intend to be taken to 
 the letter,' said Miss Margaret, impatiently.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 95 
 
 ' Siuco ever you liave l^een in our hands — and 
 that is many years back — we have been more 
 hke aunts than sisters to you. We have given 
 up all projects of our own. A woman of forty, 
 which is my age, is not beyond thinking of 
 herself in most cases.' 
 
 ' And, reason good, still less,' said Miss Jean, 
 ' a woman of eight-and-thirty.' 
 
 ' So little a difference as two years cannot 
 be said to count ; but all our hopes we have 
 put upon you, Lilias. We might have been 
 jealous of you, seeing what your position is, and 
 what ours is ; we would have had great cause. 
 But, on the contrary, we have put all our pride 
 upon you, and thought of nothing but what 
 was the best for you, and pinched ourselves 
 to get masters and means of improvement, and 
 taken houses in Edinburgh Avinter after winter — ' 
 
 ' Not to speak,' said ]\Iiss Jean, ' of the great 
 things ]\Iargaret has planned, when the time 
 comes, which was not done either for her or 
 me.' 
 
 ' I linow you are very kind,' said Lilias, drying 
 her eyes. 
 
 ' My dear,' said ]\Iiss Margaret, ' a season in 
 London, and you presented to the Queen, and
 
 96 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 all the old family friends rallying ronnd you — 
 would I think of a bit little country party -with 
 a prospect before mo like that V 
 
 At this Lilias looked up Avith her eyes shining- 
 through the wetness that still hung upon her 
 eyelashes. 
 
 ' It is very, very nice to think of, I don't deny. 
 Oh, and awfull}', awfully land of you to think of 
 
 it; 
 
 (Let it be said here in a parenthesis that this 
 ' awfully, awfully,' on the lips of Lilias was not 
 slang, but Scotch.) 
 
 ' I think it is rather good of us. It was never 
 done, as she says, for either Jean or me,' 
 
 ' I doubt if it Avould have made any differ- 
 ence,' said Miss Jean. ' What is to be Avill be ; 
 and making a curtsey to the Queen — unless one 
 could get to he acquainted with Her Majesty, 
 which would he a great honour and pleasure — ' 
 
 ' It just makes all the diiference,' said Miss 
 JMargaret, who was more dogmatic ; ' it just puts 
 the stamp upon a lady. If you're travelling it 
 opens the doors of foreign courts, if you stay at 
 home — well, there is always the DraAving-room 
 to go to.' 
 
 ' And can you go Avhenever you like, after
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 97 
 
 you have been once introduced V Lilias added, 
 with a gleam of eagerness. 
 
 ' Surely, my dear ; you send in yom' name, and 
 you put on your court di'ess.' 
 
 ' That ^dll be very nice,' said the girl. Her 
 bosom swelled with a sigh of pleasure. ' For of 
 course the finest company must be always there, 
 and you will hear all the talk that is going on, 
 and see everybody — ambassadors and princes, 
 when they come on visits. Of com-se you would 
 not be of much importance among so many 
 grand people, just like the " ladies, c&c," in 
 Shakespeare. They say nothing themselves, 
 but sometimes the Queen will beckon to them 
 and send them a message, or make them hold 
 her fan, or bring her a book ; but you 'hear all 
 the conversation and see everybody.' 
 
 ' I am afraid,' said Miss Jean, who had been 
 watching an opportunity to break in, ' you are 
 tliinking of maids-of-honour and people in office. 
 
 Dra^ving-rooms ' but here she caught her 
 
 sister's eye and broke off. 
 
 ' Maids-of-honom- are of course the foremost,' 
 said Miss Margaret. ' I don't see, for my part, 
 why Lilias should not stand as good a chance 
 as any. Her father was a distinguished soldier, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 and her grandfatlier, though he has not behaved 
 well to us, was a man that was very well known, 
 and had a great deal of influence. And the 
 Queen is very feeling. Why she might not be 
 a maid-of-honour, as well as any other young 
 lady, I am at a loss to see.' 
 
 Lilias jumped to her feet again, this time in a 
 glow of pride and ambitious hope. 
 
 ' Me !' she said (once more not for want of 
 grammar, but for stress of Scotch). Miss Jean, 
 scarcely less excited, put down her knitting and 
 softly clapped her thin hands. 
 
 ' That is a good idea ; there is no one hke 
 Margaret for ideas,' she said. 
 
 ' I see no reason why it should not be. She 
 has the bhth, and she would have good interest. 
 She has just got to let herself be trained in the 
 manners and the ways that are conformable. 
 Silly lassie ! but she would rather go to a little 
 tea-party in the country.' 
 
 ' No, no, no !' cried the girl, maldng a spring 
 towards her, and throwing her arms round the 
 speaker's neck. ' You don't know me yet, for I 
 am ambitious ; I should like to raise the house 
 out of the dust, as you say — I, the last one, the 
 .end of all. That would be worth li^dng for !'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 99 
 
 she cried, with a glow of generous ardour in her 
 eyes. 
 
 But when LiHas watched her sisters walking 
 away, with their maid behind them carrying their 
 shoes across the park to the little gate and gi-een 
 lane which led by a back way to the manse, it 
 was scarcely possible that her heart should not 
 sink within her. Another of those lingering, 
 endless evenings, horn after horn of silvery light- 
 ness after the day was over, like a strange, un- 
 hopeful morning, yet so cool and sweet, lingered 
 out moment by moment over this yormg creature 
 alone. She had "her book" which, meaning 
 hteraturo m the abstract, was constantly recom- 
 mended to her by the other ladies ; and she had 
 her sketch-book, and her needlework. Miss 
 jiargaret was wont to express absolute con- 
 sternation that, with so many things to amuse 
 her, a ghl should ever feel dull. But this poor 
 little ghl, though siirrormded by all these, did 
 feel dull and very lonely. To go to Drawing- 
 rooms, which Lihas innocently took to mean the 
 inner circle of the court, and to be a maid-of- 
 honour was a prospect Avhich took away her 
 breath. With that before her it Avould indeed 
 be wonderful if she could not bear up and sub- 
 
 H 2
 
 100 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 mit to being dull and lonely as every girl, her 
 sisters told her, had to do before she came out ; 
 but, after she had repeated this to herself half a 
 dozen times, the impression on her mind grew 
 faint, the possible maid-of-honom-, the gorgeous 
 imagination of a Drawing-room floated away; 
 they "vvere so far away at the best, so uncertain, 
 while it was very certain that she was lonely to- 
 night, and that other people of her age were en- 
 joying themselves very much. Lilias' thoughts 
 ended, as was very natural, in a fit of crying, 
 after which she rose up a little better, and, the 
 new box from the library happening by good 
 fortune to arrive at that moment, got out a new 
 novel, which it was a small excitement to be 
 able to begin at her own will before her sisters 
 had decided which "svas, and "svhich was not 
 good for her, and in that happiness forgot her 
 trouble, as she had so often done before. 
 
 ' Did you really mean yon, Margaret V Miss 
 Jean said to her sister, as she walked along 
 towards the manse. 
 
 ' Do you think I ever say out like that any- 
 tliing I don't mean, Jean? I might humour 
 the child's fancies, and let her think the di-aw- 
 ing-rooms were real society, like what she reads ;
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. ] 01 
 
 but the otlier, to be sure I meant it — wherefore 
 not ? — the last of oui- family, her father's daugh- 
 ter, and a girl vrith. beauty. We must alw^ays 
 recollect that. You and I were good-looldng 
 enough in our day; you are sometimes very 
 
 good-looking yet ' 
 
 ' That's your kind heart, Margaret.' 
 ' What has my kind heart to do Avith it ? But 
 Lilias has more than we ever had — she has 
 beauty, you know. vSomething should be made 
 of that. It should not just run away into the 
 dust like our good looks, and be of profit or 
 pleasure to nobody. I struck out the idea,' 
 said Miss Margaret, wdth a little pride, ' on 
 the spot, it is true ; it came to me, and I did 
 not shut my mind to it; but it's full of rea- 
 son, when you come to tliink of it. I see a 
 great many reasons- for it, but none against it. 
 They have a sort of a little income — ^just 
 something for their clothes. They need not be 
 extravagant in clothes, for Her Majesty takes 
 little pleasure in vanity and dressing ; and then 
 they have honourable to their name. The 
 Honourable Lilias Murray — it would sound very 
 well ; and then in the service of the Queen. 
 Don't go too far forward, Jean ; but it is a thing
 
 102 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 to tliink of, to keep her "heart up with. The 
 Httle thing is very high-spirited when you take 
 her the right way.' 
 
 ' My heart smote me to come away and leave 
 her, Margaret.' 
 
 ' Why should your heart smite you ? Would 
 you like her to be talked about as the belle of a 
 manse parlour, and perhaps worse than that — 
 who can tell, at her age ? She might see some 
 long-legged fellow that w^ould take her fancy — 
 a factor's son, or an assistant minister, or even 
 Philip Stormont, M"ho is not a match for a 
 Murray.' 
 
 ' Say no more, Margaret. I am quite of yom- 
 opinion.' 
 
 ' And that is a great comfort to me, Jean. 
 We can do things together that we could never 
 do separate. Please God she shall have her 
 day; she shall shine at the Queen's court, and 
 marry nobly, and, if the family must be extin- 
 guished as seems likely, we'll be extinguished 
 Avith eclat, my dear, not just wither out solitary 
 like you and me.' 
 
 It was an ambition, after its sort, of a not 
 unworthy kind. The two sisters, with scarfs
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 103 
 
 thrown over theii- caps, and tlieir maid follow- 
 ing at a few paces' distance, on tlieir way to 
 their tea-party, stepped out with a certain ela- 
 tion in their tread, like two figures in a pro- 
 cession, holding their heads high. They had 
 each had experiences, no doubt, of then- own, 
 and neither of them had expected that their 
 family should wither out solitary in their per- 
 sons. But here they had a new hfe in their 
 hands, a new hope. Many fathers and mothers 
 have had the same thought — to secure that in 
 the persons of their children which they had 
 never been able to attain themselves, to raise 
 the new generation on their shoulders, making 
 themselves a pedestal for the futm-e gi-eatness. 
 Is it selfishness disguised, the rapacity of dis- 
 appomtment '? or is it love the purest, love un- 
 conquerable ? Miss Margaret and Miss Jean 
 never asked themselves this question. They 
 were not in the habit of examining themselves 
 except as to their religious duty. But they 
 reached the manse with a little thrill of excite- 
 ment about them, and a sort of exultation in 
 their minds. The windows were all open, and 
 a hum of many voices reached them as they
 
 104 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 crossed tlie smooth-shaven lawn. Margaret 
 gave Jean a look. 
 
 ' Was it not a good thing we left her at 
 home T they both cried.
 
 105 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 LEWIS came away from tlie manse on tlie 
 Sunday afternoon with a great many new 
 thouglits Stirling in liis mind. His heart was 
 made sore by the pei-petnal condemnation of 
 himself which he heard on every hand ; from 
 Duncan of the dog-cart to the company at the 
 manse, no one conld behere that old Sir Pat- 
 rick's adopted son was anything but a villain, a 
 designing, mercenary adventurer, who had flat- 
 tered and beguiled the old man into making 
 provision for him at the expense of his family. 
 It had never entered into the thoughts of these 
 good people that they might be T\i-ong-, that 
 then- verdict might be unjust ; they were as sure 
 of it as if they had come to this decision upon 
 the plainest and most conclusive evidence.
 
 106 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Lewis knew very well that it was not so, but 
 still he was a Kttle cowed by the reiteration. 
 It is terrible to appear in this light to so many, 
 even when you have the strongest internal con- 
 viction that you are right and they wrong ; 
 after a while it comes to have a certain effect 
 upon a man's OAvn spirit ; the right which he w^as 
 so unhesitatingly sm^e of becomes confused and 
 dun to him. He begins even to wonder whether 
 it is possible that he might have had an evil 
 scheme in his head without knowing it. Lewis 
 had not got so far as this, but he was troubled 
 and depressed. He could not sit still in the parlour 
 overlooking the village. It was so quiet. He 
 longed to see somebody mo\ang about. If there 
 had been a band playing somewhere, and the 
 people walldng about, even in that promenade 
 up and down ^\^hich gets so dreary when it is 
 an imperious habit, at all events that would have 
 been more cheerful for a looker-on. But the 
 dead stillness oppressed him. And there were 
 no resources inside — no books, even if he had 
 cared much for books, no piano, nothing to do 
 but think, which is generally a troublesome and 
 so often an unprofitable occupation. After a 
 while he ceased to be able to put up with it at
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 107 
 
 all, and strolled out to tlie water-side, where lie 
 so often sat and watched Adam fisliino:. 
 
 The trout had a peaceful time on Sunday. 
 The river lay as still as if it had flowed through 
 a land unexplored. Now and then a fish would 
 flash from the water at its ease, and sink to its 
 pool again Avithout anxiety. Did they know 
 it was Sunday, Lewis wondered? It went a 
 long way to reconcile him to the imbroken 
 quiet which, after all, had something wonder- 
 ful and beautiful in it. The cows were lying 
 down in the meadows, their great red-brown 
 sides rising out of the green grass and daisies 
 with a peaceful warmth. Neither up nor 
 dowTi the water did he see a single Hving soul. 
 The stillness moved him as he had sometimes 
 been moved in a cathedral when all the wor- 
 shippers had gone away. It was the sort of mo- 
 ment and the sort of place, Lewis felt, to say 
 your prayers. He had not felt so in the morn- 
 ing at chm-ch. There he had gone for the sake 
 of society. Here all was sacred and still, with 
 something unseen giving meaning to all that 
 was visible. He was like a child in the readi- 
 ness of his emotions. He took off his hat and 
 even said a prayer or two such as he could re-
 
 108 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 member, and afterwards was silent, tliinking, 
 vnth a little awe upon him, in wliicli the idea of 
 God, a majestic old man like the Padre Eterno 
 of many a picture, blended somehow with the 
 idea of his personal benefactor, his friend Avho 
 had been so good to him, and who also was old 
 and majestic, a vision full of tenderness to his 
 OT-ateful heart. 
 
 After a while the ferryman came out from his 
 cottage up the water with his two little children, 
 and there Avas a far-away babble of their Httle 
 voices in the air which, though very sweet and 
 innocent, broke the spell. And then Lewis put 
 on his hat, and began to think of his more 
 particular affahs. This moment of solemn calm 
 had soothed the painfiilness of his sense of being 
 unjustly treated. He began to comfort himself 
 with the thought of being by-and-by better 
 understood. When they knew that this adven- 
 tm'er, this schemer was no other than himself 
 they would change their minds, he thought. He 
 had never been misconstrued, but always liked 
 and made much of wherever he had gone, and 
 he saw no reason why now, without any cause 
 for it, all at once his luck should change. 
 
 There were other questions, however, which
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 109 
 
 had been called up by his sudden introduction 
 to society in Murkley. He thought of the little 
 party round the manse dinner-table with pleas- 
 ure, thinking on the whole that perhaps that 
 was better than the more limited hospitality of 
 a cure who had nobody to sit at the head of his 
 table, and only himself to provide all the enter- 
 tainment. Lewis was not sm*e of himself whether 
 he was a Catholic or a Protestant : he was very 
 latitudinarian. He thought, if the truth must bo 
 told, that both were best, for ho liked the cure 
 too, and was more familiar with that form of 
 clerical development than with the comfortable 
 minister surrounded by his children. He did 
 not know the English clergyman at all, which 
 made a sad vacancy in his experiences. But no 
 cure ever spoke of the necessity of being a gentle- 
 man, or ignored all other classes, as the minister's 
 wife did. Was there no other class in England ? 
 To be sure gentilhomme meant something differ- 
 ent ; but there certainly were a great number of 
 people ' abroad ' who were not gentilhomme s, and 
 yet were not nobody. This idea puzzled 
 Lewis much. He asked hmiself was he a gentle- 
 man, with a smile, yet a half doubt. His old 
 home, when he cast his mind back so far, was a
 
 110 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 very homely one ; his father had been the Vice- 
 Consul's clerk, he himself had been now and 
 then employed about the office. His mother had 
 performed a great many of the domestic opera- 
 tions Avith her own hands ; he had seen her 
 making the coffee in the morning, sometimes 
 even cooldng the dinner, doing up the linen in 
 a way, he fondly thought, that he never saw it 
 now. They Avere much respected, but they 
 were poor. To bmy them even required a sub- 
 scription from the community. The uncle who 
 had written to him, and who had been mlhng to 
 receive hun, wrote like a shopkeeper. He re- 
 membered the aspect and superscription of his 
 letter as if he had received it yesterday. If he 
 got such a letter now, he would unhesitatingly 
 conclude it to be a bill. 
 
 Was he then a gentleman at all ? Of course 
 Sir Patrick Avas so — but then Sir Patrick could 
 not confer this nobility, or whatever it Avas, 
 upon him. This thought puzzled Lewis gTeatly. 
 It did not distress, but rather amused hhn ; for, 
 wdth all the associations and friends of the last 
 eight or nine years, by far the most important of 
 his life, it was impossible for him to imagine that 
 he was not good enough to associate wdth the
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. Ill 
 
 good people at Murkley. He considered tlie 
 question altogether as an abstract one, a matter 
 of curiosity ; but it was a question to consider. 
 Then as to education, Lewis was aware that 
 in this point, too, he failed. He had gleaned 
 enough from the conversation of English visitors 
 to know that a good education meant an educa- 
 tion at an English university. No other kind 
 of training counted. He had heard this from 
 Sir Patrick himself satirically ; for neither had 
 Sir Patrick been ' a university man.' So once 
 more Le^\^s felt himself out of the field alto- 
 gether. Neither by birth nor education : there 
 remained one thing, money. Tliis he had ; but 
 was this enough to claim the position of a 
 gentleman upon ? and then they all thought 
 the money was ill-gotten, as good as stolen 
 from the giver's descendants. Altogether, 
 Lewis felt that, if it should be necessary for 
 I'lim to give up, metaphorically, 'ses papiers' 
 to enter into the question of his own birth, 
 education, and fortune, things would go very 
 hard with him in this little place. AVlien he 
 came to this conclusion he laughed ; for it 
 seemed very amusing that he, who had lived 
 with ambassadors and knew his way about
 
 112 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 mauy a palace, should be found not good 
 enough for the society of the minister and 
 the minister s wife in Murkley. It did not even 
 occur to him that, amusing as it was, it might 
 come some time to a serious question enough. 
 In the meantime, it tickled his imagination 
 greatly. Perhaps no one ever sees the ludicrous 
 side of a pri^alege so completely as the man Avho 
 is wanting in the qualifications to possess it. 
 Lewis, with his non-experience, amused himself 
 a good deal with that question about gentlemen. 
 Gcntllliomme was far more easy to understand ; 
 but this mysterioas word, which the English 
 used so constantly, Avhich they tried to build 
 upon one foundation after another, but Avhich 
 sometimes did not seem to require any founda- 
 tion at all, what was the meaning of it'? and 
 how was it to be defined? Young Mr. Stor- 
 mont of the Tower which pushed out that angle 
 of old masonry on the cliff opposite, had every 
 qualification necessary, 'But not I,' Lewis said, 
 and laughed to hhuself. The son of a poor 
 clerk and a nursery governess, the nephew of 
 a linendraper — but this he was not aware of 
 — with no education to speak of, no belongings, 
 no settled place or position, or friends to an-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 113 
 
 swer for him! Decidedly, if Mrs. Seton had 
 knowu all tliis, she would have closed her door 
 most rigidly upon him. All this amused him 
 very much to think of as he got up from the 
 grass, and took his way back to the ' Murkley 
 Arms.' 
 
 By this time the world had begmi to wake 
 a little. The Sabbath seriousness had relaxed. 
 A few gi'oups were standing about the road in 
 Sunday attu*e. The women had come out to 
 the doors ; the children Avere playing discreetly, 
 but now and then rising into louder riot, which 
 the nearest bystander rebuked with a ' Whisht, 
 bairns ! mind it's the Sabbath day.' Notwith- 
 standing this apparent severity, there was a 
 good deal of qm'et pleasure diffused in the air. 
 The softness of this pause in the working-day 
 tenor of existence pei"vaded everything, and at 
 the same time the duration of the unusual 
 stillness and sense of monotony it brought, 
 made the good people think ^vith pleasure of 
 the toil to be resumed to-morrow. Adam was 
 standing in an attitude veiy unusual to him, 
 leaning against his doorpost, when Le^vis came 
 up, and Janet, in her best gown, smoothnig 
 down a fresh white muslin apron, with many 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 frills and decorations, stood by Lis side. They 
 were not an uncomely couple. He, thongh 
 concealed under the veil of his beard all but 
 his blue-grey eyes and Avell-formed nose, had 
 a head of great rustic dignity and force sur- 
 mounting his six feet of somewhat languid 
 length ; for Adam had ' nae pith,' as his wife 
 said, and, but for his great gift at ' the fushin',' 
 would have been a somewhat useless personage. 
 She was not, to all appearance, of so elevated 
 a type. Her face was round, and her nose 
 turned up, and she was forty-five. The round- 
 ness natiu'al to that mature age had taken all 
 the charm from her trim figure, but still it 
 was trim : a httle vibration of activity, as if 
 the machinery was all in such thorough order 
 that the slightest touch would set it in motion, 
 was in her: and Janet's smiling countenance 
 was all alive, ready to hear and see everything, 
 and give forth opinions, as many as might be 
 desired. 
 
 'It's been another bonnie day,' she said. 
 ' Ye'll no tell us now, sir, that we've nae fine 
 weather on Tayside.' 
 
 ' I hope I never could have been so unman- 
 nerly,' Lewis said.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 115 
 
 ' Na, yon never said it, but I saw it in your 
 C3'e — folk from tlie sonth are a' of that opinion, 
 but it's just lees. I hear there is mair fog and 
 mist in London town in a single winter than 
 Avill come our way in a dizzen years.' 
 
 ' You must be very glad Sunday is over,' said 
 Lewis, Avith a boldness that took away Janet's 
 breath. 
 
 ' Sir !' she cried, scandahsed ; then after a 
 pause of consideration: 'ye're taking your fun 
 out of us. Them that are tired of the Sabbath 
 day, 'My. ^Imi-ay, how are they to bide Heaven, 
 if they wan to it at the hinder end V 
 
 'Hold your tongue, Janet. We ken little 
 enough about heaven,' said Adam, who was in 
 the humom- to talk. 'Whiles an imconsidered 
 question like this young gentleman's will just 
 let loose a thocht. I've been thinking lang that 
 ae use o' the Sabbath is just maybe to make iis 
 feel that wark is the most entertainiup- in the 
 lang run. There is nae time,' he continued, with 
 dignity, 'that I think o' my occupation with 
 mair pleasm-e than just about this hour on the 
 Sabbath night.' 
 
 ' I wouldna say but you're a grand authority,' 
 said his wife, satirically, ' such hard work as yours 
 
 l2
 
 116 IT -WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 is ! Sunday or Saturday a Avoman's work is never 
 done. I liavena the time to weary, for my part. 
 There's Mr. Murray's dinner to be seen to this 
 very blessed minute : but you that makes your 
 day's darg out o' what the gentlemen do for 
 pleesure ' 
 
 ' Who are the gentlemen, Mrs. Janet V asked 
 Lewis, with all Ins late speculations in his mind. 
 
 ' She's speaking o' gentlemen in the abstract,' 
 said Adam, ' and no a high view of them ; them 
 that have plenty of siller and nothing to do.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Janet, ' what would ye have 
 mair ? That's just about your ain desciiption, 
 Adam, my man ; but I was not meaning them 
 that leave a Avoman at hame to work for them. 
 There's different sorts, sir, ye'll understand ; 
 there's the real gentlemen that have the land : 
 and such as have theii' fortunes ready made for 
 them are no far behind : and then there is them 
 that can take their leisure when they please and 
 have a' they wish for : but the grand, grand 
 thing of a' is just what every fool kens — them 
 that have no occasion to work for their li\nng ; 
 ye can never deceive yom-self in that,' Janet 
 said. 
 
 ' So,' said Lewis, ' for it is information I want ;
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 117 
 
 one who works for his living is not a gentleman.' 
 
 Janet looked up somewhat startled. 
 
 ' I'm far from saying that, sir,' she said. 
 
 ' Keep her to it, Mr. Mm-ray ; ye'll get her to 
 maintain just the opposite before you've done 
 with her. That's women's way. There's nae- 
 thing they're so fond o' as a gTand, broad 
 assmiiption, and then, when they see a' it in- 
 volves, they will just shift and shuffle and 
 abandon their poseetion. I'm well acquaint 
 with a' that. The true gentleman ye'll bring 
 her to say is him that works the hardest and 
 brings in the most siller, and is never free of his 
 business from morning till night.' 
 
 ' And w^ell might I say it,' cried Janet, ' and 
 guid reason I would have after a' that's come 
 and gone. It's just that, sir. The man that 
 does the best work, hhn that leaves naething but 
 Avhat is in her share to his wife, and lays up 
 something for his bairns, and pays his debt of 
 every kind baith to them that are obliged to 
 him, and them that he's obhged to, and can 
 hand up his head before ony man on earth, and 
 no feared even for his Maker but in the way of 
 reverence and his duty. Weel ! that's an honest 
 man at heart, if he's no a gentleman, and a better
 
 118 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 tiling tliau a gentleman, if it was my last word. 
 But, losli me ! if I stand havering liere,' cried 
 Janet, abandoning her peroration and her ex- 
 citement together, ' you'll get no dinner, sir, the 
 day.' 
 
 ' What do you ca' that thing the auld heathens 
 fired as they fled, sir ?' said Adam, as Janet dis- 
 appeared. ' A Parthian arrow ? Yon's just it. 
 It's naething to the argument, but it has its 
 effect. It doesna convince your mind, but it 
 makes a land of end of yoiu debating. It's just 
 a curious question enough what makes a gentle- 
 i^an. I canna tell ye, for my part. I'm maybe 
 mair worth in many ways than a lad like you, 
 not meaning any offence. I've come through 
 mah, I have pondered mair — but pit me in your 
 claes and you in mine, and it woidd be you that 
 would be the gentleman stiU. I canna faddom 
 it : but that's no remarkable, for there are few 
 things I can faddom on this earth. The mah I 
 ponder, the less I come to ony end.' 
 
 ' All the philosophers are the same,' said Lewis. 
 ' You are not singular, my friend Adam. But 
 how do you know I am a gentleman, come ? I 
 might be nothing of the sort. You never saw 
 me till ten days ago. It is not the clothes.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 119 
 
 you admit, and yon feel that you are a better 
 man tliaii I. Then why do yon take it for 
 granted that I am a gentleman ? You have no 
 evidence.' 
 
 ' Maister Murray,' said Adam, somewhat grim- 
 ly, ' evidence has httle, a^vfu' little to do with it. 
 Maybe you're one of them that thinks with 
 Locke there are nae innate ideas ? But I'm of 
 the Scotch school, sir; I'm no demandhig daata 
 daata for ever, like your Baconian lads. Let us 
 be, and Ave'll come down to your facks, and fit 
 them a' in to a miracle. It's just a brutal 
 method, in my opinion, to demand the facks first, 
 and syne account for them and explain them a' 
 away.' 
 
 ' You are abandoning the point more than 
 your wife did,' cried Lewis. 'Come! how do 
 you know?' 
 
 ' I know naething about it,' said Adam, tm-ning 
 away. ' I'll argue my am gait or I'll no argue 
 at all. Your personal questions are naething to 
 a true philosopher. This I'll tell ye, if a man 
 canna be kent for a gentleman without proving 
 it, it's my opinion he's nae gentleman ava. And 
 I'm for a tm-n before the night closes in,' said 
 Adam, suddenly.
 
 120 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Lewis was left in the lurch., standing alone by 
 the open door. He went in after a little pause. 
 He was pleased by what Adam said, though he 
 had not been at all distressed before by the 
 doubts which he had set forth before himself as 
 to his own right to this title. He had laughed 
 at his own argument then, and he laughed now, 
 but nevertheless ho was pleased. It was flatter- 
 ing, though it was so grufSy said. 
 
 Next morning rose still fair and bright, though 
 Adam declared it would be the last day of the 
 fine weather. Lewas was delighted to think of 
 his two engagements. He did not care for his 
 own exclusive society. He set out for Stor- 
 mont when the sun 'w^as high, at an hom^ which 
 all the experience of his previous life proved 
 to him to be an impossible one to walk in, 
 and found it only bright and genial with all 
 the breadth and hush of noon, but without any 
 of its oppressive qualities. He w^ent across the 
 river in the big ferry-boat, along with a farmer's 
 shandry-dan. He recollected to have crossed 
 a river so near Paestum in the wildest wastes 
 of Italy, with brigands about, and dangers. 
 The contrast was so strange that he laughed 
 in spite of himself.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 121 
 
 'It's perhaps not very well-bred,' said the 
 farmer's wife, wlio sat in state in licr veldcle, 
 holding her horse warily in hand though he 
 was used to it, ' but no doubt it's very funny to 
 see me up here.' 
 
 'Not funny at all, madam,' said Lewis, taking 
 off his hat ; ' but it reminded me of a ferry 
 abroad, where we were afraid of the brigands, 
 and every man you met earned a gun.' 
 
 ' Bless me ! I suppose, sir, you have been 
 a great traveller?' Mrs. Glen said; and they 
 talked all the way over, and she thought him 
 'just dehghtful.' French! No, not a- bit hke 
 French — nor English either. The Enghsh, they 
 are always condescending, and ready to ex- 
 plain your own countryside to you. I would 
 say of a good race, but brought up abroad. 
 
 Lewis by this time had also found out the 
 advantages of that word abroad. It saved all 
 necessity for explanation. The Continent was 
 taken in by it from one coast to the other, and 
 even America and the East. 
 
 He went on his way to Stormont very cheer- 
 fully after his talk with Mrs. Glen. And the 
 road was beautiful. It wound up the slope 
 of a fine wooded bank behind the chff, with tall
 
 122 IT WAS A LOVER AXD HIS LASS. 
 
 trees momiting upward, the roots of one show- 
 ing bold and pictnresqiie through the featherings 
 tops of the others, in broken, iiTegular hnes. 
 When he had got about half way up he saw 
 the house, of wliich one turret only surmounted 
 the cliff. It was not large, but its small win- 
 dows and the rough, half ruined battlements 
 showed that, at some time or other, it might 
 have been defended — which interested Le"^\'i8 
 beyond measure. The lower story had been 
 modernized, and twinkled Avith plate-glass vnn- 
 dows receiving the full sunshine ; but the build- 
 ing altogether w^as like something Avhich had 
 grown out of the soil, not a mere house made 
 watli hands. 
 
 Stormont led his visitor all over the place. 
 He took him upon the bit of battlement that 
 remained, and showed him that it commanded 
 the cliff in reality, though this did not appear 
 from below ; and he took him into the chapel, 
 a cmious little detached piece of sixteenth cen- 
 tury arclntecture, w^hich nobody knew much 
 about, desecrated to common uses which made 
 Lewds shiver, though he said, quite simply, that 
 he was ' not relia-ious.' 
 
 ' Don't say that before my mother,' Stormont
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 123 
 
 said. ' I am sure yon are no heathen, for you 
 were at church like myself; but she would 
 think yon so.' 
 
 ' Oh, that is nothing,' said LcAvis, ' one goes 
 to church for company. I know nobody. It 
 all amused me very much, and I made friends 
 Avith you, and wath the good pastor and his 
 family — what do you call him, minister V 
 
 ' This is worse and worse. You must be 
 careful not to say that you went to church 
 to be amused,' Stormont said, with a big laugh. 
 ' I don't myself find it amusing at all.' 
 
 ' We use the Avord in different senses. You 
 must excuse me if I do so in English — Avhich 
 is mixed up with other idioms in Avhat you 
 Avould call my mind, if I haA^e got one,' LeAAas 
 said. ' I should call it, perhaps, interested. All 
 is interesting to me here.' 
 
 ' This ramshackle old place, among other 
 things, I hope,' its master said, Avith a httle 
 conscious pride. 
 
 ' I haA^e not the least idea Avhat ramshackle 
 means. The old place, oh yes, more than any- 
 thing. I begin to understand hoAv it must feel 
 to be like this, planted here for CA^er and eA'er — 
 in scecula sceculorum. It is A^ery curious. It Avill
 
 124 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 become a part of you — or ratlier, yon are a part 
 of it ; not one man, but a race. For me, that 
 have only money, tlie contrast is very great.' 
 
 ' But you think you hke the money best V 
 
 ' Otherwise, quite otherwise ; but this is such 
 a novelty. I have seen great castles, of com^se, 
 but this which is not great, yet the same as 
 greatness, it amuses me. Pardon there, I mis- 
 take again— it gives me great interest,' the 
 stranger said. 
 
 Stormont's brow clouded over a little when 
 Lewis said, ' this which is not great.' He knew 
 very well it was not great, but to hear it said 
 was less pleasant, and he was piqued by the 
 shiver with which his visitor saw the common 
 uses to which the chapel was put. 
 
 ' I thought you said you were not religious — 
 which is a dreadful confession to make.' 
 
 ' No, I am not devot — few people are, unless 
 they have been peculiarly brought up, at our 
 age.' 
 
 ' But in Scotland you are supposed to be 
 always devout — imless you are a sceptic,' said 
 Stormont. ' Sceptics are coming very much 
 into fashion. Mr. Seton has a great respect for 
 them. If you are a freethinker, it will be a
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 125 
 
 great pleasure to him to fathom yom- state of 
 mind, and do everything for you. But keep 
 quiet about all that before my mother, who is 
 very rigid in the old way.' 
 
 ' I am not a freethinker. I do not think, 
 perhaps, at all so much as I ought,' said Lewis. 
 ' One does not give one's attention, that is all. 
 Ah, I think I understand ; you have duties, a 
 sort of anchor here. You cannot any longer 
 do whatever you like ; you must respect the 
 house and the race. I admhe all that very 
 much, very much ; but it cannot change the 
 character ; it cannot give more seriousness, more 
 substance — I think that is the word.' 
 
 ' It is often a great bore,' said Stormont, mth 
 a passing cloud upon his brow. 
 
 ' I can understand that ; but it is impressive,' 
 Lewis said. And then the two young men 
 went into the modernized part of the building, 
 into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Stormont, in 
 her widow's cap, sat knitting near one of those 
 Avindows which looked out upon the long roUing 
 fields of the strath and the hills beyond. The 
 country was rich ^\ath green corn wa^^ng thick 
 and close, a very different landscape from that 
 which was lighted up by the rapid flow of the
 
 126 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 liver. The lady received Lewis very gracious- 
 ly. She made a few delicate researches to find 
 out, if possible, to whom he belonged, but he was 
 so ignorant of the ]\Iurrays, all and sundry, and 
 so ready with his statement that the name had 
 come to him as an inheritance along with money 
 that curiosity was baffled. And Mrs. Stormont 
 had no daughters to make her anxious. She 
 thought him ' very foreign,' having more or less 
 insight than the farmer's wdfe in the ferry-boat. 
 
 ' But he has a very nice face,' Mrs. Stormont 
 said, when he Avas gone. ' I like the looks of 
 hun ; there's innocence in it, and a good heart. 
 He would do very well for Katie Seton, if he 
 means to settle here.' 
 
 ' There is no question, so ftir as I know, 
 either of his settling here or of Katie Seton. 
 I Avould not be so free with a girl's name, 
 mother, if I Avere you,' Stormont said, Avith 
 some indignation. 
 
 Perhdps it was to call forth this remark, Avhich 
 afforded her some information, that his mother 
 spoke.
 
 12: 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE gi'eater part of the company were assem- 
 bled wlien Lems entered the manse. He 
 had been in some doubt how to dress for this 
 rustic party, and indeed, liad not some good 
 fairy recalled to him a recollection of English 
 male toilet in the evening, it is probable that 
 he would have appeared in grey trousers, after 
 the fashion of the Continent. But his good 
 genius interfered (it would l^e profane to imagine 
 that a guardian angel took note of any such 
 details, though indeed it would have scandahsed 
 the Setons more to see an evening coat worn 
 over grey trousers than to know, as Stormont 
 had suggested, that the stranger was a free- 
 thinker, or even guilty of some breach of the 
 minor moralities). He appeared, however, Avith 
 a black-silk handkerchief, tied in a somewhat
 
 128 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 lara-e bow, imder his shirt-collar, instead of the 
 stiff Httle white tie Avith which all the other 
 men recognised the claims of an evening party. 
 On the other side, he kept his hat in his hand, 
 while all the other people left in the hall their 
 informal caps and Avideawakes, thus shoAving 
 that he was not at all sure of his groimd as they 
 were, but felt it necessary to be prepared for 
 everything. Perhaps he had never seen before 
 the institution of tea. Little cups he had indeed 
 swallowed at various hours dming the day — 
 after the dejeimer in foreign houses, at five 
 o'clock in English ones, whenever the occasion 
 served in the apartments of princely Russians 
 — but an English tea, round a long table, with 
 cakes and scones, and jam, and every land of 
 bread and butter dainty, he was totally unac- 
 quainted with. 
 
 He did not much care for the tea, and still 
 less did he like the coffee, which was coffee- 
 tea, a feeble decoction, and served Avith hot 
 milk, as if it had been for breakfast; but, on 
 the other hand, Lewis was quite capable of 
 doing justice to the cakes, and not at all above 
 the enjoyment of the new meal, which ' amused ' 
 him, according to his usual phrase, greatly.
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 129 
 
 And he made himself miiDartially agreeable to 
 everybody, showing as strong a desii-e to please 
 old IVIi-s, Borrodaile, in that cap which was the 
 derision of the parish, as the yomigest and 
 prettiest of her daughters. 
 
 When the meal Avas over, and the company 
 streamed into the draT^dng-room, where there 
 was an mmsu'al and suspicious vacancy, the 
 furniture pushed into corners, betraying to all 
 the habitues the intention of the hostess, Lewis 
 was set down to the piano almost at once. 
 
 ' Hush,' Mrs, Seton said to a little group 
 about her. 'Just hold your tongues, young 
 people. There is to be something rational to 
 begin with; and let me see that you take 
 advantage of yom- opportunities, for it is not 
 often you can hear good nlusic. Nonsense, 
 Katie, not a word. Do you not see that the 
 sooner he begins, the sooner it will be over ? 
 and I am just bound to ask him to play, after 
 yesterday. Little monkeys,' the minister's wife 
 continued, seating herself beside Miss Jean. 
 ' They would like to have it all their own 
 way ; but I always insist on something rational 
 to begin Avith. Oh, yes, yes, a great treat ; 
 some really good music. It is not often we 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 IT "WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 hear it. And this is just an opportunity, you 
 know, a most unusual chance. AVell, we do not 
 know very much about him, but he is a most 
 well-mannered young man, brought up abroad, 
 which accounts for various little things in his 
 appearance, and so forth. And just a beautiful 
 performer on the piano. I wonder what that 
 is. It somids to me like Mozart, or Beethoven, 
 or some of those that you don't so commonly 
 hear. Bach, do you think ? Well, I should not 
 wonder. You know, songs are my branch.' 
 
 Lewis had gone into the first movement of 
 his sonata before he had at all taken into con- 
 sideration the character of his audience. He 
 was, in reality, though IMrs. Seton took up the 
 belief entirely without evidence, a very good 
 performer, and had played to difficult audiences, 
 whose apj)lause was worth having. After the first 
 few minutes, it became apparent to In'm by that 
 occult communication which is in the air, and 
 which our senses can give no account of, that 
 this audience was not only unprepared but very 
 much taken aback by the prospect of even half 
 an hour of the really good music and rational 
 enjoyment which their hostess promised. He 
 could see when he suffered his eyes to stray
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 1 31 
 
 €11 a momentary rapid survey of the side of 
 tlio room Avliich was visible to liim, the excellent 
 Mrs. Borrodaile, with her fat hands crossed 
 in her lap, and the air of a woman who knew 
 her duty and was determined to do it. Stor- 
 mont stood bolt npright in the corner, now and 
 then lifting his eyebrows, or loAvering them, or 
 even forming syllables Avith his lips in tele- 
 graphic commnnication Avith one or other of the 
 young ladies AAdiich shoAved impatience burst- 
 ing through decorum in a guarded but very 
 evident Avay. The minister, Avith resignation 
 depicted in eA^ery line, even of his beard, turned 
 vaguely over the lea\"es of a book. When the 
 movement came to an end, there Avas a long- 
 breath of unquestionable relief on the part of 
 the company generally. 
 
 ' That's a A^ery pretty thing,' said Mrs. Borro- 
 daile, almost enthusiastic in the happiness of 
 its being done with. 
 
 ' Oh, hush, hush ; that's only the first part. 
 Dear me, do you not knoAv that there are dif- 
 ferent parts in a great piece of music like that ? 
 Go back, go back to yom- seat,' AA^hispered Mrs. 
 Seton, loudly. 
 
 It was all that Lcaaqs could do not to laugh 
 
 K 2
 
 132 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 aloiid behind the shelter of the piano. He 
 thought he had never seen anything so comical 
 as the resigned looks of the party generally, 
 the reluctant hush which ran round the room 
 as he struck the first notes of the second move- 
 ment. Mischief began to tmnkle in liis eyes. He 
 stopped, and his hearers brightened. Then he 
 broke into the Kvely, graceful music of a gavotte, 
 tantalising yet cheering — and finally, after ano- 
 ther pause, dropped into a waltz, which was 
 more than the young people could bear. He 
 stood up, and looked at them over the piano, 
 playing all the while. ' Dansons !' he cried: and 
 in a moment, despite of Mrs. Seton and her 
 precautions, the whole party was in movement. 
 Never in Tayside had such a waltz been played 
 before. Mrs. Seton was an excellent performer 
 in her way. She was unwearied, and could go 
 on for hours on a stretch, and she knew every 
 tune that lad and lass could desire. But young- 
 Lewis, standing, stooping, encouraging them 
 with his merry eyes, gliding with sldlful hands 
 on the keys, now softer, now louder, giving 
 a double rhythm to the sweep of the dance, 
 which was formal enough so far as the performers 
 went, but yet took an additional grace and free-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 133 
 
 dom from the music — played as no one had 
 ever played to them before. When he stopped, 
 with a peal of pleasant laughter that seemed 
 to run into the music, after he had tired out 
 everybody but Katie, the whole party came 
 crowding round to thank him. It was so kind ! 
 it was so dehghtful ! 
 
 ' Oh, play us another, Mr. Mm-ray,' cried the 
 girls. 
 
 'Tut, tut,' said Mrs. Seton, bustling in, 'is 
 that all your manners ? So impatient that you 
 made him stop that beautiful sonata, which it 
 was just a privilege to hear, and then pestering 
 him to play waltzes, which is a thing no good 
 musician will do. I am sure, Mr. Murray, you 
 have behaved like a perfect angel ; but these 
 girls shall not tyi-annize over you. No, no, I'll 
 just take the piano myself; it is no trouble 
 to me. You will think it is bold of me, playing 
 before such a performer, but I just never mind : 
 and they like me as well as anyone. Come 
 now, Katie, and see that Mr. IMm-ray gets a 
 nice partner. He will take a turn himself.' 
 
 And with this the indefatigable httle woman 
 of the house sat down, and played waltzes, 
 polkas, and schottisches (which latter made
 
 134 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Lewis open his eyes) for hours on end, indicating 
 meanwhile with her vigilant glances, and -^^ath 
 little nods of her lively head, to her hnsband 
 and children the varions little offices in ^vhich 
 it was necessary they should replace her. Thus 
 a nod in the direction of Mrs. Borrodaile called 
 the minister's attention to the terrible fact that 
 one of his guests was going to sleep : while a 
 movement of the eyebrows directed towards the 
 factor's youngest daughter showed Katie that 
 the young woman in question was partnerless, 
 while a young man in another corner had escaped 
 observation. Mrs. Seton managed to talk also 
 all the time to Miss Jean, Avho sat beside her. 
 
 ' I am so used to it ; it is really no trouble 
 to me. When you have young people growing 
 up, you must just make up your mind to this 
 sort of thing. Yes, yes, it becomes a kind of 
 mechanical. Dear me, I must not talk; that 
 bar was all wrong. But they're not particular, 
 poor things, so long as you just keep on, and 
 keep the time : but playing set pieces Avas 
 always beyond me,' Mrs. Seton said. And on 
 she went for hom'S, with a hard but lively hand, 
 keeping capital time, and never tired. 
 
 The ' set pieces ' which she thus deprecated.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 135 
 
 and wliicli had been beyond her, meant by 
 inij^hcation the sonata which Lewis had begun 
 to play. 
 
 As for that young man himself, he found 
 pleasure in everything. The country girls were 
 perhaps a little wanting in grace, and did not 
 valse as high-born ladies do m the lands where 
 the valse is indigenous; but they were light 
 and lively, and the evening flew by to Jiis 
 great entertainment. Then there was a reel 
 danced, at which he looked on delighted. 
 Katie, who was a little ashamed of these 
 pranks, stood by him primly, and pretended 
 to be bored. 
 
 ' You must not think that is the sort of thing 
 we care for in Scotland,' she said. ' It is quite 
 old-fashioned. You see, it amuses the country 
 people, and mamma will always insist upon 
 having one to keep up the old fashion ; but 
 you must not thuik that loe care for it,' Katie 
 said. 
 
 ' That is unfortunate,' said LcAvis. ' It is so 
 much like the national dance everywhere. The 
 tarantella — you have heard of the tarantella? 
 It is like that. For my part, I like what is old- 
 fashioned.'
 
 136 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, in furniture — and things,' said Katie, 
 vaguely. And she took pains not to commit 
 herself further. 
 
 He was so good a dancer that she neglected 
 Philip Stormont for him, to the great discon- 
 tent of that yoimg athlete, who thereupon de- 
 voted himself to Annie Borrodaile in a way which 
 it went to Katie's heart to see. The windows 
 stood wide open ; the scent of the flowers came 
 in ; the roses and the tall white lilies shone in 
 the silvery light. Everything was quaint and 
 unreal to Lewis, to whom it had never hap- 
 pened to dance in the Hngering daylight before. 
 The strange evening radiance would have suited 
 his own poetic valse better than the sharp, hard, 
 unvaried music which Mrs. Set on continued to 
 make with so much industry. When the reel 
 was over, he went to the piano to relieve that 
 lady. 
 
 ' Let me play now. I shall like it ; and you 
 must be tired — you ought to be tired,' he said. 
 
 'Mr. Murray is the most considerate young 
 man 1 ever saw,' said Mrs. Seton, shaldng on 
 her bracelets again. ' You see he has reheved 
 me whether I would or not. As a matter of 
 fact, I'm never tired so long as they go on ; I'm
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 137 
 
 SO used to it. But when somebody comes, you 
 know, and really says to you, I would rather — 
 though it is difficult to understand it, wdth so 
 many nice girls dancing. And so you would 
 not bring Lilias, Miss Margaret ? I did hope, I 
 must say, just for to-night.' 
 
 ' You see,' said ]\Iiss Margaret, solemnly, ' she 
 is not out yet.' 
 
 ' Oh, you can't think that matters among 
 friends. Katie is not out, the monkey. But, to 
 be sure, as I tell her alw^ays, she is very differ- 
 ent. Poor LiUas ! don't you think it would be 
 better for her just to see what the world is 
 like a little before she comes out" She wall be 
 fomiing such high-floAvn ideas. I always say 
 to mine, " Don't • be excited. Oh, no, no, don't 
 be excited. A ball in London ^vill just be very 
 much like a ball at home." ' 
 
 ' That is true enough in one Avay,' said Miss 
 Margaret. ' Her Majesty, I suppose, is just like 
 any other person : She has the same number 
 of fingers and toes : but, when a young girl 
 makes her cm-tsey to the Queen, I hope that 
 will not be the way she will look upon her 
 sovereign.' 
 
 ' Oh, if you take it like that, nobody wall
 
 138 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 beat mo in loyalty,' said Mrs. Seton. ' It was 
 just as near a thing as possible last summer 
 that Robert would have been sent for to preach 
 at Crathie ; and I am sure I would not have 
 known if I was on my head or my heels. It's 
 a thing that will come sooner or later ; but 
 there will be all the difference, no doubt, be- 
 tween seeing the Queen dressed up at a draw- 
 ing-room, and seeing her in her own house, 
 just as you might see a friend.' 
 
 ' The difference will be all in Mr. Seton's 
 advantage — when that comes to pass,' said Miss 
 Margaret, with some satire in her voice. 
 
 ' And do the mves go, too ? Dear me, that 
 will be a delightful ploy for you,' said Miss 
 Jean, who, for her part, had not the slightest 
 intention of offence. 
 
 At this Mrs. Seton, who was very good- 
 natured, ended the episode by a laugh. 
 
 ' I am sure they ought to ; for what is a 
 man without his wife ? Robert, I am sure, 
 would never put on his collar straight, if I was 
 not there,' she said ; and hmiied aw^ay, intent 
 on hospitable cares. It was then that Miss 
 Jean found courage to address the stranger, 
 who had left the piano for the moment, in
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND IIIS LASS. 139 
 
 consequence of a little bustle about supper, and 
 was standing by, with bis friendly face smiling- 
 upon the party in general, but without any 
 individual occupation. 
 
 ' You Avill excuse me,' said Miss Jean, ' but 
 I must make you my compliment upon your 
 music — and more than your music,' she said, 
 looking, to see how he would take it, into his 
 face. 
 
 ' There has not been very much music,' he 
 said, with a smile. ' It was a mistake to begin 
 anything serious.' 
 
 ' It was perhaps a mistake ; for you did not 
 know how little the grand music is understood,^ 
 said Miss Jean. 'But, if you will let me say 
 it, it was very fine of you, being just a yomig 
 man, not used to be disappointed.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Lewis, ' I am not unused to 
 be disappointed.' Then he laughed. ' It was 
 not worth calling a disappointment. It is all 
 new here, and it amused me hke the rest.' 
 
 ' But I call it a fine thing to change hke that 
 in a moment, and play their waltz for them,' said 
 Miss Jean. 'It means a fine natm-e — neither 
 dour nor hasty.' 
 
 ' Jean,' said Miss ]\Iargaret, with an admonitory
 
 140 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 glance, ' you are probably giving your opinion 
 wliere it is not wanted.' 
 
 'Don't say so, please !' cried LeAvds, putting 
 his hands together in a gesture of entreaty. It 
 was one of those foreign ways which they all 
 liked, though they would scoff at them in the 
 abstract. ' I am very glad I pleased you. That 
 makes me more happy even than if — the com- 
 pany ' (he intended to say you, but paused, 
 perceiving that he must not identify these ladies 
 with the company) ' had liked music better/ 
 
 'But you must not think,' said Miss Jean, 
 ' that they don't like music. They are very 
 fond of it in their way, as much as persons can 
 be without education.' 
 
 ' She means,' said IMiss Margaret again, ' that 
 your high music is not common with us. You 
 see, we have not Handel in every church hke 
 you. England is better off in some things. 
 But, if you speak of education in general, it 
 is far behind — oh, far behind ! Every common 
 person here has a chance with the best.' 
 
 ' And do you hke thatf Lewis said. 
 
 ' Do I like it ? Do I like democracy, and 
 the levelhng down of all we were brought 
 up to believe in ? Oh, no. But, on the other
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 141 
 
 hand, I like very well tliat a clever lad should 
 have the means of bettering himself. There 
 is good and evil in everything that is human,' 
 said Miss ]\Iargaret, very gravely. 
 
 Lewis stood before her, with the smile still 
 upon his face, observing her very slowly, won- 
 dering, if she knew who he was, whether she 
 would consider him as a clever lad who had 
 bettered himself. He could not have gazed 
 so, without offence, into a younger face ; as 
 it Avas, his fixed look made Miss Margaret smile. 
 To blush for anything so young a man could 
 do, she would have thought beneath her dignity. 
 
 ' You think what I am saying is very strange V 
 she said. 
 
 ' Oh, no ; it is very just, I tliink,' he cried ; 
 but at this moment Mr. Dunlop, the young 
 assistant at Braehead came forward to offer Miss 
 Margaret his arm. Lewis offered his to Miss 
 Jean. ' This is not ^vi-ong V he said. ,' One 
 does not reqmi-e to wait to be told"?' 
 
 ' But I am sure a young lady would be more 
 to yom- taste,' said Miss Jean, smiling benignly. 
 ' Never mind me ; I will go in in time. And 
 look at all these pretty creatures waiting for 
 somebody.'
 
 142 IT WAS A LOVER A>JD HIS LASS. 
 
 But Lewis continued to stand ^vitli one arm 
 held out, with his hat under the other, and 
 the bow which some thought so French, but 
 the Miss Mm-rays considered to be of the okl 
 school Miss Jean accepted his escort in spite 
 of herself. She said, 
 
 ' I would like to hear you play the rest of 
 yon upon our old piano. It was a very good 
 piano in its day, but, like its mistress, it is 
 getting old now.' 
 
 ' A good instrument is like a lady ; it does 
 not get old like a common thing. It is always 
 sweet,' said Lewis. ' I Avill come with — happi- 
 ness.' 
 
 An Englishman, of course, Avould have said 
 with pleasure, but these little slips on the part of 
 Lewis, whicli were sometimes half intentional, 
 were all amply covered by his accent. 
 
 ' I will play to you as nuich as you please,' 
 he added. ' I have nothing here to do.' 
 
 ' But you came for the trout f said Miss Jean. 
 *No, no, I will not take you from the trout. 
 My sister Margaret would never hear of that. 
 But when the fishing is over, perhaps ' 
 
 ' I am no fisher. 1 sit and watch while Adam 
 struggles ^^'ith the trout; it amuses me. But
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 143 
 
 abroad, I suppose, we are less out of doors than 
 in England. Mr. Stormont tells me we may- 
 expect a great many Avet days, and what shall I 
 have to do? May I come and play Beethoven 
 dming the wet days f 
 
 ' We will see what Margaret says,' said Miss 
 Jean, a Httle alarmed lest she should be going 
 too far. 
 
 ]\liss Margaret was on the other side of the 
 table. He looked at her Avith a great deal 
 of interest. She was a dark-eyed woman, look- 
 ing older than her age, Avith hair AA^hich had 
 a suspicion of grey in it. Miss Jean had no 
 grey hairs. Her cheek Avas a little liolloAv, but 
 that was almost the only sign of age in her. 
 But they dressed beyond their years, and Avere 
 quite retired among the matrons, neither of 
 them making the shghtest claim to youth. 
 
 ' Miss Margaret is your elder sister V he said, 
 Avith an ingratiating openness. ' Pardon me, if 
 I am very full of curiosity. I have seen your 
 old castle, and I met you once upon the road ; 
 but there were then three ladies ?' 
 
 ' That was Lihas,' said Miss Jean. ' She is 
 quite young, poor thing. We stand in the 
 place of mothers to her, and there are some
 
 144 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 times that I tliink Margaret over-anxious. She 
 will always rather do too much than too little.' 
 
 ' She has a countenance that is very interest- 
 ing,' said Lewis. Fortunately, he could not 
 say here a face that amused him, which he 
 might have done, had he not been very desirous 
 of pleasing, and anxious not to offend. 
 
 'Has she notf cried Miss Jean, triumphantly. 
 ' She has just the very finest countenance ! 
 When she was young, I can assm-& you, she 
 was very much admired.' 
 
 ' I see no reason why she should not continue 
 to be admu-ed,' said Lewis. 
 
 ' Oh, we have given up everything of that 
 kind,' said Miss Jean, with a httle laugh. 
 
 But, for almost the first time, she felt inclined 
 to ask, ^Yh.J should they ? A woman of forty 
 is not an old woman. And ]\Iiss Jean was very 
 conscious that she herself was only thu'ty-eight. 
 
 ' Perhaps it is the charge we have. I could 
 not really say what it is — but all that has been 
 long over. We have not been very long in 
 this county. I think I may say that we will 
 be glad to see you, and show you the old house. 
 And then there is the other place,' Miss Jean 
 continued. It was a little exciting to her to
 
 IT ^YAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 145 
 
 talk to ' an utter stranger,' there were so few 
 that ever appeared in Murkle}'. ' But there is 
 nothing ui that to see, only the outsiJe. 
 And Avhoever passes is welcome to see the 
 outside.' 
 
 ' The coiuitry people think it is haunted,' 
 said Le\^'i8. 
 
 ' No, no ; that is just a fancy. It is not 
 haunted, it is quite a new place. If you want 
 a place that is haunted, there is our old AYalk. 
 There is no doubt about that. AVo are so 
 used to it that nobody is frightened, and I 
 rather like it myself. We will let you see that,' 
 ]\Iiss Jean said. 
 
 She was pleased with the stranger's bright 
 face and deferential looks, and, in her simple 
 kindness, was eager to find out somethmg that 
 ■would please him, though always with a doubt 
 which dashed her pleasure, w^hether she was 
 doing what her sister would approve. 
 
 ' That wiU give me great happiness,' said 
 Lewis again. ' It is all to me very new and 
 delightful to see the houses and the castles. 
 I have been to Mr. Stormont's house to-day. I 
 have seen a gi-eat many old chateaux abroad ; 
 but here it is more simple, and more strange. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 To be great persons and seigneurs, and yet not 
 any more great than that.' 
 
 Miss Jean looked at liim with a httle suspicion, 
 not understanding. 
 
 ' We have never travelled,' she said, after a 
 little pause. ' Which was a pity, I have often 
 thought : and Margaret is of that opinion too. 
 It might have made a great difference to us.' 
 
 She sighed a little as she spoke, and Lewis 
 felt a hot wave of shame and trouble go over 
 him. She meant, no doubt, that, if they had 
 travelled, he would never have been thus 
 mingled in their fate. He did not know what 
 to say, for a sudden panic seized him lest she 
 should find him out. Good ]\Iiss Jean had no 
 idea that there was anji:hing to find out. She 
 ate her little piece of chicken daintily, anxious 
 all the time lest she should be detaining her 
 companion from the dancing, or from the society 
 of the young people. 
 
 ' Supper was really quite unnecessary after 
 such a tea. It is a thing we never take.' 
 
 ' You must try a little of this cream, Miss 
 Jean,' cried Mrs. Seton. ' It is none of your 
 confectioner's cream, that is all just froth put 
 into a refrigerator, but our own making, and I
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 147 
 
 can recommend it : or a little jelly. The jelly 
 had scarcely time to stand ; it is not so clear 
 as I shonld hke ; but you know the difficulty 
 with country cooks. And, ]\Ir. 2Iurray, I hope 
 you will make a good supper. I am sure there 
 is nobody we have been so much obliged to. 
 Everybody is speaking about your wonderful 
 plapng. Oh, yes, yes, I am inchned to be 
 jealous, that is quite true. They used to be 
 veiy well content with me, and noAv they ^^-ill 
 think nothing of me. But I am just telhng 
 Katie that, if she thinks she is going to get 
 a fine performer like you to play her bits of 
 Avaltzes, she is veiy much mistaken. Once in 
 a way is very Avell — and I am sm-e they are 
 all very gratefid — but now they nmst just be 
 content, as they have always been hitherto, 
 with mamma. They are just ungrateful mon- 
 keys. You must be content with me, Katie, 
 and very glad to get me. That is all I have to 
 sav.' 
 
 ' If 3Iiss Katie would wish me to hold the 
 piano for the rest of the evening ? — that is, Avheu 
 I have re-conducted this lady to the draAving- 
 room.' 
 
 ' Oh, wnll you V cried Katie, Avith tones of 
 
 l2
 
 148 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 the deepest gratitude. ' It is only one waltz. 
 Mamma never lets us have more than one waltz 
 after supper ; and it will be so kind ; and we 
 will enjoy it so much. Just one waltz more.' 
 
 ' But let it be a long one,' the others cried^ 
 getting round him. 
 
 Lewis smiled, and waved his hand with the 
 most genial satisfaction in thus so easily pleasing 
 everybody. 
 
 ' But I nnist first re-conduct this lady,' he 
 said. w
 
 149 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WAS it Mim-ay they called himf 
 Tliis qnestiou was put to Miss Jean, 
 who had confessed, with a little hesitation, her 
 rashness in inviting the stranger ' to play his 
 music' at the Castle, as the sisters walked home. 
 It was a very sweet evening ; not later than 
 eleven o'clock, notwithstanding all the dancing. 
 The ladies had left, however, before that last 
 waltz, and the music continued in their ears 
 half the way home, gradually dying aAvay as 
 they left the green lane which led to the manse, 
 and got into the park. Miss Jean was, as she 
 described afterwards, ' really shy ' of telling- 
 Margaret the venture she had made; for to 
 meet a stranger whom you knoAv nothing about 
 out is a very different thing from asldng him 
 to your house, especially when it was a yomig
 
 150 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 man ; and there was always Lilias to tliink 
 upon. So that on the whole Miss Jean felt 
 that she had been rash. 
 
 ' To tell you the truth, I cannot say I noticed, 
 Margaret. Yes, I rather think it was Murray; 
 but you never catch a name when a person 
 is introduced to you. And, after all, I am not 
 sure. It might be me she was calling Murray 
 — though, to be sure, she never calls lue any- 
 thing but Miss Jean.' 
 
 ' If it was Murray, it wi]l be easy to find out 
 to what family he belongs,' said Miss Margaret. 
 ' And Lilias need not appear.' 
 
 ' Dear me,' cried Miss Jean ; ' but that Avould 
 be a great pity, Margaret, and a great dis- 
 appointment to the young man. I thought to 
 myself to ask him to come and play was a kind 
 of liberty Avitli a stranger, but then, I thought, 
 it will be a pleasure to him, poor lad, to see 
 such a pretty creature as our Lily. It is not 
 much we have to give in return.' 
 
 ' I am not fond of young men coming to stare 
 at Lilias,' said Miss Margaret. ' You forget she 
 has no mother. You and me are bound to be 
 doubly particular ; and how do we know what 
 might happen ? She is very inexperienced. She
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 151 
 
 mia-lit like the looks of liim ; for lie has a 
 pleasant way with him — or, even if it were 
 not so bad as that, yet who can tell '. it might 
 be hurtful to the yoimg man's own peace of 
 mind.' 
 
 ' Well, that is true, Margaret,' said Miss Jean. 
 ' I thoufflit it Avould have been better to consult 
 you first — but, dear me, one cannot think of 
 everything ; and it seems so innocent for two 
 young people to meet once in a way, especially 
 when the young man has his head full of his 
 music, and is thinking about nothing else.' 
 
 ' That's a very rare case, I am thinking,' Miss 
 Margaret said. 
 
 ' It is a very rare case for a young man to be 
 musical at all,' Miss Jean rephed, with a httle 
 heat — which was an unquestionable fact on Tay- 
 side. 
 
 They went along noiselessly, with theh softly 
 shod and softly falling feet, two slim, dark 
 figures in the pale twilight, with the maid 
 trotting after them. But for her plump youth- 
 fulness, they might have been three congenial 
 spirits of the place in a light so fit for spiritual 
 appearances. There was nothing more said 
 until they had almost reached home ; then Miss
 
 152 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Margaret delivered herself of tlie conclusion to 
 wliicli slie had been coming with so much 
 thought. 
 
 ' It was perhaps a little rash — considering the 
 charge we have, and that the young man is 
 an utter stranger — but one cannot think of 
 everything, as you say. And I cannot see 
 why you should be deprived of a pleasure — 
 — there are not so many of them — because of 
 Lilias. We will say just nothing about it. We 
 Avill trust to Providence. The likelihood is she 
 Avill be busy with her lessons, poor thing, aiid 
 she will think it is just you playing the piano.' 
 
 ' Me !' cried Miss Jean, ' playing like yon.' 
 
 ' Well, Avell, you know I am no judge, and 
 Lilias not much better. If he can satisfy me 
 what Murrays he belongs to, and can stand 
 a near inspection, she may come in ; I'll make 
 no objection,' Miss Margaret said, graciously, as 
 she opened the door. 
 
 The key was turned when the family went to 
 bed, but the hall-door of Murkley Castle stood 
 open all day long in primitive security. Miss 
 Jean lingered a little upon the steps. 
 
 ' It is just the night,' she said, ' to take a turn 
 down the Walk.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 153 
 
 ' Oh, you'll not do that, mom !' oriecl Susie, 
 the maid. 
 
 ' And why not, you silly lassie ? If you'll 
 come with mo, you will see there is notliing to 
 fear.' 
 
 ' Eh no, mem !' ciied Susie ; ' no, if you w^ould 
 give me the Castle to mysel'.' 
 
 ' What is that you are saying about the 
 Walk ? Come in, Jean, it is too late for any 
 of your sentiment. And, Susie, my woman, 
 go you to your bed. If Ave had any business 
 in the Walk, both you and me would go, be 
 you sm-e, and I would like to see you say no 
 to your mistress. Come in, that I may lock the 
 door.' 
 
 Nobody contradicted Miss Slargaret in that 
 house. ]\Iiss Jean glided in most submissively, 
 and Susie behind her, trpng hard, but ineffectu- 
 ally, to make as little noise. But, in spite of 
 herself, Susie's feet woke echoes on the old oak 
 floor, and so did the turning of the key in the 
 great door. The noises roused at least one of 
 the inhabitants. Old Simon, the butler, indeed 
 slept the sleep of the just in a large chair, care- 
 fully placed at the door of the passage Avhicli 
 led to ' the offices,' in order that he might hear
 
 154 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 when the ladies came home ; but LiHas ap- 
 peared presently at the head of the fine old 
 open stah-case, which descended, with large and 
 stately" steps^ into the hall. She had an open 
 book laid across her arm, and her eyes were shin- 
 ing with excitement and impatience. They had 
 wept, and they had perhaps dozed a little, these 
 eyes, but were now as wide open as a child's 
 when it wakes in the middle of the night. Her 
 liair was tumbled a little, for she had been 
 lying on a sofa, and a white shawl was round 
 her shoulders ; for even in a June night, in an 
 old house with all the windows open, especi- 
 ally when you are up late, you are apt to 
 feel cold on Tayside. She held a candle in her 
 hand, which made a spot of brightness in the 
 dim light. 
 
 ' Oh, Margaret,' she said, ' oh, Jean ! is that 
 you at last ; and Avas it a dance ? I went 
 up to the tower, and I am sure I heard the 
 piano." 
 
 ' You would be sure to hear the piano what- 
 ever it was,' said Margaret, silencing her sister 
 by giving a sudden pull to her gown. ' There 
 is always music at the manse. There was a 
 grand sonata by one of Jean's favourites, and
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 155 
 
 her head is so full of it she can talk nothing but 
 music.' 
 
 ' Oh, a sonata !' cried Lilias, relieved, and she 
 gave her head a small toss, and laughed ; ' that 
 is a long, long thing on the piano, and you are 
 never allowed to say a word. I'm glad that I 
 was not there.' 
 
 ' That was what I told you,' said Miss Mar- 
 garet. ' Now go to your bed, and you 11 hear 
 all the rest to-morrow. You should have been 
 in youi' bed an hour ago at least. To-morro^v 
 you shall have a full account of everything, and 
 Jean will play you a piece of the sonata. I am 
 sure she has got it all in her head.' 
 
 ' Oh, I'm not minding !' said Lihas, lightly. 
 
 She thought, on the whole, her novel had 
 been better. 
 
 She stood thus lighting them as they came 
 upstau's, and they thought her the prettiest 
 creatm'e that had ever been seen ; her sweet 
 complexion sliining against the dark wainscot, 
 her eyes giving out more light than the candle. 
 It smote Miss Jean's heart to deceive her, and 
 it was a faltering kiss which she gave to this 
 little victim. But ]\Iiss Margaret canied things 
 with a high hand.
 
 156 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' It woiild be just barbarous,' Miss Margaret 
 said, wlien they were safe within the Kttle suite 
 of rooms that formed their apartment, one 
 chamber opening into the other, ' to tell her 
 all about it to-night. You can tell her to- 
 morroAv, when there's a new day in her favour. 
 She would just cry and blear her eyes ; but 
 to-morrow is a new day.' 
 
 ' I cannot bide,' cried Miss Jean, ' whatever 
 you may say, Margaret — I just cannot bide to 
 disappoint the darling. I am sure it went to my 
 heart to see her just now so sweet and bonnie, 
 and nobody to look at her but you and me.' 
 
 ' The bonnier she is, and the sweeter she is, 
 is that not all the more reason, ye foolish wo- 
 man, to keep her safe from vulgar eyes? Would 
 you make her, in all her beauty, cheap and 
 common at these bits of parties at the inanse "? 
 No, no. We had no mother either, and per- 
 haps we did not have our right chance, but 
 that's neither here nor there. We're in the 
 place of mothers to her, and Lilias shall have 
 her day !' 
 
 This silenced Miss Jean, whose mind was 
 dazzled by her sister's greater purposes and 
 larger grasp. She retired to her inner room
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 157 
 
 ^\dtli a compmiction, feeling guilty. It was a 
 shame to deceive even for the best motives, she 
 felt ; but, on the other hand, she could relieve 
 her conscience to-morrow, and there was such 
 sense in all Margaret said. 
 
 ' Margaret is just a wonderful creature for 
 sense,' Miss Jean said to herself. This had 
 indeed been her chief consolation in all the 
 difficulties of her life. 
 
 Meanwhile, other conversations were going 
 on among the gi'oups which streamed from the 
 manse, taken leave of heartily by the family 
 at the gate. It was ' such a fine night ' that 
 Mrs. Seton herself threw a shawl over her head, 
 and Avalked, Avith those of her friends who were 
 walldng, to the gate. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, yes, I'll not deny, though I say it that 
 shouldn't, I think it has gone off very Avell,' she 
 said ; « and, indeed, we have to thank ]Mr. Mm- 
 ray, for I take no credit to myself to-night. 
 Oh, yes, I'll alloAV in a general Avay I do my 
 best to keep you all going : but, dear me ! I'm 
 not to be mentioned by the side of Mr. Murray. 
 A performer lilce him condescending to play your 
 bits of waltzes and polkas for you ! — you ought 
 to be very proud. Oh, yes, I know fine playing
 
 158 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 when I hear it, tliongh I never did much, except 
 in the way of dance music, myself. In dance 
 music I used to think I would give in to no- 
 body ; but pride Avill have a fall, and I have just 
 sense enough to know when I'm beaten — oli, 
 yes, that I am. You'll be very glad to come 
 back to me when Mr. Murray is not to be had, 
 I make no doubt ; you are just ungrateful mon- 
 keys, but ril trust you for that,' 
 
 JMrs. Seton's voice ran on in a sort of coti- 
 tinued solo, to which all the other murmurs of 
 talk afforded an accompaniment. She shook 
 hands Avith Lewis at the gate with the most 
 corchal friendliness. 
 
 ' And whenever you weary,' she said, ' bo sure 
 you just come up to the manse. ]\Ir. Seton will 
 always be glad of a talk, and there is nothing I 
 like so Avell as to hear about foreign society and 
 scenery and all that ; and I can iniderstand it 
 better than most, for I have been up the Rhine 
 myself: and Katie will be most grateful for a 
 little help with her German ; so, you see, you'll 
 be welcome on every hand,' the lady said, with 
 a grasp of his hand which meant everything slie 
 said. 
 
 Lewis walked to the river-side with young
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 159 
 
 Stomiont, who was not quite so cordial. 
 
 'You've bad it all your own way to-night, 
 Murray,' this yoimg fellow said, with a laugh 
 which was not pleasant to hear. 
 
 ' They are very kind to a stranger — it is true 
 hospitality ; but I think it was you that had it 
 your own way, for you Avould not listen to my 
 music,' said Lewis. Then he, too, laughed — a 
 laugh which was to the other's like sunshine to 
 a cloud. ' I did cheat you all the same,' he 
 added, ' for the waltz was Beethoven's too — and 
 quite as difficult, if you bad but known.' 
 
 ]Mr. Stormont did not understand much about 
 Beethoven, but he felt that it was impossilole to 
 say the fellow Avas stuck-up about his music ; 
 privately in his own mind he despised all 
 male performances as things unworthy of the 
 sex. 
 
 ' Miss Seton dances very prettily with you, 
 
 my friend,' said Lewis. ' You have practised 
 much together, that is what one can see. I 
 watched you while I was playing. She dances 
 always well, but better with you than anyone. 
 But tell me, for you know, about those ladies 
 whom everyone calls Miss Margaret and IMiss 
 Jean.'
 
 160 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' Oil, the old ladies at Murkley ! Why, these 
 are the people we were talldng about on Sun- 
 day. You made a great impression there — we 
 all noticed,' cried Stormont, A\dth a laugh, which 
 this time was somewhat rude, but quite cordial, 
 ' the impression you made there.' 
 
 ' Yes ?' said Lewis, gravely ; with the thoughts 
 he had in his mind he did not mean to allow 
 any ridicule. ■• It is the Miss Mariraret that is 
 the eldest. She will have everytliing, I sup- 
 pose, in your English way.' 
 
 ' Oh, if that is what you are thinking of,' 
 cried Stormont, in a startled tone ; and then he 
 stopped and laughed again, the sound this time 
 pealing into all the echoes. ' No, no, my fine 
 fellow,' he said, ' if that's what you're thinking 
 of, you are out there ; when it's women, they're 
 co-heiresses. The law has not so good an opin- 
 ion of them as to make an eldest son of a woman : 
 so you're out there.' 
 
 ' Out there !' said LcAvis, astonished. ' What 
 does that mean ? And I do not understand co- 
 heiresses either ? These ladies — no, I will not 
 say amuse me — I am interested in them. I 
 have heard of them before I came here — indeed, 
 it was for that cause,' he added, with one of
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 161 
 
 liis imprudent confidences, then stopped short, 
 gmng emphasis to Avhat he said. ' What is 
 meant by co-h chesses, if you please V 
 
 ' It means,' said Stormont, with a chuckle of 
 mingled ridicule and contempt, ' that when there 
 are sisters they share and share alike. It was 
 not very much to begin with, so you may judge, 
 when it is divided, whether it is worth anyone's 
 M'hile now. But try, my fine felloM", try ; you 
 will not find many rivals,' he added, with a 
 scream of laughter. 
 
 LcTi-is looked up very gravely as he walked 
 along by his companion's side. 
 
 ' There is something which amuses you,' he 
 said ; ' perhaps it is that I am slow in EngHsh. 
 I do not perceive the joke.' 
 
 ' Oh, there is no joke,' said Stormont, coming 
 to himself ; and they walked to the river-side, 
 where the ferryman was waiting, in a subdued 
 condition, neither sajnng much. Lewis, who 
 had been in extremely high sphits after his suc- 
 cess at the party, had suddenl}- fallen into a 
 blank of embarrassment and perplexity, which 
 silenced him altogether. He was angry, without 
 quite knowing why, ^yith Stormont. But this 
 was nothing to the confusion which had over- 
 
 YOL. I. M
 
 162 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 whelmed liis mind. He walked up to liis OAvn 
 inn in a state of bewilderment which it wonld be 
 difficult to describe. It was partially comic, 
 but it Avas not until he had reached his parlour, 
 and seated himself opposite to the little paraffin 
 lamp, which always smelt a little, and gave to 
 his most intimate thoughts a sort of uneasy 
 odour, that he was able to laugh at his oavu 
 discomfiture ; then gradually the amusing as- 
 pect of the Avhole business came over him ; he 
 laughed, but neither long nor loud. It was too 
 disagreeable, too annoying to laugh at after the 
 first realization of the dilemma. He was quite 
 hushed and silenced in his simple mind by the 
 discovery he had made. 
 
 For it is time now to put plainly before the 
 reader the intention Avith Avhich this young man 
 had come to Murkley. It Avas Avith the well 
 considered purpose of remedying the evident 
 mistake Avhich his old friend and patron had made. 
 Sir Patrick had A\dthdraAvn his fortune from his 
 own family, and given it to his adopted son, 
 leaATing his grandchildren poor, Avhile LcAvis 
 Avas rich — Lcaa^s, AA^ho had what people call, 
 ' no claim ' upon him, Avho had only been his 
 son and servant for eight years of liis life,
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 163 
 
 giving him the love, and care, and obedience 
 which few sons give with so entire a devotion. 
 He had no claim but this, and he had expected 
 nothing. AVhen he fonnd himself Sir Patrick's 
 heir, and a rich man, no one was so much 
 sm-prised as LeAvis; but still, so it was, and 
 lie accepted his patron's will as he would have 
 accepted anything else that happened in which 
 he himself had a share. But, as soon as he heard 
 of the family and their disappointment, Lewis 
 had made up his mind that he must do his 
 best to remedy it. It would be his duty, he 
 thought, to offer himself and his possessions 
 to the lady who ought to have been Sir Pat- 
 rick's heir. When he had discovered that these 
 ladies at Murkley were no longer young, it 
 would be too much to assert that it was not 
 a shock to him. But the shock lasted only for 
 a moment. He had not come to ]\Iurkley with 
 the intention of pleasing his own fancy, but 
 to fulfil a duty ; and the age of the lady, or 
 her appearance, or any such secondary matter 
 was little to him. In all the easy and light- 
 hearted acceptance of the position which char- 
 acterised him, he had never for a moment 
 allowed himself to think that he was free to 
 
 M 2
 
 164 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 abandon his plan, if, on examining into it, it 
 proved against his tastes. His tastes, after all, 
 were involved only in a secondary degree. Duty 
 was the first, and to that nothing made any 
 difference. If Sir Patrick's heness had been 
 fifty, or if she had been deformed and ugly, 
 he would still have laid his fortunes at her 
 feet. It did not indeed occur to him to separate 
 himself from the fortune, and offer the money 
 alone. He was not a Quixote. To denude 
 himself of all he had did not occur to him 
 as a natural thing to do : but tt) share it was 
 more than natm-al, it Avas an obligation, a call 
 of honour. It was with this view that he had 
 looked at ]Miss Margaret across the table. It 
 was impossible not to feel that the relationship 
 would be a peculiar one, but he felt nothing 
 in himself that would prevent liun from enter- 
 ing into it worthily. Lewis had none of that 
 physical instinct of superiority which makes 
 men despise women. H^o did not think, as 
 unfortunately most men do, with a curious want 
 of generosity, that the first object of a woman's 
 life must be to secure a husband, and that 
 every sense of congruity, all good taste and 
 delicacy of liking, must succumb to this mi-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LA.SS. 1G5 
 
 perioiTS necessity. This was not the least in 
 his thoughts. When he looked at Miss Margaret, 
 the thought in his mind Avas not so much any 
 objection of his own ■ to marry her, as the 
 certainty that she would object to marry him. 
 He felt that it Avould be a derogation, that she 
 Avould come down from her dignity, give up 
 her high estate, if she accepted what he had 
 to offer. 
 
 He studied her face with this idea in his 
 
 mind. Was it the least likely that a woman 
 
 with a countenance like that, would buy even 
 
 justice so ? Miss Jean, to whom he was talk- 
 
 ina-, was more malleable. It bcAvildered him 
 
 a good deal to look at them, and to think 
 
 that one or the other of these ladies before 
 
 Avhom he bowed so low, who looked at him 
 
 Avith timidly suspicious eyes of middle age, 
 
 might, should, must, if he had his way, become 
 
 his wife. But in his own person he never 
 
 hesitated ; he did not know how it was to be 
 
 brought about. If it could be done, as ' abroad,' 
 
 by the intervention of an agent, the matter 
 
 would have been greatly simplified. But this, 
 
 he was partially aware, was not possible in 
 
 England. Neither in England, according to
 
 166 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 what he had heard, would it be possible to 
 settle it as a friendly arrangement, a piece of 
 mercenary business. No, he knew he must 
 conform to English rules, if he would be suc- 
 cessful, and Avoo the wronged lady with all the 
 ordinary formulas. He would have to fall in 
 love Avith her, represent himself as dying for 
 her. All these preliminaries Lewds had felt to 
 be hard, but he had determined within himself 
 to go through A^ath them. He Avould be 
 heroically tender, he would draw upon novels 
 and his imagination for the different acts 
 of the drama, and carry them through Avith 
 unflinching courage. He was resolved that 
 nothing should be Avanting on his part. But 
 it cannot be denied that Stormont's revelation 
 took him altogether aback. Co-heiresses ! — he 
 could not offer himself to tAA^o ladies — he could 
 not declare loA^e and pretend passion for tAvo ! 
 He remembered even that there was a third, the 
 one in the blue A^eil, and it Avas this thought 
 that at last touched an easier chord in his being, 
 and relieA^ed him Avith a long low tremulous 
 outburst of laughter. 
 
 ' Three !' he said to himself all at once, and 
 he laughed till the tears stood in his eves. He
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 107 
 
 had been ready loyally to overcome all other 
 objections, to beud before a beloved object of 
 forty, and to declare that his happiness was in 
 her hands, Avith the purest loyalty of heart and 
 truth of intention ; but before three — that was 
 impossible — that was out of the question. He 
 laughed till he was ready to cry ; then ho 
 dried his eyes, and took himself to task as dis- 
 respectful to the ladies, Avho had done nothing 
 to forfeit anyone's respect, and then burst forth 
 into laughter again. Here w^as indeed a reductlo 
 ad ahsnrdum, beyond Avhich it was impossible to 
 go. Lewis tried hard to bring himself back to 
 the point from which he started — the sacred 
 duty, as he felt, of restoring his fortune to the 
 soui'ce whence it came — but he could not get 
 past this tremendous, unthought-of obstacle. 
 Three of them ! and he could not marry more 
 than one, whatever he did. Now, also, it be- 
 came evident that injustice must be done in 
 whatever Avay the difHculty should be settled. 
 He had endeavoured to believe, it is needless to 
 say, that the representative of the ]\Iurrays 
 might have turned out to be young and mar- 
 riageable ; he had been dazzled by bright hopes 
 that she might be fair and sweet, and every-
 
 1 68 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 tiling a bride should be. When these hopes 
 and visions dispersed in the sober certainty that 
 the heiress of the IMurrays was the eldest of 
 three all much above his own age, it had been 
 a disenchantment, but he had stood fast. He 
 had not been afraid even of Miss Margaret — he 
 had said to himself that he would respect and 
 venerate her, and be grateful to one Avho would 
 thus stoop to him from the serene heights ; but 
 to make up for the slights of fortune to three 
 ladies at once — Lewis, with the best will in the 
 world, felt that this would not be in his power. 
 
 When he got up next morning, the mirth of 
 the night was over ; he felt then that the posi- 
 tion was too serious for laughter. For a mo- 
 ment the temptation of giving up altogether a 
 duty which was too much for him came over 
 his mind. Why should not he go away alto- 
 gether and keep what was his ? He was not to 
 blame ; he had asked nothing, expected no- 
 thing. He was guiltless towards the descend- 
 ants of his old friend, and they knew nothing 
 either of him or of his intentions. He had but 
 to go away, to walk back to the ' George ' at 
 Kilmorley, and turn back into the world, leaving 
 his portmanteaux to follow him, and he would be
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 160 
 
 free. But somehow this was an expedient which 
 did not please his imagination at all. The little 
 rm-al place, the people about w^ho had become 
 his friends, the family with which he felt he had 
 so much to do, kept a visionary hold upon him 
 from which he could not get loose. He strug- 
 gled even a little, repeating to himself many 
 things which he could do if he were to free him- 
 self. He had never seen London— he had never 
 been in England. The season was not yet en- 
 tirely over, nor London abandoned ; he could 
 yet find people there whom he had met, who 
 would introduce him, who would carry him to 
 those country houses in which he had always 
 heard so much of the charm of Enc-land lav. 
 All this he went over deliberately, trying to 
 persuade himself that in the circumstances it 
 was the best thing to do ; but the result of 
 his thoughts was that, as soon as he felt it was 
 decorous to do so, he set out for the Castle. 
 One visit, in any case, could do, he reflected, no 
 harm.
 
 170 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE next day, as Adam had prophesied, the 
 weather changed, or rather it changed 
 during the night, and the morning rose pale 
 and weeping, with a sky out of which all 
 colour had departed, and an endless blast, 
 almost white, so close was the shower, of falling- 
 rain. Little rivulets ran away down the peb- 
 bly slope of the village street towards the 
 river when Lewis got up ; the trees were all 
 glistening ; the birds all silenced ; a perpetual 
 patter of rain filling the air. The country carts 
 that stood at the door of the ' Murkley Arms ' 
 liad the air of having been boiled ; the horse 
 glossy yet sodden, Avith ears and tail in the 
 most lugubrious droop ; the paint of the wheels 
 and shafts glistening, the carter, with a wet 
 sack over his wet shoulders, looking as if the
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 171 
 
 Avatcr could be wrung out of him. He was 
 being served with a dram by Janet at the door, 
 who had her shawl over her cap to preserve 
 her. 
 
 ' Now tak' my advice,' she was saying, ' and 
 be content Axitli that. It's good whiskey. If 
 you stop at every door to get something to 
 keep out the damp, ye'll be in a bonnie con- 
 dition to go home to your ^^ii'o at the hinder 
 end.' 
 
 'Would ye have me get my death o' cauld V 
 said the man. 
 
 ' Eh !' said Janet, ' I dain-na refuse to serve 
 ye ; for ye would just gang straight to Luclde 
 Todd's, and her whiskey's bad, and siller is a' 
 her thocht ; but Aveel I w^at, if ye were my man, 
 I wad rather ye got your death of cauld than 
 of whiskey. And that's my principle, though I 
 keep a public niyscl',' 
 
 Lewis, standing at his window, with the 
 paths and the roofs all glistening before him, 
 and the sky so low down that it seemed almost 
 to touch the high gable of the house opposite, 
 listened to the dialogue with a smile. It was 
 a new aspect under which he now saw the 
 village life. ]\Ianv of the doors were shut
 
 172 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 wliicli usually stood open ; tlio children had 
 disappeared from the road ; silence took the 
 place of the small, cheerful noises, the calls of 
 the Avomen, the chatter of the infants ; the 
 cocks and hens, which generally strutted about 
 in full liberty, had taken refuge beneath a cart, 
 where they huddled together lugubriously — 
 everything was changed. Lewis could not but 
 think of young Stormont, with a shrug of malici- 
 ous pleasure, as he amused himself with his 
 breakfast : for he supposed erroneously that this 
 must be one of the days of Avhich Stormont had 
 spoken so sadly, when there was nothing to do. 
 But by-and-by Le^ds also found that there was 
 nothing to do. He laughed at himself, which 
 "u^as still more comic. Stormont was at home ; 
 he had his library, though he did not make use 
 of it ; and his mother's piano, though he knew 
 nothing about music ; and he had no doubt 
 some sort of business concerning his small 
 estate, and he had spoken of amusing himself 
 ■vvdth fly-makmg and gun cleaning. But Lewis 
 soon woke up to the sad conviction that, so 
 far as he was concerned, there was absolutely 
 nothing to occupy the heavy hours. Of the 
 two or -three books which the ' Murkley Arms '
 
 IT ^YAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 173 
 
 could boast, one was Robertson's ' History of 
 Scotland ' in a small form, with small print, 
 disconraging to a careless reader, and another 
 the 'Romance of the Forest.' He was not a 
 great reader under the best of circumstances, 
 and these did not tempt him. He had few 
 correspondents, none indeed to whom he could 
 sit down on a dreary day and unbosom himself. 
 The only thing that offered him any distraction 
 was his drawing. He took out his sketch-books, 
 and selected one he had made on the water-side, 
 in order to enlarge and complete it. But he 
 was not enthusiastic enough to work steadily, 
 and he was unfortunately aware that his slight- 
 est sketches were his best. When Janet came 
 upstairs 'to speak about the denner,' as she 
 said, her compassion was aroused by his evident 
 Aveariness. 
 
 ' Adam's awa' to the A\'atter,' she said. ' Wat- 
 ter below and watter aboon, he'll get plenty 
 o't. It's a grand day for the fushin', though 
 it's no so good for us poor mortals. Would ye 
 no gang doon, and see how he's getting on?' 
 
 ' But it pours,' said Lewis, ' and with water 
 above and water below, as you say ' 
 
 ' Hoot ay,' said Janet, ' but ye're young, and
 
 174 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ye're neither sugar nor salt, you'll no melt. 
 At your age a bit of a shower does little harm ; 
 and ye're just wrang biding in the house all 
 day ^vith nothing to do.' 
 
 ' That is true enough,' Lewis said, but as he 
 looked at the pouring rain and the wet roads he 
 shook his head. ' I don't see that one can gain 
 much by getting wet, Mrs. .Janet.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! a young gentleman at your age ! 
 Weel, it's a grand thing to take care of yourself. 
 It's just what ye canna get young folk to do. 
 There's young Mr. Philip out on the water 
 from the skreigh of day ; he just never minds. 
 I'm no saj-ing it's good for him. But they say 
 it's grand weather for the fusliin', and that 
 makes up for everything A\dth them, the gomerals. 
 If they had jouv sense, ]\Ir. Murray.' 
 
 Lewis did not think she had a very high 
 opinion of his sense, and he was somewhat 
 piqued by her suspicious semi-approval, and 
 by her description of Stormont, in whom the 
 young man had come to see an antagonistic 
 type of mankind. The more fool he, if he had 
 been out all the morning betAveen the water 
 below and the Avatcr above, all for the sake 
 of a few fish. But the description piqued
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 175 
 
 Lewis. He stood at his window, and looked 
 out for the twentieth time, and it chd not look 
 tempting. Why, indeed, should he go out, and 
 got himself wet and dirty to please the pre- 
 judices of Janet. He had always heard that 
 the English went out in all weathers ; that they 
 had even a preference for mud and damp, char- 
 acteristic features of their oAvn climate. But 
 Avhy should he emulate this strange fancy ? He 
 sat down to his drawing again, but he did not 
 get any satisfaction out of it. Not to be ap- 
 proved of was terrible to him. He could not 
 bear that even Janet should have a small opin- 
 ion of his hardiness and manly bearing. This 
 acted so strongly upon Lewis that after a while 
 he found himself pulling on his strongest boots 
 and getting into his tliickest great-coat. The 
 boots were not very strong ; he had never had 
 any chance of those exposures to water and 
 weather in which impervious coverings are ne- 
 cessary; but, having protected himself as well as 
 he could, he sallied forth at last with his um- 
 brella, and went down to the river-side. There 
 Avas little or no wind, and the rain fell in a 
 perpendicular flood, soaking everything. LeA\ds 
 imder his umbrella went patiently on, enduring
 
 176 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 it manfully, but uuable to see any pleasure in 
 liis progress through the flood. He met Katie 
 Seton and her brother near the church. She 
 was covered up in an ulster, with a hood over 
 her httle hat. Her cheeks Avere like roses 
 ' just washed in a shower.' 
 
 ' Oh, we never stay in for anything,' she said. 
 ' It is always better out than in.' 
 
 Lewis in his courtesy would have made over 
 his umbrella, but the girl would none of it. 
 
 ' Oh, I can't bear to carry an umbrella,' she 
 said. 
 
 He went on to the liver-side with a little 
 shrug of his shoulders. And there was Adam, 
 drenched, but glowing, pulling out trout after 
 trout, too busv to talk ; and lower down the 
 stream, in the middle of it, amid the rush of 
 broken water, where the river swirled round 
 the rock, young Stormont, almost iij) to his 
 middle, in great fishing-boots, with sluices of 
 water flowing from his glazed sou' -wester, 
 
 ' Jolly day !' Stormont cried through the rain. 
 
 ' Grand for the trout,' said Adam. 
 
 Lewis stood on the bank under the umbrella 
 and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' I A^dsh you joy of it,' he said. His feet were
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 177 
 
 growing wet, the rain, tliongh there was no 
 wind, came in his face Avith something Hke a 
 special mahce. He thought there was some- 
 thing savage in the gratij&cation of the two 
 fishers. After ho had watched them for a 
 time, he asked Adam for some of the trout in 
 his basket, and went home, carrying, with no 
 a-reat dehs-ht in the office, two noble tront tied 
 together with a string. These were cold and 
 slimy, but he overcame his repugnance. Janet 
 saw him return, with his wet feet and the fish 
 hanging from his hand, with a mixture of amuse- 
 ment and dissatisfaction. 
 
 ' Will they be for your lunch V she said, with 
 a contemptuous thought of the fondness for 
 eating Avith which Scotland always credits the 
 Englishman. 
 
 ' Oh, no,' Lewis cried, with horror ; ' do you 
 think I would carry these things for myself? 
 Put them in a basket ; I will take them -..o the 
 Castle, where,' he added, with a little innocent 
 pleasure in making the announcement, ' I am 
 going this afternoon.' 
 
 Janet looked at him with a certain contemptu- 
 ous disappointment. She thought he was going 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 to cany tlie fish as a proof of liis own skill and 
 prowess. 
 
 ' I'll maybe no find a basket. What ails ye 
 at them as they are V she said, with lowering 
 brows: which our young man chd not under- 
 stand at all, for it is needless to say that such 
 an idea never crossed his ingenuous mind. 
 
 He went upstairs a little surprised that not 
 even now, when he had proved his manhood 
 by wetting his boots (which he hastened to 
 change), did he please Mrs. Janet, as he called 
 her, but without the slightest clue to her sus- 
 picions. And after he had got into dry apparel, 
 and eaten his limcheon, Lewis sallied forth once 
 more, much pleased to be able to say that he 
 was going to the Castle^ where, indeed, the 
 sound of the bell at the door stirred and excited 
 the whole household, wliich had no hope of any- 
 thing so refreshing as a visitor. 
 
 Miss Margaret was seated above stairs with 
 Lilias in a room devoted to what was called 
 her studies, and generally known by the title of 
 the book-room, though there were but few books 
 in it. Lilias jumped up and rushed to the win- 
 dow in the very midst of the chapter of con-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 179 
 
 stitutional history which she was reading with 
 her self-denying elder sister. 
 
 ' There is no carriage,' she said ; ' it will be 
 somebody from the village.' 
 
 ' Never mind w^ho it is,' said Miss ]\Iargaret ; 
 ' we must finish our chapter.' 
 
 When the sound of music was diffused 
 through the house some time after, Miss Mar- 
 garet had a shrewd guess as to who the ^dsitor 
 was, and all the objections that existed to 
 his introduction to Lilias came up before 
 her mind, while the girl pm-sued, alas ! very 
 dully, the history of parliamentary institutions. 
 * It will be the tuner come to put the piano in 
 order,' she said by-and-by, she too speaking 
 unawares in the middle of a sentence. She felt 
 that it was a fib, but yet it was not necessarily 
 a fib, for why should not it be the tuner '? It 
 was about his time, she said to herself. This 
 took from Lilias all desire to go downstairs, all 
 expectation of a break in the dulness. She 
 went on Avith the drone of the history, which, 
 to tell the truth, was quite as much a burden to 
 Miss Margaret as to herself. But duty reigned 
 supreme in the bosom of the elder sister, and 
 
 n2
 
 180 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Lilias had always been submissive. She Avas 
 well aware, too, of the advantage of having 
 Margaret instead of a governess. Miss Jackson 
 would not have permitted her to slip to the 
 window with her book in her hand to see who 
 it was. 
 
 Miss Jean was alone in the drawing-room, 
 which was a large room, with a nnmber of 
 small Avindows, high set in the thick old walls, 
 each with its own little recess. It was not 
 light generally, bnt there were a great many 
 Rembrandtish effects, intense lights and shadows 
 in bright weather. To-day all was a sort of 
 monotone of greenish dimness : the wet trees 
 glistening; the expanse of the wet park throw- 
 ing a vague reflection into the air. The room 
 occupied a corner of the house, and the Avin- 
 dows on one side looked out upon a lime-tree 
 walk, which lay under the old enclosing wall, a 
 high, semi-defensible erection, Avith a turret at 
 the corner; and on the other looked on the 
 park, Avhich sloped doAvnward towards the river. 
 To the light hand the red and blue roofs of 
 the village glistened under the rain, the tiles 
 giving a Httle gleam of colour which the slates 
 did their best to neutralize. Nothing could
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 181 
 
 be more complete than the air of mutual pro- 
 tection and dependence which the village and 
 the Castle bore, though the Castle was but a 
 small and homely representative of power. Miss 
 Jean sat alone in the window which commanded 
 this prospect most fully. She had all her work 
 materials there ; a basket of fine silks in every 
 shade, a case of pretty, shining silver imple- 
 ments, scissors, and thimbles, and bodkins, and 
 on her lap a wonderful table-cover, upon which, 
 as long as any of the young people remembered, 
 she had been working a garland of flowers. 
 It was her oAvn invention, drawn from Nature, 
 and consequently, as she sometimes explained 
 A^-ith a little pride, the winter time, which was 
 the best time for working in general, was lost 
 to her, since she always liked to have her 
 models under her eyes. At the present moment, 
 a Httle cluster of pansies was before her in a 
 glass, and the colours arranged upon the table 
 in which she was to copy them. But she was 
 not working ; her table-cover lay on her lap. 
 She was looking out vaguely upon the rain, 
 and the wet trees, and the village ro9fs. It 
 was supposed that ]\Iiss Jean was the one of 
 the family who leant towards the sentimental.
 
 182 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 aud no doubt there had been mcidents in her 
 gentle hfe which justified the opinion. She was 
 thinking, as she would have said — perhaps even 
 so late as tliis the soft-hearted, middle-aged 
 maiden was dreaming — but, if so, nobody was 
 the Aviser for Miss Jean's dreams. They never 
 prevented her ready attention to any appeal, 
 and she only indulged in them when quite alone. 
 They alternated "with the flowers of the table- 
 cover in her mind, and both were emanations 
 of the same soft and tender spirit. The room 
 was very still around tliis one quiet figure ; 
 behind her the dim atmosphere was brighter 
 with the glow of a small, but cheerful fire. It 
 Avas the opinion of the Miss Murrays, as of 
 many other comfortable people, that in wet 
 weather an old house was always the better 
 for a fire. The little jyetilleinejif of the fire 
 and the soft rush of the faUing rain outside 
 were all the sounds audible in the extreme still- 
 ness. What wonder that Miss Jean should 
 drop the embroidered pansies on her lap, 
 and take to thoughts which were a sort of 
 spu-itual prototypes of the pansies — thoughtlets, 
 little musings, dreamikins, so to speak ; they 
 brought now and then from her gentle bosom
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 183 
 
 the softest little sigh, not a sigh that hurt, but 
 one that soothed. There was no part of her 
 time that Miss Jean hked better than these 
 moments which she spent by herself, when 
 i\Iargaret was reading history with Lihas. She 
 closed up a pretty little note-book, which had 
 been in her hand, when she heard the sound 
 of the bell. If truth must be told, she had been 
 writing in it a pretty httle verse — a pansy of 
 still another kind ; for Miss Jean belonged to the 
 age when it was a pretty accomj)lishment to 
 waite charming little ' copies of verses,' a thing 
 very sweet and delightful for a young woman 
 to do. 
 
 The character of the place seemed to change 
 at once when Lewis came in. Life, and cheer- 
 fulness, and variety came mth hun. He was 
 very anxious to please and make himself agree- 
 able. He told her of his walk to the water-side, 
 of Stormont in the river, and Adam on the 
 bank ; water above and water below. 
 
 ' You wall think me very effeminate,' he said. 
 ' I much prefer this nice cba wing-room ;' and 
 he looked round it with an admiring an- that 
 pleased Miss Jean. 
 
 To tell the truth, Lewis w^as thinking that.
 
 184 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 though picturesque, it was probably clamp, a 
 suggestion which would not have pleased Miss 
 Jean at all. 
 
 ' Gentlemen are very venturesome,' said Miss 
 Jean ; ' indeed, the wonder is that they are not 
 all laid up with rheumatism — but they're used 
 to it, I suppose.' 
 
 ' I am not at all used to it,' said Lewis ; and 
 then ho added, with one of his confidential im- 
 pulses : ' A great part of my life I have spent 
 in attendance upon a dear old friend.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Miss Jean, her eyes lighting up 
 vnth interest. ' That is out of the way for a 
 young man. You will excuse me, but I take a 
 great interest — not father or mother, as you 
 say a friend T 
 
 ' No : my godfather, who took me up when my 
 father and mother died, and who was like father 
 and mother in one. He was lonely and old, and 
 I never left him — for vears.' 
 
 As Lewis spoke there came a gleam of moist- 
 ure into his eyes, as he looked smiling into the 
 face of the sjanpathetic woman, who had she 
 but kno^vn — But no suspicion crossed the 
 mind of Miss Jean. 
 
 ' Dear me !' she said ; ' lonely and old are sad
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 185 
 
 words. And yoii gave up your young life to 
 him ? There are few that would have done 
 that.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, there was no giving up, it was my 
 happiness,' said LeA\'is ; ' no one was ever so 
 land; he was my dear companion. And then, 
 you know, abroad' — he smiled as he said this 
 generic Avord which answered for everywhere — 
 * abroad boys are not all brought up to be 
 athletic; to defy the elements, as in England — ' 
 
 ' I do not know very much about England,' 
 said IMiss Jean, entirely unconscious that her 
 visitor meant to embrace Tayside in this geo- 
 graphical term, 'but there is too much fishing 
 and shooting here. That is my opinion. I like 
 a young man to be manly, but there are more 
 things in the world than the trout or the birds. 
 And no doubt you would learn your music to 
 please your invalid ? That is very touching. 
 I took an interest from the fii'st, but still more 
 now when I know the cause.' 
 
 ' That reminds me,' cried Le-^^-is, 'that my sole 
 excuse for coming was to play to you.' 
 
 'Don't say that, Mr. Murray. We are very 
 glad to see you,' said Miss Jean, though not 
 without a quiver, ' without any reason at all.'
 
 186 IT VTAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' That is very kind, more kind than I can say. 
 A stranger has double reason to be grateful.' 
 
 ' The advantage is onrs,' said ]\Iiss Jean, with 
 old-fashioned politeness ; and then there was a 
 momentary pause : for the question would obtrude 
 itself upon her, in spite of herself, ' "NAHiat will 
 Margaret say f 
 
 And then Lewis went to the piano and began 
 to plfiy. Miss Jean took up her work and 
 threaded her needle, and prepared for enjoy- 
 ment^ for to work and be read to, or hear music 
 played to you was one of her beatitudes; but 
 by-and-by the table-cover fell upon her knees 
 again, and she turned her face towards the 
 musician in a growing ecstacy of attention. 
 Music is not lil^e any other of the arts, it does 
 not address itself to the intellect. Miss JMar- 
 garet was far more clever than her sister, but 
 she had no comprehension of Beethoven. Jean 
 had the ear to hear. At first her mind was 
 somewhat agitated by doubts whether her sister 
 would approve, and even whether it was alto- 
 gether prudent to have thus received a young 
 man whom nobody knew. She thought of the 
 text, ' Lay hands suddenly on no man,' and she 
 was a little confused about the matter alto-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 187 
 
 getlier. And, had she been like her sister, Miss 
 Jean would have continued in this mood ; she 
 Avould have recognized that it was good play- 
 ing, but her mind would have been able to 
 consider the original question all through it, 
 and her doubts, it is possible, might have been in- 
 creased rather than set at rest by the proficiency 
 of the young musician, a proficiency to which, 
 so far as her experience went, very few gentle- 
 men attained. But Miss Jean had a faculty 
 which Margaret lacked. After a while she forgot 
 everything but the divine strain that ^Vas in her 
 ear. The table-cover slipped over her knees to 
 the ground, and she was not even aware of it ; 
 the silks, so carefully arranged in their right 
 shades, dropped too, and lay all tangled and 
 mixed up on the carpet. Miss Jean did not 
 care. She neither saw nor heard anything but 
 the music ; she sat with her hands clasped, her 
 eyes fixed upon the piano, her mind absorbed. 
 AVhen he stopped, she could not speak ; she 
 waved her hand to him inarticulately, not even 
 knowing what she wanted to say. And LeAvis, 
 after a little pause, resumed. It was some time 
 since he had touched a piano, and his mind too 
 was agitated and full of many questions. It
 
 188 IT WAS A LOVER AJ^D HIS LASS. 
 
 was not for uoiiglit tliat he had got admittance 
 here. Perhaps a httle of the elevation of a 
 martyr was in his thoughts. It had not oc- 
 cm-red to him, so long as Sir Patrick lived, that 
 he was sacrificing his youth to the old man. It 
 had not occurred to him until he came here : 
 now he seemed to see it more clearly. And he 
 had come with the intention of sacrificing him- 
 self once more, of giving up natm-al choice and 
 freedom, and retmiiing his fortune (burdened 
 indeed with himself) to the family from which 
 it had come. It was only now with Miss Jean's 
 mild eyes upon him that he fully realized all 
 this. He kept looking at her, as he played, with 
 close and anxious observation. Not an idea of 
 the light in which she appeared to him was in 
 ]\Iiss Jean's mind. That any man should be 
 looking at her with the idea of maldng her his 
 wife would have startled her beyond expression; 
 but a young man — a youth whom she regarded 
 as not much more than a boy! It is to be feared 
 that Miss Jean's sentiments would have been 
 those of resentment. She would have thought 
 herself insulted. But, happily, there was not in 
 any^thing around the smallest suggestion of such 
 a piu'pose. If the ladies of Murkley considered
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 189 
 
 an intruder dangerons, it was entirely on account 
 of Lilias. To think of themselves never entered 
 their minds ; they were beyond all that. They 
 had settled doAvn upon their own unchangeable 
 fortunes with great peace and tranquillity, put- 
 ting themselves, so far as the hopes and happi- 
 ness of life were concerned, into Lilias. She 
 was to enjoy for them, to get advancement, to 
 go to coui't, to have all the delights and honours 
 which they had never known. Generally it is 
 in their childi-en that women thus live by proxy ; 
 these maiden sisters felt it a special boon of Provi- 
 dence that, immarried and without succession as 
 they were in life, they should have this special 
 representative in the new generation. But even 
 Lihas went out of Miss Jean's mind as she hst- 
 ened. She would have liked indeed that Lihas, 
 that all she loved, should be here to share the 
 benefit ; but then she was aware that the benefit 
 would have been much less to them. She 
 had, therefore, a reason to herself for enjo^aug 
 it alone. And the afternoon stole away while 
 this wonderful dehght went on. Lewis, though 
 he was the performer, did not lose himself in the 
 music as Miss Jean did. "When he stopped at 
 last, she could not speak to hun ; her eyes were
 
 190 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 full of tears. She made him again a little sign 
 with her haud and was silent, waiting until she 
 could come down from that upper region, in 
 which she had been soaring, to common earth. 
 Fortunately at this moment Miss Margaret came 
 in. 
 
 ' So you have been playing to Jean?' she said ; 
 ' that is very amiable and very kind. She is not 
 quite her own woman where music is concerned. 
 I thought it best to leave the treat to her by 
 herself, for I'm not a fanatic as she is. But I am 
 very much obliged to you for givhig my sister 
 such a pleasure.' 
 
 ' The pleasure is,' said Lewis, ' to play to one 
 who feels it so much.' 
 
 ' I can fancy that,' said Miss Margaret, ' that 
 it is not just all on one side. You are meaning 
 to settle in this country, Mr. Murray ? There 
 are many of our name hereabout. We may 
 possibly count kin with you ourselves when we 
 know what family ye are of.' 
 
 ' I fear not,' Lewis said, shaking his head. He 
 grew pale, and then he grew red. Here was a 
 danger he had not thought of, and what was he 
 to say ? 
 
 ' You must not say that. It is far more likely
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 101 
 
 than not that we'll find ourselves consins. All 
 Murrays are sib to j\Iurkley : they say, you 
 know, that all Stuarts are sib to the king. I am 
 not taking such state upon us as all that : the 
 duke, he is the head of the clan : but still ]\Iurkley 
 is far ben,' said Miss Margaret, satisfied, l^ut 
 calm. ' Probably, as you've been so long abroad, 
 you are a little astray in your genealogy. I 
 have often remarked that. But tell me your 
 county, and I will tell you what brancli you 
 come from,' 
 
 Lewis got up from the piano. He was glad 
 to turn his back from the light, to conceal liis 
 embarrassment. 
 
 ' Indeed,' he said, ' I can't tell you even that. 
 My godfather had been long abroad ; he spoke 
 little of his people ; his money was all in the 
 funds. I knew only him, not his origin.' 
 
 ' That is very strange,' Miss ]Margaret said. 
 ' There are no godfathers in our Scotch way ; 
 but I would have thought your good father and 
 mother would have been particular about a man's 
 antecedents before they made him responsible.' 
 
 ' Oh, my father and mother — ' said Lewis — he 
 was about to say knew nothing of him, but 
 stopped himself in time — ' they died,' he said,
 
 192 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 hastily, ' wlieii I was very young, and he took 
 me up, when I had nobody to care for me. It 
 has all been love and kindness on his part, and, 
 I hope, gratitude on mine.' 
 
 ' Indeed, and I am sure of that,' said Miss 
 Jean. ' Just imagine, Margaret, a young man, 
 not much more than a boy, and he has devoted 
 himself to this old gentleman. It is not many 
 that would do that. He has given up his youth 
 to please him. He has learned to play like yon 
 for his sake. He has been a son to him, and 
 more. For my part, I never heard anything like 
 it. He has not a poor mind like yours and 
 mine to inquire was he Murray of this or that ; 
 he just loved him, and served him for love's 
 sake. And is not that the best of all ?' Miss Jean 
 said. She was still in the rapture of the music 
 she had heard ; her heart touched, her eyes wet, 
 her pulses all throbbing in unison. She rose 
 up in her enthusiasm, letting the famous table- 
 cloth drop again and walked on it, unconscious 
 of what she was doing, till she came to the fire, 
 near which her sister had established herself. 
 Miss Jean leant her hand upon the high mantel- 
 piece, which was a narrow shelf of marble, and 
 stood up there, her head relieved against the
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 193 
 
 Avliitc and highly carved pediment. Her tall, 
 slight figure, in its black gown, had a tkrill of 
 emotion abont it. Miss Margaret, seated at a 
 little distance in the glow of the small, bright 
 fire, looked calm hke a judge, listening and 
 deciding, while the other had all the energy of 
 an advocate. 
 
 'I am very glad to hear such a fine account of 
 the young gentleman,' she said. 
 
 ' Your sister takes me on my own evidence,' 
 said Lewis. ' It is only from me she has heard 
 it, and I did not know I was telling her all that. 
 AVhat I told her was that my dear old godfather 
 was old and lonely, and that when I was with him 
 I could not learn to wade in the water and devote 
 myself to fishing hke Stormont. It was jealousy 
 made me say so,' cried the young man. ' I 
 thought Stoi'mont looked such a fine fellow risk- 
 ing his hfe for the trout, and me, I was sony to 
 get my feet wet. What a difference ! and not 
 to my advantage. So, to account for myself, 
 and to be an excuse, I told my story. " Qui 
 s' excuse, s accuse." I had no right to say any- 
 thing about it. It was my jealousy, nothing 
 more.' 
 
 ' You can ring for the tea, Jean,' ]\Iiss Mar- 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 garet said. This was the only decision she 
 dehvered, but it was enough. She turned round 
 afterwards and made an elaborate apology for 
 her other sister. ' You will be wondering you 
 do not see Lilias,' she said, ' but she is much 
 occupied ; she has a great many things to do. 
 Another time when you come I hope I may pre- 
 sent you to her. She is so important to us all 
 that perhaps we are more anxious than we need 
 be. Jean and me, we are tw^o, you see, to take 
 care of her : and she is the chief object of our 
 thoughts.' 
 
 ' I hope it is not bad health,' Lewis said, ' that 
 makes you anxious.' His idea was that Lilias 
 must be the eldest sister, and perhaps beginning 
 to succumb to the burdens of age. 
 
 Miss Margaret gave Miss Jean, who was about 
 to speak, a warning look. 
 
 ' No,' she said, ' it is not bad health ; but there 
 are many thmgs to be taken into account. And 
 here comes Simon with the tea,' she added, in a 
 tone of relief. If there was a mystery on his 
 part, there was a little concealment and consci- 
 ous deception upon theirs too.
 
 195 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 I' EWIS was greatly elated by this easy be- 
 J ginning of his undertaking. Everything 
 had been so new to him in these nnknown 
 regions that he did not knoAv how he was to 
 make his way, or whether it wonld be possible 
 to penetrate into the circle of the ladies of 
 Mm-kley at all. And now everything was so 
 simple, so natm'al, that he wondered at his own 
 fears. He was the acquaintance of the Avhole 
 village, or rather ' the haill toun,' as they called 
 themselves, and before he had been a fortnight 
 in the place was taken for granted as a member 
 of the little community. On the second rainy 
 day he called at the manse, and for politeness 
 sake was asked to play there, and was hstened 
 to ■s\ath bustling attention by Mrs. Seton, while 
 
 o2
 
 19. Q IT WAS A LOVER AjS'D HIS LASS. 
 
 Katie discreetly yawned behind lier work, and 
 Mr. Seton recollected an engagement. 
 
 *rm very sorry,' the minister said, 'but my 
 time is not my own. We ministers are like 
 doctors ; we are constantly being called away.' 
 
 Lewis was not offended by the good man's 
 excuses, nor by little Katie's weariness. He 
 played them his ' piece,' as Mrs. Seton called it, 
 and then, with a langh, left the piano. Mrs. 
 Seton thought it was essential to ask him to go 
 on. 
 
 ' You're not getting up yet, Mr. Murray,' she 
 said. ' Oh, no, no, you mustn't do that. It is 
 just a treat, such as we seldom get. You see, 
 there are few people that can give the time to 
 it. You must have practised a great deal, far 
 more than our young people Avill take the trou- 
 ble to do. Oh, you never bound yourself to 
 hours? That must have been because you ' 
 were so fond of it, and just played on without 
 taking count of the time. Do you hear that, 
 Katie ? That is what you ought to do, if you 
 would ever be a performer like Mr. Murray. Just 
 let him hear you play that last thing of yours. Well, 
 it is not like what Mr. Mmray can do, of course, 
 but it is not at all bad for a little thing like
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 197 
 
 you ; and very likely Mr. ]\Iurray could give 
 you a hint or two. A liint is sometimes of such 
 consequence. Toots! just get up at once. When 
 you have to be pressed, and coaxed, and all 
 that, people expect something very grand. 
 Now, in your simple way, you should just do 
 it at once, and nobody would criticise.' 
 
 'But Mr. Murray doesn't want to hear me 
 play. He plays far better — oh, so much better 
 — himself,' ciied Katie. 
 
 ' Just never you mind that,' said her mother. 
 ' Do yom- best, nobody can do more. When 
 you are as old as me, you will know that 
 the best judges are always the ones that are 
 least hard to please. Just go at once, Katie. 
 Perhaps you will tell her what you see par- 
 ticularly wrong, Mr. Murray,' she added, as the 
 gui reluctantly obeyed. 'Unfortunately, we 
 can get so little advantage of masters here. I 
 am always telhng Mr.'Seton we must give her 
 a winter in EcHnburgh, just to get into the 
 ways of the world a little; for you cannot do 
 that here — oh, no, no, you just can't get that 
 in the country. You must see people, and see 
 how they behave. But a clergyman has such 
 a difSculty in getting away, unless he really
 
 198 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 falls ill, or sometliing of that kind ; and it would 
 be going too far, yon know, to wish for that. 
 I think myself sometimes that I see signs of over 
 work, but Mr. Seton will not hear of it — he just 
 will not hear of it. Katie, Katie, that's a great 
 deal too quick. Do you not think that was 
 too fast, Mr. MuiTay ? Dear, dear ! you must 
 always count, you must not trust to your ear ; 
 and don't be so strong upon the pedals, Katie.. 
 That was a little better. Take care of the time, 
 and the tune will take care of itself. La — la — 
 la-la-la — la,' sang the anxious mother, accom 
 panying Avith waving hand and head the some 
 what uncertain performance. 
 
 Lewis was so sympathetic that he was quite 
 conscious of Katie's indignation, and shame- 
 facedness, and blinding embarrassment, as well 
 as of the humour of her mother's remarks, which 
 ran on all the time. He got up after a little 
 while and Avent and stood behind the young 
 performer. 
 
 ' Don't be frightened,' he said, in an tmder- 
 tone. ' If you -^vill play more slowly, and not 
 lose your head, you mil do very well. I used 
 to lose my head, too, and make a dreadful mess 
 of it when I was your age.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 199 
 
 ' I mean to stop at the end of the first bit,' 
 said Katie, in the same undertone, with a defiant 
 glance. ' As you did the other day.' 
 
 ' At the end of the andante V said Lewis. 
 ' Yes, that will be best.' 
 
 The girl looked up at him this time with 
 astonishment. It is one thing to say that you 
 intend to break off in a performance, but quite 
 another when your audience acquiesces in this 
 rebellion. 
 
 'I thought you were so fond of it,' Katie 
 could not help saj-ing, with a little pique. 
 So fond of it that he would have liked to 
 prolong her performance ! Lewis laughed in- 
 wardly, but outside preserved his decorum. 
 
 ' When you play without your will, it is no 
 longer in harmony,' he said. ' However you 
 may be correct, it wall never sound so. When 
 you take away the consent of the heart, the 
 chords do not strike just — you understand V 
 
 Katie stared at him, while her fingers stum- 
 bled over the keys. She was profoundly aston- 
 ished, but she was not stupid, and more or less 
 the girl did understand. 
 
 They were left to each other, while Mrs. 
 Seton rose to receive a visitor, and Lewis
 
 200 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 seized the opportunity of tlie first break to 
 substitute conversation for music. He gave lier 
 a ludicrous account of himself in tlie rain. 
 
 ' If you bad seen me, you would have despised 
 me,' he said. ' How glad I am we met only in 
 the village, and not on the river-side ! When I 
 met you I was like one of the fowls, with all my 
 feathers drooping, don't you know, longing to 
 get under a cart, as they did.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Murray !' cried Katie, with a broken 
 giggle. She had thought so, but to assent to 
 this description of himself was quite against the 
 code of morals inculcated at the manse. 
 
 ' Oh, it is very true,' said Lewis, with his cor- 
 dial laugh. ' You scoffed at my umbrella, but 
 when it is wet one always carries an umbrella 
 where I come from. Ah, but there was worse 
 than the umbrella, Miss Katie. Is it permitted 
 that I should say ]\Iiss Katie V 
 
 ' Oh, yes,' said Katie, with a little blush — 
 ' everybody does it here : though I am the eldest/ 
 she added, with a httle dignity. 
 
 * Abroad,' said Lewis, with the smile which 
 he always permitted himself when he used that 
 vague term, ' we say mademoiselle, or Fraulein, 
 or signorina. I know that miss is a little differ-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 201 
 
 ent in Englisli. But I wander from my subject. 
 When I got to the river, I felt Avhat you call 
 small, Miss Katie. There was Stormont m the 
 middle of the stream — he I thought a little lan- 
 guid the other day, not taking much interest — ' 
 
 ' Oh, but that is a mistake,' cried Katie, with 
 a vi-sdd blush ; ' it is just that we're quiet in 
 Scotland — we think quiet manners the best. 
 
 Oh, he takes a great interest ' and here she 
 
 stopped embaiTassed ; for why, indeed, should 
 she take upon herself to respond for young Stor- 
 mont? She gave an anxious glance at Lewis, 
 lest he should laugh, or perhaps indulge in a 
 little banter on the subject, which was not 
 foreign to the manners of the countryside. But 
 Lewis was perfectly serious, and answered her 
 with the au' of a judge. 
 
 ' Of course, I was mistaken in that. There 
 he was in the middle of the river, like a young 
 Hercules, glowing and fresh, while I was so 
 sodden and drooping. If you had heard me 
 laugh at myself ! "What a poor creature you 
 are !" I said, " not fit for this robust country at 
 all, thinking that your feet will get wet, that 
 the grass is soaking, while he is there enjoying 
 himself— actually enjojaug himself !" '
 
 202 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' Oil, yes,' cried Katie, proud and pleased, ' it 
 was grand for the fishing. He had snch a basket 
 of fish. One was seven pounds, they said. Mr. 
 Stormont called on his way home just to tell 
 papa what sport he had had,' she added in 
 explanation, ' and that was how I know.' 
 
 Lewis was not insensible to the fact that to 
 call at the manse, which was on the right side 
 of the river, on his way to the Tower, Avhich was 
 on the left, was a peculiar short cut for young 
 Stormont to make : but he accepted every detail 
 with perfect gravity. 
 
 ' I,' he said, with his apologetic air and his 
 cheerful laugh at himself, ' basely took advan- 
 tage of Adam's skill, and got some of his fish to 
 carry to the Castle. I did not pretend I had 
 caught them myself — I was not quite so base 
 as that. But Adam, too, how much he was my 
 superior! To see him there, all brown and 
 strong, casting his rod, the rain raining upon 
 him, and little brooks running off his hat and 
 his clothes. How shall I make myself like that, 
 Miss Katie ? I am only a carpet knight — I am 
 not good for anything here.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Murray !' repeated little Katie. She 
 was shocked with herself not to be able to find
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 203 
 
 something consolatoiy, something gTatifying to 
 say. At length she ventm-ed, timidly and against 
 her conscience, to bring forward arguments in 
 liis defence against himself. ' You can play such 
 beautiful music, such hard things — and no gen- 
 tleman hereabouts can do that ; and you know a 
 great many languages.' 
 
 ' That is no credit to me,' Lewis said. ' I 
 could not help learning them — when I was a 
 child and knew no better,' ho added, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 'We are awfully backward in languages,' 
 Katie said. ' We had a German governess for 
 a while, but I never could learn it. And as for 
 the gentlemen, they never try. After all, it is 
 not so much wanted, do you think, unless you 
 sing, to teach you how to pronounce the words ? 
 that is what mamma says. If you sing, you 
 must learn hoAv to say youi- words ; they arc 
 always either Italian or German, or at the least 
 French.' 
 
 ' That is very important,' said Lewis, gravely ; 
 * and perhaps to know what the words mean : 
 that would help you to the appropriate ex- 
 pression.' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't mind so much about that,' said
 
 204 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Katie ; ' it's rather old-fasliioned to put expres- 
 sion into them. Mamma is old-fashioned ; she 
 gives her head a httle nod, and she tm-ns it Hke 
 this, and she smiles at the fimny parts — I don't 
 mean really funny, you know, for of course she 
 never sings comic songs, but at the parts where 
 you would smile if you were talking. But you 
 don't do that noAv ; it is quite old-fashioned, my 
 music-mistress says.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is quite old-fashioned f said Lewis. 
 
 ' Quite. Miss Jean is even worse than mamma. 
 Sometimes you would think she was going to 
 cry. Perhaps you never heard her sing ? Oh, 
 it is only the old Scotch things she sings; but 
 some people think a great deal of them. 
 Mamma sings them sometimes too. I don't 
 care for them myself. What I should hke best 
 would be the German, if you were quite sure that 
 you pronounced the words right.' 
 
 ' So far as that goes, I might perhaps be of 
 use.' 
 
 ' Oh, Avould you, Mr. Murray ? That would 
 be so very kind. If I only knew how to pro- 
 nounce them right, I would not care for anything 
 else.' 
 
 *Not this morning. Miss Katie; but you might
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 205 
 
 be singing something yon wonlcl not like to 
 iTtter ' 
 
 Katie looked at kim for a moment with sm- 
 prise, then she added, lightly, 
 
 * What conld it matter ? Nobody understands.' 
 
 By this time several callers had arrived, and 
 Mrs. Seton's monologue, with occasional inter- 
 ruptions, was heard from the other end of the 
 room. Sirs. Stormont was one of the visitors, 
 and Miss Jean another ; but, though the former 
 lady was a formidable obstacle, the quickly 
 flowing tide of speech from the mmister's wife 
 canied all before it. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, yes,' she said, ' that's just what I 
 always say. If it's not good for the country in 
 one way, it is in another ; it keeps down the 
 insects and things, and, if it's bad for the hay, 
 it's excellent for the tm-nips. And, besides, it's 
 the Almighty's will, which is the best reason 
 after all. Sometimes it's very good for us just 
 to be dull, and put up with it — that's what I 
 tell the children often. Oh, yes, yes ; no doubt 
 it's hard to convince young things of Avhat 
 doesn't please them, but it's true for all that. 
 There are plenty of dull moments in life besides 
 the wet days, and we must just put up with
 
 206 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 them. ]Mr. Philip brought ns a beautiful pres- 
 ent of trout just the other day; the big one, 
 what was it it weighed, Katie ? — six pounds i? 
 Yes, yes, six pounds. A lovely fish — I never 
 saw a finer. I was unwilling to take it, though 
 that seemed ungracious. I just said, " Toots, 
 Mr. Philip, not me this time ; you're always so 
 kind to the manse — you should send this to some 
 greater person." ' 
 
 ' I did not know,' said ]\Irs. Stormont, with 
 very distinct enunciation, ' that my son had got 
 anything so considerable. The biggest one he 
 brought home was four pounds ; but at Philip's 
 age it's seldom that the best wins as far as 
 home.' 
 
 ' Dear me !' cried Mrs. Seton. ' Now that was 
 scarcely nice of Mv. Philip. I told him it was a 
 present fit for a greater stranger ; but he's just 
 very liberal-iTiinded, and has a great respect for 
 Mr. Seton, which is so good for a young man. 
 For I always say you can't have a safer friend 
 than yom- minister; but, if I had thought he 
 was depriving you of it, I would just have 
 scolded him well. No, no, that's not my way of 
 thinking ; it should always be the best for home 
 — oh! yes, the best should be for home. It's
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 207 
 
 very fine to be generous, but the best sliould 
 always be for home. I often say to the 
 children ' 
 
 ' Young men and their famihes seldom agi-ee 
 on that subject,' said Mrs. Stormont. 'Is it 
 true. Miss Jean, the grand story I hear about 
 Margaret and you and little Lilias all going up 
 to London next spring? Bless me, that ^n\\ 
 be a terrible affair. I know what it is to go 
 thi'ough a season in London ; I did it once, and 
 only once, myself. I said to my husband, 
 " We'll just be ruined," and I would never hear 
 of doing it again.' 
 
 ' It would not be for us,' said Miss Jean, ' but 
 for LiHas ; you see, at her age — and Margaret is 
 of the opinion that we should give her every 
 justice; besides, we would not stay all the 
 season, just enough to give her a good idea ; 
 and then, you see, being once presented, she 
 would be prepared for whatever might happen.' 
 
 ' We all know what that means,' said Mrs. 
 Seton, nodding her head. ' Oh, yes, yes, it is 
 very natural. When you have the charge of 
 young people, you must look on into the future. 
 I am always telhng Mr. Seton, Katie must have 
 a winter in Edinburgh; that will be season
 
 208 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 enough for her, for you are never rightly at your 
 ease m society till you have seen something of 
 the world.' 
 
 « For my part, I think there's far better society 
 in Edinburgh than you can get in London,' said 
 Mrs. Stormont. ' You get the best in the one place, 
 but it's a very different class you get in the other. 
 A good Scots family counts for nothing among 
 all those fashionable folk. You are asked at 
 the tail-end of one of their great parties, and 
 yoiu- friends think they have done their duty by 
 you. No, no, London's not for me.' 
 
 ' That may be very true,' said Miss Jean, ' but 
 Margaret is of the opinion that this is the right 
 thing to do ; and she always strives to carry out 
 Avhat she thinks to be right.' 
 
 ' It's just the most teriible waste of money,' 
 Mrs. Stormont continued. ' I never tliink you 
 get half so much for a gold sovereign as you do 
 for a pound note ; and if you ask your way in 
 the street, or stroke a bairn on the head as you 
 pass it, there's sixpence to pay. And the beer ! 
 nobody but wants beer. How they can stand 
 all that cold stuff on their stomachs is a mystery 
 to me.' 
 
 'Mr. Seton maintains it's not so bad as a
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 209 
 
 dram,' said the minister's wife. ' Oh I no, no, if 
 you come to think of it, it is not so bad as the 
 drams. Whisky is far worse for their stomachs. 
 If the one's cold, the other just burns them up. 
 I set my face against it, but it's so Httle you can 
 do. And sixpence goes a far way in beer; you 
 can always hope he'll not drink it all, but take 
 home the half to his wife. iVh, no, you must not 
 speak against London. It's a grand place Lon- 
 don. You see the best of everything there. 
 When we go up now and then, which is not 
 nearly so often as I should wish, we have no 
 cause to complain of oui- friends. They are just 
 as pleased to see us as we are to see them, and 
 we must dine with this one, and the other will 
 take us to the Academy, or into the park, or to 
 hear a concert. You would be happy there with 
 the music, Mr. Murray. The best always goes 
 to London. Oh ! yes, yes, in London there is 
 the best of everything.' 
 
 ' And the worst,' said Mrs. Stormont, emphatic- 
 ally, as she rose. She paused to shake hands 
 ■\^dth Lewis with a certain demonstration of 
 interest. ' You are going to settle down in our 
 neighbourhood?' she said. 'I'm sm-e I'm very 
 glad to hear it. There's no better situation that 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 I know of. You're near the moors for the shoot- 
 ing, and close to the river for the fishing, and 
 what conld heart of man desire more V 
 
 ' Unfortunately I am not much of a sportsman.' 
 ' Well, well, there are other attractions,' said 
 Mrs. Stormont, with nnnsnal geniality. 'We 
 can supply you with better things. A nice 
 house and pleasant neighbours, and a bonnie 
 Scots lassie for a wife, if that is within your 
 requirements. Men are scarce, and you may 
 pick and choose.' 
 
 ' Not quite so bad as that, I hope,' said Mrs. 
 Seton, with a heightened colour. ' No, no, not 
 so bad as that ; but still, no doubt, there are 
 some fine girls.' 
 
 ' Some ! there are dozens,' said the other, with 
 an evident meaning which Lewis, surprised, did 
 not fathom ; ' and take you my word, Mr. 
 Murray, you are in a grand position. You have 
 nothing to do but pick and choose.' 
 
 Miss Jean rose up quickly when this was said. 
 She was nervous and alarmed by every trumpet 
 of battle. She hastily interposed, with her softer 
 voice. 
 
 ' I must be going, Mrs. Seton. We will soon, 
 I hope, see you at the castle ; and Katie knows
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 211 
 
 how welcome she is. No, no, you'll never mind 
 coming to the door. Here is Mr. Murray will 
 see me out,' cried Miss Jean, eager to be absent 
 from the fray. 
 
 Mrs. Stormont, however, had delivered her 
 shaft, and it was she Avho led the way, with a 
 smile of satisfied malice. 
 
 ' You must really settle among us. You must 
 not just tantalise the young ladies,' she said. 
 
 When shehadbeen placed in her pony-carriage 
 and driven aAvay, Lewis took the opportunity 
 thus presented to him, and accompanied Miss 
 Jean, somewhat to her alarm, into the park 
 through the little wicket. Miss Jean was still 
 a httle nervous, with a tremor of agitation about 
 her. 
 
 ' Did you ever hear anything like yon V she 
 said. 'It was very ill-bred. You see Mrs. 
 Stonnont is a person of strong feelings. That 
 is always the excuse Margaret makes for her. 
 But you may disapprove of a thing, surely, and 
 show it in a way becoming -a gentlewoman, with- 
 out going so far as that.' 
 
 ' AVhat is it,' asked Le^vis, always full of 
 interest in liis fellow-creatures, ' which this lady 
 does not approve V 
 
 p2
 
 212 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' There are great allowances to be made for 
 her,' said Miss Jean. ' You see Philip is her 
 only son, and naturally, if he marries at all, she 
 would like him to look higher. The kSetons are 
 very nice people. I would not have you think 
 anything different ; but it would not be wonder- 
 ful that she should like him to look higher.' 
 
 ' I see; then it is Mrs. Seton who has arranged 
 to marry her daughter to ' 
 
 ' Oh, you must not take that into your head. 
 Bless me ! I would not say that : it may never 
 come the length of marrying ; it is just that 
 Philip is always hanging about the manse. 
 And Katie, she is very young, poor thing, and 
 fond of her amusement — they may mean no- 
 thing, for anything I can tell ; and that is 
 Margaret's opinion,' Miss Jean said, with tre- 
 pidation. 'Margaret has always said it was 
 nothing but a little nonsense and flu-tation 
 between the young folk.' 
 
 ' It is the fashion of England,' said Lewis, ' I 
 suppose — but it is strange to me, too, as to Mrs. 
 Stormont — that Miss Katie should manage her 
 own concerns.' 
 
 ' I know little about the fashions of England,' 
 said Miss Jean, slightly annoyed by this answer,
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 213 
 
 * but in Scotland it is not onr way to aiTange 
 these sort of things ; when they come of them- 
 selves, we have just to put up with it, if we don't 
 like it, or to be thanlcful, if we do. It is more 
 natural than that French way of. arranging — 
 which comes to nothing but harm, as I have 
 often heard.' 
 
 Lewis did not stand up in defence of the 
 French Avay. He said, 
 
 ' Miss Katie is too young, she will think that 
 is play ; but when it is otherwise, Avlien the lady 
 is one who knows what is in the world, and 
 what it is to choose, and understands what she 
 would wish in the companion of her life ' 
 
 Here Miss Jean began to shake her head, and 
 laugh softly to herself. 
 
 ' Where will you find a yoimg creatm-e that 
 will be so wise as that f she said. 
 
 ' Perhaps I was not thinldng of a young 
 creature,' said Lewis, piqued a little by her 
 laugh. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Miss Jean, ' that is just another of 
 your French ways. I have heard that in their 
 very stories it ^vdll be an elder person, a Avidow 
 perhaps, that will be the heroine. That's a 
 thing which is very repulsive to the like of us
 
 211 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 in tliis country. Yoti will perliaps think I am 
 very romantic, but I like none of your unnatural 
 stoiies. What I like is two young folk, not 
 very wise perhaps, mistaken it may be, but wdth 
 honest hearts towards one another, faithful and 
 true ; that is what I like to hear of — and no 
 parents interfering, except just to guide a little, 
 and help them on.' 
 
 ' Ah !' said Lewis, with an involimtary sigh, 
 ' that is one way, to be sm-e ; but must all other 
 Avays be unnatm-al ? Might it not be that the 
 elder person, as you say, should have a charm 
 greater than the younger, should be more sweet 
 in some one's eyes, kinder and truer ? All 
 romance is not of one kind.' 
 
 ' I cannot abide,' said Miss Jean, severely, * the 
 woman that can begin over again, and tag a 
 new life on to the tail of another. No, I cannot 
 'bide that. It may be one of my old-fashioned 
 Avays : but to everj^hing there is a season, as 
 Solomon, in his wisdom, was instructed to 
 say.' 
 
 ' That is different,' said Lewis ; ' but do you 
 think, then, that the heart grows old? I have 
 known some who were as fresh as any young 
 girl, or even as a child, though they were not 
 what you call yoimg.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 215 
 
 ' Well, well r said Miss Jean, with a smile and 
 a sigli, ' I will say nothing against that. I'll 
 allow it's true. Oh, yes ; but you're a clever 
 young man to discern it. It is just ridicul- 
 ous,' she continued, bursting into a little laugh, 
 ' the young feeling that — some persons have ; 
 wrinldes and grey hahs outside, and just the 
 foohsh feehng Avithin, as if you were still a bit 
 foolish lamb upon the lee.' 
 
 Miss Jean laughed, but there was a little 
 moisture in her eyes. 
 
 ' You have neither wrinkles nor grey hairs,' 
 said the audacious Lewis. ' You choose to be 
 old, but you are not old. Yom- eyes are as 
 young as Miss Katie's, your heart is more soft 
 and kind. Why there should be anything un- 
 natural in a romance that had you for its centre 
 I cannot see.' 
 
 ' Me !' 
 
 Miss Jean stood still in her astonishment ; a 
 soft colour passed over her gentle countenance, 
 not so much wdth the emotion appropriate to 
 the occasion, as with wonder and amazement. 
 It was a moment before she fully realized what 
 he meant to say, and then — 
 
 ' Bless the laddie ! is he going out of his 
 senses,' she cried. ' Me !'
 
 21 G IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 'xliicl why not? I canuot see any reason,' 
 Lewis said. He was always ingratiating, anxi- 
 ous to please, seeking with a smiling anxiety 
 for the sympathy of his companions. He looked 
 at her now with a tender desire to set her right 
 with herself. A respectful admiration was in 
 his eyes ; and indeed, as he looked with the 
 strong desire which he had to find out all that 
 was best in the modest, gentle countenance 
 before him, it was astonishing how pretty Miss 
 Jean began to grow. The faded colour grew 
 sweeter and brighter, the eyes enlarged, the 
 very contour of the face became more perfect. 
 He could not help saying to himself that careful 
 di'essing, and a little stir and excitement, would 
 make her handsome ; and as for her age, what 
 did a few years matter? Lewis said to himself 
 that he had no prejudices. When a man of 
 forty marries a woman of twenty-five, there is 
 not a Avord to be said — and why should there 
 be any difference in this case ? All this was 
 written in his eyes, had Miss Jean been clever 
 enough to see it there. But she was not. She 
 considered that he was trying to please her, and 
 make her satisfied w^th herself, as a child some- 
 times does who cannot bear to think that its
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 217 
 
 motlier or aiuit is supposed old. Perhaps it 
 pleased her as even the child's naive compliment 
 pleases. She shook her head. 
 
 ' You are very kind,' she said, ' to try to make 
 me think that age is as good as youth. But 
 I'm not wishing to be young — I am quite con- 
 tent, and there is no question of that. What I 
 was w^anting to say w^as that I Avould never be 
 the one to cross two young things in an attach- 
 ment.' A pretty colour was on Miss Jean's face ; 
 she blushed a httle for the sake of the imaginary 
 young people. ' I would not part them — wdio 
 can ever tell wdiat may come of it ? — I would 
 not part them,' she said, with fervour. 
 
 Lewis felt a warm glow under his waistcoat, 
 and thought with a little complacency that he 
 was falhng in love wath Miss Jean as she spoke.
 
 218 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 KATIE SETON was not yet seventeen, but 
 she was the eldest of her family, which 
 has a maturing influence, and she had been the 
 chief personage in a series of impromptu per- 
 formances in the manse drawing-room, like the 
 one at which the reader has assisted, almost as 
 long as she could remember ; so that she was 
 familiar enough with ideas which are generally 
 beginning to develop at seventeen, and had 
 flirted very innocently ever since she was in 
 short frocks. From that time Philip Stormont 
 had been her favourite partner, her closest at- 
 tendant. He was the one who walked home 
 with her when they met at the tea-parties of 
 the neighbourhood, following with Katie behind 
 her father and mother in the strictest decorum, 
 when his protection was altogether unnecessary, 
 
 \
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 219 
 
 and finding- his way to the manse on any excuse ; 
 and there are so many excuses in the country 
 for such visits. Sometimes he had business with 
 the minister which kept him waiting for hours, 
 much deplored by Mrs. Seton, who wouki bustle 
 out and in, and lament her occupations, which 
 did not permit her to remain with him, and her 
 husband's absence, which wasted his day. 
 
 ' But I've sent little Robbie to see if he can 
 find his father, and, Katie, you must just do the 
 best you can to Avile away the time,' Mrs. Seton 
 would say. 
 
 Katie did her very best on such occasions. 
 She would give the young man a lesson in 
 dancing, in which she was acknowledged to be 
 the greatest proficient for miles romid, or she 
 would go over one song after another, playing 
 the tune with one hand to teach it to him, some- 
 times guiding him ^vit\l her own pretty little 
 voice, sometimes breaking down in rills of young 
 laughter at his mistakes, in which he would 
 join. They were on such perfectly easy terms 
 that his mistakes did not trouble him before 
 Katie — he even went wrong on purpose to 
 make her laugh. Sometimes they would meet 
 out of doors and walk together, the yoimger
 
 220 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 cliilclren who accompanied Katie following their 
 own devices, to the satisfaction of all parties, as 
 soon as it was realised that Stormont had ap- 
 peared, and that the previous attendants were 
 free. In this way a great many passages had 
 occurred, unknown, indeed, to father and mo- 
 ther, and in themselves bearing but httle mean- 
 ing, which had so linked these two young crea- 
 tm-es together that neither one nor the other 
 could identify themselves apart. 
 
 There had been nothing said between them 
 about engagement or marriage, ' but they felt 
 a mutual right to pout and quan-el, if Katie 
 danced with some one else more than civility 
 required, or if Philip walked home with Annie 
 Borrodaile. Annie BoiTodaile was the individ- 
 ual whom Katie had chosen to erect into a 
 dangerous rival, while Philip, on his side, after 
 a marked identification of young Mr. Dunlop 
 the assistant at Braehead had lately fallen upon 
 Lewis as his antagonist. They would taunt 
 each other with these supposed preferences, 
 in which neither behoved, but up to this time 
 notliing had happened, nothing had been said 
 to make a reference to papa necessary on 
 Katie's part, or to give Mr. Philip that right ' to
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 221 
 
 put a stop to ' a certain acquaintauce, which he 
 constantly declared to be necessary. They 
 were playing vnth. the gravity of the matter, 
 and thinking that nobody saw clearer than 
 themselves. But how was it possible that any- 
 one could see so clearly as Philip's mother, who 
 had no one but he, and who Avas a widow, with 
 her mind and thoughts continually followhig 
 her son. Somehow, no one could quite tell 
 how, and herself least of all, Mrs. Stormont got 
 to know what her son did ; where he walk- 
 ed ; how often he met Katie ; how often he was 
 received in the manse drawing-room. None 
 of these things were done clandestinely ; the 
 servants, the children, the neighbom-s, all had 
 a part in the proceedings of the young people, 
 who themselves were as honestly void of offence 
 as ever young people were. 
 
 On the evenmg of the day on which Mrs. 
 Stormont had made the visit we have recorded, 
 Katie went out with her yomig brothers and 
 sisters. Robbie and Jock were the next to her 
 in age. They were fifteen and thirteen, and 
 full of mischief, as indeed, if boys are not at 
 their age, what is to become of them '? Eosie 
 and Minnie were younger ; they were little girls
 
 222 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 who had an eye to what was going on, and 
 were deeply aAvare that, if anything conld make 
 Katie indifferent to the fact that they had taken 
 oflf their shoes and stockings, and were wading 
 on the edge of the river Hke the boys, or 
 had scrambled up into a tree, and there sat 
 dangling their small legs with absolute insensi- 
 bility to decorum, it was the sight of Philip 
 coming vaguely along whistling one of the 
 tunes Katie had taught him, and looking about 
 everywhere to find her out. These young peo- 
 ple offered no obstacles to Philip's search : they 
 aided him indeed with all their powers. The 
 direction in wliich they usually took their even- 
 ing walk was up the water, a path which ended 
 in a wood stretching downwards from the big, 
 empty, unfinished house of ]\Iurkley to the river- 
 side. This wood was their favourite resort. 
 There were rabbits in it, and squirrels ; there 
 were oaks all twisted and gnarled, which were 
 dehghtful to climb, and in which the girls found 
 no difficulty. There was a large willow very 
 near the bend of the river, "with great branches 
 stretching half way across the stream, upon 
 which they would sit and fish, perched up like 
 a bird among the foliage, and out of everybody's
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 223 
 
 Way. And there was an old quarry of red earth 
 full of pebbles, in which nothing was so easy, if 
 wilder sports failed them, as to establish a shop, 
 and sell mimic sweets and fruits, pretending to 
 be customers and pretending to be saleswomen, 
 to their hearts' desire. This latter delight was 
 best attainable by the girls when May came too, 
 who was only eight, and who thought nothing 
 so dehghtful as playing shop. Meanwliile, the 
 boys would be after the rabbits, or investigating 
 the nests. 
 
 The party had set out from the manse in 
 very good order as usual, Katie had been 
 ' upset ' during the day, and her mother had 
 petted and consoled her. There had Idcou no 
 direct confidences between them. Mrs. Seton 
 had made little reference to the personal offence, 
 though she had felt it keenly. 
 
 'It was not pretty. Oh, no, it was not 
 pretty,' she said, ' to speak like yon to poor Mr. 
 Murray, a young lad that is a stranger here, and 
 knows nobody's character. If he had known 
 what kind of woman Mrs. Stormont was — fond 
 of making these kind of remarks — he would of 
 course have understood. But, no, no, indeed it 
 was not pretty, and it should just read us a lesson,
 
 224 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Katie, to miiicl how we indulge our fancies, not 
 tliinldng of other people. It was not, maybe, 
 civil either to you or me ; but we know what she 
 is, and we never mind — no, no, we just never 
 mind. But I feel for poor Mr. Mm-ray,' Mrs. 
 Seton said. 
 
 As for Katie, she said, with anger, 
 
 ' What right had she to speak hke that ? as if 
 we were wanting him, or anyone.' 
 
 ' Tut,' said her mother, ' it was not us she was 
 meaning. She just can't help being disagi'ee- 
 able ; it is her way.' 
 
 But Katie had been angry, and consequently 
 ' upset ' and wretched all the day. It was at 
 her mother's request that she went out ^dth her 
 brothers and sisters. Mrs. Seton thought the 
 au' would do her good. 
 
 ' Now, Robin and Jock, you will take care of 
 Katie,' their mother said. ' Play none of your 
 plisldes, but just walk by her side like two gen- 
 tlemen, and take care of her, poor thing ; and, 
 Rosie and Minnie, you are not to drag and 
 hang upon Katie, but let her get a little quiet 
 and fresh am Take a nice walk, and you'll be 
 better when you come back.' 
 
 The party set off very solemnly with then*
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 225 
 
 charge — they respected their mother at least, 
 so far as they could be seen from the manse 
 windows, if not a little further. Rosie and 
 Minnie walked in front like two little judges, 
 and Robbie and Jock were on either side of their 
 sister, walking, ' like two gentlemen,' in quiet 
 gravity and state. Katie, between them, had 
 a languid air. She walked Avith her head droop- 
 ing a little, "wath a pensive seriousness in her 
 comitenance. It was impressive to see this fme 
 family taking the air. Till they took the turn 
 to the river-side their seriousness was imbroken. 
 Then nature began to assert itself. Robbie and 
 Jock were startled into animation' by the sudden 
 sight of a water-rat, after which Vixen, then dog, 
 Anthout consulting them, but with a glance out 
 of his shag of han contemptuous and impatient 
 us who should say, ' You laggards, come on,' 
 had turned in full pursuit. Rosie and Minnie 
 persevered a httle longer. 
 
 ' It's nothino- but a rat ! but bovs will rin for 
 naething !' said ]\Iiss Rosie, more contemptuous 
 than Vixen. A minute or two after, they 
 thought they saw a squirrel, and flew along the 
 path. Katie grew a little less languid when she 
 was thus left alone. She said to herself that the 
 
 VOL. T. Q
 
 226 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 air had done her good akeady. She did not call 
 back the boys, as she had once thonght of doing, 
 or summon the little girls, who were within 
 reach of her voice. What was the use when 
 here was Philii3 Stormont coming ? He was 
 more of her own age, she said to herself, and 
 more a companion, and there could be no doubt 
 that he too, as well as the young Setons, was 
 wonderfully fond of that road by the river-side. 
 It can no more be denied that she was glad 
 to see him approaching than that she had con- 
 fidently expected his appearance ; but the first 
 sight of him suddenly gave Katie's Httle soul a 
 perverse turn, and she received him without her 
 usual cordiality, with a preternatm-ally grave face. 
 
 ' I have often wondered,' she said, ' what 
 brings you out at this hour, and on this side of 
 the water. It is nothing for us, because we 
 don't dine, and we have had our tea ; but I have 
 just been thinking what becomes of your dinner, 
 and you walking about all the evening. You 
 must be awfully fond of walking,' Katie said, 
 looking up, with the profoundest air of philo- 
 sophical inquiry on her face. 
 
 ' Walking ! It is perhaps something else I 
 am fond of,' said Philip.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 227 
 
 ' Something else? I never see you with your 
 fishing-rod,' proceeded Katie ; ' but that does not 
 matter, for of com-se you have yom- own reasons. 
 But what happens about your dinner, if you dine 
 at seven o'clock f 
 
 ' We don't dine at seven o'clock. Who would 
 go in, a night like tliis, for a dull dinner 1 No, I 
 have just something when I go home: and in the 
 meantime I see you.' 
 
 ' Oh, me I — that's not much consequence,' said 
 Katie ; and then she added, ' I know now why 
 Mrs. Stonnont "u^as not pleased, if she has to take 
 her dinner by herself. I would not stand it, if I 
 were your mother. I wonder wdiat you incau, 
 all you boys. Do you think you are so much 
 grander than women are, that you turn every- 
 thing upside down for your own pleasure ? Oh ! 
 if I were your mother, I would be worse than 
 vexed ! I would just not put up with it,' cried 
 Katie, stamping her small foot. The object of 
 this assault w^as petrified. He looked at her with 
 a gasp of dismay. 
 
 ' How do you laiow,' he blundered out at last, 
 ' that my mother was angry ? You knoAv I don't 
 tliink myselt grand at all nor anything worth
 
 228 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 spealdng of,' he added, in a deprecating tone. 
 ' It is you, Katie, that are angiy.' 
 
 ' And I have cause, Mr. Stormont,' said Katie, 
 with dignity. 
 
 ' Mr. Stormont ! Is it a quarrel, then ? You 
 are always wanting to quarrel with me,' he said, 
 in a tone of complaint, yet conciliation ; ' but it 
 takes two to do that. What is it uoav V 
 
 ' Oh, it is nothing,' cried Katie ; ' if unldnd 
 things are said about me, it is none of your 
 affair. I am not complaining. It is a little 
 strange, hoAvever,' she said, after an effective 
 pause, ' that because a gentleman does not go 
 in at the right hour and eat his dinner as he 
 ought, a girl that has nothing to do with him, 
 that is no connection, should be abused in her 
 own mother's house.' 
 
 ' Is it me that you have nothing to do with V 
 said Philip, piteously. ' I think nobody can have 
 so hard a heart.' 
 
 ' What have I to do ^vith you, Mr. Philip ? — 
 we are just friends. You are friends with a 
 great many people. There are the Borrodailes — ' 
 
 ' I knew that was coming,' said Philip, ' though 
 1 tell you six times a day that Annie Borrodaile 
 is nothing '
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 229 
 
 ' I said not a word about Annie Borrodaile. 
 It is just a guilty conscience that makes you 
 name one more than another. And Avhy should 
 you tell me six times a day ? I wonder what I 
 have got to do with it V 
 
 ' Katie,' cried poor Philip, ' how can you speak 
 to me so, when you know just as well as I do 
 that there's no one in the world I care about 
 but you ? You have got everything to do with 
 me. You know, if all the ladies in the world 
 were here, it is you I would choose ; you know 
 it is for you I come here ; you know I think of 
 nobody else and nothmg else.' Here Philip, 
 approaching humbly, endeavoured to di'aw into 
 his o^\Ti Katie's hand, which lay within reach 
 upon her lap, for by this time the pair had seated 
 themselves, as they usually did, upon a fallen 
 tree which lay conveniently within reach of the 
 road, but sheltered by the brushwood. ' Nobody 
 else, and nothing else,' said Philip, drawing 
 closer. 
 
 ' Except the trout,' said Katie, with a laugh, 
 ' and bhds in the season, and the hunting, and 
 the curhng, and two or three hundred things, 
 not to speak of Annie Borrodaile.' 
 
 To this Philip made no reply. He was
 
 230 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 wounded, and -withdrew a little to the other 
 end of the tree. It was a scene Avhich had 
 been played a great many times, and they were 
 both quite familiar with it : but it was always 
 new to them, and always threatened for ten 
 minntes at least a tragical severance, which, 
 however, happily never came. 
 
 ' That, however, is nothing to me,' said Katie ; 
 ' bnt when your mother comes and speaks as if 
 — oh, as if I were the dust beneath her feet — as 
 if I were nobody that had ever been heard of 
 before — as if I were a girl that could bo bought 
 in the market like a slave in the " Arabian 
 Nights " ' 
 
 ' Katie, for goodness sake tell me what she 
 said !' 
 
 Katie continued to play vnth his curiosity for 
 some time longer, until she had worked that and 
 her own indignation into a tragic heat; then, 
 with tears of youthful fury and injured feeling 
 in her eyes, she unfolded her \\rfongs. 
 
 ' Mr. Murray was there — he had come to play 
 his piece to mamma — and Mrs. Stormont turned 
 round and looked me straight in the face, and 
 said to him that he must settle in Murldey. 
 " You'll get a nice house," she said, " and a
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 231 
 
 wife ; you can pick and choose among tlic young 
 ladies — oh, yes, you can take your choice of 
 them," and she looked at me — all the time she 
 looked at me ! She just offered me— as if she 
 had any business with me ! — to that man that 
 is not a man, that can do nothing but fiddle on 
 the piano,' cried Katie, transported by her 
 ^vrongs and her indignation. She even cried a 
 little — hot tears, out of pity for herself and the 
 sense of injury which swelled all her youthful 
 veins. 
 
 Philip on his side was greatly relieved to find 
 that it was no worse. What he had feared was 
 that his mother had interfered definitely in his 
 own afiaus. His mind was gi-eatly eased when 
 he heard the extent of her transgressions. He 
 ventm-ed upon a short laugh under his mous- 
 tache. 
 
 ' That was so like my mother,' he said. 
 
 ' It may have been very like your mother, 
 Mr. Stormont,' cried Katie, 'but if you think 
 that I am going to put up with it — and mamma 
 too !' 
 
 ' Was Mrs. Seton angry V said Philip. ' Don't 
 call me Mr. Stormont. Now just reflect ; I have 
 nothing to do with it; I did not make my
 
 232 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 mother. Was Mrs. Seton angry ? — what did 
 Mrs. Seton say? If you think my mother ill- 
 tempered, Katie, I know that your mother is 
 kind. What did she say V 
 
 ' Oh/ said Katie, softened, ' she said nothing 
 at all. She said that to go out for a walk would 
 do me good. She did not say a word ; she just 
 said it was Mrs. Stormont's way.' 
 
 ' I don't think it is her way,' said Philip, piqued 
 a little ; ' but it was like my mother,' he added, 
 ' oh, yes, it was like her. She would wish to 
 snatch you away under my very nose, and marry 
 you to another man before I knew what she was 
 doing. Oh, that is just what she would like to 
 try. She would think it was no harm to you.' 
 
 ' And what business had she with me at all V 
 cried Katie, but more gently, the storm having 
 had its way. 
 
 ' Well, I suppose she guesses what you know 
 so well,' said the young lover, ' and that is what 
 you are to me, Katie : that there is nobody but 
 you for me : that I would not care if all the 
 world was swept away so long as I had you 
 safe : that ' 
 
 ' Oh, that is just your Avay of talking,' said 
 Katie, but she did not withdraw her hand ;
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 233 
 
 * tliat is just your nonseiivse. As if it was likely 
 the world would be swept away, and me left ! 
 But that is no reason, if you do like me, that 
 she should think ill of me. I have done nothing 
 to her — why should she be so cruel to me V 
 
 ' I am all she has, you see,' said Philip, ' and 
 she does not hke to give me up, as she Avill have 
 to do.' 
 
 ' I am sure I am not wanting you,' cried Katie. 
 
 * She is welcome to keep you to herself for me ; 
 besides, if it was not me, it would be somebody 
 else,' she added, after a moment, reflectively, 
 with a philosophy that poor Mrs. Stormont 
 would have done well to emulate. ' At your 
 age you are sure to have somebody. She ought 
 to mind that. If it was Annie Borrodaile, would 
 she be better pleased ? Most likely,' said Katie, 
 ' it will be Annie Borrodaile after all.' 
 
 It was when Philip was employed in ener- 
 getic disposal of tliis hypothesis, which it was 
 her pleasure to fling at him whenever the hveli- 
 ness of the conversation flagged, that Lewis 
 Mmray, emerging from the w^oods of Miu-kley, 
 in which he had been wandering, thinking over 
 his own urgent affairs, approached the water- 
 side. He came down from behind the scaur by
 
 234 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 a path half overgrown Avith tall beeches and 
 brushwood, which was little nsed. The path 
 was clothed vnth. mosses and covered with the 
 brown beech-wort and the slippery droppings of 
 the firs, and a footstep was scarcely andiblc 
 upon it. In the hollow of the scaur the little 
 girls were playing, the redness of the earth throw- 
 ing up their small active figures as they per- 
 formed their little mimicry of life, ' pretending ' 
 to be grown-up actors in it, their voices sound- 
 ing: clear into the echoes. At a distance the 
 boys were shouting to each other, and Vixen 
 barking, all of them after the water-rat which 
 had not yet been exhausted as a possibility of 
 fun. 
 
 Lewis looked at the children with ready 
 pleasure and sympathy, without thinking of 
 anything further. He was just about to call to 
 them, when a lower murmur of voices caught 
 his ear. He was still on a higher level than the 
 angle of the little wood where it ran down to 
 the river, and, as he glanced in the direction of 
 this softer sound, the young pair became ap- 
 parent to him. They were* close together now, 
 bendiag towards each other, making but one 
 shadow. Philip's head was uncovered, the light
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 235 
 
 catching its vigorous reddish-brown, and Katie's 
 bhie frock made a httle background for the 
 group as Lewis looked down upon them, separ- 
 ating that spot from the brown of the tree's 
 trunk and the green of the fohage. A spectator 
 may be pardoned for looking a moment at such 
 a scene before he makes his presence laiown, 
 especially when he comes upon it by surprise. 
 Lewis stood still in a passion of soft sympathy 
 and emotion which he himself did not quite 
 imderstand. In some things he was younger 
 than his age. He had known none of the inno- 
 cent emotions of boy and girl ; darker and less 
 lovely episodes he had heard of in plenty, but 
 fortunately for him his absorption in the life of 
 an old man, kind as his patron had been, had kept 
 him apart from all such seductions, and it had 
 never been ^vithin his possibilities to fall sweetly 
 and innocently in love, according to what was 
 the course of nature with Katie and Philip. 
 
 He gazed at them as they sat together with 
 a sudden comprehension, a curious self-com- 
 passion and sense of envy. He laughed to him- 
 self softly, so softly that it did not sound in the 
 quiet evening air, with that amusement which 
 is everybody's first impulse at sight of a pair of
 
 236 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 lovers : and then he grew suddenly grave. This 
 was very different from what he was contem- 
 plating for himself He had thought of duty, 
 not of happiness, in all his recent plans. It had 
 been a something incumbent upon him to fulfil, 
 a wrong to atone for, a blunder to set right that 
 had been his insphation. Perhaps his foreign 
 breeding was responsible for the fact that Lewis 
 had not looked upon the marriage which he 
 thought it right to make as having much to do 
 with his happiness at all. It was a portion of 
 Hfe, a necessity, hke another, to be accepted 
 manfully, but not the great and crowrdng want 
 of youth, not the turning-point of existence. 
 Romance was not in it to his straightforward 
 views : and he was not unwilling to accept Miss 
 Jean for the partner of his life, even had she 
 been less pleasant than he found her. He would 
 have approached even Miss Margaret in the 
 same spirit, and with the same dauntless sim- 
 phcity, had that been the right thing to do, and 
 would have done his duty by either without any 
 sense of hardship or even regret. But when he 
 saw Philip Stormont and Katie, something 
 awoke in him Avhich was like a new sense. Oh, 
 yes, he had heard of love, he had read of it ;
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 237 
 
 there was not a novel without it, and scarcely a 
 song. He had seen lovers before now. But 
 somehow this soft and lingering eve, the novelty 
 of all around him, the resolution he had taken, 
 even the satirical advice of Mrs. Stoi-mont, and 
 her suggestion that he had but to pick and 
 choose, were all working together in his mind. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to him that here was 
 the something more which was in life, which he 
 had never known, which he had been vaguely 
 conscious of, but never laid hold upon, or even 
 divined. He laughed, and then he gTCw grave. 
 He took in at a glance all the points of the situa- 
 tion, which Avere so different from any of his 
 experiences. It is to be feared that Lewis was 
 somewhat shocked by the facts of the case. He 
 thought that Katie ought not to have been here 
 meeting her lover, and he di^aned that it was a 
 meeting which took place daily, and that it was 
 to both of them the chief feature in the twenty- 
 four hom-s. But it was something which would 
 never be his. He stood very gravely, and 
 looked down upon the group for a moment 
 more. His wooing would not be like this; it 
 would be all orderly, decorous, calm. He would 
 be kind, always tender, respectful, friendly
 
 238 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 to the lady Avliom lie manied. It was not in 
 liim to fail in the regard which would be her 
 dne. But this was another thing altogether. 
 After he had langhed, he sighed. Nature in 
 him had made a mnte protest. He looked wist- 
 fully and with an iiTepressible envy at the 
 lovers. The lovers ! As for himself, that Avas 
 a character which he Avas ncA^er likely to bear. 
 His first idea had been to make his presence 
 IcnoAvn, to warn them of his coming, that they 
 might not be caught by his sudden appearance, 
 or feel themselves found out. But the result ot 
 tliis strange, new impression upon LeAvis Avas 
 that, after that pause, he turned back, and Avent 
 away out of sight into the Avoods again, and, 
 after a long detour, found his Avay by another 
 path back to the A^llage. A sort of aAve and 
 Avistful admiration Avas in liis mind. He Avould 
 not have them knoAv that anybody had sur- 
 prised their secret. This tender delicacy of 
 sentiment was untouched by the fact that he 
 thought the meeting Avrong. But, Avrong or 
 right, it was something Avhich Avas beyond him, 
 something which he should never know or 
 share. 
 
 ' Poor Mm'ray ; if he were to take my mo-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 239 
 
 ther's advice, you would think no more of 
 
 breaking bis beart, if be bas a beart ' Pbibp 
 
 was saying, as Lewis stole quietly away. 
 
 ' How can you tell tbat '? He is very nice. 
 He waltzes a great deal better tban you do, 
 tbougb I bave tried so bard to teacb you my step. 
 And if you bad only beard bim play bis piece 
 to mamma ! If be were to take your motber's 
 advice — perbaps I would take ber advice too.' 
 
 ' And I'll tell you wliat I sbould do, Katie ; 
 pitcb bim into tbe Witcb's Cauldron, Avbicb is 
 tbe deepest bole in tbe water. Play bis piece ! 
 It would do bim a great deal of good to play 
 bis pieces tbere.' 
 
 And tbey both laugbed, all unconscious ot 
 bis observation, as tbey rose from tbeir rustic 
 seat unwillingly, and went lingeringly back to- 
 wards tbe manse, and tbe world, out of tbat 
 encbanted wood. Tbe cbildren bad been faint- 
 ly called balf a dozen times before, but noAv 
 Katie's voice bad a tone in it wbicb tbcv felt to 
 convey a real command. Tbe little girls fol- 
 lowed slowly ; tbe boys sped on before. It was 
 tbe recognized way in wbicb, as far as tbe ferry, 
 wbere Pbilip's patb struck off, tbe procession 
 moved towards bome.
 
 240 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AFTER the conversation with Miss Jean which 
 has been reported, Lewis felt that he had 
 begun the undertaking which brought hmi to 
 Murkley. Before this it had been in a vague 
 condition, a thing which might or might not 
 come to anything. But now he had, to his 
 own consciousness at least, committed himself. 
 What effect his words might have had on Miss 
 Jean's mind he was of com^se unable to tell; 
 but, whatever she might do, there was now 
 no retreat for him. He had given her to 
 understand that the aspect in which she ap- 
 peared to him was one of great interest and 
 attraction. Having said so much, Lewis felt 
 that it was incumbent on him to say more ; 
 and indeed, there was a sensation of thank- 
 fulness in his mind when he remembered that 
 he had done so, and so made an end of his own
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 241 
 
 freedom in the matter. He Avas glad that ho 
 liad doii'o this before the evening on which he 
 .saw Phihp and Katie together, and recognized 
 in their intercourse a something which Avas 
 lacking, and always would be lacking, in his own 
 case. What matter ? he said to himself. He had 
 much, though not all. If Miss Jean became his 
 wife, he would have the satisfaction of redeem- 
 ing a wrong for one thing, and he would not 
 have to blush for the good woman he had chosen. 
 Her middle-aged calm and propriety indeed 
 suited much better the role of wife, to his think- 
 ing, than Katie's youthfulness and levity. He 
 thought of her as an Englishman thinks of home, 
 as something to return to after the occupations 
 and excitements of the world. What he looked 
 forward to was not perhaps a domestic life, but 
 a life in which it Avould always be good to come 
 back after every variety of exi3erience and per- 
 sonal vicissitude to the same calm, smiling pres- 
 ence, the indulgence and tenderness of one who 
 would never be weary, never impatient, but 
 always ready to hear what he had to say, and 
 to sympathise and advise. 
 
 The more he dwelt upon this idea, the more it 
 pleased him. AVhat he wanted Avas not the 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 inseparable companion who would sliare all his 
 life with him, but rather that domestic strong- 
 hold, that something to return to. There are 
 always these differences in life. And after a 
 Avhile Lewis said to himself that he would have' 
 the best of it. Kate would want a great many 
 observances which an elderly bride would not 
 di'eam of ; she Avould no doubt insist on know- 
 ing and sharing everytliing — ^her husband's 
 thoughts as well as his home, and this was not 
 an ideal Avhich suited the pupil of Sir Patrick 
 Murray. He had not been used to women, and 
 they were no necessary part of his life. His 
 mother, so far as he recollected her, had taken 
 the place which he pleased himself to think his 
 Avife would natin-ally take. Many Avomen rebel 
 noAV-a-days at that ideal of a woman's existence 
 which consists in being ahvays at home, always 
 ready to receive the Avanderer, to kill innumera- 
 ble fatted calves, and look out continually for 
 the prodigal's return. Lewis Avould be no prodi- 
 gal, but his idea was to liA^e his oAvn life unfet- 
 tered, and to giA^e no very great share in it to any 
 woman. He Avould go back to her Avhen tu*ed, 
 when sick or sonw ; he Avould be always tenderly 
 careful of her and kind. He would surround
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 243 
 
 her, in that home where she shouhl be always 
 waiting- for liim, with everything a Avonian couki 
 Avish for : bnt clearly he meant her to stay there 
 while he should enjoy everything and come back 
 to be sympathized with. Such an ideal watcher 
 is pleasant to everybody's thoughts ; the mere 
 recollection of the dweller at home, unciitical, 
 all believing, to whom one can return, sure ol 
 eager attention, petting, and sympathy in every 
 emergency, is in itself a consolation. It is the 
 prunitive idea of the woman's office. 
 
 Lewis meant no disrespect to womankind in 
 iidopting it as his idea of the relations to subsist 
 between himself and his wife ; he ihd not knovr 
 any better, and nothing could be more entirely 
 in accord ^vith the position which ]\Iiss Jean, he 
 thought, would naturally take. Few intending 
 bridegrooms perhaps allot this character at 
 once to their brides, but Lewis meant no harm ; 
 he subdued in himself the softer thoughts wliich 
 the sight of Katie and Philip had roused in his 
 mind, and in the morning Avas again fully aAvake 
 to a state of satisfaction with his own scheme, 
 and ready to proceed with it. 
 
 In the pre-occupation of his mind, Adam's 
 fishing had ceased to amuse him, and he did not 
 
 r2
 
 244 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 want to meet Philip, whose conduct in comprom- 
 ising Katie, our young man highly disapproved 
 of, even when he felt envious of his happiness. 
 When he went out, he turned his steps in the 
 opposite direction, going up the river, past the 
 spot at Avhich he had seen the lovers, and reach- 
 ing, by that detour through the wood, the park 
 of Murkley, and the neighbourhood of the great 
 mifinished palace Avliich had made him first 
 acquainted with the family history. He had 
 not returned to visit that memorial of ambition 
 again. Perhaps there was nobody in the world 
 who could regard it Tidth the same feelings as 
 those which moved Lewis. Sir Patrick had not 
 left a good name behind him in the countryside. 
 His tastes had never been those of a Scotch 
 country gentleman. The building of this pro- 
 digious and pretentious house had offended all 
 his neighbours, to whom it was almost a personal 
 offence that he should attempt in this way to excel 
 all their houses and put himself on so much higher 
 a level. When it turned out that he was not able 
 to complete what he had begun so ambitiously, a 
 great deal of bitterness and unfriendly humour 
 exhaled in the pitiless laughter with which his 
 failure had been received, and there was nobody
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 2i5 
 
 about who did not more or less remember it against 
 him — with a scorn of failm-e which is very strong 
 in Scotland — that he had thus attempted a supe- 
 riority which he was not able to maintain. His 
 OA\Ti family contemplated the stately folly with 
 modified feelings. Such a standing proof of great- 
 ness had a certain effect upon their pride ; but 
 the failure was bitter to them, and there was the 
 sense besides that then* money had been wasted 
 in the erection of a monstrosity Avhich was of 
 use to no one, and of which they could make 
 nothing. To Lewis alone tliis great shell spoke 
 eloquently of something Avhich touched the 
 heart. The dreams of old Sir Patrick's life, its 
 aspirations, its pride, and hopes, aU seemed to 
 him embodied in these walls. The old man had 
 scarcely spoken of it. It was only after seeing 
 it that LcAvis was able to recall words, incom- 
 prehensible at the moment, Avhich he had noAV 
 no doubt referred to this proud intention, this 
 ambitious vanity. As he walked round it, he 
 framed to himself an image of the young man, 
 impulsive, proud, and full of a hundi-ed hasty 
 projects, who had turned into thu old man he 
 knew so Avell. If he had not been hasty, full 
 of sudden impulses, would he ever, Lewis asked
 
 24(5 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 himself, have taken up the charge of a friendless 
 orphan, and made himself responsible for the life 
 of a stranger in Avhom, save for tender charity 
 and pitv, he was in no wa_v involved? 
 
 He thought of himself as another Castle of 
 Murldey. Sir Patrick had wronged his children 
 for the sake of both ; his generosity had been 
 as rash as his ambition. He had trained and 
 formed his dependent for a life entirely above 
 his natural prospects, and, if he had left LoAvis 
 in the lurch, the case Avould have been an exact 
 parallel to that of the abandoned and uncom- 
 pleted house. But the old man had done more 
 for love than he had done for pride, and it was 
 not the part of Lewis at least to blame him that 
 he had again "wronged his family for the sake 
 of an impulse of his ovm. But as he roamed 
 round and roiuid this pale, half-ruined palace, 
 with all its princely avenues and foreign trees, 
 a great tenderness arose in the young man's 
 heart for his old patron. What sanguine 
 dreams must have been his while he was rearing 
 these fine walls — what intentions of liberal life ! 
 In Lewis's imagination the picture rose all illu- 
 minated Avith sympathy and understanding. 
 That sanguine, hasty mind would never look at
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 247 
 
 all on the other side ; failure Avould not seem 
 possible to him till it had come. He could ima- 
 gine him over his plans, superintending- lii.s 
 workmen, elate and damitless. A smile came 
 upon his face and tears to his eyes as he realised 
 what young Sir Patrick in his pride and hope 
 must have been, and what old Sir Patrick, exiled 
 and disappointed, but still sanguine and prodi- 
 gal, was. Lewis was the creation of his old 
 age, as this castle was the creation of his youth, 
 both of them in their way injustices, but the one 
 capable of aftbrding no compensation, the other 
 so willing, so ready, so anxious to atone. This 
 inspired Inm while he stood gazing up at the 
 vacant windows of Sir Patrick's folly. It was 
 wonderful to comprehend how he could ever 
 have beheved himself rich enough for such a 
 habitation. It was a house for a prince : but 
 this idea, which made most people angry and 
 impatient with the rash and vain man, who had 
 not paused to count the cost, melted altogether 
 the heart of Lewis. Anyone but Sir Patrick 
 would have hesitated before taking upon him- 
 self the charge of a young life ; any man but 
 Sir Patrick woidd have trained the orphan lad 
 to lowlier uses. He had made a son of him,
 
 248 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 and given him the happiest, most beautiful hfe. 
 Dear old PaiTain ! it had been Avrong, perhaps, 
 ])\\t it Avas not for Lewis to judge. For him 
 there was a greater privilege left, a more de- 
 lightful dutv — to atone. 
 
 He' was walking round this silent, shut-up, 
 windowless, and lifeless mansion, looking up at 
 it with moisture in his eyes, when the sound of 
 voices suddenly made him aware that he was 
 not the only person thus occupied. He heard 
 them but vaguely from the other side — voices 
 in animated talk, but not near enough to hear 
 Avhat they were saying. The voices were all 
 feminine, and by-and-by he made sure that they 
 were the ladies of Murkley Avhom he was about 
 to meet. Presently tlu'ee figures became visible 
 round the angle of the great house, one in ad- 
 vance of the others, Avalking backward, with a 
 form very unlike that of Miss Margaret and ]\Iiss 
 Jean, apparently gazing up at the walls, a blue 
 veil flying about her, her head raised, her light 
 figure lightly poised upon elastic feet, not like 
 the sober attitude of the ladies he knew. A 
 momentary wonder crossed the mind of Lewis 
 as to this third sister, Avhom he had never seen, 
 but he was too much pre-occupied to dwell upon
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 249 
 
 it. He divined that there was a httle commo- 
 •tion among them at the sight of a stranger. 
 He heard Miss Margaret say something about a 
 veil, and then there came a protest in a voice 
 full of complaining. 
 
 ' Oh, Margaret, let my veil alone ; there is no 
 sun to spoil anybody's complexion, is there, 
 Jean T 
 
 Some word or sign, proceeding from one of 
 the other ladies, made the speaker turn round, 
 and Lewds had a momentary glimpse of a face 
 which was very different from that of the other 
 sisters ; large, wondering eyes darted one glance 
 at hun, then the unknown turned again and 
 hm-ried back to the group, dropping the blue 
 veil in her hurry and astonishment. It was only 
 a moment, and the sensation in Lewas's mind 
 was not more than surprise. The glimpse was 
 momentary, his mind was pre-occupied, and Miss 
 Margaret advanced immediately to meet him, 
 covering the retreat of the others. 
 
 ' You are looking at our grandfather s grand 
 castle,' Miss Margaret said. 
 
 'It is a wonderful place to find here, out in 
 the W'ildcrness ; it is hke a palace that has been 
 w^alking about and has lost its way,' Lewis said,
 
 250 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 with ail attempt to cover the quickened move- 
 ment of his own pulses in the surprise of the . 
 encounter. 
 
 ' I would not call this the wilderness,' said 
 Miss Margaret, Avitli a momentary tone of 
 pique. ' A great deal of care was taken about 
 the place before this great barrack was built — 
 it's more like a barrack, in my opinion, than a 
 palace.' 
 
 ' It is like the Louvre,' said Lewis ; ' it must 
 have been planned by some one who had tra- 
 velled, who knew the French renaissance.' He 
 felt a little jealous for the credit of his old 
 friend. 
 
 ' Oh, as for that,' Miss Margaret said, with a 
 wave of her hand, ' knowledge was not wanting, 
 nor taste either. Our grandfather. Sir Patrick 
 Murray, was a man of great instruction : all the 
 worse for his descendants. This is how he 
 wasted our substance — and in other ways.' 
 
 ' He was a collector, I suppose ?' 
 
 ' I perhaps don't understand what you call a 
 collector — a gatherer of costly things that are 
 of no use to any mortal ? Oh, he was that, and 
 more. And there are other ways in which a 
 man can wrong his famil}^ ; but it's not a subject
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 251 
 
 that can be interestiug to a stranger,' IMis.s Mar- 
 garet added, closing her mouth with a certain 
 peremptory firmness, as if to conchide tlio dis- 
 cussion. ' You,' she resumed, ' w^as to have been 
 the great banqueting hall : and the drawang- 
 rooms, you see — there were to be three of them, 
 the outer and the inner, and the lady's bouedicore 
 — were to occupy the other side; where he Avas 
 to get the lady and the banquet Sir Patrick 
 never took thought. He Avas not a man to take 
 thought ; but he Avas A^ery w^ell instructed, and 
 kncAv AA^hat he was doing — from that point of 
 A'ieAV. If he had known better about the money, 
 and counted the cost like the man in the gospel, 
 it w^ould have been better for them avIio came 
 after him. But the MuiTays Avere ncA^er careful 
 at counting the cost,' — that air of pride with 
 w^hich prodigality in a family is always confessed 
 came oA^er Miss Margaret as she said this, throAv- 
 ing up her head and animating her countenance. 
 Nobody CA^er yet made a statement of thrift and 
 carefulness Avith the same proud gratification. 
 It is unpleasant to be poor, but Nature is ahvays 
 more pleased Avith the lavish than the careful. 
 Lewis suffered himself to be led roimd the 
 fm-ther side of the building, Avhile she talked
 
 252 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 and pointed out the position of the rooms. It 
 was a moment full of excitement for the young 
 man ; he listened eagerly while she spoke of Sir 
 Patrick, with the strongest sense of that link 
 between them to which she had not the slight- 
 est clue. Nor had he the slightest clue to the 
 motive which induced her to expatiate upon the 
 building and lead him round by the other side. 
 The blue veil and the wondering, youthful face 
 it guarded had not done more as yet than touch 
 his mind A\ath a momentary suspicion ; his inter- 
 est was engaged, not in secret questionings about 
 Lihas, as the elder sister thought, but in recol- 
 lections and associations of a very different 
 kind. 
 
 ' Perhaps,' he said, following out his own 
 thoughts, ' had he waited and gone more softly 
 there would have been no imprudence.' 
 
 ' Waiting and going softly are not in our 
 nature : no : I'm but a woman, with little 
 money, and very seriously brought up — and 
 with m}^ youth past, and no motive ; but if I 
 were to let myself go — even now !' 
 
 A sudden flush came over her face, her eyes 
 shone, and then Lewis perceived that Miss Mar- 
 garet, if she had not made up her mind to be
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 253 
 
 L'ldcvl}^ uud homely, would still be a handsome 
 and miposing personage, whom the society he 
 had known would have admired and followed. 
 He thought that if she had been Sir Patrick's 
 companion his salon might have been very 
 different. AYith this view he could not help 
 gazing at her with a great cm-iosity, wondering 
 how she would have filled that place, and think- 
 ing what a pity that this, which would have 
 ruined his oAvn prospects, had not been. 
 
 She looked at him quickly, meeting his gaze, 
 and her eyes fell momentarily under it. 
 
 ' You think me an old fool,' she said, ' and no 
 Avonder. Imprudence — that is always folly when 
 it takes the power of beginning what you cannot 
 finish — Avould be worse folly than ever in a 
 person like me ; but, you see, I never let my- 
 self go.' 
 
 ' That is not what I was thinking,' said Lewis. 
 ' I was thinking — wondering, though I had no 
 right — why you did not go to him Avhen he was 
 old.' 
 
 ' Go to him — to whom V she cried, astonished. 
 
 ' Ah ! pardon ! I have met Sir Patrick— 
 abroad.' 
 
 Miss Margaret turned upon him, and made a
 
 254 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 close and, as Lewis tlioiiglit, suspicious inspection 
 of his face. 
 
 ' If you met Sir Patrick abroad, you must have 
 seen that lie had no need of his natural family, 
 nor W'ish for them. There was no place for us 
 there. Perhaps you have not heard that he 
 withdrew his property from his family and gave 
 it to one that was not a drop's blood to him — a 
 creature that had stolen into a silly (tid man's 
 favour ? But no, that would not be laiown 
 abroad,' she added, A^-ith a long-drawn breath. 
 Lewis felt himself shrink from her eye ; he made 
 a step backward, with a sense of guilt which in 
 all the many discussions of the subject had never 
 affected him before. 
 
 ' No,' he said, with an involuntary tone of 
 apology, 'no, it was not known, I think, that 
 he had — any relations ' 
 
 ]\Iiss Margaret turned on him again with 
 indignation more scathing than before. 
 
 ' Not known that he had relations !' then she 
 paused, and gave vent to a little laugh, ' that must 
 have been by persons who were very ignorant — 
 by people out of society themselves,' she said. 
 
 To this Lewis made no reply. What could 
 he say ? It Avas true that he had no standing
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 255 
 
 in society himself, and he now perceived that lie 
 had been guilty of one of his iisual imprudences 
 in drawing the attention of a mind much more 
 keen than ]\Iiss Jean's, and able to put things 
 together, to himself and his antecedents. After 
 a moment she resumed. 
 
 ' I am speaking too strongly perhaps to you, 
 a stranger. It was perhaps not to be expected 
 — abroad — that everybody should Icncjw tlie 
 Murrays of Murkley, That is just one of the 
 evils of that life abroad, that it is lost sight of 
 who yon belong to. In your own country 
 everybody knows. If you put a friendly person 
 in the place of your flesh and blood, the whole 
 country cries out; but among strangers, who 
 thinks or cares ? No, no, I was wrong there ; 
 I ask your pardon. In Scotland, or even in 
 England, Sir Patrick Murray's relations would 
 be as well known as the Queen's, but not abroad 
 — that was his safeguard, and I forgot. Poor, 
 silly old man !' ]\Iiss Margaret said, after a pause, 
 with energy, ' he was little to me. I have scarcely 
 seen him all my days, and Lilias never at all.' 
 
 It seemed to Le^vis that in this, perhaps, there 
 was some explanation and apology for the un- 
 fortunate position of affairs ; but he was so glad
 
 256 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 to escape from further questions that he did not 
 attempt to follow the subject further. They 
 had by this time come round the other corner of 
 the buikhng', and he perceived that the two 
 other ladies had not waited for Miss Margaret, 
 but were already half-Avay along the broad and 
 Avell-kept drive which led from the unfinished 
 palace to the old house. The blue veil flutter- 
 ing hi advance caught his eye, and he said, more 
 with the desire to divert his companion from 
 the previous subject than out of any special 
 interest in this, 
 
 ' Your sister, whom I have not seen, is the 
 youngest T 
 
 Here Miss Margaret, with a little start, recalled 
 herself to a recollection Avhich had temporarily 
 dropped from her mind. She fixed him Avith her 
 eye. 
 
 'Yes, she is the youngest,' she replied. And 
 what of that ? her tone seemed to say. 
 
 ' I had made one of the ridiculous mistakes 
 strangers make,' he said, very conciliatory, his 
 reason for this being, however, totally different 
 from the one she attributed to him. ' I had 
 supposed — you will say I had no right to sup- 
 pose anything, but one guesses and speculates
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 257 
 
 ill spite of one's self — I liad supposed that Miss 
 Lilias was the eldest, and in bad health ; whereas 
 by the glimpse I had she is ' 
 
 ' Quite 3'Oung,' said Miss Margaret, taking the 
 Avords out of his mouth — ' that is, quite young 
 in comparison with Jean and me : but not so 
 strong perhaps as might be desired, and an 
 anxious and careful charge to us. Are you 
 staying long here V 
 
 ' That will depend upon — various matters,' 
 Lewis said. ' It is your sister Miss Jean whom 
 I have had the pleasure to see most. You will 
 pardon me if I say to you that I find a great 
 attraction in her society. It is presumptuous 
 perhaps on my part, but it is thought right 
 where I have been brought up that one should 
 say this when it occurs, Avithout delay, to the 
 family ' 
 
 Miss Margaret looked at him Avith eyes of 
 mifeigned astonishment. 
 
 'Say — Avhat?' she asked, pausing to sui'vey 
 him once more. AVas the young man out of his 
 senses '? she said to herself. 
 
 'I mean,' said LcAvis, Avith that smile Avith 
 which he assured everybody that he was anxious 
 to please them, « that in all other countries but 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 England things are so. The head of the family 
 is consulted first before a man will dare to speak 
 to a lady ; I understand it is not so here.' 
 
 'And you mean to speak to me as the head of 
 the family?' said Miss Margaret. 'Well, per- 
 haps you are not far wi'ong ; but my sister Jean 
 and I are equals — there is no superior between 
 us. The only thing is, that being a sweet and 
 submissive creature, a better woman than I Avill 
 ever be, she leaves most things in my hands.' 
 
 ' That was my idea,' Lewis said. 
 
 ' And you wanted to speak to me of some- 
 thing that concerned Jean ? AVell, there could 
 be to me no more interesting subject : though 
 what a young man hke you that might be her 
 son, and a stranger, can have to say to me about 
 Jean ' 
 
 Lewis paused. He had not considered how 
 awful it was to confront the keen, inquiring 
 eyes of the head of the family, who looked him, 
 he thought, through and through, and who, if 
 he submitted his over-candid countenance for 
 long to her inspection, would probably end by 
 reading everything that was in him both what 
 he meant to show and what he washed to 
 conceal.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 259 
 
 ' Perhaps,' he said, ' I am premature. What I 
 would have said was to ask if — I may come 
 agaiu? What further I wish will remain till 
 later. If Miss ]\Iurray will afford to me the 
 happiness of coming, or recommending myself 
 so far as I can ' 
 
 ' You speak,' said ]\Iiss Margaret, somewhat 
 grimly, and with a laugh, ' as if you were want- 
 ing to come wooing to our house. Now speak 
 out, and tell me to whom. I'll allow there's 
 good in your foreign notions, if you give me 
 this warning ; and I will Avarn you in your turn, 
 my young friend.' 
 
 ' I hope you will pardon my ignorance, if I do 
 "SATong,' said Lewis. 'It is your sister, Miss 
 Jean, whom I have seen most. I have not 
 known before such a woman. There is to me a 
 charm — which I cannot explain. If I might see 
 her — if it might be permitted to me to recom- 
 mend myself ' 
 
 Miss Margaret had been gazing at him with 
 eyes of such astonishment that he was discon- 
 certed by the look. He came to a somewhat 
 confused pause, and stood silent before her, 
 with something of the air of a culprit on his 
 trial. Then she cried out suddenly, ' Jean !' 
 
 s2
 
 260 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 and burst into a resounding laugh, wliicli seem- 
 ed to roll forth over all the landscape, and 
 retm-n from the tops of the trees. There is no 
 more crushing way of receiving such a sugges- 
 tion. The young man stood before her, silent, 
 his face flushed, his eyes cast down for the 
 moment. At length, being a sanguine youth, 
 and too entirely good-hmnoiu-ed himself to im- 
 pute evil intentions to anyone, he began to 
 recover. He looked up at her with a depre- 
 cating smile. 
 
 ' I amuse you it seems ' ho said. 
 
 ' Amuse me !' said Miss Margaret, with ano- 
 ther peal of laughter ; and then she dried her 
 eyes, and recovered her composure. ' Mr. Mur- 
 ray — if your name is ]\IuiTay — ' she said ; ' if 
 you mean this for a joke — ^but I will not do you 
 that injustice ; 1 see you mean it in earnest. 
 It is very unexpected. Do you think you have 
 had time enough to consider whether this is a 
 wise resolution ? Do you remember that she is 
 twice yom- age ? No, no, I would not advise 
 you to go that length,' ]\Iiss Margaret said. 
 
 ' The question is, if you wall forbid me,' said 
 Lewis ; ' if you will say I must not come.' 
 
 ' Ay ! And what would you do then V
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 261 
 
 « I think,' lie said, witli a little hesitation, ' T 
 shonlcl then adopt the English way. I should 
 submit my cause to your sister herself. But then 
 there Avould bo no deception, you would knoAv.' 
 
 He met her Avith such an open look that 
 ]\Iiss IMargaret was disarmed. 
 
 ' You are a strange yoimg man,' she said, 'Avith 
 a strange taste for a young man : but I think 
 you're honest : or else you are a terrible deceiver 
 — and, if your meaning is AA^hat you say, you 
 have no motive, that I can see, to deceive.' 
 
 ' I have told you my motive,' said Lewis. ' I 
 speak the truth.' 
 
 She looked at him again Avith her searching 
 eyes. 
 
 'Perhaps you think we are rich?' she said. 
 
 ' I have heard, on the contrary, that ' 
 
 She waved her hand. It Avas not necessary 
 that he should say poor. 
 
 ' Perhaps you think — but I cannot attempt to 
 fathom you,' she said. ' You are a very strange 
 young man. Jean ! have you considered that 
 she's twice your age ? I have no right to inter- 
 fere. I Avill not forbid you the house. But she 
 Avill never take you, or any like you ; she has 
 more sense,' IMiss Margaret cried.
 
 2G2 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 To this Lewis only answered with a bow and 
 a smjile, in wliicL perhaps there was something 
 of the conqueror; for indeed it did not occur to 
 him, as a contingency to be taken into con- 
 sideration, that she might refuse him. They 
 walked on together for some time in silence, 
 for Miss Margaret was too much confused and 
 excited to speak, and Lewis had no more to 
 say to her, feeling that it was only justice to the 
 sister he had chosen that she should have the 
 first and the best of the plea. It might be ten 
 minutes after, and they were in sight of the 
 old house, within which the two figm-es before 
 them had disappeared, when Miss Margaret sud- 
 denly stopped short, and turned upon him with 
 a very serious, and indeed threatening counten- 
 ance. 
 
 ' Young man,' she said, in a low and passion- 
 ate voice, ' if you should prove to be making a 
 mask of my sister for other designs : if it should 
 be putting forward one to veil a deeper design 
 upon another, then look you to yourself — for I'll 
 neither forgive you, nor let you slip out of my 
 hands.' 
 
 Lewis met this unexpected address with 
 sincere astonishment.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 263 
 
 ' Pardon me, but I do not know what deeper 
 design I could have. What is it that I could 
 do to make you angry?' he said. 
 
 She looked at him once more from head to 
 foot, as if his shoes or the cut of his coat (which 
 was somewhat foreign) could have enlightened 
 her as to his real motives : and then she said, 
 
 ' I will take upon me to give you useful in- 
 formation. In the mornings I am mostly occu- 
 pied. You will find my sister Jean by herself 
 before one o'clock, and nobody to interfere.'
 
 264 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IT was with a mixture of indignation and 
 somewhat grim hnmoiir that Miss Margaret 
 gave the permission and sanction to Lewis's 
 addresses which have been above recorded. 
 There was a smile upon her face as she left him 
 and went indoors, which burst forth in a short 
 laugh as she entered— a laugh of derision and 
 mockery, yet of anger as well, mingled with a 
 sort of satisfaction in the idea of luring this 
 presumptuous young man to his fate. Jean to 
 be made love to at this time of day by a young 
 man who might have been her son ! (this, of 
 com'se, was an exaggeration, but exaggeration 
 is inevitable in such circumstances). 
 
 The purely comic light in which she had at 
 first contemplated the idea gradually changed 
 into an angry appreciation of the absurdity
 
 IT TTAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 265 
 
 ■wliich seemed to involve her sister too, and a 
 lively desire to punish the offender. That would 
 be best done by giving him unlimited opportu- 
 nity to compromise himself, she decided, and it 
 was with this vindictive meaning, and not any- 
 thing softer or more friendly, that she had so 
 pointedly indicated to Lewis the best time and 
 manner of approaching Miss Jean. He partially 
 divined the satire and fierce gleam in her eyes, 
 but only partially, for to him there was no ab- 
 surdity in the matter. 
 
 Miss Margaret's heart almost smote her as he 
 stood with his hat off, and his genial young 
 countenance smiling and glowing, thanking her 
 for what she had said ; but this was only a mo- 
 mentary sensation, and Avhen she went in she 
 laughed with derision and the anticipation of a 
 speedy end to a piece of folly which seemed to 
 her beyond parallel. Such things had been 
 heard of as that a young man who was poor, 
 should basely and sordidly decide upon marry- 
 ing, if he could, an old woman who was rich ; 
 but when there was no such motive possible — 
 when, instead of being rich, the suitor was aware 
 that the woman he sought was poor, then the 
 matter was beyond comprehension altogether.
 
 266 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 Miss Margaret was not sufficiently impartial 
 to pause and think of this now, but as the day 
 went on, and especially as she sat silent in the 
 evening, and heard LiHas prattling to Jean, 
 there were various points which returned to her 
 mind with wonder. Why should he wish to 
 marry Jean? Miss Margaret glanced at her, 
 then looked steadily, then began to contem- 
 plate her sister with changed eyes. Something 
 was different in Jean — was it that she looked 
 younger? — something like what she used to 
 look fifteen years ago ? Was it that new hopes, 
 new plans were rising in her mind ? For the 
 first time there breathed across Miss Margaret a 
 cold and chilling breath of doubt — was it so 
 sure that Jean would teach him his place, would 
 reject all his overtures ? The thought of any- 
 thiiig else filled her vnth. horror and shame. A 
 young man, young enough to be her son — was 
 it, could it be possible that she would listen to 
 him ? A groan came from Miss Margaret's breast 
 in spite of herself. 
 
 ' What is the matter V cried Miss Jean, won- 
 dering. 
 
 ' Oh, just nothing's the matter — an idea that 
 came into my mind — nothing that you could be 
 interested in,' said Miss Margaret.
 
 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 267 
 
 *■ Am I not interested in everything that can 
 make yon sigh or make you think?' said Miss 
 Jean, with her soft voice. 
 
 ' Yes, tell us — tell us what it is,' said Lilias. 
 
 And then Miss Margaret laughed. 
 
 ' You will know sooner or later, if it comes 
 to anything,' she said, getting up wath a little 
 impatience and leaving them. 
 
 The new turn which her thoughts had taken 
 filled her with dismay. She went out to the 
 lime-tree w^alk which lay between the house 
 and the high wall, all clothed with ivy, w^ith 
 bunches of honeysuckle hanging from its em- 
 battled height. This w^as the walk that w^as 
 considered to be haunted, though no one was 
 afraid of the gentle ghost that dwelt there. 
 Miss Margaret came out hastily to cool her 
 cheeks, which were bui-ning, and divert her 
 mind, which was full of micomfortable thoughts. 
 It was still hght, though it was nearly bed-time ; 
 the trees, so silken green, kept their coloiu', 
 though in a sort of spirituahzed tint, in the pale 
 clear light. The sound of footsteps (which no 
 doubt a scientific inquirer would have decided 
 to come from some entirely natural phenomena 
 of acoustics quite explainable and common-
 
 268 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 place) was more distinct than iisual in tlie com- 
 plete stillness of the evening. It was said to 
 be a lady who had died for love — one of the 
 daughters of Murkley in a distant age, who was 
 the ghost of this pensive walk. She was never 
 visible ; her steps softly sonnding upon the 
 path in a regular cadence, coming and going, 
 was all that was known of her. Sometimes, 
 when the family was in difficulty or danger, 
 it had been reported that a sigh was heard. 
 But no one living had heard the sigh. And 
 even the maids were not afraid to w^alk in 
 daylight in this visionary place. There was a 
 certain green line close by the trees which was 
 never encroached upon, and which Avas coloured 
 by patches of mosses. It was there the lady 
 walked, so people said, without considering that 
 no footsteps could have sounded clear from 
 that natural velvet. Miss Margaret threw her 
 little shawl over her cap, and went out into the 
 mysterious stillness, broken by those still more 
 mysterious sounds which she had been accus- 
 tomed to from her childhood. It soothed her 
 to be there, and she took herself to task Avith a 
 little indignation. That she should suspect her 
 Bister! that she should think it possible that
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 26& 
 
 Jean could 'make a fool of herself !' When sho 
 had spent half an hour in the walk, slowly- 
 pacing up and down, hearing the steps of that 
 other mysterious passenger going and coming, 
 she returned to the house subdued. But she 
 did not go back to the drawing-room Avhere 
 Jean was. Her fears on the subject of Lilias 
 had altogether departed from her mind with 
 Lewis' extraordinary announcement; but even 
 the risk of an entanglement for Lilias, though 
 more likely, and perhaps more serious, would 
 have been in the course of nature. It would not 
 have affected her with a sense of shame and in- 
 tolerant passion like any short-comuig on the 
 part of Jean. 
 
 As for Lewis, he went home to his inn pleased, 
 but not agitated, like Miss Margaret. He was 
 very much satisfied with the sanction thus 
 accorded to him, and Avith the approval implied 
 in it, as he thought. If the elder sister had been 
 disposed to oppose him, or, indeed, if she had 
 not approved of what he was about to do, she 
 would not have gone so far as to indicate to him 
 when he might come. Miss JMargaret's angry 
 enjoyment of the idea of his discomfiture, her 
 eagerness to lead him to the point so that he
 
 270 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 might be crusked at once, never occurred to 
 Lewis. There was nothing in his own honest 
 intentions to throw hght upon such a meaning. 
 For his own part, he did not contemplate the 
 idea of faiku-e at all. He thought that Miss 
 Jean, though she might be surprised at his pro- 
 posal, could have no reason to be offended by it, 
 and he believed that he would be successful. It 
 seemed to him entirely to her advantage, modest 
 as he was. Her age, he thought, would make 
 the idea of a husband not less, but more agree- 
 able to her. It was an advancement in life of 
 which she had probably given up all hopes. 
 This was his idea in an economical point of 
 view, so to speak, and not from any overweening 
 opinion of himself. Marriage, he had been 
 trained to believe, was often irksome and dis- 
 agreeable to a man, but for a woman it was a 
 necessity of well-being, of dignity, almost of 
 self-respect. It was this that gave him the 
 calm confidence he had in respect to Miss Jean. 
 8he would be startled, no doubt. It would take 
 aAvay her breath to find herself, after all, still 
 "within the brighter circle of existence ; but she 
 would not throw away this last and probably 
 unexpected chance. Personal vanity had no-
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 271 
 
 thing to do with Lewis' calm conviction. It 
 was not he that would be irresistible to her ; 
 but the fact of having a step in existence offered 
 to her — a higher place. 
 
 It was about noon next day when he set out for 
 the Castle ; and Avhen he was shown into the 
 drawing-room, he found Miss Jean, as before, 
 seated over her table-cover, with all her silks 
 arranged upon her table, and her carnation in a 
 glass being copied. She did not get up to 
 greet him, as she had done before. Even her 
 old-fashioned ideas of pohteness, which were 
 more rigorous than anything in the present day, 
 yielded to the friendly familiarity wath which 
 she was beginning to regard him. She gave 
 him her hand with a kind smile. 
 
 ' This is very good of you, Mr. MuiTay,' she 
 said, ' to give up a bonny morning to me ;' her 
 eyes went instinctively to the piano as she spoke. 
 This piqued Lewis a very little ; but he loved 
 music too well to disappoint her. 
 
 ' The finer the morning,' he said, ' the more 
 congenial it is to music' There was time 
 enough to indulge himself and her before begin- 
 ning the serious business of the matter between 
 them, and indeed it was not even necessary that
 
 % 
 272 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 tliere should be anything said upon that serious 
 matter to-day. 
 
 ' And that is true,' said Miss Jean, fervently ; 
 'the evening perhaps is the best of all; the 
 fading of the daylight, and the hushing of the 
 world, and the coming on of rest — that is beau- 
 tiful with music. I like it in the dusk, and I 
 like it in the dark, when ye can only hear, not 
 see, and your soul goes upon the sound. But I 
 like it as well in the day, in the brightness, in 
 the middle of life, at all times ; it is never out 
 of season,' she added, \vith an enthusiasm which 
 elevated her simple countenance. 
 
 Lewis felt a sensation of pride and happiness 
 as he looked at her. No one could say she 
 was unworthy a man's choice or affections. It 
 would do him honour among all who were 
 qualified to judge that he had made such a 
 choice. Miss Jean was somewhat astonished by 
 the way in which he tm-ned upon her. It half 
 confused, half pleased her. For a long time 
 no man had looked so intently upon her tran- 
 quil, middle-aged countenance. She thought 
 he was 'an affectionate lad,' probably being 
 without mother or sister to spend his natm*al 
 kindness upon, and therefore eager to respond
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 273 
 
 to it wherever he found it. His coniphments on 
 their former meeting she had put away out of 
 her mind, though they had startled and ahnost 
 abashed her for the moment ; but then coniph- 
 ments were the common-places of foreigners, 
 everybody knew that they meant nothing, cer- 
 tainly no harm. It was just the same, she 
 thought, as if a Scotchman had said, ' I am glad 
 to see you looking well,' no more than that. 
 
 And then he began to play. He chose Mozart 
 after their talk about the times and seasons. 
 Lewis was not naturally given to much exercise 
 of the fancy, but he was very s^Tnpathetic, and 
 readily took his cue from any mind which was 
 congenial to him. He thought that the splen- 
 dour of this gi-eat composer w^as appropriate 
 to the richness and fulness of the noon. Themes 
 more dreamy, more visionary, more simply sweet 
 would be the language of the evening. And 
 once more he watched, vnth an interest and 
 sympathy which he thought must be as nearly 
 like love as possible, the gradual forgetfulness 
 of everything but the music which came over 
 Miss Jean. First her work flagged, then she 
 pushed away the carnation which she was 
 copying to one side, and let her table-cover 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 drop on her knees : then she leant forward on 
 the httle table, her head in her hands, her eyes 
 fixed upon hmi ; then those ejes filled ^tli 
 tears, and saw nothing, neither him nor any 
 accessory, but only a mystic world of sweetness 
 and emotion which she was utterly incapable 
 of describing, but which shone through her face 
 with an eloquence which was beyond words. 
 Lewis, as he looked at her in this ecstatic state, 
 which he had the power of thl■o^ving her into, 
 knew very well that, though he was the per- 
 former, and she only the hstener, the music was 
 not half to him what it was to her. It filled her 
 soul, it carried her away above the world, and 
 all that was in it. When he paused, she sank 
 back in her chau' ovei^whelmed, unable to say 
 anything. He was fond of applause, but ap- 
 plause was not necessary here. 
 
 ' I wish,' he said, lising, and coming towards 
 her, full of a genuine warmth and enthusiasm, 
 * that I could play to you for ever.' 
 
 She did not speak for a little, but smiled, and 
 dried her soft eyes. 
 
 'No— no — that would be too much,' she said. 
 
 ' It w^ould be too much to continue always, 
 oh, yes — but I do not mean that. To play to
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 275 
 
 you whenever you pleased, as often as you 
 pleased ; when you wished to come out of the 
 common, to be happy; for it makes you happy?' 
 
 ' I think it must be like Heaven,' said Miss 
 Jean, fervently ; ' that is all I can think of — the 
 skies opening, and the angels singing.' 
 
 ' That is beautiful,' he cried, ' to open Heaven. 
 That is what I should like to do for you — 
 always. To have it ready for you when you 
 pleased.' 
 
 ' Yon have a kind heart,' said Miss Jean ; ' oh, 
 you have a kind heart. But, if it cannot be 
 always,' she said, with a tender smile, ' you must 
 just let it be as often as you can, as long as you 
 are here.' 
 
 ' I am going to stay here,' said Lewis, ' that 
 is, if you will let me.' 
 
 ' ]Me ! Let you ! But it is little I can have 
 to do with it : and you may be sure I would let 
 you — and kindly welcome, kindly welcome,' said 
 Miss Jean, recovering herself. 
 
 She was a little ashamed of feeling so deep- 
 ly, but the beauty of the music so completely 
 occupied her mind that, save as ' a kind lad,' 
 she did not think of Lewis at all. 
 
 ' If you will make me welcome, then I will 
 
 T 2
 
 276 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 stay. It depends upon you altogether ; I ^vill 
 stay or 1 will go away, as you please. It is you 
 that must decide,' the young man said. 
 
 He was standing on the other side of the little 
 table, his face Ht up ^Yith the enthusiasm of 
 sympathy and pleasure. It was sweet to him 
 to have made so profound an impression, and 
 the emotion in Miss Jean's mind reflected itself 
 in him. He admired her, he loved her for feel- 
 ing so much. It threw a tender light upon 
 everything about her ; there was no effort 
 wanting to look tenderly and speak tenderly 
 with all the emotion of a genuine sentiment. 
 His eyes glowed with softness and warmth, his 
 voice took a pleading tone, he was ready to 
 have put himself at her feet, actually as well as 
 metaphorically, so much was he touched and 
 moved by this sympathetic strain of feeling. 
 Miss Jean, for her part, gathering her work into 
 her hand, and recovering herself slowly, looked 
 up with eyes of simple surprise at the extraordi- 
 nary aspect of the young stranger. 
 
 ' You are meaning — 1 to be sure, we will be 
 very glad, very happy to have you for a neigh- 
 bour ; but, knowing so little of the circumstances, 
 how can we, that are but strangers '
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 277 
 
 They were both so pre-occupied that they 
 had not heard anything but the sound of then* 
 own voices, and, when another suddenly inter- 
 posed, they started as if a shot had been fired 
 beside them. 
 
 ' Jean, Margaret sent me to tell you dinner 
 was on the table,' was the peaceful intimation 
 this voice made. 
 
 Lewis turned round with a nervous impatience, 
 finding the interruption vexatious. He turned 
 round, and found himself suddenly in a presence 
 he had never been clearly conscious of before. 
 What was it? To external appearance a young, 
 slight girl, fair as Scottish beauty ought to be, 
 w^th light locks just tinged here and there with 
 the brighter hght which makes them golden, a 
 complexion of the most dazzHng pmity, eyes, 
 somewhat astonished, of deep blue, and features 
 perhaps not equal in quality to all the rest, but 
 harmonious enough in their youth and softness. 
 This was what she was in actual flesh and 
 blood ; but as she appeared to Lewis, at that 
 moment actually feeling, and with all his might 
 endeavom-ing to impress upon a middle-aged 
 woman, the fervom- of his devotion, and his de- 
 pendence upon her fiat, she was something more.
 
 278 IT T\'AS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 She was Youth in person, she was Love, and 
 Hope, and a sort of incarnate deHght. He 
 looked at her, and the words he had been speak- 
 ing died from his hps, the enthusiasm he had 
 been feehng was blown out as if it had been the 
 flame of a candle. He forgot himself and good 
 manners, and his position as a stranger, and 
 stood, his lips apart, his eyes wide opened, 
 orazins: at her at once in amazement and 
 admiration. 
 
 Lilias looked at him too with much astonish- 
 ment and a good deal of curiosity. Was this 
 the person whom Margaret had suggested to be 
 the man from Kilmorley come to time the piano 1 
 Though she was a very docile little girl, there 
 were moments when she could be wilful. She 
 made Lewis a little cm-tsey, and gave him a 
 smile which went to his head hke wine. 
 
 ' And Margaret hopes the gentleman will come 
 too,' Lilias said. 
 
 ' Oh !' cried Miss Jean, with a tremor of con- 
 science, and a questioning look towards her 
 little sister. Could it be possible that Margaret 
 — ' I am sure,' she said, ' we will all be pleased 
 if you will come and eat something "with us ; it 
 is our dinner, as we are only ladies, without a
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 279 
 
 man in the house ; but it will do for luncheon 
 for you.' 
 
 ' If you will permit me,' said Lewis, with that 
 profound bow which they all thought foreign. 
 
 He drcAV away from the little table, so as to 
 
 leave Miss Jean room to gather together her 
 
 embroidery before she rose from her chair, and 
 
 waited, ready to follow the ladies. The proposal 
 
 was delightful to him. He did not pause to ask 
 
 whether the message had really come from Miss 
 
 Margaret; he had none of Miss Jeans tremor. 
 
 He thought only that he was ready to follow 
 
 this nymph, this vision, to the end of the world 
 
 » 
 if she pleased. Had he ever seen anything so 
 
 beautiful'? he asked himself: and, as may easily 
 
 be supposed, said 'No' with hasty readiness. 
 
 Lilias was in the perfection of youthful bloom 
 
 and freshness, with the down upon her like a 
 
 peach, untouched by anything that could impair 
 
 that dazzling, morning glory; the dark old 
 
 house, and the companionship of the two sisters 
 
 who in her presence became old and faded, 
 
 threw up her bloom all the more, and so did her 
 
 simple frock, the girhsh fashion of her hair, her 
 
 school-room apron, her position as Margaret's 
 
 messenger.
 
 280 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' Come along, tlien,' slie said, liglitly, and ran 
 off in advance. 
 
 Lewis offered his arm to Miss Jean. She was 
 very nervous, he thought, because of what he 
 had been saying to her — but Miss Jean had by 
 no means taken up, as he meant them, the things 
 he had been saying to her, and was nervous 
 because of her doubt whether Margaret really 
 meant this invitation. What if it was a sudden 
 thought of Lilias alone ? The girl did wicked 
 things now and then of this sort,httle rebellions 'in 
 fun,' audacities which sometimes vexed Margaret. 
 But Miss Jean's instincts of hospitality would have 
 tempted her, even without this proceeding on 
 the part of Lilias, to in\dte her visitor, towards 
 whom she felt kindly. She put her arm within 
 his with a little tremor: and Lewis felt the 
 quiver, and thought that he had been successful 
 in his suit. He pressed her hand softly against 
 his side. Though he had been so startled, 
 shaken out of his previous thoughts by this 
 sudden apparition, yet it did not occur to him to 
 be unfaithful. Nothing yet occm-red to him 
 except that here was a new thing, a new gloiy 
 and beauty retm^ned into life. This fahy crea- 
 ture ghded out of the room before them, ran
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 281 
 
 downstaii-s like a ray of simshme, making the 
 dark, old oak staircase bright, and darted in at 
 the open door of the dining-room, where she 
 evidently annonnced their coming with a langh. 
 The laugh made Lewis smile in s}Tnpathy, but 
 it made Miss Jean tremble, for it proved that 
 her alarm was justified, and so did the sudden, 
 startled sound of j\Iiss Margaret's deeper voice. 
 What Lilias said was, with that laugh, 
 
 'Margaret, I have asked the music man to 
 come too.' 
 
 ' The music man ! He is no music man,' cried 
 Miss Margaret, and then she said, ' Quick, Simon, 
 quick, lay another place.' There was no time 
 for further explanations now. 
 
 Lewis thought this meal was the most de- 
 lightful he had ever eaten in his life. The two 
 elder sisters sat at the head and foot of the 
 table, and opposite to liim was Lilias, Avith a 
 httle flush of triumph in her face, and a mis- 
 chievous smile about the corners of her mouth. 
 She did not talk very much, and to him not at 
 all. The other ladies maintained the conversa- 
 tion chiefly between them. For his own part 
 he was content to say very little, to confine 
 himself to replying when they spoke to him,
 
 282 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 and listening eagerly to their talk, and watching 
 the beautiful girl whom he could not raise his 
 eyes ^vithout seeing, and whose glance he met 
 now and then with something of the freemasonry 
 of youth. He did not know her, nor she him, 
 while he was acquainted with both the other 
 ladies, and felt himself already in a position of 
 intimacy and sympathetic friendship, if no more, 
 with Miss Jean ; but yet instinctively, and in a 
 moment, they two, he felt, constituted a faction, 
 a party, youth against age. 
 
 While the elders talked, she would shoot a 
 little glance at him across the table, a glimmer 
 of a smile would go over her face, in which 
 there was an appeal to him for an answering 
 . smile ; a sort of unconscious telegraph of mutual 
 understanding was set up between them. When 
 Miss Margaret questioned him, he repHed with a 
 look to Lihas first to see if she were listening. 
 When she spoke, though it was only a mono- 
 syllable, he paused to listen. After, when it was 
 over, the whole scene appeared to him like a 
 dream, the dark wainscot of the room, with the 
 bloom of that young face against it. Miss Mar- 
 garet against the light, Miss Jean, with her 
 sweet but faded face in the full illumination of
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 283> 
 
 the wdnclow, old Simon making slow cii-cles 
 round tlie table. His own heart was beating 
 with pleasm-e, with suspense, with excitement, 
 the feeling that something had happened to 
 him, something new which he scarcely under- 
 stood. He did not reahze that he had been 
 suddenly stopped in his love-making to Miss 
 Jean by this apparition, nor that it had taken 
 from him all desne to carry on that love-making. 
 Indeed, his mind had not taken in the new 
 occmTence at all; he was still in this state of 
 sensation, kno^ang that here was a new event 
 which had suddenly happened to him, but not 
 knowing what it was.
 
 284 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LEWIS left the Castle like a man in a dream. 
 There was an intoxication about him which 
 affected his whole being vaguely, as actual in- 
 toxication might do, in Avhich there was not the 
 slightest self-reproach or sense of doing wrong. 
 He was elated, delighted, happy ; a sort of suf- 
 fusion of sweetness and brightness was in his 
 veins, filling up everything. It affected him 
 like a new sensation, a new event, a revelation 
 of new possibilities. It never had occurred to 
 him that the world could be so sweet, or any 
 mortal creature so happy. Why was he so happy '^ 
 Because there was in existence a creatui'e so 
 young, so fair, so sweet, as to make life itself 
 look beautiful. What reason was that for the 
 happiness of one who had nothing to do with 
 her, whose life could not be affected one way 
 or other by her existence ? But he did not at
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. . 285 
 
 fii'st ask himself that question. It made him 
 glad without any reason ; it affected him fool- 
 ishly. He could have laughed for pleasure ; he 
 thought better of everything for her sake. She 
 seemed to fill the fresh country with a reflec- 
 tion of herself. He thought of nothing else as he 
 walked down to his inn in the afternoon. She 
 had not cared for his society, but disappeared 
 immediately after dinner on a sign from her 
 sister, turning and making liim a salutation 
 which was half a cm-tsey and half a smiling nod 
 of familiarity. She too, perhaps, had felt the 
 youth in him, and had not felt herself capable 
 of curtseying ceremoniously as she had been 
 taught. There was a meny glimmer in her 
 eyes, though the rest of her was so demure, and 
 this conjunction was delightful to him. He had 
 not known what the other ladies said to liim 
 after ; a kind of golden mist had seemed to him 
 to fill the air. The place was not desolate when 
 she went out of it, because she left it full of 
 herself, full of vibrations and echoes. He had 
 heard the kind elder voices in his ears, with 
 their long sentences and the responsive waves 
 of their talk, and had been aware that he took 
 some share in it, had answered them when they
 
 286 .IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 spoke, and was not without comprehension of 
 their meaning. But he had felt that he was in 
 haste to get away, to be alone, to think over 
 this new thing. And accordingly he did think 
 it over, or rather he walked into the unbroken 
 enjoyment of it, into the contemplation of Lilias, 
 when he walked out of those old-fashioned doors 
 into the afternoon sunshine. He did not tliink 
 of her, he only moved along in a current which 
 was her, in air which was full of her. He did 
 not understand the sensation ; it was as new to 
 him aSj,she was — new and delightful, entrancing 
 his soul. 
 
 Lewis moved along down the country road 
 and through the village wdth his heart full of 
 this strange and novel flood of feeling. Her 
 look, as, turning his head suddenly in the midst 
 of the genuine fervom* of his address to Miss 
 Jean, he had caught sight of her, and the words 
 had gone out on his lips : the turn of her 
 head, the going and coming of her smile as she 
 sat opposite to him at table, the few words she 
 said, the simplicity of appearance and move- 
 ments, only a little girl, and yet the queen of 
 all — these were before him as he walked, and 
 not the features of the landscape. Now it w^as
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 287 
 
 one recollection, now another ; the manner in 
 which she turned to go out of the room, the 
 half curtsey, the half laugh, full of a sweet 
 malice, the glance of her blue eyes, half mock- 
 ing, half ceremonious. Never had drama been 
 so full of interest for a spectator. Ho went over 
 everything. Then he went into his parlom- and 
 threw himself down upon his hard angular sofa, 
 and went over it all again — every look, every 
 movement, every raising of the eyehds. He 
 seemed to himself not to have forgotten a single 
 movement, or step, or Avord, or almost breath. 
 She came in with him to the dingy room just 
 as she had come along the road. It was all a 
 revelation, and so full of dazzling light that it 
 confused his mind and everything about him ; 
 the sun was not so bright, nor the world so fair, 
 as this new creature who had suddenly made of 
 herself a new centre to the universe. 
 
 Lewis had never in his life been so happy as 
 he was in that curious ecstasy. He did not ask 
 himself why he went into details, he did not say 
 to himself that to have her, to appropriate her 
 to himself, was henceforward to be the object 
 of his life. Many men have declared in a mo- 
 ment, ' This of all maids is the one maid for me.'
 
 288 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 But Lewis did not go so far as this ; he had 
 not thought as yet of appropriation. What he 
 felt was that here, in the world, w^as a creature 
 more sweet, more beautiful than ho had ever 
 dreamt of, and that the place was transfigured, 
 and mere living made into a dehght because she 
 was there. This made the blood course through 
 his veins with a warmth and fulness he had 
 never Imown before ; he felt as if some great 
 happiness had come to him. But even when he 
 paused and asked himself what was the mean- 
 ing of it, w^hat good could come to him from it, 
 he found no answer to give to that question. 
 He pushed it aside indeed ; he had nothing to do 
 with it in his present mood. 
 
 Later, as it began to approach evening, Lewis 
 met Mr. Seton on the river-side, and, having no- 
 thino; better to do, walked with him for a mile 
 or two on his way to some piece of parochial 
 duty. The minister complained a little of his 
 work, as everybody is apt to do. 
 
 ' They expect to be visited, however far off 
 they may be,' he said, with a pucker in his fore- 
 head and a quiver of complaint in his voice, 
 'and instead of bringing then- children to 
 church, as is their duty, they will find some
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 289 
 
 reason for a private christening. It is far too 
 niueli the way in these parts. Of course, the 
 session might make a stand on the subject, and 
 some of my elders would be very well inclined, 
 but what is the use of making a commotion ? I 
 am fond of peace. I always say just for this 
 once — and that is hoAv they come over me — 
 rather that than make a disturbance. I am 
 always for yielding — when the question is not 
 vital — when the question is not vital I Of course, 
 I make my stand upon that.' 
 
 ' To be sure,' said Lewis, vaguely, though 
 he had only the faintest idea what was 
 meant. 
 
 ' Better be baptised privately than not be 
 baptised at all,' said the minister, solemnly. 
 ' But, to do the people justice, they are not so 
 bad as that. They will go to the Free Kirk, or 
 the U. P., but they will not leave a child un- 
 christened. It is in the great towns that you 
 find that kind of heathenism, not in the country. 
 The country, there is little question, is better in 
 some ways. There is not so much scepticism. 
 Perhaps you will say there is more indifference 
 on all subjects, and that our ploughmen just 
 take things for granted?' 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' Ob, no,' said Lewis, more vague than ever, 
 * I certainly shonld not say tliat.' 
 
 ' You think not? AVell, there are just very 
 curious intellects among them, I must allow 
 that — strange bits of thought, you know, but 
 seldom sceptical.' ]\Ir. Seton spoke with a cer- 
 tain regret, for he felt himself qualified to meet 
 the legions of infidelity, and longed for nothmg 
 so much as the opportunity of converting an un- 
 believer. ' The doubts they entertain are upon 
 high points of doctrine which probably a young 
 man like you would never have heard of; but 
 they make nothing of what is often a great 
 difficulty to a cultivated spirit — the standards, 
 ]\Ir. Mm-ray. You will sympathise Avith that 
 difficulty. The Westminster confession may be 
 a stumbling-block to me, and the like of me, 
 but as for these ploughmen they will put to their 
 hand to the confession, or to a dozen confessions. 
 They swallow the longer and the shorter cate- 
 chisms without even wishing — they have very 
 strong stomachs in the way of doctrine. It is not 
 on that point you will ever find them wanting. 
 The difficulties and dangers of more delicate 
 
 minds ' ]\Ir. Seton said, bending upon Lewis 
 
 a benignant eye.
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 291 
 
 ' I suppose go wftli more delicate bodies,' said 
 that young man, Avitli a laugh, which Avas pro- 
 foimdly inappropriate. And ho had to laugh 
 alone at his own jest, the minister looking upon 
 him with gravity and disapproval, both shocked 
 and disappointed that he should show so httle 
 appreciation. 'But the ploughmen,' he said, 
 hastily and humbly, ' are not the most interest- 
 ing part of the people V 
 
 'If you think a small country gentleman, 
 such as we have here, is more interesting, Mr. 
 Murray, in an intellectual point of view ' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Lewis, half abashed, half amused. 
 •* You must not think so badly of me ; I was 
 thinking of — some of the ladies.' 
 
 At this the minister paused, and gave him a 
 doubtful look, apprehensive that the stranger 
 Avas indulging in a little satire; but as Lewis 
 laughed with ingratiating simplicity and blush- 
 ed a little, and added, ' I own they are more 
 interesting to me,' the minister too unbended, 
 and joined in the laugh, and shook his head the 
 Avhile. 
 
 ' Ah ! if we were all young men. But, to be 
 fiure, we must make allowance for those that 
 are. And which of the ladies is it that you 
 
 u2
 
 2<)2 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 find SO interestiug, if it is not indiscreet to 
 inquire ?' 
 
 This question brought Le^\ds back to a per- 
 ception that he was on delicate groimd. 
 
 ' All whom I have met with,' he said. ' The 
 intercourse is different, very different from what 
 I have been used to. The young ladies, who 
 are so frank, Avho meet us so — simply.' 
 
 ' Ah, that is your foreign way of thinking,' 
 said Mr. Seton. 'No doubt it seems strange to 
 you, but we have every confidence in our 
 daughters. It is rarely, very rarely that it is 
 found to be an undeserved confidence.' 
 
 ' But some are not so,' said Lewis. He had 
 thought a few minutes before that it would be 
 impossible to biing the conversation to this 
 subject, and he could scarcely believe now in 
 the easy success of his own bold attempt. 
 ' Some are not so. I think there is one young- 
 lady who is guarded as people do abroad. 1 
 have been here so long, and I saw her but for 
 the fu'st time to-day.' 
 
 ' How long have you been here — three weeks ? 
 That is not a lifetime,' said the minister. ' And 
 who may this be that is taken such care of? I 
 cannot call to mind '
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 293 
 
 ' It is the ladies at tlio Castle who interest mo 
 so much,' said Lewds, 'especially the less old 
 one, she whom jou call Miss Jean, and w^ho is 
 so susceptible to music. I have seen no one 
 w^ho is more susceptible. It takes possession of 
 her ; it caraes her away. To see it is beauti- 
 ful,' cried Lewis. ' I am very much iiit crested 
 in Miss Jean ; but there is one, much more 
 young, whom I have only seen for the first 
 time ' 
 
 'Indeed!' said Mr. Seton. 'Who could that 
 be V And then his tone changed in a moment. 
 ' Oh, Lihas ! Yes, to be sure. The old sisters, 
 you see, they are two old maids ; they have got 
 I don't Ivuow^ w^hat ideas in their heads. Poor 
 little thing ! they will make an old maid of her 
 like themselves. I hear my wife and Katie say 
 that she sees nobody. Poor girl ! But then, 
 the old ladies are pecuhar,' the minister said. 
 
 ' Ai-e they such very old ladies?' said Lewis, 
 somewhat piqued. ' I think that, on the whole, 
 I like that — to have a lovely young lady, like 
 a flower, kept apart from the world, that pleases 
 me. Perhaps it is that I, too, am old-fashioned.' 
 
 'Is she so lovely 1' said the minister, with a 
 laugh. ' Well, well, perhaps she is so. I am
 
 294 IT WAS A LOVER AXD HIS LASS. 
 
 saying nothing against it. She is just httlo 
 Lihas Murray to nic. Fvc seen her grow up 
 like my own. She is older though than Katie. 
 And so you admire her very much '? I must tell 
 my wife. My vnfe will l3e very much amused 
 to hear that somebody has seen her after all, 
 and that she is thought to be lovely, poor little 
 thing !' Mr. Seton repeated, %vdtli a laugh of 
 amusement. 
 
 This annoyed Lewis more than he could say. 
 
 ' It is a very distinguished family,' he said, 
 with gravity. ' I find it so. The two ladies 
 like chatelaines of the old time ; and the younger 
 one so beautiful, like a young princess who is in 
 their charge.' 
 
 ' AVell, that is very poetical,' said Mr. Seton, 
 but it was evident that he felt it very diflScult 
 to restrain his sense of the ludicrous. ' You see 
 we are too familiar A\'ith them,' he said. ' Fa- 
 miharity, you know, breeds contempt. No, not 
 contempt in the ordinary sense of the word, for 
 two more respectable women don't exist ; but 
 I'm not sure that I would just use the word 
 distinguished. It is a very good old family, the 
 Murrays of Murkley — liut distinguished, no.' 
 
 ' I used the word in another sense. It is their
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 295 
 
 appearance — and manner that is distingnislied : 
 as they say m France.' 
 
 Upon this the minister broke forth again into 
 a low langh. 
 
 ' They are just two very respectable, elderly 
 Avomen,' he said. 
 
 Lewis made no reply. It appeared to him 
 that here for the first time he had encountered 
 in his idyllic village the spiiit of detraction, the 
 petty scorn of limited minds for people superior 
 to themselves. He felt that, if he spoke, it 
 Avould only be to call forth the minister's laugh- 
 ter more and more, and raise that feeling of 
 ungenerous opposition in his mind, Lewis did 
 not leave Mr. Seton, as was his first impulse, 
 for he still felt the charm of being able to talk 
 of them, and of probably learning something 
 more about Lilias, even, though it were not in a 
 favom-able sense, to be worth lingering for. He 
 walked on by ]\Ir. Seton's side, sa}dng as little 
 as possible, and unaware that there w'as in 
 his aspect that air of shghtly injured dignity 
 which, more than anytliing else, amuses those 
 Avho have been engaged in the congenial work 
 of pulhng dowm idols, and maldng them appear 
 to their worshippers in a proper light. But the
 
 296 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 minister was infinitely ticldcd by Lewis's look. 
 And that anybody should contemplate the 
 Misses Murray in an exalted light Avas de- 
 lightfully ridiculous to their neighbour, who 
 had laughed at them and their ways, and 
 criticised their actions more or less for years of 
 his life. 
 
 ' The ladies,' he said, after a pause, ' have 
 been rather hard upon the little one, or so my 
 Avife says — and women understand each other 
 best. They will never let her come out to a 
 young party even at the manse. I hear they are 
 very ambitious for Lilias, and are reserving her, 
 poor innocent women — reserving her,' Mr. Seton 
 said, shaking his head with an expression of 
 amused pity, ' for some grand match.' 
 
 'For — some — ' Lewis felt as if for one mo- 
 ment the wheels of his being stood still ; the 
 earth was arrested in its progress. What could 
 it mean ? he asked himself vaguely. A grand 
 match ! The words made a Avonderful commo- 
 tion in his ears, but he said to himself that he 
 did not understand what they meant. 
 
 ' That is it,' said the minister, shaking his 
 head, and Avith that smile ahvays on his face. 
 ' Poor things ! they want her to build up the
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 297 
 
 family agaiu. I hoar they are goiug to take 
 her to court, and make a great fuss, all in the 
 hopes that she vrill marry some great potentate 
 or other, and restore the credit of the Murrays. 
 Well, since you think her so lovely as all that,' 
 he added, with a little burst of laughter, as if 
 overcome with the lidicule of the idea, ' it may 
 be that it's us that are the idiots after all, and 
 that the ladies are right.' 
 
 Lewis scarcely heard these remarks ; his whole 
 being was in a ferment. Up to this moment it 
 had not occurred to him what w^as the natural 
 Avay in which to regard this new apparition 
 which had come into his life. He had been 
 wooing (so to speak) her sister, the old sister 
 Avho was as a mother to Lilias, when this avou- 
 der appeared to him, and it was not that his 
 mind changed about Miss Jean, but only that 
 something entirely new and extraordinary burst 
 iipon liim, something he had never dreamt of 
 before. His words, his thoughts, the very action 
 of his mind was arrested. He had no longer 
 the power of^ fixing upon that project or any 
 other, his mind being entirely engrossed and 
 occupied by the new thing presented to it. But 
 his feelings had been entirely those of joy and
 
 298 IT WAS A LOYER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 delight in his discovery. It was something that 
 hghted up the earth and made the whole world 
 more sweet ; but it had not yet occurred to him 
 to aj^propriate this lovely creature to himself, or 
 to make her the centre of his individual enjoy- 
 ment. Now there burst upon him another 
 revelation, something of an entirely different 
 nature. That she was sweet, but not for him, 
 that her beauty was not intended only to make 
 the whole world happier, but to be a special 
 fountain of joy to one, but that not himself, but 
 some one else. Lewis did not himself under- 
 stand, in the rush and hurry of his feelings, what 
 was the sentiment which succeeded that vague 
 sensation of happiness in his mind. But he 
 understood that in a moment the minister whom 
 he had been accompanying with so much 
 friendliness on the way became intolerable, and 
 that the very sound of his voice was irritating, 
 and not to be borne. For the sake of appear- 
 ances he went on with him to a cross-road 
 which they were approaching, that led Lewis 
 did not know whither ; but anything was better 
 than to go on with so heartless a companion. 
 He broke off abruptly when he came to this mi- 
 known path, saying something about letters to
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 299 
 
 Avrite, and the necessity of getting back to Lis 
 inn. 
 
 ' You'll not get back to your inn that way,' 
 Mr. Seton said; but LeA\'is paid no attention, in- 
 deed scarcely heard him as he hurried on. 
 
 He sped along this lonely road in a totally 
 different direction from that he was acquainted 
 with, till he had entirely lost himself and worn 
 himself out, which perhaps in the circumstances 
 was as wise a thing as he could have done. For 
 his mind w^as agitated with a wonderful variety 
 of new thoughts. He became aware of what 
 that lovely figm-e was which had glided across his 
 ■vision, and in a moment swept eveiything else 
 out of his thoughts. She was more than youth, 
 more than mere beauty and brightness. She 
 was love. The thoughts of last night, that 
 sudden curious contrast which had struck hmi 
 between the plans and pm-poses of his own life 
 and those of Philip Stormont, flashed back again 
 and made the situation clear to him in a moment. 
 Here was nature, here was the secret of the 
 world. The broken scenes and visions which 
 had been passing before his eyes since ever he 
 saw^ her took a different form ; instead of only 
 seeing her, he saw himself beside her. He saw
 
 300 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 the gi'oup of last niglit changed from Stormont 
 and Katie to LiKas and himself. He walked 
 by her side as he had walked by her sister's ; 
 but how differently ! He talked to her as he 
 had talked to Miss Jean, but oh ! in how 
 changed a tone. 
 
 All this went thi'ough his mind as he walked 
 mile after mile, always trying a new dnection, 
 always failing to recover his ground, or come 
 near any landmark he knew. The sun had 
 been long set, and in any other Ijut these 
 northern skies night would have set in, Avhen 
 he found himself at last approaching the village. 
 He could see that there was a little commotion 
 in the street as he came along, sadly weary 
 and dusty, and beginning to come down from 
 those celestial circles of the imagination, and to 
 remember that he was very hungry, and had 
 not dined. A little group of children broke up 
 and dashed down the road in front of him to- 
 wards the ' Murkley Arms.' 
 
 ' Eh, yonder he's coming !' they cried. 
 
 Janet, Avitli a very anxious countenance, was 
 standing in the doorway. 
 
 ' Eh, sir,' she said, ' is this you ? And what 
 has keepit ye frae 3'our dinner ? We have had
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 301 
 
 a maist anxious uight looking* out for ye, and 
 wondering what could have happened. Adam's 
 awav doun to the water-side, and I've sent to 
 the manse and the Castle, and every place I 
 could think of, we Avere that alarmed.' 
 
 ' Why shoidd you be alarmed ?' said Lewis. 
 ' The fact is, I lost my Avay.' 
 
 ' I'm real glad to see it's nae waur,' said 
 Janet. ' There's been ane here frae Kilmorley 
 keen, keen to see ye. It was just the Avriter's 
 clerk, and that gied us a fright ; and he didna 
 seem that sure about your name, and he said he 
 had instructions just to bide and no to leaA'e till 
 he had seen ye. But I sent him away Avith a 
 ilea in his lug,' said Janet. ' I said you Avere 
 just real respectable, as we've found you, sir, 
 and one of the j\Iurrays, kent folk, and taken a 
 hantle notice of by the Murkley ladies, and hoAA^ 
 daured he come here to set your friends against 
 ye ? But for a' that I got a terrible fright, Mr. 
 3Iurray. I thought maybe ye had got Avit o' 
 his coming, and had just slippit away, and Ave 
 Avould never have heard tell of ye again.' 
 
 'Why should I slip aAvay"?' cried Lewis, as- 
 tonished, his conviction of innocence being too 
 strong to permit him to entertain at the mo-
 
 302 IT ^YAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ment auy alarm as to the consequences that 
 might follow if he were found to have presented 
 himself under a name Avhich was not his own. 
 
 Janet gave him a confused, repentant, yet 
 penetrating look. 
 
 ' Deed, I eanna tell,' she said, somewhat 
 abashed ; ' but how was I to ken that there 
 mightna be reasons, and the man so awfu' curi- 
 ous about you, and him the writer's clerk ? 
 Gentlemen are whiles overtaken, just the same 
 as poor folk. It might have been siller, or it 
 
 jnight have been But, dear bless me, what 
 
 is the use of speakin', when here ye are, just 
 your ain sel', and no put aboot at a' ; and the 
 dinner's spoilt, but nae mair harm done.' 
 
 ' J\Iy good Mrs. Janet,' said LcAvis, ' I am 
 much obliged to you, but you need not enter- 
 tain any fears about me. I am not afraid of 
 any Avriter's clerk. What is a writer, by the 
 way?' he said, smiling, pausing as he was about 
 to enter. 
 
 She gazed at him with round eyes of amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 ' What is a writer ? Well, I always said you 
 were an innocent young man — I was aye sure 
 there would be nothing in it — but you must ken
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 303 
 
 very little indeed, sir, if you have never come 
 across a writer. He's just a — well, maybe 
 sometimes a terror to evil-doers, I would not 
 gay — but a great fyke and trouble mony a time 
 to them that do Avell. He is one that will gather 
 in the siller that's owin' ye, that ye canna get 
 yoursel', and pretend it's a' for your gude, s^me 
 take his percentage and his profit, till there's 
 more of it gangs into his pocket than yours. 
 He is one that ' 
 
 ' T see — a lawyer of some sort. You thought 
 I was perhaps running away from my creditors,' 
 Lewis said, with a laugh. 
 
 Janet gave him a guilty glance. 'Mony a 
 grand gentleman has done that, and lived to 
 pay them a' to the last farden, and never been 
 a preen the waur.' 
 
 Lewis laughed till all the attendant children, 
 who had been looking on, waiting for the penny 
 promised them for intimating his approach, 
 laughed too in sympathy. 
 
 ' I owe you more than I owe anybody else,' 
 he said ; ' but we'll talk of that after dinner, for 
 I'm famishing now.'
 
 304 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LEWIS AV'oke lip next morning a different 
 man. His ligbt-liearted yontli and easy 
 views liad gone from him. The musings of the 
 night had only showed him the position in Avhicli 
 he was, Avithoiit showing him any way out of it. 
 He had all but pledged himself to one woman, 
 placed himself at her disposal ; and his heart had 
 ffone out to another. He felt that life would 
 not be worth liA'hig, nor the Avorld have any 
 charm for him, unless he could secure Lilias as 
 the companion of his existence. Yet at the 
 same time lie recognised that it was the sister of 
 Lihas to whom so lightly, thinking, as it now 
 seemed, nothing of it, he had offered that life as 
 he might have offered a flower. Was there ever 
 a more terrible dilemma for a young man ? And 
 he had not found it out at first. It had not been 
 till the terril>lo prose of the minister set the case
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 305 
 
 fully before him that he had recognisecl the 
 complication which was so novel, so strange, yet 
 to him so overwhelming. Love ! how conld he 
 love this creature whom he had seen but once, of 
 whom he knew nothing '? But even to ask that 
 question seemed a sort of blasphemy against her, 
 against the strange and potent sAveetness of his 
 own emotion. Knew nothing ! he knew every- 
 thing ; he knew her, the wonder of creation ! To 
 see her was enough. What doubt, what hesita- 
 tion was possible ? ' There is none Hke her, 
 none ;' he was as much convinced of that as if 
 he had watched all her ways for years. And to 
 think that he had not had the patience to wait, 
 or any instinct to tell him that she was here ! 
 This was the strange, the incomprehensible 
 thing. It was a fatality. So it had been 
 ordained in Greek plays and uncompromising 
 tragedy. That everything which was sweetest 
 should come too late — that one should be on the 
 very verge of the loveliest road to Paradise, 
 and all unawares should choose another which 
 led a different way. 
 
 Lewis awoke to a sense, no longer of a world 
 enhanced, and made infinitely sweeter and 
 faher by the presence in it of a creature more 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 beautiful and delightful than he had ever before 
 dreamt of, but of a universe which had gone 
 suddenly out of joint, where the possibilities of 
 blessedness were counteracted by malign influ- 
 ences, and fate took pleasure in turning happi- 
 ness into trouble : one way and another the 
 calmly smiling day, the happy commonplace, 
 the matter-of-course existence had come to an 
 end for him. It w^as very summary and very 
 complete. He looked back for a few days, and 
 thought how easily he had made up his mind 
 about Miss Jean, how calmly he had determined 
 to make her a present of his existence, with a 
 kind of horror. In reality it had been a very 
 small part of his existence wliich he had resolved 
 to give up to her : but this he did not recollect 
 in the excitement of his thoughts. He had 
 meant to live as he pleased, always returning 
 between whiles to the kind, elderly, indulgent 
 wife who, he felt sure, would require no more 
 of him ; but this now seemed a sort of blasphemy 
 to him, a travesty of the life which a man should 
 wish to live with the true mate and companion 
 who would share his every thought. He rejected 
 his former thoughts with a self-disgust that was 
 full of anger. It was odious to him to know that
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 307 
 
 he had been capable of so thinking. All that 
 had altered in a moment ; not with the first sight 
 of love, and what it was, in the person of Lihas, 
 bnt with the fii-st clear perception that this fair 
 creature was some one's destined bride, bnt not 
 his. In the irony of fate not his ; revealed to 
 him only after it was too late, after he had mort- 
 gaged his existence and bound himself to a 
 world so much pettier and poorer than that of 
 which she held the key. 
 
 Up to this moment there had been in the 
 heart of LeAvis very little questioning of fate ; he 
 had taken all that came in his wav with, on the 
 whole, a cheerful composure. The loss of his 
 parents had been made up to him in a wonder- 
 ful way. The loss of Sir Patrick was so com- 
 pletely natural that there could be no repining 
 in the soitow, honest sorrow deeply felt, but 
 without any bitterness, with which his young 
 dependent mourned him. All this had been 
 legitimate ; he had accepted it as inevitable and 
 necessary. Some natm-al tears he dropped, but 
 wiped them soon. He had taken his life in the 
 same unquestioning matter-of-fact way, almost 
 unconscious of any deeper necessity for satisfac- 
 tion in it than that which lay on the smface, 
 
 x2
 
 308 IT TVAS A LOVER AXU HIS LASS. 
 
 the honest discharge of such duties as he knew, 
 the honest enjoyment of such pleasures as ^vere 
 congenial to liim. He did not kno"\v that he wanted 
 anj-thing more. It vr&H not that Lewis had 
 not heard the mnrmiuings of bitter philosophy 
 in many a tone. He had heard his old patron 
 discourse upon the deceptions of life, he had 
 heard Sh- Patrick's friends talking, snarhng over 
 the lies and delusions with which, to them, the 
 world was full : l>ut the youth in liim had 
 rebelled, had laughed, had attributed all this 
 to the ill-temper of age and chsapp ointment, 
 sometimes pitj-ing, always certain that to him 
 nothing of the land would ever "come. And 
 there had been nothing in his existence to con- 
 tradict this easv confidence. Nothini;' had srone 
 amiss vdth him : there had been no occasion 
 for him to rail at foriune, which had always 
 been so good to huu, or to find any delusions 
 in the brightness of his life. It had been with- 
 out complications, without mystery; nothing 
 in it that was not straightforward, imtil he 
 came to j\Im-kley ; and it seemed to him that 
 the harshest moralist could not have objected to 
 his innocent little artifice, his adoption of a 
 name to which he had indeed a good title, even
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 309 
 
 thoiigh it was taken up with intention to de- 
 ceive. And even the deception had a good 
 reason. It seemed hard to poor Lewis that 
 coming thns innocently, mth intention to do 
 well, to right wrong, to atone for injmy, he 
 should have been made to suffer. It seemed to 
 him cmel. His imagination did not blame Pro- 
 cadence, which was too far off and too solemn 
 to be made responsible for such matters, but 
 he found a httlc consolation in rccalhng to his 
 mind the old snarlings he used to hear, the 
 complaints against fate, Avhatever that was. 
 Why, why should such a malign chance have 
 fallen on hmi, whose wish was to be just, to be 
 true to everybody? It seemed to Lewis that 
 he had good reason to complain. To be sure, 
 he did not very well know against whom his 
 complaint could be directed, but he felt it all 
 the same. 
 
 He was late of getting up ; he was slow to go 
 out ; he did not care what he did with himself ; 
 sometimes his impulse was to huny to the 
 Castle, to take advantage as long as he could 
 of the permission which certainly had been 
 given him, on the mere chance of perhaps see- 
 ing her again. But what was the use of seeing
 
 310 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 her ? It was to Miss Jean his visit would have 
 to be made. It Avas she who had been the aim 
 of his devotion ; and at that thought Lewis laid 
 down the hat which he had snatched up, and 
 threw himself in despair upon his seat. No, 
 better to hurry a^Yay, never to put himself 
 Avithin the reach of her influence again, to do 
 nothing at least to deepen and increase it. And 
 then he began to say to himself, what matter % 
 no one but himself should ever know the strong 
 temptation winch had seized him, the enchant- 
 ment she had exercised unawares. It would do 
 no harm to anyone but himself, if he did see her 
 once more, and, if he suifered for it, there would 
 be compensation in the sweetness of her pres- 
 ence ; he would have had the sunshine at least, 
 even if the cloud were all the blacker after- 
 wards. 
 
 Thi-oughout the whole of this self-discussion 
 it will be seen that the idea of being unfaithful 
 to his first declared object never occurred to 
 Lewis. He beHeved that he had made Miss 
 Jean fully aware of the proposal he meant to 
 make her. He had told Miss Margaret of it. 
 He had no doubt that they must have com- 
 municated with each other on the subject, and
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 311 
 
 that tlie mere fact of his reception at the house 
 was a proof that he was viewed under the 
 aspect of an accepted lover. And, this being 
 the case, nothmg in the world would have made 
 Lewis flinch from the position he had assumed. 
 It seemed to him now like going from the 
 glory of the skies and free air into the dun and 
 shadowed atmosphere indoors. Lilias would 
 have meant the garden of Eden, the perennial, 
 never-exhausted idyll of human blessedness. 
 Miss Jean meant a domestic interior somewhat 
 dull, grey, full of dimness and shadows. But 
 all the glory and blessedness in the world could 
 not make that possible which was impossible, 
 as LeAvis knew ; and what was unpossible was 
 to leave in the lurch the woman he had wooed. 
 That was the one thing he could not do, how- 
 ever hard the price he had to pay. It did not 
 come even the length of a discussion in his 
 mind. It was too certain, too self-evident for 
 anything of the kind. He made no question 
 about it. Thus sometimes he jumped up, 
 thinldng he would go at once to the Castle, 
 and linger there till it was time to see her 
 again ; sometimes sat down again, saying to 
 himself why should he do it? why should he
 
 312 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 add to his pain '? Better to keep that one 
 vision as the only one, a sort of poem, a revela- 
 tion for one moment, and no more. In the 
 lives of the saints such things have been told ; 
 how they had seen a celestial vision, sometimes 
 printing marks in their very flesh, and had 
 seen no more. Lewis felt that it was perhaps 
 profane to compare with that supreme sort of 
 revelation his sudden "vdew of the woman whom 
 he could never forget, who might have made of 
 his life a something glorious and noble, alto- 
 gether different from its natural common-place. 
 It was profane, but he could not help it : only 
 the highest images could express what he 
 meant. That mere glimpse of her, attended by 
 so little self-disclosure on her part, ahnost with- 
 out the communication of words, had it not 
 already made such an impression on his soul as 
 could never wear out? It had revealed another 
 world to him, it had shown him what life might 
 be, what it never could be, and with what a 
 strange, lamentable misconception he had 
 chosen the lower place ! 
 
 He was still in this uncertain condition, walk- 
 ing to the window now and then, looking out 
 vaguely, pacing about the room, pausing to
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 313 
 
 look at himself in the diugy mirror on the 
 mantelpiece, taking up his hat and putting it 
 down again, not able to decide what he should 
 do, when his attention was caught by the sound 
 of steps coming up the stairs, and the voice of 
 Janet directing some one to come ' This way, 
 sir, this way.' 
 
 ' Our young gentleman took a Avalk yestreen, 
 ower long, and lost his way, so he's no out this 
 morning, which is just very lucky,' Janet was 
 saying. 
 
 Lewis threw down his hat with an impatient 
 exclamation. It was Stormont, no doubt, he 
 who could do what he pleased, who had taken 
 his own way and satisfied himself, though not 
 as Lewis would have done : or perhaps the 
 minister who had laughed and spoken of the 
 queen of beauty and love as a ' poor little thing.' 
 There sprang up in his mind immediately a sort 
 of hatred of them both as thus problematically 
 preventing him from seeing her again : for he 
 no sooner felt that he could not do it than it 
 seemed to hun he had made up his mmd to do 
 it, and was in the very act of sallying forth. 
 But it was neither Stormont nor the minister 
 who was shown in by Janet. She opened the
 
 314 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 door, and put her liead iu fii-st witli a certain 
 caution. 
 
 ' Thisll be yon gentleman,' she said, and 
 made a sort of interrogative pause, as much as 
 to say no one should enter did Lewis disap- 
 prove. Then she opened the door wider, and 
 added, 'A gentleman to see you, Mr. Murray,' in 
 a louder voice. 
 
 To say that Janet paused after this for a 
 moment to satisfy herself what sort of greeting 
 passed betAveen them, and whether or not she 
 had done Avell to introduce the stranger, is 
 scarcely necessary. She stood with the door in 
 her hand, and the most sympathetic curiosity in 
 her mind : but when she saw the new-comer 
 hurry forward with a sort of chuckling laugh, 
 holding out his hand and exclaiming, in famihar 
 accents, ' So this is you ! It was just borne in 
 upon me that it must be you,' Janet withdrew 
 well pleased. 
 
 ' It's a' just as it should be,' she said to Adam, 
 who had lingered to see the result. ' I'll no say 
 our young lad is pleased : but it's a friend, it's no 
 a spy nor a sheriff's officer.' 
 
 'It's a wiiter from Edinbm-gh,' said Adam; 
 ' I've seen him in the Parliament house.'
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 315 
 
 ' Hoot awa' with your Parliament house !' 
 cried Janet. ' It's ten years since you were in 
 Edinburgh, and how can ye mind if he's a 
 writer or no '? Besides, I told ye, he's no feared 
 for ony ^viiter ; he asked me, bless the callent ! 
 what a writer was V 
 
 Adam was more sceptical, having, as he 
 thought, more knowledge of the world. ' Ye 
 may ken the thing and no ken the name,' ho 
 said. 
 
 But even he shouldered his rod and stalked 
 away with a reheved mind; for Lewis had so 
 moved the household at the 'Murkley Arms,' 
 and even the village itself, in his favour, that 
 the writer would have fared badly who had 
 meant mischief to the kind and friendly visitor 
 who had conciliated everybody. Janet, consid- 
 ering all the circumstances, was of opuiion that, 
 after the greeting she had seen, it Avould be 
 natural and desirable to put in hand certain 
 preparations for luncheon of a more than usually 
 elaborate kind. 
 
 But if his humble friends were consoled, Lewis 
 was taken entirely by sm-prise. He said, ' Mr. 
 Allenerly !' in a tone between astonishment and 
 dismay.
 
 316 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 ' It is just me,' said the lawyer, ' and I had a 
 moral conviction it was yon I should find, 
 though no one knew the name of Grantley ' 
 
 'Hush!' cried LcAvis, in alarm, raising his 
 hand. 
 
 ' It is not a nice thing in any circumstances,' 
 said the new-comer, 'for a man to disown his 
 own name.' 
 
 There was an impulse of anger in Lewis' 
 mind not at all natural to him. 
 
 ' It is with no evil intention, and it is no case 
 of disowning my name. My kind god-father, 
 my patron — you are free to call him what you 
 will — wished it to be so. I have adopted his 
 suggestion, that is all.' 
 
 ' But here, of all places in the world !' cried 
 Mr. Allen erly — ' it is the imprudence I am tliink- 
 ing of. You have a good right to it, if you 
 please — but here ! Have they not put you 
 through yom- catechism to know what Murrays 
 you were of? That would be the first thing 
 they would do ' 
 
 ' Miss Margaret has done so, I allow.' 
 
 ' Miss Margaret ! By my conscience, you have 
 got far ben aheady ! And she never found you 
 out ? and you have got footing there f
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 317 
 
 A pleasurable sense of success soothed the 
 exasperation and pain in the young man's mind. 
 
 ' It was for that I came here,' he said. 
 
 ' I just guessed as much. I said to my wife, 
 " He's of the romantic sort ; he'll be after little 
 Lilias, take my word for it, as soon as he hears 
 of her existence." And so you've done it ! 
 Well, Mr. Murray, if that's what I'm to call you, 
 I congratulate you — that is, if you get clear of 
 Miss Margaret. She's grand at a cross-examina- 
 tion, as I have good reason to know. If you 
 satisfied her ' 
 
 ' I think I satisfied her — I go there — I was 
 going now, if you had not come,' said Lewis, 
 playing ^vith his hat, which was on the table. 
 It seemed to him that to get rid of this ^"isitor 
 was the best, and, indeed, only thing he wished 
 for. ' After httle Lilias !' The words rang and 
 tingled through his head ; he did not wish to 
 be asked any questions, for already he felt as if 
 his countenance must betray him ; he could not 
 laugh as his visitor chd. It was impossible for 
 him even to respond with a smile. And that 
 fixed gi-avity was something which had never 
 before been seen on Lewis's face. 
 
 Mr. Allenerly cast a cm-ious look upon him,
 
 318 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 and then he in turn pnt down his hat upon the 
 table and drew forward a chair. 
 
 ' Yon have made your way in what seems a 
 sui-prising manner,' he said, 'but yon do not 
 seem very cheery about it. Yon will excuse 
 me if I am pressing — it is a thing I should have 
 been keen to push on, if I had not known that 
 things of this kind must come of themselves ; 
 and, if yon Avill pardon me for saying so, 1 
 wanted to know more of you before I would 
 have put yon in the way of Miss Lihas, poor 
 thing. She is very young, and the first that 
 comes has a groat chance with a young girl. 
 But her sisters have very high notions ; they 
 are ambitious for her, I have always heard, and 
 whether they would have the sense to see that 
 a bird in the hand is worth two, or any number, 
 in the bush ' 
 
 ' I cannot let you continue in a mistake,' said 
 Lewis, pale and grave. ' It is not as you think ; 
 the thing is different ' 
 
 He paused, and Mr. AUenerly paused too, and 
 looked at him with a doubtful air. 
 
 ' Do you mean,' he said, ' to tell me that you, 
 a young man from foreign parts, that knows 
 neither England nor Scotland — a young man
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 319 
 
 that is your own master, going where yon please 
 — do you mean to say that you come here to 
 a small Scotch village, and settle down in a 
 country public-house (for it's little better) for 
 weeks Avith no object ? I have a respect for 
 you, Mr. Grantley, but I cannot swallow that.' 
 
 ' I did not say so,' said Lewis, with a gravity 
 that was exaggerated, and full of the dignified 
 superiority of offended youth ; but he could not 
 defend himself from those impulses of impru- 
 dence which were natural to him. ' It is not 
 necessary, I suppose,' he said, ' that my object 
 should be exactly as you have stated. There 
 are three sisters ' 
 
 Mr. Allenerly made no reply at first, but gazed 
 at him with astonished eyes. Then he suddenly 
 burst into a peal of laughter. 
 
 ' This is too good a joke,' he said, ' you rogue, 
 you deceiver ! Do you think it's a fair thing to 
 play off your fun upon your man of business 1 
 None o' that — none o' that ! No but that's the 
 best joke I've heard this year or more. I must 
 tell my wife of that. There's three sisters, says 
 he ! Lord ! but that beats all' 
 
 ' I am at a loss,' said Lewis, more dignified 
 than ever, < to understand the cause of your
 
 320 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 mirtli ; but, when yon have had it out, perhaps 
 you will let me inform you of the real state of 
 affairs.' 
 
 ' That is just what I am ready to do,' the 
 lawyer said, in his turn offended, 'more than 
 ready. The ladies are my clients, Mr. ' 
 
 ' It Avas my godfather's desire that my name 
 should be Murray.' 
 
 ' Then Murray be it !' cried the writer, with 
 vehemence. 'What have I to do with your 
 name 'i If it comes to that, ye may call your- 
 self royal Stuart, or Louis XVL, or anything ye 
 please, for me.' 
 
 ' Don't let us quarrel, Mr. Allenerly ; you have 
 been very kind to me,' said Lewis, suddenly 
 struck with the absurdity of this discussion. He 
 laughed as he held out his hand. ' Come,' he 
 said, ' do not be so hot, and I will tell you. But 
 why should you laugh ? I have paid my court 
 to the second of the two sisters. She is a lady 
 whom I respect very much. She is sweet and 
 good. A laugh I cannot endure upon her 
 account. 1 have endeavoured to do what I 
 could to please her. I hope I may have — a little 
 — succeeded,' Lewis said. The supernatural 
 gravity and dignity had gone out of his face ;
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 321 
 
 instead of these, there came a smile wbicli had 
 some pathos in it. There was a shght quiver in 
 his sensitive mouth. It was not vanity, but a 
 certain soiTowful pleasm-e, a sort of compassion- 
 ate satisfaction which was in the smile ; it check- 
 ed the lawyer's laugh more effectually than any 
 big words could have done. But he looked 
 with great and growing sm-prise into the young- 
 man's face. 
 
 ' Miss Jean '?' he said, ahnost timidly, with a 
 sudden sense of something that lay behind. 
 
 ' Miss Jean,' Lewis said, with a little affirma- 
 tive nod several times repeated. ' She loves 
 music very much. She has a fine and tender 
 soul. I think no one knows what she is. They 
 think her only gentle and weak.' 
 
 ' That is true — that is tnie. She is a good 
 woman ; but ' 
 
 'I will confess to you,' said Lewis, 'I heard 
 that there were three, and it troubled me. I 
 had thought there would be one who was the 
 heir after your English way. I was in much 
 trouble what to do. Then it was evident that 
 this good Miss Jean was she whom I could have 
 most access to, and I loved her on account of the 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 music ; but I did not kuow,' he added, ingenu- 
 ously, with a sigh, ' I will acknowledge it to 
 you — I did not know that the other lady was 
 yoimg ; I did not know she was — what I found 
 her yesterday. Ah ! I saw her only yesterday 
 for the first time.' 
 
 Mr. Allenerly, avIio had jumped up in great 
 interest and excitement, and had been pacing 
 about the room all tliis time, here came up to 
 Lewis, and struck him on the shoulder. 
 
 ' You are neither Scotch nor English,' he said, 
 ' but you're a fine fellow ; I would say that be- 
 fore the world. You came here to restore the 
 money to them in a real generous way without 
 thinking of yourself; but cheer up, my lad! 
 Miss Jean has nothing to do with it. It is Lilias 
 that is the heir. What do I mean ? I will soon 
 tell you what I mean. Margaret and Jean have 
 a small estate in the south country that was 
 their mother's. They have nothing to do Avith 
 Murkley. Boys are always looked for, and little 
 thought was taken for them. But when the 
 general married his second wife, the Castle and 
 a bit of the old land, too little, far too little, was 
 put in the marriage settlement — and Lilias is the
 
 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 32 B 
 
 heir of that — LiHas the Httle one, the yomig oue, 
 the boimie one. You are in greater kick than 
 you thought.' 
 
 ' Then it ^vill be no restoration at all,' said 
 Lewis, his face growing longer and paler with 
 disappointment and dismay. 
 
 ' Not if you persevere in your present fancy 
 — but that is just nonsense — you must turn your 
 thoughts into another channel.' 
 
 ' You speak,' said Lewis, ' as if one's thoughts 
 were like a stream of water. That is not to be 
 considered at all ; it is too late.' 
 
 ' Then it is all settled Has Miss Jean — 
 
 the Lord preserve us — accepted ye'?' Mr. 
 AUenerly said. 
 
 ' Does that matter V said Lewis. ' I have 
 laid my homage at her feet ; it is for her to 
 take, if she will.' 
 
 'But — ' cried the lawyer, in dismay, 'don't 
 ye see that all ^vill be spoiled 'i that your very 
 pm-pose will be balked— that everything will 
 go wrong ? If it is not settled beyond remedy, 
 you must j'ust do what many a man has done 
 before. You must draw back before it is too 
 late '
 
 324 IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS. 
 
 'Draw back — and leave a lady insulted 
 
 You forget' — the young man spoke with much 
 dignity — ' that, though I am not a Murray, I am 
 a gentleman,' Lewis said. 
 
 END OP THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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