HOLS 
 
 r~f
 
 QUIXSTAK.
 
 STAB 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "BLINDPITS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. P U T N A M'S SONS 
 
 4TH AVENUE AND 23n STREET 
 
 1873
 
 THE MIDDLETON 8TEBEOTYPE COMPANY, 
 GBEENPOBT, L. I. 
 
 LAXGE, LITTLE A HILLMA.X, 
 
 PEINTEE8, 
 
 108 TO 114 WOOSTBB STKKET, N. Y.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT is a pretty little town Quixstar^ and knows it 
 or at least if you could suppose a town guilty of affecta- 
 tion, you could easily think that Quixstar sometimes 
 tried to look more than usually interesting. If you 
 looked out in the morning, for instance, and caught all 
 the eastward windows flashing back the sun's rays like 
 the eyes of a young beauty, while the buildings in grey 
 shadow looked on with a kind of quiet wonder, as a 
 timid chaperon might do, alarmed as to what would 
 happen next; or at twilight of a summers day, when 
 the town folded its hands and lay back in its arm-chair; 
 or by moonlight, when its very smoke seemed to be 
 etherealized, and its steeple went right into the sky, one 
 bright particular star standing by it, so near that the 
 weathercock might have scorched his wings ; or in win- 
 ter, when it wrapped itself in ermine to the throat if 
 you watched but, indeed, if you begin to watch any 
 person, place, or thing, you will soon get more inter- 
 ested than you are aware of, and Quixstar was really an 
 interesting town, worth watching at almost any time. 
 It combined compact tidiness with old-fashioned pictur- 
 esqueness, and its inhabitants took a pride in it, a pride 
 1
 
 Z QUIXSTAR. 
 
 which threatened the stability of the last-mentioned 
 quality; but happily it is easier and cheaper to keep 
 things going as they are than to make sweeping changes, 
 so that a native of Quixstar, though he may have been 
 absent half a lifetime, on returning will see little differ- 
 ence, except that the clock in the steeple has had its 
 face and hands washed. This may be an improvement ; 
 but he will miss with a pang the familiar old weather- 
 beaten visage that so often told him whether he was too 
 late for school or not. 
 
 The town is small so small that every inhabitant 
 might know every other inhabitant, might know of his 
 business, his habits, his affairs, and everything that is 
 his. Whether this is to be reckoned an advantage or 
 a drawback depends on taste and temperament. How- 
 ever obscure you are, you may be somebody in Quix- 
 star, and that is something; better be first in what was 
 the place ? than second in Rome ; but if you have no 
 fibre of Julius Caesar in your nature ; if you would like 
 to slip through life like a knotless thread ; if you have the 
 weakness to shrink from being the subject of critical dis- 
 section, then give Quixstar and its co-towns throughout 
 the empire a wide berth. 
 
 It is to be doubted if any one ever gets to such a 
 pitch of apathy as to take absolutely no interest in his 
 neighbor's affairs; but when you have arrived at the 
 knowledge that men and women in civilized life wear 
 much the same sort of garments, differing a little in tex- 
 ture ; that what is in one man's dining-room is in another 
 man's; that your neighbor's closets are filled with dupli- 
 cates of what is in your own, and that ten to one the peo- 
 ple round you are as well-behaved as yourself, with prob- 
 ably a sprinkling of rogues to carry off the vices of the 
 community, as the lightning-rod conducts the dangerous
 
 QTJIXSTAR. 3 
 
 fluid to the ground, when you have a conviction of all 
 this, your are apt to get out of bed in a lazy fashion ; 
 you dress, saying, Cui bono f you look at the sun in the 
 neavens, and say there is nothing new under it ; in short 
 you are prepared for everything ; the emotion of surprise 
 you have put away in your mental garret among other 
 obsolete lumber, and if you ever look at it you say, 
 " Oh, that reminds me of long ago." It is very satisfac- 
 tory to know that no one in Quixstar had got into this 
 melancholy state ; its inhabitants might have bounded 
 out of bed with the elasticity of india-rubber balls, if 
 curiosity would have, acted as a brisk motive power. 
 And long may it be so ! How many people can rise to 
 even an occasional contemplation of the infinite, and if 
 they lose their interest in the finite, the very finite of the 
 gossip of Quixstar, what is to become of them? go 
 mad possibly, or sink into idiocy ; if they could only keep 
 to what is lovely and of good report, but somehow aver- 
 age human nature is so prone to turn up the seamy side 
 of things. 
 
 The name Quixstar is of obscure etymology. In old 
 records the first syllable is spelt Cuick a word from 
 the Celtic, meaning either cuckoo or creek, and in Latin 
 it has been written Cuickstarlineum ; but the modern 
 orthography is Quixstar, in pronunciation popularly often 
 reduced to Quixstir or Quicksir, and even Quicker. 
 The cuckoo still haunts the glens, where the river runs 
 that on its journey from the distant hills comes wander- 
 ing past Quixstar ; it might have taken a more direct 
 road to its destination, but time being no object, and 
 trouble as little, it preferred the circuitous one. 
 
 The Eden, as the river or more strictly speaking, 
 rivulet was called, had been renowned both in song 
 and story before it reached Quixstar, but like the truly
 
 4 QTJIXSTAR. 
 
 great it went on its way doing all the good it coulijj as 
 if quite unconscious of its fame. 
 
 Across a foot-bridge from the town there stood a 
 small building known as " The Cottage." One morning 
 it was told throughout Quixstar that the Cottage had 
 changed owners had been sold to a Mr. Sinclair. 
 Did any one know Mr. Sinclair ? Who was he, what 
 was he, where did he come from ? Ere long, by putting 
 little bits of information together, answers to these 
 questions leaked out. He came from Ironburgh; he 
 was a merchant; he was wealthy. This so far allayed 
 the public hunger for a time. Then it was seen that the 
 Cottage was undergoing a metamorphosis ; from an hum- 
 ble one-storied building it was spreading out below, and 
 rising above, to a size fitted, as advertisements say, to 
 accommodate a genteel family. 
 
 The house nearest the Cottage, on the same side of 
 the water, and only divided from it by the breadth of a 
 road, was occupied by Mr. Gilbert, the schoolmaster of 
 the parish. It was an old house comparatively, one" end 
 of it covered with ivy to the very top altogether a 
 leafy bower, with an old-fashioned garden sloping to the 
 water's edge, but separated from it by a wall, also ivy- 
 grown. It was a place very dear to Mrs. Gilbert ; she 
 had spent all her married life there. The school was 
 on the other side of the water, not ten minutes' distant. 
 Across the foot-bridge, past Peter Veitch's cottage, and 
 round a corner, and you were at it, and in the middle 
 of one side of the town. The foot-bridge spoken of was 
 a kind of private property, only pretty generally used, 
 but there was another bridge, a handsome stone arch 
 of recent erection replacing a very old structure. The 
 road across this entered at the head of the town ; above 
 it was the romantic glen of the Eden; at the other end
 
 QUIXSTAR. 5 
 
 of the town stretched away on both sides of the river 
 the woods of Sir Richard Cranstoun. In point of situa- 
 tion Quixstar was a fortunate little town. 
 
 An old family, sitting among old trees, or at least hav- 
 ing a seat or seats in the middle of a fine array of leafy 
 patriarchs, is to be thought of with reverence. Small 
 people or simple people speak of such a family as if it 
 were a fetish or Grand Llama, and if its members have 
 the ability, like the men of Issachar, to read the signs 
 of the times, and to read them aright, they are in their 
 place as leaders of the people ; if not, they are like the 
 cocoon out of which the life has gone : the spirit of the 
 founder may still be winging about the world, but they 
 are only the empty shell. The Cranstouns were an old 
 family, and whether they kept up the prestige of their 
 ancestors or not, it is certain the trees did ; they had 
 not been planted yesterday, and it may give a slight 
 clue to the head of the house to say that he would have 
 heard of a general European war with small emotion 
 compared with what he would have felt had it been 
 proposed to him to cut down one of his -majestic vege- 
 table pets. And really it would have been a pity to cut 
 any of them down, the creatures were so beautiful, and 
 had gladdened the eyes of so many generations : stand- 
 ing below them, you felt as you do when reading a work 
 of genius that has lasted some hundreds of years. You 
 have your own enjoyment, and you think of the enjoy- 
 ment of all the men and women who have cried and 
 laughed over it, and it is too much you hasten away 
 to the commonplace ; it is the expressed essence of life, 
 and like other essences a small dose stimulates, a large 
 one leaves you stupefied and baffled. In case hopes may 
 be raised that this " old family " are to appear much in 
 this story, it may be as well to say that is not likely ;
 
 6 QTJIXSTAR. 
 
 and if they do, the reader will find them wonderfully 
 like a new family, save and except probably some prej- 
 udices clinging to them, as a chicken sometimes carries 
 about a bit of its shell, which will adhere and make it 
 look funny, though 4t is not aware of the figure it cuts.
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 PETER VEITCH, whose cottage has been mentioned, 
 was a well-known inhabitant of Quixstar, although in 
 humble plight. He was a gardener, not restricted to 
 any particular spot, but having a fatherly eye on many 
 of the Quixstar gardens. In spring he was a man of 
 consequence, and like most people he could enjoy that. 
 His services were in great demand. Not but that there 
 were other gardeners in the place, who would under- 
 take to do your work quicker, cheaper, and even better 
 than Peter, and leave your little share of the earth's cir- 
 cumference looking beautifully tidy and ship-shape, till 
 time revealed that only the surface had been scratched, 
 the weeds refused decent burial, the manure omitted, 
 and rubbish sown instead of seed. It was then that you 
 humbled yourself before Peter Veitch, and that that just 
 man showed the magnanimity of his nature by not crow- 
 ing over you to your face merely laughing in his 
 sleeve. But Peter had his drawbacks : he liked and 
 took his own way rather than yours, he 'worked dili- 
 gently and conscientiously, and raised good crops, though 
 he lacked the touch, the final distinctive touch which all 
 great artists, in whatever line, give their work. You 
 remember Apelles and his friend, who drew lines, in- 
 stead of leaving cards with each other well, Peter's 
 eye was not so fastidious as it might have been, but you 
 can't have anything perfect- in this world.
 
 8 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 "Peter, 1 ' said Mrs. Gilbert, while standing in her 
 garden, looking at the gardener busy at work, " do you 
 know anything of the people who have bought the 
 Cottage ? It is said they are rich." 
 
 " Ay," said Peter, stopping with his foot in rest, and 
 his body leaning on the top of his spade. " Oh ay, he's 
 a man wi' a mint o' siller." 
 
 " A retired merchant ? " said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " He made it in the snuff and tobacco line in Iron- 
 burgh, they tell me. It maun be a better job than delv- 
 ing, I'm thinking." 
 
 " More lucrative, Peter, but not so honorable or 
 pleasant, surely. You'll be expecting to be at work in 
 the Cottage garden immediately ? " 
 
 " Weel, like eneuch; but, odd, there's little pleasure 
 working to thae retired bodies; they're extraordinary 
 maggoty, and they aye think they ken a' thing." 
 
 " And, Peter this new-comer, what's his name ? r> 
 
 " Sinclair Adam Sinclair, Esquire." 
 
 " I daresay I heard that ; well, I hope he'll be a good 
 neighbor." 
 
 " It's a question time'll tell, but I hae nae notion o' 
 thae retired bodies wi' naething to do. Of course the 
 like o' me working in a yard is here the day and away 
 the morn, but I whiles pity their women-folk, they've a 
 heap to pit up wi'." 
 
 " But, Peter, I understand this man is a bachelor, so 
 his women-folk won't be afflicted." 
 
 Ah, is he ? " said Peter, with the sudden interest 
 begotten by a new fact, " weel, he's no like to be the 
 easier dune wi' for that, unless he's a sleepy-headed 
 dreamy kind o' body, and that's no likely, as he's rich, 
 and it takes a' folk's senses to keep siller in this world, 
 forby to mak' it," and Peter began to use his spade
 
 QUIXSTAR. 9 
 
 again, for though a crack was one of his prime luxuries, 
 he had a sound conscience. 
 
 Standing there in her own garden, Mrs. Gilbert was 
 a noble-looking woman. Time, and maybe circum- 
 stances, were beginning to tell on her fair face ; there 
 was a look of care in it, and lines were where as yet 
 lines need not have been, but it was a noble face, not a 
 face that you could tire of. Mr. Gilbert has been heard 
 to say that it was not his wife's beauty that attracted 
 him, that it was some time, indeed, before he knew 
 that she was good-looking, which blindness might be 
 satisfactory to him, as indicating that he was above be- 
 ing taken by such an empty thing as beauty; but made 
 one regret that so very good a thing should have been 
 thrown away. When you see a good, or beautiful, or 
 noble thing, you feel it should be put to some noble use, 
 although the better and nobler a human being is, the 
 more willing will he be to do any kind of work that falls 
 in his way. It might be a matter of speculation what 
 Mrs. Gilbert would have been and done had she been a 
 queen, or the wife of a great man, which Mr. Gilbert 
 was not, or the directress of a religious community, 
 though it probably never crossed her mind that she was 
 not in her right place ; but surely there must have been 
 times when Mr. Gilbert could not help feeling as if he 
 should put off his shoes, for the place where she stood 
 was holy ground at least one would think so, but you 
 never can tell. It can't be a pleasant thing for a man to 
 be overshadowed by his wife's superiority; if they can, 
 people are apt to shirk what is not pleasant ; it must 
 need a small mind or a great one to sit down content- 
 edly under it, and if the mind is great enough to feel 
 contented in such circumstances, that proves equalif 
 at least, so that your premise is gone. 
 I*
 
 10 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert's father had been a draper in a country 
 town, to which Mr. Gilbert chanced to come as assistant 
 teacher. They met, and the result was, that they married 
 and settled in Quixstar, where Mr. Gilbert seemed to be 
 in his right enough place; but Mrs. Gilbert reminded 
 you of a beautiful flower in a small flower-pot, where it 
 had not room to develop in .luxuriance. The draper 
 had another daughter, who at the same time went 
 through the same process as her sister and the teacher, 
 with a young man in an ironmonger's shop Raeburn 
 by name. They settled in Ironburgh, where, in the 
 iron trade, Mr. Raeburn in not many years grew rich. 
 The Gilberts had three children, a boy and two girls ; 
 the Raeburns had seven, all boys. Commonly the small 
 income has the larger number of olive - branches at- 
 tached to it ; here, for once, to the non-parental eye, 
 things seemed as they should be. 
 
 Mrs. Raeburn was a little pretty-faced woman, whose 
 attempts at authority in her own family were generally 
 swamped ; indeed, to hear her speak you would at times 
 have thought she regarded her children as her natural 
 enemies, while she showered a weak fondness on them 
 to which they did not always submit with a good grace 
 for they were fine manly boys, hasting to get out of 
 her presence, and let the superfluous steam off in some 
 way. Likely you are prepared to hear that Mr. Rae- 
 burn was an uneducated, vulgar, purse-proud man, whose 
 house was crammed to the door with fine furniture, and 
 its walls covered from floor to ceiling with pictures in 
 gaudy frames one who put on airs of patronage among 
 his less prosperous connexions, and audibly wondered 
 tow they could exist on such incomes as they had. 
 That was not the kind of man he was at all ; but if he 
 somes into this story now and then we shall see for our-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 11 
 
 selves what he was. The brothers-in-law were as com- 
 plete contrasts as their wives. If you could have changed 
 Mrs. Raeburn into Mrs. Gilbert, and Mrs. Gilbert into 
 Mrs. llaeburn, you would have felt that you had made 
 nearly a perfect arrangement. Mr. Gilbert would have 
 been as happy, probably happier, with a pretty-faced, 
 weakish woman ; and Mr. Raeburn, though he loved his 
 wife, and was in a measure blind to her failings, would 
 have found life a different thing passed alongside such 
 a woman as Mrs. Gilbert ; and for Mrs. Gilbert, why, she 
 would have been in the big flower-pot. We know that 
 Jove gave men the sunshine and the rain into their own 
 hands to make the best of them, and they were glad in 
 a short time to beg him to take them back again ; so per- 
 haps you and I might not have made a much better thing 
 of it supposing we had superintended the courtships of 
 these four people ; and as it is likely they themselves 
 were well enough pleased with existing arrangements, 
 we must try to be so too, although it seems impossible 
 to prevent a kind of unconscious irritation in the pres- 
 ence of what we think unfitness, anymore than a feeling 
 of rest and enjoyment in the beauty of fitness. 
 
 It would appear that the people of this history be- 
 long to the middle class, possibly even to what is called 
 the lower middle class, that unfortunate section of so- 
 ciety around which it is so difficult to throw an interest. 
 If they had happened to belong to the upper ten thou- 
 sand, among whom there enters nothing that is mean or 
 sordid, nor any finely-moulded falsehood, nor even a 
 soupcon of naughtiness, except by way of piquant sauce 
 to so exquisite a dish, then indeed the reader might find 
 something to reward his trouble ; or if they had been 
 among picturesque poverty, having a ruffian boldly dashed 
 in with ochre and lampblack ; but a retired tobacconist,
 
 12 QtTIXSTAR. 
 
 a man who had prospered in the iron trade, and a coun- 
 try schoolmaster ! But we need not read the book, or 
 we may imitate Transatlantic ingenuity, which by means 
 of any number of jackscrews raises a whole block of 
 houses from a low situation to a high one, without the 
 inhabitants being the least aware of what is doing. Put 
 in the jackscrews of your imagination, change the acces- 
 sories, and the people will do in high life ; or dig a hole 
 and sink them among dirt and squalor, and still you will 
 find the same human nature ; but the easiest plan is not 
 to read any further. 
 
 The inevitable minister, too, bids fair to be inevita- 
 ble, for you can hardly have a parish schoolmaster with- 
 out a parish minister, and whom John Knox has joined 
 together it would be presumption to put asunder. The 
 minister of Quixstar was not a perfect man any more 
 than the schoolmaster, - Considerable excuses should be 
 made for him, however; he was fifty years old, and dur- 
 ing all that time he had been most atrociously healthy. 
 We have all heard of the great blessing of a sound mind 
 in a sound body, which it undeniably is; but I have 
 known sound minds that one would not have grudged 
 getting a trial of rickety lodgings now and then. If you 
 have a spirit finely touched, and with insight, it will do in 
 the very soundest body, but there are spirits which to 
 use an Irishism- only feel when their own personal flesh 
 is pinched. Mr. Kennedy might have felt, for he was 
 not without his share of affliction ; his wife w r as a con- 
 firmed invalid, seldom or never seen or heard of that 
 is, people spoke about her as they will about anything, 
 but she was set aside entirely from active life. It was 
 said that her disease aflTected her mental faculties in 
 some degree. Be that as it may ; we leave the curtain 
 that shut her in from the world reverently unlifted.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 13 
 
 Though profoundly sorry for the poor woman, and 
 awed by a sense of the mystery of suffering, it is not to 
 be regretted that it is unnecessary to speak of the min- 
 ister's wife ; she might have been a good-natured woman, 
 toiling at the business of being very agreeable"to every 
 one, or, if not very good-natured, to those only to whom 
 it was necessary or expedient to be so; or a coarse- 
 grained nature, whose style of sympathy made you 
 shrink; or she might have been feeble, or common- 
 place, or intermeddling any of these characters would 
 have been easily drawn, but they would have been un- 
 pleasant, and if, as Peter Veitch would say, " A minis- 
 ter is an ill craw to shoot at," his wife is not a better 
 mark ; or she might have been a good woman, and the 
 goodness of a good woman is an atmosphere which, when 
 you can describe the incense sent up by the sweetbriar 
 after a summer evening shower, you may hope to de- 
 scribe. This style of goodness belonged to Mrs. Gil- 
 bert, but how is it to be put on paper ? Mr. Kennedy 
 was kind and attentive to his wife, but not crushed by 
 her affliction ; on the contrary, he bore up under it well.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MAX without women-folk in some shape is, in Great 
 Britain, at this moment, nearly an impossibility. Here 
 and there in the southern hemisphere, no doubt, there are 
 huts in which, if you were to enter, you would find a man 
 a man, too, who may have "moved hi the best so- 
 ciety " paring potatoes for his dinner, or washing his 
 clothes, or baking damper, with a face so overgrown 
 with hair that his mother would not know him. In wri- 
 ting home he will tell he is seeing life, and how jolly it 
 is, how free from conventionalism, and all that. Well, 
 we will respect his privacy when the big salt drops fall 
 on the long rough beard, and the word " banishment " 
 rises to his lips as he yearns for the music of a woman's 
 voice, and the deft ministrations of her hand. How 
 often has he twisted up the end of that worsted thread 
 and tried to get it through the eye of his darning- 
 needle ! He remembers his mother had no difficulty in 
 threading a darning-needle and he flings it down with 
 a smile and a tear ; but be sure he enjoys this life no 
 conventionality and no humbug ! 
 
 Mr. Sinclair, living in the heart of Scotland, could 
 not keep house in this style. His household goods ar- 
 rived in charge of two women-servants and several up- 
 holsterer's men, and it was soon known that he himself 
 would shortly appear. Like Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Sinclair 
 was a man of fifty, possibly a year or two more. It is no
 
 QUIXSTAK. 15 
 
 use saying whether that is old or young ; hale gentlemen 
 of seventy will think he was barely in his prime, while 
 the youth of twenty-one will consider that he was in ex- 
 treme old age. He had been a wholesale tobacconist, 
 and he, or at least his ancestors, had owned also a retail 
 shop. There were people in Quixstar who had seen it, 
 and the Highlander that stood over its door, the finger 
 and thumb of one hand holding a pinch within an inch of 
 his nose, while the other extended the friendly box to 
 an invisible acquaintance. These things were against 
 Mr. Sinclair ; still, he was reputed to be so rich that the 
 gentility of Quixstar felt they could hardly overlook 
 him if he were at all presentable. The next thing 
 known was that letters came to the post-office address- 
 ed Adam Sinclair, Esq., -Old Battle House, Quixstar. 
 Where was Old Battle House ? Had Mr. Sinclair re- 
 baptized the Cottage, asked an amused public ? Yes, 
 he had done that, as he had a right to do. He said to 
 himself, there might be fifty Quixstars, each having a 
 hundred Cottages the name was vague and indefinite, 
 and did not sound well. Remains had been dug up 
 which attested that at some remote period a battle had 
 been fought in the neighborhood ; he detested cottages, 
 lodges, and villas ; a man's house was his house, so he 
 changed the name of the Cottage to Old Battle House 
 and it was ingenious, it must be allowed ; if there had 
 been a lady in the case one would have given her the 
 credit of it. - Very soon his figure was as well known 
 on the roads as that of the minister or the rural police- 
 man. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was lonely, or presumed to be so ; there 
 is no doubt at least that he was alone in his own house, 
 so far as companionship is concerned, but probably that 
 did not distress him. It has been said that every human
 
 16 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 being has a history, and if that history could be faithfully 
 told it would be profoundly interesting. But there are his- 
 tories and histories, and to talk of their being faithfully 
 told is to talk of being omniscient, and further, of being 
 omnipotent. To know what is true, and to be able to 
 tell it, even in the puny measure that men may know and 
 tell, has been a power in all ages, a power which men 
 have called genius, and which has been but charily dis- 
 tributed. Mr. Sinclair may have had a very interesting 
 history, but it is not given to me to tell it ; I don't know 
 it ; I know nothing of him before he came to Quixstar, and 
 only the outsides of his life after he did come. His inner 
 being may have been like Vesuvius in a state of up- 
 heaval every now and then, but if it was it never boiled 
 over. He was always like himself, very like himself, and 
 in his own way appeared to enjoy life ; in his own way, 
 for he had a way of his own. 
 
 It is good merely to see a man enjoy life. The 
 dreary people are supposed to be the people of finest 
 fibre, and generally they are of curiously fine fibre as 
 concerns their own feelings; but give me the cheery 
 man, who, if he has sorrows as who has not ? hides 
 them and shows a brave face. There is real courage in 
 that, and the very doing of it strengthens not only him- 
 self but his fellow-creatures. 
 
 Although he lived alone, Mr. Sinclair was not with- 
 out relations, with whom he interchanged occasional 
 visits and letters. Mrs. Thomas Sinclair, the widow of 
 a brother, was the person who kept up the closest cor- 
 respondence with him. She wrote frequent and very 
 long letters, so long that he often did not read them fur- 
 ther than to gather their general import, and when he 
 answered them it was in the style of the people who ad- 
 vertise at the rate of eighteen words for a sixpence. If
 
 QUIXSTAK. 17 
 
 brevity is the soul of wit, Mr. Sinclair's letters to his sis- 
 ter-in-law were about the wittiest things that passed 
 through the post-office. But as Mrs. Sinclair remarked, 
 " It was quite Adam's way ; old bachelors get so pecu- 
 liar." 
 
 Peculiar or not, Mrs. Sinclair had conceived a bold 
 idea she determined to go with her children and take 
 up her abode at Old Battle House, and she told her in- 
 tention to all her acquaintance, except her brother-in- 
 law, the person most interested, one would think. 
 
 " Mr. Sinclair," she explained to her friends, " is no 
 doubt peculiar, but I think we'll be a great benefit to 
 him. A house without a lady is always dull, and the 
 children will make it .quite a home for him, and if he 
 were so inclined, he might in some sort supply a father's 
 place to my poor children. I am told there is a good 
 school in Quixstar, which would do for Tom; if he 
 turns out a great man, it will be nice to say in his biog- 
 raphy, ' This eminent man was first sent to school at the 
 small picturesque town of Quixstar' (although, to be 
 sure, he has been at school a good while already) ; ' the 
 good old schoolmaster still survives to enjoy the celebri- 
 ty of his pupil.' Indeed, if there was a primitive old 
 woman in the place, I would like to send him to her for 
 a little, if he were not so big; a great man beginning 
 his career at a dame-school has such a very nice effect. 
 I remember remarking this to his papa, who was struck 
 with the idea, and thought it good. There are the girls, 
 to be sure ; but I am told girls attend the school at 
 Quixstar as well as boys girls of the humbler order 
 probably, but I'll see ; I could even take them in my 
 own hand for a time if I found it necessary ; and do you 
 know," she proceeded in a slightly more confidential tone, 
 " I consider it altogether in the light of a duty to go to
 
 18 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Quixstar ? Mr. Sinclair has I doubt been rather unfortu- 
 nate in his feminine acquaintance ; at least his ideas of 
 women are low ; he always speaks as if a respectable ser- 
 vant who knew her work, and did it, was the highest 
 type of woman ; now you can easily imagine that when 
 he is a little older, a designing woman of that class might 
 have little difficulty in getting round him ; indeed, he is 
 quite the style of man to wind up by marrying his cook 
 or housekeeper, and if I can prevent that I'll not think 
 I have made a sacrifice in vain." 
 
 It seems a pity sometimes that people should not be 
 aware of all the kind things that are said and thought of 
 them ; and it is a pity, but let us be thankful that we 
 don't hear the other class of remarks. Imagine Mr. 
 Sinclair hearing one woman overhauling him to another 
 in this fashion ! It is to be feared his opinion of the sex 
 would not have been greatly raised. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair wrote to her brother-in-law, offering a 
 visit, and he, ignorant of the benevolence of her inten- 
 tions, told her by all means to come. Thus matters 
 stood till circumstances precipitated Mrs. Sinclair's 
 arrival.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MA.GDALEST FAIRGREVE, or Maddy, as she was gen- 
 erally called, was what is known as a " faithful servant." 
 She had been a faithful servant to Mrs. Sinclair ever 
 since that lady's marriage, and something more there 
 was a kind of Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman relation- 
 ship between them. Many times the lady had thought 
 of dismissing her faithful servant, if she could have been 
 sure of getting another who would look as well to her 
 interests, which she was very far from being ; besides, 
 an old attached servant was a respectable thing in a 
 house, and when Tom was a great man she would tell 
 anecdotes of his childish days, and figure in the biogra- 
 phy alongside of the schoolmaster. At this date Maddy 
 was not old, although she had been so long in Mrs. Sin- 
 clair's service. Notwithstanding a strong will, and a 
 tough, not very fine, nature, her feelings towards her 
 mistress and _the children were genuine and unselfish, 
 and that is more than could be said of her mistress's 
 feelings to her. 
 
 With the weakness which thinks to gain strength 
 from mystery, Mrs. Sinclair had said nothing of the pro- 
 posed removal to her attached servant, but the air of 
 the house told Maddy something was astir; she soon 
 found out what, and resolved to go to Quixstar herself, 
 and come back mistress of the situation the more, as 
 she had an old friend there.
 
 20 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 A branch railway runs right into Quixstar now, but 
 at that time it thought itself well off to be within some 
 miles of a station. Maddy was an entire stranger in 
 Quixstar, and she had never chanced even to see Mr. 
 Sinclair, as, being trustworthy, she was generally left at 
 home when her family paid visits. She left the train, 
 and walked leisurely on till she came to the village, look- 
 ing ridiculously quiet and pretty and picturesque, lying 
 in the haugh below the summer afternoon sunshine. 
 She met some " urchins just let loose from school," and, 
 pointing to Old Battle House, the first building that 
 caught her eye, she asked what house that was. 
 
 " Spleuchan Ha'," said one of them without an in- 
 stant's hesitation. 
 
 " Spleuchan Ha', bairn ! nobody ever ca'ed a place 
 that," said Maddy. 
 
 " 'That's what it's ca'ed hereabout, ony way." 
 
 " But it's a nickname who lives in't ? " 
 
 " Mr. Sinclair." 
 
 " And what's the right name o't ? " 
 
 " Spleuchau Ha', I'm telling ye, and if ye dinna like 
 to believe me, ye can chap at the door and speer." 
 
 " Gallant, I wonder where ye learn so muckle impu- 
 dence in a place like this ? " 
 
 " We're no in impudence yet, mem ; but maybe the 
 maister'll put us into it soon," and he looked in Maddy's 
 face with a sleepish simplicity, but with a tell-tale glit- 
 ter in his eye. 
 
 " Ye little birkie," said she, " ye'll either mak' a spoon 
 or spoil a horn some day, or I'm mista'en what's your 
 name ? " 
 
 " John Graham," said he, winking to the troop that 
 tarried for him. 
 
 " Rin away then, and there's a penny to ye, an' see
 
 QUIXSTAR. 21 
 
 if ye can keep a civil tongue in your head." The boy 
 looked abashed at this returning of good for evil, said 
 " Thank ye,"" and was off, skimming the ground, to tell 
 his luck to the rest. 
 
 Maddy looked after him, and said to herself, " A bit 
 fine sharp laddie he'll just be about ages wi' our 
 Tommy; " for in this familiar way did she name the in- 
 cipient subject of the biography, although her mistress 
 had been at pains to teach her a very different style of 
 address. 
 
 After a little inquiry, Maddy knocked at the door 
 of Peter Veitch's cottage. Mrs. Veitch, who opened it, 
 looked at her for a moment, then exclaimed, " Maddy 
 Fairgrieve ! wha wad hae thought to see you here ? " 
 
 " I expected ye wadna ken me, Jess." 
 
 " Ken ye ! I wad hae kent ye if I had met ye on the 
 tap o' Arthur's Seat." 
 
 " Weel, I wadna been so surprised at ye kennin' me 
 there ; it's a place that's no unco thick o' folk on ordi- 
 nar' occasions." 
 
 Soon after Peter senior came in, and Miss Fairgrieve 
 explained that she was thinking of coming to reside in 
 Quixstar. 
 
 " No possible ! " cried Mrs. Veitch ; " are ye gaun 
 to be married, Maddy ? " 
 
 " Na, na, no sae fast," said Maddy. 
 
 " Fast ! " said Peter, " I dinna think there wad be 
 ony fastness in't ; ye've ta'en time eneuch to think about 
 it, ony way." 
 
 " She's very right, Peter," said his wife. 
 
 " Then if she's right," said Peter, " ye was wrang, 
 Jess." 
 
 " Weel, I'll no say but I was." 
 
 " Ay," said Peter, " women's hearts are aye in the
 
 22 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 road o' their heads, and I'll no say it's an ill arrange- 
 ment." 
 
 " A first-rate arrangement for your wife there, that 
 has the use o' the head on your shouthers, but what 
 comes o' the like o' me ? " 
 
 " Ye may say that, Maddy," said Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 At this juncture the door opened, and a pair of wild, 
 bright eyes peered in. " Come away, laddie," said Mrs. 
 Veitch to her youngest born, " and get your parritch, 
 they'll be clean cauld. Ye'll no ken this ane, Maddy ? " 
 
 ;< Ay, I ken him. Come away, Johnnie." 
 
 " Johnnie ! " said Peter senior, " we dinna ca' him 
 Johnnie, he's my name-son." 
 
 " He tell't me that his name was John Graham,'' 
 said Maddy. 
 
 " Peter," said his father sternly, " did ye tell a lee ? " 
 
 " No ; onybody wad hae kenned I was jokin', and I 
 was vext after she gied me a penny." 
 
 " Sic nonsense, Maddy," to his visitor ; then to his 
 son, " A lee's nae joke, and I'll gie ye a lickin' that'll 
 help ye to mind that." 
 
 " Hout, Peter," said Mrs. Veitch, " let the laddie be, 
 and he'll just gang to his bed wantin' his supper." 
 
 " I'm awfu' hungry, mother," said the urchin ; " I'll 
 tak' the lickin'." 
 
 " Weel, get yer parritch, and I'll wait," said his 
 father. 
 
 " Na ; I'll hae my licks first, and that'll be ae gude 
 job ower," said the youngster, repeating a pet phrase 
 of his father's. Now, who was ever impervious to the 
 delicate flattery of hearing either his wit or his wisdom 
 quoted, especially by a favorite son ? 
 
 " Weel, I'll let ye off for this time," said his father ; 
 " but mind, Peter, if ever I hear o' ye tellin' a lee again,
 
 QtTIXSTAK, 23 
 
 yell hae reason no' to forget it it's an awfu' thing to 
 tell lees." 
 
 Young Hopeful sat down, and drawing his bicker to 
 him, began shovelling porridge and milk into his mouth 
 with great alacrity and neatness. He finished his sup- 
 per in silence, then coaxed the cat to him, and began 
 rubbing its fur the wrong way for purposes of experi- 
 ment, till his mother told him " to gie ower tormenting 
 the puir beast." 
 
 Then Maddy told how she had been a servant with 
 Mrs. Sinclair ever since that lady was married, how Mr. 
 Sinclair of Old Battle House was her mistress's brother- 
 in-law, and how Mrs. Sinclair and family were coming 
 to live there, and that she had come to see what sort of 
 place it was, 'and what sort of man Mr. Sinclair was, 
 before she made up her mind to accompany them. 
 
 " The mistress," said Maddy, " is often no' to my mind, 
 and I've whiles thought o' leavin', but the house wad 
 gang to ruin if I was not there to look after it, and I 
 like the bairns ; but fancy, after the way I've toiled for 
 them a', me hearing her tell them that they were not to 
 learn my coarse, vulgar way o' speaking ; I hope they'll 
 never be beside nobody that'll learn them nothing waur ; 
 however, if it's a pleasant place, and Mr. Sinclair ony thing 
 o' a canny man, I can manage Aer." 
 
 " As for the place," said Peter, " there's no a faut till't ? 
 as for the man, he's ane o' the folk that think they ken a' 
 thing, but a decent enough body, as far as I see." 
 
 " Ye ken, Maddy," said Mrs. Veitch, " Peter's nettled 
 at him interfering wi' him in the garden." 
 
 " Weel," said Peter, " I dinna doot he kens the busi- 
 ness he was bred to, but he thinks he kens my business 
 too, and he comes out wi' a book and reads a wheeu 
 havers about how this thing should be done and the
 
 24 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 other thing should be done, as if I hadna wrocht in a 
 garden since I was the height o' that table." 
 
 " But Peter," said his wife, " there's sic a thing as 
 progress; the warld doesna stand still, and we're no' 
 ower auld to learn." 
 
 " How wad ye like to be tell't that ye didna ken 
 what was the best kind o' peas to saw at this season ? " 
 asked Peter. 
 
 " Hout, man, there's aye something to put up wi' ; I'm 
 sure it's just as easy to saw ae kind o' peas as anither," 
 said Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 " May be," said Peter sententiously. 
 
 " Weel," said Maddy, " I canna say but that I think a 
 man has a right to direct about his garden; I wadna 
 mind that, if he didna interfere in the house that's a 
 thing I canna thole, and, to do them justice, men dinna 
 often try't. I never fell in wi' a man o' that kind but 
 once." 
 
 " I daursay, Maddy," said Mrs. Veitch, " the like o' 
 you, gaun frae place to place, '11 see mony a queer 
 thing." 
 
 " I havena been in mony places, but, as ye say, there's 
 aye something to put up wi'. The queerest place I ever 
 was in was just afore I went to Mrs. Sinclair. The gen- 
 tleman kent everything that came into the house, and 
 the price o' everything, and how lang it lasted, and how 
 lang it should hae lasted ; na, he gied out the very soap 
 for the washin's, and he howkit the taties for the denner, 
 and I didna object to him doing that if he liket, but he 
 took out an auld pitcher lid, and every worm that 
 turned up he flung into it, and then gied them to the 
 hens. The first time we saw him do it, I thought the 
 other servant and me wad hae gaen into fits." 
 
 " It beat a' ! " said Peter.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 25 
 
 " Ay, that's a lesson to ye, Peter," said his wife. " I 
 tell't ye folk were never ower auld to learn." 
 
 " When I tell't Bell Sinclair," said Maddy, " she said 
 she hoped the folk didna think o' the diet o' worms 
 when they were at their breakfast, but I dinna see how 
 they could help it." 
 
 " And was he a gentleman ? " asked Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 " Oh ay ! a gentleman by way o'. I often wondered 
 the mistress could thole him, but she was an easy-gaun 
 body, and it was as weel." 
 
 " Some men should hae been women," said Mrs. 
 Veitch. 
 
 " I never saw the man I wad hae liket to hae been 
 me," said Maddy energetically. 
 
 2
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NEXT day Mr. Sinclair unwittingly gave Maddy an 
 opportunity of bringing her own personal powers of ob- 
 servation to bear upon him. 
 
 She set out to walk to the station, accompanied by 
 Peter Veitch the younger, who had an errand of his 
 mother's to execute, namely, to hand in a bundle to a 
 house on the other side of the station. Peter set off at 
 his usual active pace. 
 
 " Now," said Maddy, " whatever ye may be gaun to 
 do, I'm no' gaun to rin a' the road ; no' but I could do 
 it if there was ony necessity. I wonder ye didna get yer 
 mother to put your bundle in a bit brown paper, it wad 
 have looked a hantle genteeler." 
 
 " Wad it ? " asked Peter, eyeing the bright speckled 
 bundle which he had slung over his shoulder on the end 
 of a stick, " the napkin keeps a' thing firm." 
 
 " My man, if ye Avere a wee aulder ye'll no' carry a 
 bundle in a spotted napkin, or I'm mista'en." 
 
 Now it was too bad of Maddy to wake up the boy to 
 the sin and misery of carrying a speckled bundle. There 
 are few pleasanter sights to be met on a country road 
 than a rustic youth with a clean-cut well-shut mouth 
 only it is apt to be open bright eyes, and a speckled 
 bundle, but, like the capercailzie, he is dying out, and is 
 only met with now in remote districts.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 27 
 
 Peter kept faithfully alongside his companion, and 
 gave her all the information about country matters he 
 was master of, telling her to whom the various vehicles 
 belonged that passed. " That gig," looking at one com- 
 ing up behind them, " is Mr. Sinclair's ; he's in't himsel' ; 
 he keeps a gude horse ; that's Jock Murray drivin'." 
 Suddenly the handsome, well-built dog-cart piilled up 
 alongside, and Mr. Sinclair said, " My good woman, 
 if you are going to the station, 1 can give you a drive." 
 This was a way, not generally adopted in this country, 
 if anywhere, Mr. Sinclair had of drawing the bonds be- 
 tween fellow-creatures closer whether it was manly, 
 gentlemanly, or tradesmanly, it was a peculiarity of Mr. 
 Sinclair's. 
 
 "Thank you, sir; I'll be obliged," said Maddy's 
 sharp brisk tones, " but there's this boy ? " 
 
 " Very well, get in," said Mr. Sinclair curtly. 
 
 She got in, and Peter sprang in after her like a mon- 
 key, then Mr. Sinclair looked round and said, " All right," 
 and they drove on. It was a brilliant era for Peter, 
 only his pleasure was somewhat dashed by the secure 
 and legitimate nature of it; if he had been hanging on 
 behind without the owner's knowledge, then indeed his 
 bliss would have been complete ; as it was, he sat a little 
 awed by his rare and elevated position. 
 
 " Isn't this fine, Peter ? " said Miss Fairgrieve. He 
 nodded assent. 
 
 At the same moment they reached a cottage on the 
 roadside ; a man came out of it completely equipped in 
 the garb of Old Gaul, and playing the bagpipes full 
 screech. Probably Mr. Sinclair's horse had never bad 
 an opportunity of hearing that instrument in all its maj- 
 esty before, and not altogether unnaturally his first idea 
 was to put as great a distance between it and himself as
 
 28 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 possible. He started off at a tearing gallop, literally 
 flying like the wind. The driver's whip was jerked 
 from his hand, and in trying to catch it he let the reins 
 go. Mr. Sinclair leaned over to recover them, lost his 
 balance, and was pitched into the road. Miss Fairgrieve 
 gave a loud scream, but kept her seat. Peter moved 
 forward, but she grasped him, and said, " For your life, 
 bairn, sit still." 
 
 " I'm no gaun out let me be," said Peter impatient- 
 ly ; and he wriggled himself out of her hands, and over 
 into the front seat, where, sticking on by one hand, he 
 used the other to hook up the reins with his stick. They 
 were nearing a toll-bar, and the toll-man, hearing the rush 
 of the runaway horse, darted out and shut the gates, but 
 by the time they reached it Peter had managed to check 
 the animal, and was sitting triumphantly beside the crest- 
 fallen driver, having saved horse, carriage, and toll-gate 
 from a furious smash. 
 
 " Can ye turn the beast round ? " said Maddy. " For 
 ony sake gang back, and let us see what's happened to 
 Mr. Sinclair." 
 
 Peter not forgetting his own errand, pitched his non- 
 genteel bundle to the toll-man, and bade him send it on, 
 then coolly drove back, the original Jehu not having 
 recovered his scattered senses. 
 
 They soon met a man whom Mr. Sinclair had sent 
 to find out their fate, and he told them that Mr. Sinclair 
 was lying where he had fallen, not able to move with a 
 broken leg. " It's a mercy it's not his neck ! " said Miss 
 Fairgrieve promptly. 
 
 When they arrived on the spot Mr. Sinclair did not 
 look the picture of patient resignation. A man and a 
 woman from the cottage were standing by him. The 
 woman turned and said to Maddy, " He's in for six
 
 QUIXSTAR. 29 
 
 weeks on the braid o' his back. Our John got his leg 
 broken wi' a kick frae ane o' the horse, and it was six 
 weeks or he daur steer." 
 
 " Weel," broke in Miss Fairgrieve's sharp tones, 
 " is the gentleman to lie six weeks on the road ? Ye'll 
 no hae sic a thing as a mattress ? " 
 
 She went with the woman to the house, and got out 
 a narrow stiff mattress, to which Mr. Sinclair was cau- 
 tiously lifted, then the men who had collected hoisted 
 him and it together across the seat of the vehicle, the 
 cushions of which served for a pillow, in which way it 
 was thought he would get home as comfortably as cir- 
 cumstances would permit. 
 
 While this was being done Maddy asked Peter if 
 there were a doctor in Quixstar. 
 
 " Doctor ! " said Peter, " there's three, and ony ane 
 o' them'll be ower glad to tak' off his leg." 
 
 " Whisht, laddie," said Maddy. 
 
 " Weel, it's true, and he'll never ken ; they just put a 
 pickle o' some stuff up his nose, and he'll never find it 
 as sure as death, the doctor's laddie tell't me." 
 
 " Gallant, ye have a tongue that wad clip clouts," 
 said Maddy, and a smile stole over Mr. Sinclair's face, 
 in spite of the pain he was suffering. 
 
 Owing to this grievous accident Maddy missed the 
 train, and by consequence had to stay another night 
 with Mrs. Veitch, and she had much pleasure in recount- 
 ing Peter's cleverness, his quickness of brain and hand 
 on the occasion. 
 
 " He's a clever wee chap," said the gratified father. 
 
 " Oh, there's nae doubt he's clever," said Mrs. Veitch, 
 " and ye'll be blawing him up about what he's done, then 
 the next clever thing he does ye'll be threatening to 
 thresh him for't ! "
 
 30 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 " Woman," said Peter, " do ye no' ken that there's 
 some things that's richt, and some things that's wrang, 
 and some things that it's a matter o' opinion whether they 
 are richt or wrang ; ye think it's wrang for Peter to run 
 off to the dam-head to the dookin' wi' ane o' your scones 
 in his pouch for a chitterin' piece, and swim about like a 
 fish, but it's just what I used to do mysel', and callants'll 
 be callants to the end o' time ; but when he tells a lee, 
 that's a different thing." 
 
 " Weel, weel, ye'll maybe be o' my way o 1 thinking 
 when he's brought hame drowned some day. It's nae 
 langer than yesterday that I saw a wheen laddies stand- 
 ing roond ane o' the big trees in the park, and lookin' 
 up at it, and when I lookit there was our Peter whiskin' 
 frae branch to branch like a squirrel at the very tap o't. 
 I grew sick and dizzy, and cried to him to come down ; 
 he drappit frae branch to branch till he cam' to the last, 
 then put his arms round the tree, and slid to the ground, 
 laughing and telling me he had often been up a higher 
 tree than that. I put it to you, Peter Veitch, whae's to 
 haud the laddie in claes at that rate ? " 
 
 " Ay," said Peter, " I maun hae a word wi' him about 
 that." 
 
 " Weel," said Maddy, " he has common sense, and if 
 he's neither drowned nor killed he's likely to turn weel 
 out." 
 
 " Deed, I dinna ken, Maddy," said Mrs. Veitch, " it's a 
 sair thought when bairns come up and hae to gang away 
 frae ye. When they were a' young I whiles thought I 
 was hard toiled, but after a' ye're never happier than 
 when they're a' round the fireside, and ye can gie them a 
 dad on the lug when ye like." And Mrs. Veitch sighed 
 over tliis image of departed joys. 
 
 " But Peter's no gaun away yet," said his father
 
 QUIXSTAR. 31 
 
 cheerily ; " we'll gie him another twel'month o' the 
 schulen, he'll be nane the waur o't." 
 
 " He's been lang eneugh at the schule if he's to be a 
 trade," said the mother ; " but if he wad think o' the 
 ministry " 
 
 " Ay," said Maddy, " mak' a minister o' him, he'll 
 gie't to the folk het and hashy." 
 
 " I dinna see," said Mrs. Veitch, a little offended, 
 " but he wad be as guid a minister as the lave." 
 
 " Better far better," said Maddy. 
 
 "If he were to think o't himsel' I wad be well 
 pleased," said the gardener ; " but we canna force the 
 callant." 
 
 " We can only hope he'll be weel guided," said his 
 mother. 
 
 Maddy reached home next day without further ad- 
 venture than ensconcing herself in the smoking com- 
 partment of a railway carriage. A guard looked in, 
 and asked her what she was doing there. 
 
 " Doing ? " she said. 
 
 " Ay, doing ; d'ye want to tak' a bit smoke to your- 
 sel'?" 
 
 " Me smoke ! " said the indignant Maddy, " but it's 
 no me that's stupid, it's you putting a notice over the 
 door it wad need a magnifying-glass to read," and she 
 changed her seat for one the guard showed her to, 
 kindly telling her to sit with her back to the horses.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair heard of her brother-in-law's 
 accident she set off immediately for Quixstar to make 
 herself of use. She was fond of being of use an excel- 
 lent quality if people can make themselves of use as the 
 sun shines or the dew falls, but rather different when it 
 is done as the paddle-wheels of a steamboat do it. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was slightly dismayed when he saw 
 her ; however, he said and thought it was kind of her 
 to come; and when a man is weak and suffering he 
 feels kindness more perhaps, and if there are few people 
 left in the world that call him by his Christian name, 
 why, even if he is not of a sentimental vein, he is 
 touched by hearing the old sound, and Mrs. Sinclair 
 called him "Adam," and did not stay long with him, for 
 all which he was grateful. 
 
 By and by people began to call, among others Mrs. 
 Gilbert, and when she was gone Mrs. Sinclair hastened 
 to let her brother know what a good neighbor he had. 
 
 " She is such an intelligent woman, Mrs. Gilbert," she 
 said. " I may say intellectual positively intellectual, 
 and she takes such an interest in education, which is, to 
 be sure, natural from her position ; but she entered so 
 warmly into my ideas about the dear children ; and do 
 you know her own girls attend their papa's school ? and if 
 they do, I think mine may. There are different opin- 
 ions respecting the propriety of boys and girls attend-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 33 
 
 ing the same school, but if it is injurious to either, why, 
 I say, are boys and girls born in the same family? 
 That being the case, it would seem they were intended 
 to act and react beneficially on each other does it not, 
 Adam ? What a pity such a woman as Mrs, Gilbert 
 has no boys ! " 
 
 " She has boys one at least, if not two." 
 
 " And never mentioned them ! Most extraordinary ! 
 Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 " I would expect them to turn out something great 
 men always have intellectual mothers. I sometimes 
 say to Tom, ' Tom, my boy, although your mamma 
 does not pretend to intellect, still she is not quite a 
 dunce either." 
 
 " And what does Tom say ? " asked the invalid. 
 
 " Nothing, most likely. Tom does not speak much, 
 he thinks a great deal more than he says." 
 
 " Perhaps he takes that from his mother ?" 
 
 " Do you suppose I think a great deal, Adam ? " 
 said the lady with a pleasant smile. " You see," she 
 said, as a sort of apology, " in my position I am forced 
 to think by the bye, what would you like for dinner 
 to-morrow ? cook Avants to get away for a day, and I 
 suspect the other girl is no cook ; as for Maddy, she 
 knows less of cooking than I do, although she considers 
 herself so invaluable ; but if there's anything particular 
 you would like, I'll get cook to make it before she goes." 
 
 " I'll take anything." 
 " Would you not just say what you would like ? " 
 
 " Oh, anything ; it does not matter." 
 
 " We'll manage amongst us then. But Adam, do 
 you think I should send the girls to Mr. Gilbert's 
 
 school?" 
 
 .->*
 
 34 QUIXSTAB. 
 
 " Is it worth while ? How long are you going to 
 stay here ? " asked the host with blunt innocence. 
 
 " I was thinking, if you don't tire of us, all summer 
 at least, and it's a pity to lose so much time." 
 
 " Certainly send them, if you like." 
 
 Mr. Kennedy called, and to him also Mrs. Sinclair 
 explained her position. " Did he think she should 
 send her children to Mr. Gilbert's school ? " 
 
 " Ah, he's a very worthy man, Gilbert has his 
 weaknesses, no doubt, as we all have, but a worthy man, 
 and, I believe, a good teacher. You don't object to 
 your children mixing \vith the multitude ? " 
 
 " That's just the thing, Mr. Kennedy, iny one ob- 
 jection do you think that insuperable ? " 
 
 " Well, it's for you to decide." 
 
 " Mr. Gilbert's own girls attend it, and there is noth- 
 ing rude or unmannerly about them." 
 
 " No ; well, as I said, it's for you to decide." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! it's a heavy responsibility the care of 
 fatherless children ; in any case, it is a very heavy re- 
 sponsibility so much so, that one would sink under it 
 if they did not so sweetly repay all one's toil." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Kennedy shortly. 
 
 Unlike most manses, there were no children in the 
 manse at Quixstar, a fact Mrs. Sinclair was well aware 
 of, but she would have dilated to a lame man on the 
 pleasure of dancing, with no notion that he might not 
 enjoy the topic. However, in knowing Mrs. Sinclair 
 you had this consolation, that there existed at least one 
 person about whom you might dismiss all anxiety. 
 She carried the conviction to your mind that she had 
 passed and would pass through the world with great 
 comfort to herself, and it is a luxury, to have one such 
 acquaintance. She also asked the advice of the doctor
 
 QUIXSTAR. 35 
 
 who attended Mr. Sinclair, but he was a man of few 
 words, and averse to having his time frittered away, 
 neither had he studied the art or science which you 
 will of making himself agreeable, so that he did not 
 throw much light on the subject. When he went home 
 he said to his wife or sister I forget at this moment 
 in what relationship the lady who kept his house stood 
 to him, but it does not matter ; he said 
 
 " Females are the most curious beings. If you ask 
 them a question they start off at a tangent into the 
 most utterly irrelevant matter, and there's no bringing 
 them up, you must just wait helpless until they stop. 
 That Mrs. Sinclair may be called the ' speaking lady.' " 
 
 Accordingly between the doctor and his wife or sister, 
 she was thereafter known as the " speaking lady." This 
 doctor was a very quiet, apparently unobservant man. 
 Men or women who visibly take notes may be trusted 
 to carry nothing of much value away ; it is the people 
 who don't seem to notice that take into their minds and 
 memories things great and small, as a whirlpool sucks in 
 ships and feathers, or as a bivalve grows fat by lying 
 with its shell open. 
 
 " Well, I have done it," said Mrs. Sinclair to her 
 brother-in-law, " and I do think it is an admirable arrange- 
 ment." 
 
 " What have you done ? " asked Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " I have sent the children to Mr. Gilbert's school. 
 But here comes your dinner," and she pushed a small 
 table up to Mr. Sinclair's sofa, on which the servant set 
 the tray she carried. 
 
 " What's this ? " said Mr. Sinclair, as he put a spoon 
 into a basin of some kind of soup ; " why, it's swimming 
 with fat, and smells of onions see, take it away, I can't 
 eat that."
 
 36 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " If you would only taste it, you would find it very 
 nice ; cook's away to-day, and you said you would take 
 anything." 
 
 " Anything in reason ! you don't suppose a man tied 
 to a sofa has the appetite of a ploughman," and he 
 thought, " Three women in a house, and they send up a 
 sickening mess like that ! I wonder if any one of them 
 has common sense." 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair rang the bell and had the obnoxious dish 
 removed and something less offensive substituted, and, 
 happily ignorant of the flagrant mistake she had made, 
 she pursued her theme 
 
 " Indeed, I feel I have done a wise thing for Tom, 
 at least; of course, there's the risk of low companions 
 that boy Peter Veitch, and such like." 
 
 " I hope they'll never rub against anything worse than 
 Peter," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " I have no reason to believe otherwise than that the 
 Veitches are decent people, but that boy is very for- 
 ward," Mrs. Sinclair said. 
 
 " He is clever," answered Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " It is certainly not a style of cleverness I envy for 
 Tom, far less for the girls, but we'll see how they get 
 on." 
 
 Mr. Sinclair had not a passion for children, by any 
 means ; no doubt he had hitherto kept a friendly eye on 
 his brother's children, and meant to continue to do so, 
 but they appeared to him very ordinary specimens in 
 all respects ordinary. He did not think the less of them 
 for that ; he thought that ordinary people passed through 
 life with more comfort to themselves than extraordinary 
 people, and did perhaps as much good on their way. 
 What Mr. Sinclair's own estimate of himself was is not 
 known, nor is it known whether there had ever been a
 
 QTJIXSTAR. 37 
 
 crisis of any kind in his life ; but either from experience 
 or observation he had gathered this opinion concerning 
 the blessedness of ordinary people. One thing is certain : 
 he had gone into a business very distasteful to him, to 
 please his father ; he never learned to like it, but he had 
 not the strength of character necessary to take circum- 
 stances by the horns, still less to bend them to his will 
 that power would have marked him as extraordinary 
 and he had remained in it till he came to Quixstar. 
 I lean to the opinion that there was no mystery in Mr. 
 Sinclair's life, no striking story that he was what he was 
 by a natural and gradual process. Mr. Kennedy, who, 
 when Mr. Sinclair had got the length of the sofa, was ad- 
 mitted to his room, was not impressed with his intellect, 
 but Mr. Kennedy was not a man apt to make discoveries 
 of this kind ; rather he was deeply impressed with the 
 ignorance and stupidity of most people. At first Mr. 
 Sinclair considered the minister's visits a bore, but prob- 
 ably there are few persons who, consciously or uncon 
 sciously, are not pleased with attention, and there was 
 what his parishioners called a " youthiness " about Mr. 
 Kennedy he seemed to shake health from his hair as a 
 comet is said to do pestilence that made him not out 
 of place in Mr. Sinclair's chamber, where there was 
 neither sickness of body or mind, but merely a broken 
 leg " going on favorably." His cheery " Ha ! how do 
 you find yourself to-day ? " his detail of where he had 
 been, of what he had been doing, and of all the news of 
 the district, amused Mr. Sinclair. These two men liked 
 to hear the murmur of their bourg, and why shouldn't 
 they ? If it was not the great wave that echoes round 
 the world, it was part of it, and their part of it, and it 
 would have been a pity had they not been interested in 
 it; but you will understand that in common with most
 
 38 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 people they disliked gossip, and when they got into a 
 stream of it, they had the satisfaction of feeling them- 
 selves martyrs while listening, of looking down on the 
 medium, and of hearing the news without any trouble or 
 loss of dignity in asking questions. 
 
 " I am really glad you are getting on so well," said 
 Mr. Kennedy. " You have much to be thankful for, sir." 
 
 " I suppose I have," said Mr. Sinclair in no very 
 thankful tone. 
 
 "Yes, a great deal. You don't find your nights 
 wearisome ? It is the longest day just now ; I notice all 
 invalids count immensely on that. Curious ; it never 
 matters to me whether it is light or dark when I am in 
 bed ; and in winter I often tell my sick friends that they 
 are well off to keep snug, and not be obliged to tramp 
 about as I do." 
 
 " Perhaps, like me, you have not been much accustom- 
 ed to illness?" said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " I never was laid up but once, long ago, with a 
 sprained ankle. It was a terrible business, I mind a 
 terrible business. Well, is there anything I can do for 
 you ? Perhaps I may have a book that might suit you ; 
 let me think something light and entertaining. Yes, I 
 have some volumes of anecdotes on religious and benev- 
 olent subjects that would be the very thing ; I'll send 
 one. Oh, trouble it's no trouble." 
 
 When he went home, he sent the volume, thinking, 
 " That will just about fit him ; he is a pretty intelligent 
 man. I hope he is not as pig-headed as tradesmen who 
 have made a little money often are, and that he won't 
 work mischief in the parish." 
 
 When the book was laid on Mr. Sinclair's table he 
 laughed, and did not feel as if he would grow in stature 
 under Mr. Kennedy's teaching.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ALTHOUGH thus kindly dealt by, Mr. Sinclair was not 
 the less thankful when, with the help of a stick, he could 
 walk through his garden. At the foot of it he had a 
 favorite resting-place, where he often stopped and 
 looked at and listened to the water flowing on. On one 
 particular day he stood a long time watching a group 
 quite unconscious of his presence. Owing to a three 
 days' incessant rain, such as our climate delights in, 
 there had been a recent flood, during which the Eden 
 had been coming past with great gliding business-like 
 strides, brown and drumlie, the foam getting no time 
 to play itself. On, on it went ; but now it had leisure to 
 sail round the stones, that were coming to sight again 
 after the flood, to sweep into the mimic bays, to hover 
 about and sparkle when the sun's rays caught it, and 
 then to venture forth on its further voyage. 
 
 On the broad wooden bridge were the schoolmaster's 
 children and the Sinclairs, intently occupied floating 
 sticks and straws and corks down the stream, and watch- 
 ing their onward course, each as interested in the pro- 
 gress of his or her particular craft as if something of 
 moment depended on it. Mr. Sinclair's reflections, as he 
 looked at them, w T ere most likely afternoony in their 
 complexion. Perhaps he gave a sigh to the memory of 
 his own boyhood not that there were any very deli- 
 cious remembrances mixed up with it, only that then he
 
 40 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 had life before him, now it, or what might be supposed 
 to be the best part of it, was behind him. He remem- 
 bered when he and his brother were very young, tak- 
 ing Tom into a room which was seldom used, and cut- 
 ting out all his beautiful curls why, he could not recall, 
 whether from jealousy, or envy, or what; but he never 
 forgot how his mother punished him, for Tom was her 
 favorite openly and avowedly. Tom was gone ; he 
 had not done much good in his life, but neither had he 
 done much positive evil ; and there were his representa- 
 tives, in whom he ought to have felt an overwhelming 
 interest, but did not. " They'll get through the world 
 like other people, I suppose, if their foolish mother does 
 not spoil them," he thought. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair was at an upper window of the house, 
 and she also was watching the children. She saw the 
 girls, but Tom she did not see. 
 
 " I wonder what he is about ? " she thought ; trying 
 some kind of experiment likely. II think it was Mungo 
 Park that dropped pebbles into the water to ascertain 
 its depth. I wonder if Tom will be famous as an explor- 
 er ; he might benefit mankind, but it would be danger- 
 ous. Maddy," she said, catching sight of that individual, 
 " I don't see Master Thomas. I am afraid he is lying on 
 the damp grass ; run down to the water-side with that 
 mat," pointing to a deerskin on the floor, " and say that I 
 would prefer that he should not lie, but if he will lie, let 
 him lie on the skin. Boys are so thoughtless, and he'll 
 be sure to catch cold." 
 
 Maddy obeyed ; she darted through the garden door 
 opening to the river, and discovered Tom on the under 
 branch of a tree, hidden by the leaves, eating peas, with 
 which he had filled his pockets, throwing the empty 
 shells into the water, aiming them first at any head with-
 
 QUIXSTAB. 41 
 
 in reach. She gave her message with less ceremony 
 and more point than she got it. 
 
 Yet a third person was watching these children. 
 Mrs. Gilbert had been sitting in her parlor window 
 during the afternoon sewing, and in her work-basket lay 
 a copy of Cowper. Cowper in these days is voted old- 
 fashioned and slow ; but to get away from all the chatter 
 and smatter and tremendous intelligence of the hour ; to 
 fall in with a woman who does not know everything ; 
 who sews and reads Cowper, is very refreshing. Pass- 
 ing Mrs. Gilbert's window, and seeing her thus employ- 
 ed, you would have felt inclined to turn and pass back 
 again, merely to get more thoroughly the soothing influ- 
 ence of the picture. On this afternoon she had put 
 down her sewing, and gone out into the soft glory of 
 the summer day. There was still the clear shining after 
 the rain ; the earth was very black, and every green thing 
 was greener ; globules of the purest liquid stood trem- 
 bling and sparkling on the curly-leaved vegetables, one 
 or two snails had ventured out and were munching a salad 
 they drew in their horns as Mrs. Gilbert passed, their 
 way possibly of lifting their hats. Mrs. Gilbert was not 
 without a sense of all these things ; but her world was 
 her children they were her passion. She stood look- 
 ing at them, but it was not with the silly good-natured 
 pride with which Mrs. Sinclair surveyed hers, nor with 
 the dry, dutiful criticism which Mr. Sinclair brought to 
 bear upon his nieces and nephew. She trembled for 
 John, her first-born and only son. She had once found 
 him out in a lie ; he had once borrowed money, only a 
 shilling or two, from an aunt of his father's that lived 
 near them. She had brought John to a sense of his sin, 
 and there had been no repetition of it ; but it had cost 
 her tears and anguish, and when she was in a melancholy
 
 42 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 mood, as sometimes happened, she thought, " What if he 
 should go astray ? " There he was, however, by the 
 water's .edge, looking innocent enough, but his mother 
 could not get rid of her anxiety. His sisters, too what 
 was to be their fate ? Somehow Mrs. Gilbert never 
 thought of matrimony as novel-writers do, as the end of 
 care and the beginning of lasting bliss ; she always found 
 herself planning to make them independent of it. But 
 how to do that ? Besides, they promised to be good- 
 looking, and it vexed her : good looks are so apt to 
 attract weak or wicked men. You will say she was un- 
 reasonable. She was, very ; deep love is apt to be un- 
 reasonable. But such moods were passing ; her brow 
 smoothed, and she felt as if she had nothing to wish for. 
 Had she anything to wish for ? I'll tell you, though I 
 feel quite as reluctant to reveal Mr. Gilbert's weakness, 
 as I would have done to write of any little tender story 
 of disappointment that might be hidden away in Mr. 
 Sinclair's life, if I had known it. Mr. Sinclair ought to be 
 thankful that if there is such a thing, I don't know about 
 it ; people can't tell what they don't know, and that is 
 about the only security for silence. But I knew Mr. 
 Gilbert well, and liked him; it is so easy to like people 
 with whom you are not in hourly contact, and whose 
 shortcomings don't run right against the grain of your 
 own shortcomings. Mr. Gilbert was vain and self-con- 
 scious to a degree, but only to a degree. Oh, what 
 a wicked thing it was of the fairy who presided at his 
 birth to scrimp the dose ! If her hand had only been 
 bigger, or if she had filled it twice, he would have 
 gone through the world triumphantly. As it was, his 
 own opinion of himself was not sufficient to him unless 
 it was indorsed by other people, and he was an unap- 
 preciated man on the lookout for slights. If you are
 
 QUIXSTAR. 43 
 
 on the lookout for anything, you are pretty sure to 
 fall in with it. If Mr. Gilbert had grasped the nettles 
 on his way firmly he would have got on, but he shrank 
 from them, and was constantly being stung. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert called this weakness a more 
 than usually fine sensibility, a delicate organization, and 
 Mrs. Gilbert soothed and coaxed and propped and sup- 
 ported it behind the scenes, and loved her husband not 
 the less but the more all the while that it was the worry 
 of her life. A manly vice if there be a manly vice, 
 perhaps riding steeple-chases, for instance, which is a 
 vice because it risks life for no good end, and is not with- 
 out manliness because it does risk it would have been 
 less irritating, one would think. David might well 
 speak of the love of women ; but he used a poet's license 
 when he said his and Jonathan's surpassed it the thing 
 was impossible. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert was thankful to see that her son had 
 not inherited this delicate organization of his father. 
 Public opinion had little purchase on him as yet, per- 
 haps too little, but he had good abilities ; and though she 
 knew that dulness is often safe, she could not help, as 
 she gazed at them, feeling proud of her clever boy and 
 pretty girls. 
 
 She had reached this pleasant point in her cogita- 
 tions when Peter Veitch came up, and seeing Tom 
 Sinclair lolling on the deerskin, he said 
 
 " Where's your parasol, Robinson ? Arle me for Fri- 
 day ; see, there's the print o' my feet." 
 
 An urchin passing at the moment cried, " Mind the 
 auld man's watching ye ! " 
 
 " What auld man ? " asked Peter. " Ou 're no' doing 
 ony mischief." 
 
 Mr. Sinclair, hearing what was said, was looking
 
 44 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 about for the old man who was watching, when he saw 
 the boy point to himself, and say, " There, at the fit o' his 
 garden." Mrs. Gilbert, from the spot on which she was 
 standing, had both seen and heard, and she could not 
 avoid smiling, as there was no necessity she should. Mr. 
 Sinclair smiled too, and turned and went up his garden, 
 with food for meditation probably. Mrs. Gilbert had 
 in two separate instances about this time let a man know 
 indirectly that she did not think him so young as he 
 had been, and the words were not out of her mouth 
 when she saw she had not given pleasure ; yet she had 
 done it innocently, under the idea that a squeamishness 
 about growing old was most strictly a feminine weakness ; 
 but she made a note of it, and determined she would not 
 offend again. 
 
 Tom Sinclair and his sisters Bell and Effie were to 
 stay the rest of the day with the Gilberts ; and Avhen 
 Mrs. Gilbert called them in, Peter Veitch was left alone 
 to ponder and slowly come alive to the fact that between 
 these his school-fellows and himself there yawned a great 
 social gulf. But this glimpse of human institutions did not 
 weigh on his spirits. He was disappearing like an 
 arrow to throw himself into some other pursuit, when 
 Mrs. Gilbert, who had a fondness for the boy, asked 
 him to come too. 
 
 " You had better run home and tell your mother 
 where you are to be, and come back," she said. 
 
 " No, no," said he, " she never expects me till she 
 sees me. I wasna gaun hame the noo at ony rate." 
 
 Peter was not by any means the creature of habit 
 quite the reverse ; he ate when he was hungry, and 
 would have slept when he was sleepy without reference 
 to the rising or setting of the sun, had his father's indul- 
 gence gone the length of allowing him, which it did not.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 45 
 
 But his food was a simple affair; his portion was merely 
 set aside to stand till he came for it, so that his erratic 
 ways did not throw the household machinery into con- 
 fusion. Indeed, he preferred that his porridge should 
 stand three or four hours only covered with a towel, for 
 then they had got a thick " brat " on the top, which he 
 considered a peculiar delicacy; so that, except during 
 school hours, he was singularly free to follow out his 
 numerous engagements. 
 
 When Peter was ushered into the unwonted splen- 
 dor of the schoolmaster's sitting-room he could not 
 quite imitate the stoicism of the North American Indians, 
 who, however dumfoundered on seeing the triumphs of 
 civilization, neither uttered a sound nor moved a muscle. 
 He looked sheepish. He found the company already 
 round the table. Mr. Gilbert shook hands with him very 
 kindly and said 
 
 " I hear you have been sailing a fleet this afternoon. 
 Well, we'll see how fleet you can all be in disposing of 
 the good things, and how fleet you can be in learning 
 your lessons. What part of speech is fleet, Mary, my 
 dear ? " looking at his youngest daughter. 
 
 " A noun." 
 
 " So far right. Always a noun ? " 
 
 " Sometimes a prison," said James Raeburn. (James 
 Raeburn was one of Mrs. Gilbert's nephews, who had 
 been sent to Quixstar for his health and education.) 
 
 Mr. Gilbert's face darkened ; he was jealous that his 
 nephew sometimes tried to amuse himself at his expense. 
 Mrs. Gilbert hastened to say 
 
 " Yes, James ; quite right. Are your father and 
 mother well, Peter?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Is your father busy just now ? He must give us 
 a day or two soon."
 
 46 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 Peter answered in monosyllables ; he was slightly 
 overawed, rather an unusual circumstance with him. 
 But he was in the presence of " the maister," and as a 
 guest on terms of comparative equality, and therefore 
 was experiencing a novel sensation, besides, the scene 
 was imposing. No doubt, if Lady Cranstoun had walked 
 into the room, with its IOAV roof and papered walls, she 
 might have thought of a bandbox ; and its little windows 
 hung with netted curtains Mrs. Gilbert's own work 
 might have suggested a doll's house or travelling cara- 
 van ; and it is likely that the table arrangements would 
 not have struck her as being all that elegance and luxury 
 might have called for; but you see she was at one 
 part of the social scale, and Peter at another ; and to him 
 everything looked grand. Probably if he had been let 
 loose either in the schoolhouse or Cranstoun Hall, in no 
 long time familiarity would have bred not contempt but 
 indifference, as it always does with respect to everything 
 that is merely external. I daresay Lady Cranstoun often 
 yawned in the midst of her luxurious appointments, and 
 fell into a nap more apoplectic than comfortable, where 
 the doors were all clad in cloth, and could neither bang 
 nor slam, as the doors of humble people love to do. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert went out to enjoy an evening 
 walk together, and Peter got over his bashfulness, and 
 was persuaded by Tom Sinclair to play at what Tom 
 called draughts, and Peter the dambrod a game suited 
 to the taste of Tom, slow and not involving active exer- 
 tion, but which Peter would play fast, for he saw through 
 the moves, and made up his mind what he was to do in 
 an instant, whereas his opponent hummed and hawed 
 and looked very wise and deliberate before he stirred a 
 step. James Raeburn was writing exei-cises for next
 
 QTJIXSTAR. 47 
 
 day ; and the four girls were in one of the windows talk- 
 ing as girls talk, the chatter being as natural and, if you 
 are in a proper mood, as pleasant to hear as the song of 
 birds. 
 
 John Gilbert was standing at the table, and the atten- 
 tion of the others was arrested by his clearing his throat 
 ostentatiously, and then he began to read from a paper 
 he held in his hand, throwing in remarks of his own as 
 he went on. He read 
 
 " ' Clara and Julia de Lacy were the daughters of a 
 gentleman ' I should rather think so. ' Mr. de Lacy had 
 an agreeable person ' " 
 
 Erne Sinclair started up and cried " Give me that 
 paper, John Gilbert ! it's mine. Where did you find it ? " 
 
 " Prove your property ; where did you lose it ? " 
 ' An agreeable person,' " he went on, " ' superior abilities, 
 and an engaging address.' Bravo." 
 
 " It's a shame ! " cried Eflie. " Give it to me ! give 
 it, I say ! " 
 
 Taking no notice, he continued, " ' Clara and Julia 
 were tripping across the velvet sward of the charming 
 park that surrounded the mansion of Mr. de Lacy. Clara 
 looked at Julia and smiled; she was about to make an 
 arch remark.' What a pity she did not make it ! " 
 
 The tears were in Erne's eyes as she tried to snatch 
 the paper from him. He mounted a chair and resumed 
 
 " ' An arch remark, when a woman was seen ap- 
 proaching, startling the timid deer as they browsed 
 peacefully under the shade of oak and cedar ' " 
 
 " Will none of you help to take that from him ? " 
 cried Erne. 
 
 Peter rose from his game. " Gie the lassie her 
 paper," he said. 
 
 " Give her that," said John, taking his handkerchief
 
 48 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 out ; " give her that to weep in. It's clean, Effie ; I have 
 not used it. ' Shade of oak and cedar. The woman was 
 decently but poorly clad ; and when she came near, she 
 courtesied and requested charity.' " 
 
 " You have no business to read that ! " Effie cried. 
 " What a shame ! " 
 
 " Gie her the paper," Peter repeated. " Do ye want 
 a het lug ? " and he doubled his fist near John's head. 
 " Gie her't at ance, and be dune wi't." 
 
 " ' My good woman, said Clara,' " John pursued in a 
 kind of solemn chant ; " ' my good woman, on principle 
 I never give indiscriminate charity.' Goodness, Effie ! 
 what kind of charity is that ? " asked John. 
 
 Effie disappeared, rushed to Jane Gilbert's room, flung 
 herself on the bed, and gave way to a passion of tears, 
 she knew quite well what should be done on such an oc- 
 casion ; and then she paced the floor of the apartment 
 to fill up the measure of what is expected of a heroine. 
 Her sister and Jane and Mary Gilbert entreated for ad- 
 mittance in- vain. " Peter Veitch," they said, " had res- 
 cued her paper here it was. Would she not let them in ?" 
 
 " There's no use minding what John does ; he likes 
 mischief, all boys do," his sister says. 
 
 " Effie, either speak or open the door at once," Bell 
 Sinclair says, " or we'll think something has happened to 
 you. Oh, Effie, speak." 
 
 Thus adjured, Effie unlocked the door and admitted 
 her friends. 
 
 " Now Effie," her sister said, " if you had had the 
 b^nse to take no notice of John, he would soon have 
 stopped reading ; he only did it to tease you." 
 
 " It was very rude," sobbed Effie, " and you all 
 laughed." 
 
 "We could not help it," said Bell; "he did it so 
 cleverly."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MRS. SINCLAIR sat up late that night composing a 
 letter to Mr. Gilbert. She liked to compose a letter, 
 and the occasion was a good one. She said 
 
 " DEAR SIR When I came to reside at Quixstar 
 with my dear fatherless children, the subject of their 
 education cost me much anxious thought it could not 
 be otherwise. From what I had heard of you previous 
 to my arrival, and after that step was taken, I said, 
 ' Here now is a man to whom I can, D.V., 'commit those 
 dear children.' My anxiety was lessened, my burden 
 was lessened so far as you were concerned, my only 
 remaining dubiety was, ' Can I allow my children to mix 
 with the children of the humbler classes of the com- 
 munity ? ' I made up my mind to run that risk for a time, 
 believing that the advantages counterbalanced the dis- 
 advantages. I made up my mind to allow my children 
 to run that risk during school hours, with the full res- 
 olution to preserve them as much as in me lay from such 
 contact when not absolutely necessary. In accepting 
 your hospitality for them this evening I could by no 
 possibility foresee that they would be exposed to mixed 
 company, nor that they would be subjected to such rude- 
 ness as has shaken the nerves of my darling, sensitive 
 Erne. I don't object to the boy Veitch's character; I 
 fully believe that he is honest and truthful ; but he is 
 not the style of boy I wish my children to associate with, 
 although his behavior appears, from what I can gather,
 
 50 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 to contrast favorably with that of I am forced to say it 
 of your own son. The error was in leaving them 
 without superintendence. My object in writing is to 
 give my opinion, so that the same thing may not occur 
 again, which I think better than to withdraw my chil- 
 dren from your care at once, without assigning a reason. 
 I am, very sincerely yours, E. SINCLAIR." 
 
 When Mrs. Sinclair had finished this letter she read 
 it over and admired it she was in the habit of admiring 
 her own work, as also had been the late Mr. Sinclair ; 
 she had liked to hear him say, " Yes, my dear, that's 
 just the thing very good indeed," and she thought she 
 could not do better than give his brother the same op- 
 portunity. " There is nothing a man likes better," she 
 thought, " than to talk things over with an intelligent 
 w r oman. I am not clever nor intellectual, far less strong- 
 minded, but I may claim to be intelligent without much 
 presumption." 
 
 Next morning the first thing she did on going down 
 stairs was to glance over the newspaper, as was her 
 habit, and when Mr. Sinclair arrived she gave him the 
 benefit of her newly acquired information. Now a man, 
 or at least such a man as Mr. Sinclair, to whom his news- 
 paper is a part of his day, does not like to have the tid- 
 bits torn out and thrust before him raw and mangled, 
 any more than he would like to sit down to an ill-got-up 
 beef-steak half an hour before dinner ; but Mrs. Sinclair 
 would have lived with her brother a thousand years and 
 not have discovered this, so she continued the practice, 
 secure that she gave him much pleasure. After the 
 IH.-WS, she handed him her letter to read, asking his 
 opinion of it. When he had read it, she said, " Well ?" 
 She had watched his face, but gathered nothing from it.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 51 
 
 " I would not send that," he said. 
 
 " Not send it ! What would you do with it ? " 
 
 " I would put it in the fire." 
 
 " For what reason ? " 
 
 " What's the use of making an ado about nothing ? " 
 
 " Do you call the influences that surround my chil- 
 dren in their most plastic years nothing ? " 
 
 " No, I don't ; but that boy Veitch is as good as 
 them any day ; you can't expect boys to behave them- 
 selves from morning to night like good children in a 
 story-book." 
 
 " If my children are to learn to speak like the boy 
 Veitch, how are they to get on in life ? " 
 
 "If they have anything worth saying they'll manage 
 to say it. It would be well if Tom had as much energy 
 in all his body as Veitch has in his little finger." 
 
 "Tom's energy is latent yet; poor boy, he is not 
 over strong." 
 
 The children coming in to breakfast, the lady, as was 
 meet, had the last word. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was not the sort of uncle he might have 
 been. He was not the wicked uncle of the old times, 
 but neither was he the genial uncle of the period. All 
 the notice he took of his nieces and nephew on this oc- 
 casion, for instance, was to look up from his newspaper, 
 push the bread toward Tom, and say, " Eat, child, eat, 
 or you'll die of inanition." 
 
 Now if Mr. Sinclair did not notice what Tom was 
 about, he was blind ; and if he did notice, he was satiri- 
 cal, and satire is a weapon to be kept for occasion. 
 
 Bell laughed, and Eifie whispered, " What is inani- 
 tion ? " 
 
 Said Bell, " I suppose it is a disease people take who 
 don't eat enough ; we need not be frightened about Tom ;
 
 52 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 he's like Sancho Panza, he always eats as if he might not 
 see food in a hurry again." 
 
 " Child," said Mr. Sinclair, once more looking up 
 from his paper, " what do you know about Sancho 
 Panza?" 
 
 " That he was fond of eating," said Bell promptly. 
 
 " Tom, my boy," said his mother, " a little more 
 ham ? Never be ashamed of a good appetite, rather be 
 thankful for it." 
 
 Tom was not in the least ashamed of it, and took 
 more ham. 
 
 When they were leaving the room, Mr. Sinclair said 
 quite suddenly, " As the weather is fine, I'll take you to 
 see the glen to-day." 
 
 This had an uncle-ish sound, if it had not been such 
 a bare statement, and been felt to be a command, like 
 an invitation from royalty, so that there was nothing for 
 it but to comply. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Mrs. Sinclair, " I have an engage- 
 ment that will prevent me accompanying you." 
 
 " The children can go without you, I suppose ? " said 
 Mi-. Sinclair curtly. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, they can go without me, but 
 
 " Very well, they'll go." 
 
 The children had their own plans for the Saturday 
 holiday, and would much rather have declined the expe- 
 dition in such company, which was exactly what Mr. 
 Sinclair Avould have done too if it had been a matter of 
 taste with him, but it was a matter of duty ; he wanted, 
 if possible, to look further into the natures of his broth- 
 er's children, and he thought that he was making a good 
 opportunity for that purpose. 
 
 Some miles above Quixstar the glen of the Eden was 
 worth going a good way to see. There was a ruin of an
 
 QUIXSTAR. 53 
 
 old castle perched on the brink of a precipice, and there . 
 was a modern house on a less painful elevation, the pro- 
 prietor of which did not allow the public to drive through 
 his grounds ; but on certain days, in consideration of a 
 silver piece paid at the gate, people were at liberty to 
 walk through them. Mr. Sinclair and his young friends 
 alighted at the gate, and leaving the dusty road entered 
 fairy-land. But fairy-lands in the form of emerald turf 
 and flowerbeds of all shapes and every bright contrasting 
 hue, kept in such order that you would think some invisi- 
 ble being with a penknife was continually on the watch 
 to lop any pushing blade of grass or rash bud or blossom 
 that overstepped bounds, are not in these days confined 
 to the grounds of landowners ; advancing taste has 
 brought them even to the poor man's door. Old Battle 
 House was equal, in this respect to Eden Castle ; but 
 when the visitors went on a little they stopped beside a 
 low stone fence, and those who dared looked over it 
 down a wall of living rock that descended and descended 
 sheer down so far that the water below looked like a 
 thread, and a horse in the valley like an ant. It made 
 one shudder. It was a wild, rocky, mountain-looking 
 feature set among the lazy gentle scenery round it. They 
 must have been people with clear heads and strong minds 
 that lived in that old castle. No doubt it was founded 
 on a rock, only a modern lady looking out of one of its 
 windows overhanging that frightful precipice would have 
 felt her nerves tingle to her finger-ends ; but in those 
 days, likely, people ignored nerves altogether. The 
 Eden came lingeringly through the glen, as if loath to 
 leave it, and gave nature ample time to set off the exceed- 
 ing beauty and richness of her green robe with its silver 
 sheen. As far as you could follow its windings, the glen 
 was thickly wooded ; away in the distance the top of a
 
 54 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 bill appeared, filling up the background, and giving the 
 finishing touch to the picture. The trees could not be 
 very ancient, few of them looked so, but the hill had 
 stood there as sentry for ages. 
 
 During their drive Mr. Sinclair had given the chil- 
 dren a brief statement concerning the historical mem- 
 ories of the place, and when he brought them to the 
 edge of the precipice, and told them it was thought that 
 possibly Shakspeare* had stood on that spot and looked 
 at that same scene, he expected their faces to kindle 
 and their tongues to burst into notes of admiration. 
 
 Effie ran back frightened and in dismay. Bell and 
 Tom looked about with as much expression in their 
 faces as a pair of sheep, and said nothing. This shows 
 that these young people were not quite of to-day. 
 Children of to-day are equal to any emergency, even to 
 patronizing and drawing out an elderly relative ; but 
 at this time they still had a sense of awe and reverence, 
 and were apt on occasion to be bashful. Besides, these 
 children felt anything but at home with their uncle, and 
 older people than children must feel at home and secure 
 of their ground before they shine in any degree. 
 
 There they stood, and there Mr. Sinclair stood 
 watching them, but no chink appeared through which 
 he could get a peep into their minds, and he came to 
 the conclusion that, as mind did not break out, there 
 must be a very small modicum of it in possession. 
 However, if Shakspeare had lurked in Quixstar, neither 
 Mr. Sinclair nor Mr. Kennedy was the man to find him 
 out any more than Sir Thomas Lucy. It takes some- 
 thing of Shakspeare to discover Shakspeare. 
 
 " Come," he said, " we'll walk round, and see how it 
 looks from below." 
 
 * A mistake of Mr. Sinclair's, surely.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 55 
 
 " Will it be a long time till we have dinner ? " said 
 Tom. . * 
 
 "Two hours. You're not hungry, are you?" said 
 Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Mamma gave me some sandwiches," said Bell, 
 " but I forgot, and left them at the gate." 
 
 " Very like a girl," said Tom. " Run back, Effie, 
 and bring them ; you'll do it in a minute." 
 
 Effie ran. These girls were taught indirectly, if not 
 directly, to think their brother a superior being, and he 
 was nothing, loath to avail himself of his superiority. 
 He started with capital vantage-ground, if he could only 
 keep it. Effie was good-natured, and obeyed. Bell, 
 with prophetic stirrings of the present movement, was 
 more apt to stand out for her rights. Tom consumed what 
 of the provender he wanted, then gave his sisters the 
 diminished pai'cel to carry. Mr. Sinclair, observing the 
 action, wheeled round, and said, " Carry that yourself, 
 Tom," whereupon Tom, not expecting to need more 
 till he got home, left it behind him to save himself 
 trouble. Comparatively few human beings need to be 
 carefully trained to selfishness. 
 
 They took the path that led down into the glen, 
 then turned and came below the precipice. Mr. Sin- 
 clair thought that if looking over it had failed, looking 
 up at it might be a success ; but still the oracles were 
 dumb at least when he was within hearing, oV, when 
 tln'y spoke, it was not of battlemented crags. "There's 
 a lady sketching," said Effie ; " it's Miss Raeburn." 
 Turning round, Mr. Sinclair saw Miss Raeburn, and 
 being slightly acquainted he went up and spoke to her, 
 and looked at her work. Of course it was the ruin on 
 the top of the rock. 
 
 " Do you like that kind of work, Miss Raeburn ? "
 
 56 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " I like it, and I don't like it. I like if I may but 
 touch the hem of Art's garment, but I am always kept 
 in the valley of humiliation." 
 
 It is diverting to watch an interview between a ro- 
 manticish lady and a straight-forward business man. 
 If Miss Raeburn had heard another person address Mr. 
 Sinclair in this strain she would have laughed. " You 
 see,"' she said, " it is intended for the old castle, but it is 
 like the leaning tower of Pisa." 
 
 " You have not got the moon in yet ; I notice ruins 
 always have a moon in the right-hand corner." 
 
 Miss Raeburn looked to see if Mr. Sinclair had the 
 hardihood to laugh at her work to her face, but he 
 seemed serious enough, and she said, " No ; it is not a 
 moonlight scene." 
 
 A man, Dixon by name a jobbing gardener from 
 Quixstar happened to be mowing a patch of ferns not 
 far off. He came up w T ith a plant in his hand, and said, 
 " See, Miss Raeburn, is this what ye was wantin' ? " 
 Then, looking at Mr. Sinclair, he said, " A heap o' folk 
 mak' an unco waivk about brackens noo-a-days ; for my 
 part, I never use them for onythingbut to bed the sow." 
 
 " That is a charming association," said Miss Raeburn, 
 " but I'll keep this. Thank you, Dixon, I am a little 
 fernytickled." 
 
 " They are pretty. How grand that rock looks 
 from here!" said Mr. Sinclair. "Well, good-bye, I 
 won't interrupt you farther," and he went on in pursuit 
 of his juvenile party, who Avere playing at hide-and-seek 
 among the trees, and he thought, " It's a pity Miss 
 Raeburn should spend her time on what she'll never 
 make anything of; but it's often the Avay with women : 
 they have no notion of the A 7 alue of time, or of the folly 
 of trying things beyond their poAver."
 
 QUIXSTAK. 57 
 
 " Here, Tom," he cried, " bring your sisters. We 
 must be going home now." 
 
 Thus ended Mr. Sinclair's first planned attempt to 
 watch the young idea shooting, and although it had 
 resolutely refused to shoot, he felt that he had done his 
 duty. 
 
 Who was Miss Raeburn ? Briefly, she was a sister 
 of that Mr. Raeburn who had married Mrs. Gilbert's 
 sister, and she lived in the aristocratic part of Quixstar. 
 3*
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE oftener Mrs. Sinclair read over her letter to 
 the schoolmaster she was the more convinced of the 
 propriety of sending it. In business matters Mr. Sin- 
 clair might be a competent enough adviser, but on an 
 occasion of this kind on her must rest the responsibility ; 
 and she sent it. 
 
 When Mr. Gilbert got it he was so far gratified. 
 It was written in a copperplateish hand, on thick 
 cream paper, and bestowed in an envelope to match 
 paper and envelope being stamped with Mrs. Sin- 
 clair's monogram, the letters E. and S. felicitously 
 twisted together. The material clothing of a letter 
 never passed unnoticed by Mr. Gilbert. Sometimes he 
 got notes from the parents of his scholars written on a 
 half sheet of paper which had evidently been torn from 
 its other half after a journey by post, and once even an 
 envelope had been sent with a name printed on it, and 
 marked out, and his (Mr. Gilbert's) name substituted. 
 Think of it an envelope that had been enclosed in a 
 circular all ready to be despatched to a gentleman who 
 wished to push the business of tuning pianos ! 
 
 One man would have read such missives and 
 thought no more about them, another would have no- 
 ticed and smiled, but this was a small style of iron that 
 entered Mr. Gilbert's soul. Very likely the people who 
 do these things intend no disrespect : they are merely
 
 QUIXSTAR. 59 
 
 thrifty souls who will let nothing be lost ; but Mr. Gil- 
 bert argued that if they had been writing to Sir Richard 
 Cranstoun, or even Mr. Kennedy, they would have 
 been more choice in their stationery; and he was 
 wroth, and the comfort of his day was gone, and not 
 only the comfort of his day, but that of his wife's also 
 not that such a thing could ruffle her, but she was 
 vexed through her husband. However, taking the let- 
 ter altogether, there was not wanting something sooth- 
 ing to Mr. Gilbert. He gave it to his wife to read. It 
 was what she expected ; the intimacy had been too 
 sudden and close to last. Mrs. Sinclair had walked 
 into their house and out of it at all hours ; she had 
 praised Mrs. Gilbert and her arrangements, and Mr. 
 Gilbert and his everything was perfection, and she 
 was all butter and honey ; but Mrs. Gilbert had been 
 long enough in the world to know that this was not 
 likely to go on ; so had Mr. Gilbert, but he did not 
 know it. There are people who are as ready to believe 
 what they wish to believe this week as they were last 
 week, although last week's belief has proved an utter ab- 
 surdity ; and people too with powei's both of mind and 
 observation will go on in this way to the end of their 
 days, a new disappointment only leading to a new belief. 
 Mrs. Gilbert did not say, " I told you so," she had 
 not told him so, she knew better ; nor did she say, 
 " Just what I expected," there are cases in which 
 both wives and husbands have to be careful of what 
 they say to each other. But Mr. Gilbert said, " That's 
 what's come of having the boy Veitch the other night. 
 I thought at the time it was not very prudent. It 
 seems she had heard of me before she came here." 
 Now Mrs. Sinclair had related this circumstance nearly 
 everv time she had seen either the schoolmaster or his
 
 60 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 wife. " It's a pity," Mr. Gilbert continued, " for she 
 seemed a woman of sense." 
 
 " It appears to me," said Mrs. Gilbert, " that there 
 is rather a want of sense in expecting to dictate to us 
 who we are to have in our house, and who we are not : 
 and if she judged by her own feelings, she might know 
 that we are quite as anxious about our children as she 
 can be about hers." 
 
 " That's all true," Mr. Gilbert said, " but you miss 
 the point ; you are apt to be not very logical. Her letter 
 may be senseless and impertinent ; but there are ranks 
 in society, and I thought at the time it was injudicious 
 to have the boy Veitch."' 
 
 " I like Peter Veitch." 
 
 " There now that's no reason." 
 
 " I was not giving it as a reason ; I was only stating 
 it as a fact. But do you notice what she says about 
 John ? That's a much more serious affair. I should 
 be sony if he has been rude." 
 
 " He'll have to apologize ; what else can we do ? 
 And after all, she will likely withdraw her children 
 from the school." 
 
 " Very well ; she must just withdraw' them." 
 
 " But it's discouraging," said Mr. Gilbert. " It's not 
 merely the loss of three pupils, although that's something. 
 A man condemned to toil in a place like this needs 
 encouragement." 
 
 " And first and last you nave got a good deal. I 
 like the place ; I don't know where I would be happier." 
 
 " Is that true now ? Would you not like to see your 
 husband in a better position ? " 
 
 " I am not ambitious," she said. " I suppose men 
 have more of that than women. My only ambition is 
 that our children do well."
 
 QUIXSTAR. m 61 
 
 " They would be none the less likely to do well if 
 their father did better. If a man could only get out of 
 this hole into a place where there was some scope ! " 
 
 " By ' do well ' I did not mean worldly success, al- 
 though that is very good when it comes. Well, will 
 you write to Mrs. Sinclair, or shall I ? Perhaps it would 
 be better for you to do it more respectful ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert got this delicate piece of business to 
 do, and did it so well that the cloud which had gathered 
 so ominously dispersed; the signal was "Lower drum," 
 and there was fair weather. 
 
 Thus was Peter Veitch tabooed by Mrs. Sinclair, 
 but, being happily unconscious of it, neither his health 
 nor spirits were affected : he pursued his pleasure and 
 business with unabated energy. It was sometimes his 
 business, when there was a pressure of work, to help his 
 father for the two hours between leaving school in the 
 afternoon and six o'clock, when the labors of the day 
 stopped. If Mrs. Sinclair saw him at work in the gar- 
 den at Old Battle House she considered him in his proper 
 place, and approved of him, and even if she happened 
 to be passing would stop to notice him. 
 
 One evening he was working in front of the windows 
 of Mr. Sinclair's sitting-room, when the steeple-clock 
 struck the hour of liberation. A little before, Mr. Sin- 
 clair "had thrown open one of the windows, and then 
 Peter had noticed him go out at the garden gate. The 
 room was empty. He went forward to the window and 
 looked in, then he laid his hand on the sill and swung 
 himself up like a monkey, went in, and stood in the mid- 
 dle of the floor, looking curiously all round. He 
 stretched himself on a sofa, and the cushion sank below 
 his weight he had never known such a luxurious sen- 
 sation. He rose and went to an easy-chair which was
 
 62 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 basking vacantly by the side of the fire. It was getting 
 dark of an autumn afternoon, and the warmth and glow 
 of dim light had a soothing and eerie effect in the 
 gloaming. He sank into the chair, and leaned his head 
 on the back of it. He knew he should not be there ; 
 but he also knew he was doing no harm he was merely 
 trying what kind of a thing it would be to be a gentle- 
 man, and he was fond of experiments of all kinds. His 
 eye fell on the handle of the bell, and without hesitation 
 he rang it so vigorously that he heard it sounding in the 
 distance, and lay back in his chair again to see what 
 would happen. 
 
 Miss Fairgrieve started when she heard Mr. Sinclair's 
 bell ring with such violence. She generally knew every- 
 thing, and she knew that the only persons in the house 
 at that moment were herself and Bell, who was in the 
 dining-room. Her shrewdness notwithstanding, she 
 was superstitious. She knew a thief would not ring a 
 bell, consequently it must be a ghost. She went to the 
 ..dining-room and said to Bell 
 
 " Did you hear your uncle's bell ring ? " 
 
 " To be sure I did." 
 
 " What could ring it ? " said Maddy, who, brave in 
 the face of mortal, felt stricken by the mystery. 
 
 " Uncle, likely," said Bell. 
 
 " But he's not in. There's not a living soul in the 
 house but you and me. What do you think did it ? " 
 
 " The easiest way to find out would be to go and 
 see." 
 
 Maddy did not move. Bell laughed. 
 
 " Capital ! " she cried ; t; you are frightened, Maddy ! 
 Come, and I'll take care of you." 
 
 Another imperious ring w T as heard. 
 
 " It's some one in a hurry, certainly," said Bell.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 63 
 
 " Maybe it's the Evil One ! " said Maddy. 
 
 When they opened the door a commanding voice 
 said 
 
 " Light the gas there, wjll you ? What's the mean- 
 ing of this dawdling ? " 
 
 " Bless me ! it's a human being after a'," said Maddy, 
 as, her courage suddenly restored, she went boldly in, 
 followed by Bell. But Peter was hidden in the shadow, 
 as he lay back in his luxurious chair. 
 
 Bell seized the poker and stirred up a flame, which 
 revealed the boy lying lazily with his eyes half shut, and 
 a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. 
 
 " It's you, ye little impudent monkey ! " said Maddy, 
 in angry vexation at having revealed her vulnerable 
 point. 
 
 " Maddy expected to see horns and hoofs," said Bell. 
 
 " What business have ye to fricht folk that gate ? " 
 asked Maddy. 
 
 " I didna think onybody would be frichted," Peter 
 said, lolling in the chair. " Eh, it wad be fine to be a 
 man in authority ! " 
 
 " A man in authority, ye little mischief! What puts 
 the like o' that in your head ? " 
 
 " Why shouldn't it be in his head, Maddy ? " said 
 Bell. " There's nothing to hinder him being a man in 
 authority if he likes." 
 
 Peter was looking round on the book-cases. 
 
 " Has your uncle has Mr. Sinclair, read a' thae 
 books ? " he asked. 
 
 ; ' Read them ! " Maddy answered ; " no' the half o' 
 them, nor the quarter, I'll wager. He'll hae ane out for 
 weeks and weeks, aye the same ane, and he'll be writing 
 wi' a pencil on bits o' paper writing ye can neither 
 mak' heads nor tails o'."
 
 64 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Uncle is fond of mathematics," said Bell. " It's the 
 differential calculus he's working at." 
 
 " It's no different ; it's aye the same thing," said 
 Maddy. " I'm sure if I had fiddled as lang at onything, 
 I wad hae made something o't. But men are slow 
 most awfu' slow." 
 
 " But they are sure, Maddy, and know the reasons 
 of things. That's what makes them superior, they say." 
 
 " Superior ! " said Maddy, " is there ony superiority 
 in taking a roundabout road when ye can get a short 
 cut?" 
 
 " Well, but they say a bee can take a short cut." 
 
 " Weel, men should think shame if a bee can beat 
 them for common sense." 
 
 " It must be grand," said Peter, " to ken a' that's in 
 thae books." 
 
 " If ye could mak' ony use o't," said Maddy. " But 
 I had a cousin ; his faitherwas a rich man, an' he thought 
 edication was everything, an' he gied the laddie his fill 
 o' edication just his fill, and he had naething to do but 
 tak' it in. And what did he ever mak' o't ? Naething. 
 He's just a minister in some wee bit country place. Ye 
 never hear tell o' him ye never see his name in the 
 papers." 
 
 Maddy, you see, had no idea of passive genius the 
 dumb ones of heaven. 
 
 " But he'll ken a heap," said Peter. " It wad be fine 
 to be Mr. Sinclair, and sit in this chair and read thae 
 books whenever ye liket." 
 
 " Maybe he thinks it wad be fine to be you," said 
 Maddy. 
 
 " Maybe ! " said Peter ironically. 
 
 "Weel," said Maddy, "how would ye like if ye 
 couldna see a thing without spectacles ? "
 
 QUIXSTAB. 65 
 
 " I dinna ken. I often hear my faither say they're a 
 great blessing." 
 
 " Oh, nae doubt they're better than being clean 
 blind. But how wad ye like, if ye had had a watch wi' 
 a yellow face and yellow hands a' your days, to have to 
 tak' to ane wi' a white face and black hands ? " 
 
 " What hardship wad that be ? " asked Peter, not 
 perceiving the point. 
 
 It might have been thought that this recent slight 
 change in Mr. Sinclair's arrangements would have passed 
 unnoticed ; but what escapes sharp feminine eyes ? 
 
 " Uncle's sight must be failing it must be a curious 
 thing to wear spectacles," Bell said meditatively ; " surely 
 people so old as that would never think of marrying ; 
 mamma is always afraid of uncle marrying ; she says he 
 is sure to marry a servant." 
 
 " A servant ! " cried Maddy, " he shouldna fling him- 
 sel' away on a servant ; a servant can do her ain turn 
 she's independent ; he should marry ane o 1 the kind o' 
 beings that are fit for naething in this world, and yet 
 maun live that's the kind o' thing he should marry." 
 
 " There he is," said Bell ; " I hear him coming in. 
 
 Peter jumped up and darted through the window 
 like a bird, Maddy began to replenish the fire, and Bell 
 busied herself closing the shutters, while the object of 
 their remarks walked into his room marvellously uncon- 
 scious of the charming line of usefulness that had been 
 chalked out for him.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 How, with his peculiar touchy nature, did Mr. 
 Gilbert get on in his school ? Not well, you think, for 
 boys and girls have a speciality for finding out raw 
 spots they don't see, nor analyze, nor synthesize, but 
 they discover, simply, as all discoveries are made, and 
 then they feel the importance of their discovery, and put 
 it to good use one way or another. 
 
 But nature had been kind to Mr. Gilbert in ex- 
 te"Vnally fitting him up ready-made for his profession. 
 He was of a fair average height, he had dark eyes, over 
 which eyebrows were set in tufts of stiff coarse hair, his 
 face was a rather long oval, his under lip was thick and 
 hanging, his hair left his forehead standing very promi- 
 nently out, while it stuck up hard and straight round 
 his head like a dark coronet ; looked at from the back it 
 resembled a good-sized bird's nest, a white bald place 
 in the centre suggesting a biggish egg lying in it. That 
 mouth, with the pendulous lip and the fierce eyebrows* 
 and hair, did much good work in Mr. Gilbert's school- 
 room. And Mr. Gilbert had common sense, and not an 
 inferior mind, for there is no end to the contrasting 
 qualities that will meet in one person ; and his common 
 sense had told him long ago that he might as well give 
 up his business at once as betray his weakness to the 
 young crew under his command. And he did not betray 
 it ; he might flare up into a passion not unfrequently, but
 
 QUIXSTAR. 67 
 
 he did not tell them it was because he suspected some 
 of them of laughing at him all such confidences he 
 reserved for the ear of his wife ; and although it would 
 be hard to say that a man was never to appear before 
 his wife except in full dress, still Mr. Gilbert, being able 
 to control his weakness in some circumstances, he 
 should have concealed it from his wife ; it is pleasant to 
 be looked up to, and he might have doubted how long 
 his wife would have looked up to him if he was always 
 telling her that he was generally undervalued ; besides, 
 if Mrs. Gilbert had been a very ordinary woman, people 
 would have come to the knowledge of her husband's 
 weakness through her there is no way you can more 
 correctly get the missing bits that you are wanting when 
 you estimate a man than through his wife. But Mrs. 
 Gilbert was a strong-minded woman. That phrase is 
 understood to be a synonym for a disagreeable woman. 
 It is an entire mistake. Think of a great gift of God 
 having come to be a byword in the mouth of fools ! 
 But it is a strong will that the superficial confound with 
 a strong mind, and a strong will joined to a weak mind 
 is nuisance enough in man or woman most people 
 between the cradle and the grave will find use for all 
 the strength of mind they can lay their hands on, and let 
 those who have it be devoutly thankful. Mrs. Gilbert, 
 however, would have used her arm for a bar before she 
 would have admitted the public to look at her husband 
 in undress. An ordinary man might have passed for 
 a great king with such a consort beside him on the throne, 
 for Mrs. Gilbert had in her the royal qualities of pride 
 and ambition, but as the wife of a country schoolmaster 
 they were pretty well battened down under the hatches. 
 With the optimist, let us believe it was all for the best- 
 The special Mordecai that sat at Mr. Gilbert's gate
 
 68 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 at this time was James Raeburn, and he was quite as in- 
 nocent of evil intention as the historical Jew. The boy 
 had been delicate, and returning health and strength 
 brought an exuberance of animal spirits which effer- 
 vesced in a way often offensive to Mr. Gilbert, who 
 thought he presumed on the wealthy position of his 
 father, and on his Mr. Gilbert's comparatively humble 
 circumstances, the truth being that James thought neither 
 of the one nor the other, nor was he in the least aware 
 of being the thorn in his uncle's side that he was. Mrs. 
 Gilbert was glad when the time for her nephew's depart- 
 ure drew near, notwithstanding that she loved the boy. 
 He was to go home after the examination of the school, 
 which wound up the scholastic year in Quixstar. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert was a good teacher not first-rate, but 
 good. To the making of the highest order of teacher 
 enthusiasm is necessary, and no man always thinking of 
 himself can be enthusiastic ; but he can like children 
 they minister to egotism they are ignorant and he is 
 wise they are subject and he is despot. In any case 
 being a despot is not an easy business ; but what must 
 it be to have your reputation at the mercy of some scores 
 of thoughtless beings, whose love for learning is ques- 
 tionable, and whose love for play is beyond a doubt 
 they are flint hard. to strike fire from. 
 
 The examination was approaching, and Mr. Gilbert 
 and his assistant had for some time been drilling the 
 school specially with a view to that great event. Scotch 
 parents are known to be very much alive to the advan- 
 tages of education, and interested in the progress of their 
 children, and happy was the boy who could go home at 
 the end of the day, and, to anxious questions as to his 
 place in the class, say dux. Who was to be the dux at 
 the coming examination was the murmur of a large sec-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 69 
 
 tion of the boiiry at this time. There were five boys at 
 the head of the school contending for the place of honor, 
 which only one of them could get ; they were all reputed 
 clever. Mrs. Sinclair was persuaded that unless there 
 was gross injustice Tom would be dux, he in reality 
 being nowhere in the race and having a knowledge of 
 this, he made light of the distinction. Human wisdom 
 is apt pretty often to be at fault, especially in relation 
 to future events ; none of the clever boys carried the day ; 
 there was a plodding boy in the school, and he was the 
 tortoise that beat the hares. The hares took the defeat 
 easily and with good humor down to Sandy Fairley, cer- 
 tainly not a hare, but the booby, happily not keenly alive 
 to his position, as how could he, having kept it for some 
 years* till in the effort to drive a measure of knowledge 
 into his head the palms of his hands had hardened under 
 the tawse ? Never mind he is now the respectable and 
 thriving head of a numerous household. One wonders 
 if his school days are wrapt in the enchanted haze that 
 in middle life is apt to gather round that time, or if 
 burnt leather and tingling fingers the actual elements 
 are as real as ever ; not likely, he'll be dull indeed if he 
 has not contrived to gloss up things some way. 
 
 The great day came, an'd in the course of twelve 
 hours was swept as ruthlessly into the past as all the 
 days, great and small, that had gone before it, but not 
 without leaving memories. Little Mrs. Raeburn, for in- 
 stance ; she had travelled from Ironburgh to be present 
 on the occasion, and she has never forgotten the face 
 and figure of her son James as he sat between Pe^r 
 Yritch and his cousin. She was surprised he was not 
 dux, so Peter Veitch's father and mother were surprised 
 he \vas not dux; as for Mrs. Gilbert, she believed that 
 her son got less than justice from his father, fearful lest
 
 70 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 he should be accused of partiality, but this rivalry gene- 
 rated no bad feeling among the boys, nor, indeed, among 
 their parents, except that Mrs. Sinclaiu, being signally 
 disappointed that Mr. Gilbert had failed to bring out 
 Tom's brilliant parts, made up her mind to a change of 
 arrangements for next year. Nevertheless, she lent her 
 countenance to the event of the hour, and Mr. Gilbert, 
 being ignorant of her secret intentions, was spared that 
 annoyance till after. 
 
 On the morning of the examination day every urchin 
 connected with the school washed his face in soapier 
 water, and got into his Sunday clothes with much great- 
 er zest than on Sundays. Peter Veitch was happily ig- 
 norant of the mysteries of the toilet. The last suit of 
 clothes he had got had been made by a tailor, who had 
 not learned his business in Bond Street, under the solemn 
 warning of Mrs. Veitch that if they were not big enough 
 to serve some years of Sundays, she would entirely with- 
 draw her patronage. Peter, not having as yet wakened 
 up to the consciousness of personal appearance, slipped 
 into the roomy garments without the least misgiving. 
 It did occur to him, however, when looking at the square 
 inch of mirror that hung by the side of the window in 
 the apartment that served as dining-room and kitchen, 
 that his hair was not in such order as was desirable, so 
 he went into a closet his mother called the milk-house, 
 put his palms on the top of a dish of milk on which the 
 thick rich cream lay like velvet, raised them gloved with 
 cream, which he nibbed vigorously into his hair, and 
 ging back to his looking-glass combed it down, and 
 that not quite succeeding, he seized an old worn clothes- 
 brush and brushed it smooth ; he had never seen a hair- 
 brush, but there and then he invented the idea of that 
 toilet indispensable, only to find, like many people who
 
 QUIXSTAR. 71 
 
 strike out a bright idea, that it is not by any means new. 
 Is the happiness of having the free use of the wisdom 
 of our ancestors not more than counterbalanced by the 
 mortification of finding that we can hardly have an orig- 
 inal idea ? 
 
 The schoolroom looked fresh, so did the scholars, 
 and so also did the master, as he stood smiling and 
 bowing to groups entering at one door, and keeping an 
 eye of seVere and anxious aspect on the hives swarming 
 out and in of the other. He was equal to the occasion, 
 and he enjoyed being the man of the hour. The ex- 
 aminers occupied seats in front of the young host 
 reverend gentlemen they were, connected with the dis- 
 trict : Mr. Kennedy, with his " youthy " out-of-doors 
 air, and his quick sense of the surface of men and things, 
 and inability for seeing further and a little man with 
 sharp eyes and nose, who looked very decisive ; and a 
 tall, shambling man, dreamy and good-natured ; and a 
 stout, short man with a sloping face, and a way of hold- 
 ing up his head " like a hen drinking water," as Peter 
 Veitch irreverently whispered to the boy next him. 
 These were all; as yet the Government Inspector 
 was not. Behind the clergy were the laity; a goodly 
 number of what were technically known as parents 
 and guardians. Mrs. Gilbert was there, and Mrs. 
 and Miss Raeburn, and old Mrs. Gilbert, the school- 
 master's aunt, and Peter Veitch, senior, who had left 
 his work for an hour or two, and put on his Sunday 
 coat, the neck of which was so stiff and deep it might 
 have served a horse for a collar ; the buttons on the back 
 having stuck fast in one place, while the buttons on the 
 backs of other people had been travelling up and down 
 continually, as the caprice of fashion ordered. Mrs. 
 Veitch, too, was there, anxiously wondering if Peter's
 
 72 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 class would be over before it was time to milk the cows. 
 Mrs. and Miss Smith also lent their countenance on this 
 day. They were members of a clever household in the 
 aristocratic part of Quixstar. Mr. Smith had been 
 bankrupt oftener than once, but the family held up its 
 head, ignored circumstances, and abated nothing of its 
 dignity in speech or action, nor, so far as could be judged, 
 in thought, and lived in style at least in style for 
 Quixstar. How it was done simpler people* did not 
 know ; but it was done, and well done ; even Mrs. Sin- 
 clair, though perfectly aware that Mr. Smith was not 
 worth a penny, felt rather overawed by the general 
 bearing of the Smiths. Their cleverness did not consist 
 in book-knowledge, although if you did not meet them 
 often, you would not have thought them deficient in 
 that ; what there was of it was most skilfully displayed, 
 like the goods in a shop window which has a mirror at 
 each side and one behind, giving to comparative barren- 
 ness an air of great plenty. Some of the numerous boys 
 of this family were at Mr. Gilbert's school. They were 
 too spirited, their mamma knew, to be nailed for any 
 length of time to a book ; so that she was not surprised 
 that their position in the school was not the highest, still 
 it seemed like the irony of circumstances that when 
 honor of any kind was going, it should fall to the lot of 
 John Johnston, the butchers son, who was dux of the 
 school, rather than to one of her boys. The butcher and 
 his wife were present to enjoy their son's elevation, 
 proud and happy, with a prophetic feeling irt their hearts 
 that their son had got his foot on the first round of the 
 ladder that leads to success in life. 
 
 The business of the day went on ; classes were gone 
 over ; copy-books lying open on desks were examined, 
 and such true observations as " Youth is the season for
 
 QUIXSTAR. 73 
 
 improvement," "Education is an excellent and lasting 
 patrimony," were found well and correctly set forth ; and 
 the scholars had all acquitted themselves creditably, when 
 more than one reverend gentleman suggested to the mas- 
 ter that they had seen quite enough to convince them of 
 the thorough efficiency of the school. Mr. Gilbert's face 
 beamed; matter-of-course words were not matter of 
 course to him ; if he was easily offended he was as easily 
 pleased. No doubt he had just cause of pleasure in 
 having done his work well, but a compliment was very 
 dear to him (to whom is it disagreeable ?), and he would 
 have gone on to the end of his programme, but at length 
 it was conveyed to him that people were feeling the 
 dinner hour nearer than it had been, and he drew the 
 proceedings to a close, and declared the day's work 
 done. Then Mr. Kennedy rose and said 
 
 " My dear young friends, in these beautiful copy-books 
 lying behind us, I find written, ' Youth is the season for 
 improvement ; ' now, I was once a little boy ('YeYe no 
 very big yet,' whispered Peter Yeitch to his neighbor), 
 and when I was a boy, that was my spring-time, you 
 know, and this is your spring-time, when you must sow 
 knowledge, industry, integrity, perseverance, and a great 
 many things, if you mean, as I daresay you all do, to go 
 creditably through life according to your respective sta- 
 tions. From what I have seen to-day, my dear young 
 friends, you bid fair to do that. I cannot, sir (turning to 
 Mr. Gilbert), compliment you too highly on the thorough 
 teaching and admirable order maintained in this school. 
 If there is one profession I would be inclined to rate 
 more highly than another, it is that of training the young 
 mind of our community. May you, sir, be long spared 
 to your arduous but grateful duties." 
 
 Mr. Gilbert again looked very gratified, while Mrs. 
 4
 
 74 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Gilbert felt annoyed ; which was the wisest you can judge 
 Mr. Gilbert who swallowed easily anything in the 
 shape of a compliment, or Mrs. Gilbert, who could only 
 brook that article when it was served up with equal 
 parts of sincerity and delicacy. If people cultivate fas- 
 tidiousness about anything, it is apt to grow upon them 
 to such a pitch as makes this world a very uncomfort- 
 able place to live in. The tall dreamy-looking man next 
 rose and said 
 
 " Mr. Kennedy has told you that he was once a little 
 boy. I would like to put another remarkable fact along- 
 side that, and it is this : I was once a little boy too (a 
 laugh) ; not so long ago but that I can remember sitting 
 where you are I'll not say which end of the form I was 
 nearest (a laugh). There used always to be one gentle- 
 man at our examinations, a big portly man, with a gurly- 
 burly voice, who looked pretty closely into things. 
 Once when we were being examined in arithmetic we 
 were set to extract the square root of something. I knew 
 nothing about it. I might as well have been set to ex- 
 tract the root of one of these big trees. When this gentle- 
 man looked at my slate he gave an awful frown, and said, 
 ' Boy, that's wrong. Do that again.' I could not put 
 it right, but, happily for me, we were just what we all 
 are at present, a little tired and a little hungry, and I got 
 off. Mr. Kennedy has told you what good qualities you 
 must cultivate to get on. I hope you'll cultivate them 
 all ; but there is a short sentence about getting on, which 
 I shall tell you. It won't impress you much now, but 
 when you leave school, as I understand some of you are 
 about to do, and begin to look back to it, when you dis- 
 perse to all quarters of the globe, as you likely will, and 
 call up before you, as distinctly as you see it to-day, this 
 school, the notched forms, the inked and cut desks, the
 
 QTTIXSTAR. 75 
 
 faces of your school- fellows and your teacher, your play- 
 ground and your games, perhaps you will remember me 
 as I remember the gentleman I spoke of, then you will 
 recall this short summing up of success in life, ' Content- 
 ment with godliness is great gain.' Boys, I can wish 
 you nothing better than that that sentence may be the 
 bird of peace to you in after life, bringing calm when 
 you are beaten with storms." 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Kennedy started up and said 
 
 " I hope you will all cultivate contentment with the 
 places you are in. You have done well to-day, which 
 shows that Mr. Gilbert does well every day. You will 
 have five weeks of vacation ; give three cheers, and we 
 shall dismiss." 
 
 Immediately there was a noise as if the building were 
 coming down, which lulled and swelled for some seconds. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy turned round to Mrs. Gilbert and 
 said 
 
 " You must feel very proud to-day, Mrs. Gilbert. I 
 really envy your husband. There's nothing I would like 
 better than to teach. It's noble work." 
 
 " I had no idea yq,u were so enthusiastic, Mr. Ken- 
 nedy," she said. " I should think you would have little 
 difficulty in getting a school if you would prefer teach- 
 ing." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert knew that Mr. Kennedy regarded her 
 husband as a kind of henchman, and she did not like it. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy turned to Mrs. Raeburn, "What a 
 pity," he said, " that Mr. Raeburn was not here to be 
 delighted with his son's appearance ; a fine boy a very 
 . fine boy one of seven, I understand ? " 
 
 " Mr. Raeburn would have been here, but business 
 prevented him," said Mrs. Raeburn. " I expect him 
 to-day yet."
 
 76 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Oh, indeed, and you're going to take your boy back ; 
 all the better, I am sure, from having been under the 
 care of Mr. and Mrs Gilbert." 
 
 " Oh, very much better indeed, and his papa and I 
 are very grateful," etc., etc.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE dinner at Mrs. Gilbert's was not likely served & 
 la JRusse, more probably a la rustic / it was strictly a 
 family party, and before they sat down, Mr. Raeburn 
 arrived to make it complete. 
 
 A family party is not unnaturally supposed to be a 
 very blessed thing, as it ought to be, but by a sarcastic 
 twist in human affairs sometimes it is not. Job was a 
 patient man, he was also a wise one when he offered up 
 sacrifices after a family party in case they had sinned in 
 their hearts. Mahomet too must have had a family 
 party in his eye he had reason to dread them when 
 describing Paradise he said, " Ye shall sit opposite one 
 another, and all grudges shall be taken out of your 
 hearts." Six people, exclusive of the young generation, 
 were round the schoolmaster's table, wearing the ap- 
 pearance of good-fellowship, but the grudges had not 
 been taken out of all their hearts. Mr. Gilbert was per- 
 suaded, and had made known his conviction to Mrs. 
 Gilbert, that if Mr. Raeburn had intended or wished to 
 be present at the examination he might have been so. 
 " Business was the excuse, and he might have business, 
 but nothing so desperately pressing that it could not 
 have been delayed for a few hours, or managed without 
 him, but of course he did not think it worth while. I 
 believe," he wound up indignantly, " he does not know 
 the value of education, except so far as it can help him
 
 78 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 to make money." In reality, Mr. Raeburn had been 
 very anxious to come, and had said so, but Mr. Gilbert 
 knew better. 
 
 Miss Raeburn sat opposite her sister-in-law, and lost 
 herself in astonishment as to what could have been the 
 attraction for her brother neither looks, nor mind, nor 
 even money, and a man so superior in every way ; for 
 Miss Raeburn, like many sisters, had the amiable weak- 
 ness of believing that her brother was no every-day 
 prize for any woman, and there sat his wife, ordinary 
 among the ordinary. 
 
 Newspaper matter is generally safe in most compa- 
 nies, and Miss Raeburn threw the topics of the day on 
 the carpet with considerable success, and in time the 
 feast came to a close not more ignominiously than many 
 of a more ambitious kind have done. 
 
 Mr. Raeburn went home with his sister, and sat for 
 an hour with her. " Do you like to live here alone ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I like it, or probably I wouldn't do it. I am 
 a good deal given to do what I like." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but do you not feel dull at times ? " 
 
 " To be sure, if a kitten lives it must grow into a cat, 
 but I often feel inclined to run round after my tail even 
 yet. Do you never feel dull ? " 
 
 " I have not much time to be dull." 
 
 " But you should take time, or make it ; it must be 
 dreadful never to feel dull." 
 
 " You're always like yourself, Joan. What I was 
 going to say was, wouldn't you think of coming to live 
 with us ? " 
 
 " You have never had any reason to think that I have 
 been disappointed in love ? " she said. 
 
 " Xo ; I hope you haven't."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 79 
 
 " I never have, and I don't think it's likely I shall be 
 now; too late, I doubt, too late." 
 
 " Don't speak nonsense. I was asking if you could 
 think of coming to live with us ? " 
 
 " And you don't see the sequence of ideas ? Well, 
 it takes a disappointment of the kind I have mentioned 
 to turn out in perfection the kind of article you want : 
 a meek, wise, clever, handy idiot, with no more appa- 
 rent will or wish of her own than harlequin has bones. 
 No ; I am not good enough yet." 
 
 " What do you do from morning to night ? " 
 
 " I enjoy myself." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it. I thought you would not know 
 what to do." 
 
 " Not a bit ; besides, I can enjoy myself remarkably 
 well doing nothing." 
 
 " You would enjoy yourself much better with us." 
 
 " Thank you. No ; I'm not good enough." 
 
 " You used to be fond of company. I wonder you 
 like to live here alone." 
 
 " Better hang loose than an ill tether." 
 
 " Oh, as for tethers, unless they are something des- 
 perate altogether, one gets accustomed to them. You 
 come to like anything that's your own, if it be but a dic- 
 tionary or an umbrella." 
 
 " Do you remember, Jamie, when you went first 
 from home, how I used to describe my bonnets in my 
 letters, and you criticised them ? Those were innocent 
 days. You have no time for that now." 
 
 " Describe your bonnets, and I'll do so still." 
 
 " Not you ! The world is too much with you. Be- 
 sides, I hardly know now what like my bonnets are my- 
 self." 
 
 " You're wrong, Joan. I may be with the world a
 
 80 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 good deal, but the world is not with me. I get plenty, 
 but I don't spend much at least that people see. Prob- 
 ably they say that my mind is narrow, not able to ex- 
 pand with circumstances, but I can't in conscience bring 
 up my boys in luxurious tastes and habits." 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " I try to do my best. I thought maybe you would 
 have helped me." 
 
 " If I could ; but it would not do. It's no use speak- 
 ing." 
 
 " So I suppose. You are really happy here you are 
 sure?" 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 " Well, I'll have to go now, or the schoolmaster's 
 face will grow dark." 
 
 " Yes, go by all means, although I would like to have 
 you longer ; but better go than give offence." 
 
 He went, and Miss Raeburn fell to musing. " It 
 would not do," she thought. " I wonder he does not 
 see it would not do. Jane would grow jealous, and I 
 would lose my temper, and live in a state of chronic ir- 
 ritation, and despise myself for doing so, and I have so 
 much enjoyment here; life has such a keen relish, al- 
 though you don't get people to believe that. ' A dic- 
 tionary or an umbrella ! ' and it has come to that. Poor 
 Jamie, I'm vexed for him. I wonder his pride let him 
 confess it," Thus Miss Raeburn ; and she was sorry, no 
 doubt of it. Still there is a certain satisfaction in hear- 
 ing a person allow that his wisdom may have been at 
 fault, and if it had been a less serious matter Miss Rae- 
 burn would have felt this, but as it was she only pitied 
 her brother. She might have spared herself the trouble. 
 Mr. Raeburn had made the dictionary and umbrella re- 
 mark not thinking of his own case at all. He was well
 
 QUIXSTAR. 81 
 
 enough pleased with his wife. A man brushing about 
 the world, and having a -large business to manage, has 
 something else to do than recall phrases and attach 
 weight to them they were never intended to bear ; but 
 some women are apt to do this. They sit and think ; 
 they do a good deal of their work and think for it 
 needs little attention ; and while a man has the tear and 
 wear of big wheels grinding big things with movement 
 and sound, a woman has the tear and wear of small 
 wheels revolving quietly, and grinding well, grinding 
 sometimes things not worth turning over twice ; and this 
 was what Miss Raeburn did with her brother's remark. 
 But there is something in it. Having selected your dic- 
 tionary and chosen your umbrella, you are apt to stand 
 by them. 
 
 When Mr. Raeburn and his wife were .alone that 
 night she said, " Do you know that Mr. Gilbert is offend- 
 ed because you did not come in time for the examina- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know ; I have explained the reason to him, 
 and if he will still be offended I can't help it." 
 
 " It's a pity, though. You see a man of your wealth 
 and influence is so much counted on " 
 
 " I know that perfectly, and Gilbert thinks I look 
 down on him. I look down on no good man. I am not 
 so idiotic as not to value wealth, but I know I have won 
 it when many a better man has not; and as for position, 
 every man is born to a position that will tax all his 
 powers to fill. I have no patience with Gilbert's small 
 touchiness. It would be nothing to me to give him four 
 times what he chai'ges for James's year hei'e, but I daren't 
 do it ; he would think I was insulting him. Whether 
 I should think more or less of him for that I'm not sure. 
 It's not often you can kill a dog with a bone." 
 4*
 
 82 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Well, it's a pity," sighed Mrs. Raeburn. 
 
 " Yes, I have been trying to get help for you, but 
 have failed." 
 
 "How? what help?" 
 
 " I asked Joan to come and live with us." 
 
 " And she won't ? I daresay not. I know nobody 
 so well off. I often envy her ; she has neither care nor 
 toil. I am always tired and anxious when the servants 
 quarrel, and the boys are unruly. I feel as if I could 
 fling everything at my feet, and run away." 
 
 Mr. Raeburn exerted himself to comfort and cheer 
 his wife, showing that she was more to him than a dic- 
 tionary or umbrella ; and it was well, for the fibres of 
 both their natures were to be strained as they had not 
 been yet, and also, in sailor phrase, spliced more closely 
 than they had been hitherto.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 NEXT morning Bell Sinclair was in the garden, stand- 
 ing at her uncle's favorite point of view, looking over 
 the wall to the water as it murmured away down below 
 the bridge. She saw Peter Veitch coming along, and 
 when he was near she called, " Peter." He glanced up. 
 " What did you put on your hair yesterday that made it 
 look so funny and streaky ? " 
 
 "Cream. Do you ken what's happened?" he said, 
 in a very subdued way, compared with his usual brisk 
 tones. 
 
 " No. What has happened ? nothing bad ? " 
 
 " Jamie Raeburn " and Peter stopped, his voice 
 failing him as he realized the fact, "Jamie Raeburn " 
 
 " You have not been doing any ill, you and he ? " she 
 asked, " have you ? " 
 
 " No. He is drooned. I saw him taken out o' ane 
 o' the holes up the water no' half an hour syne." Both 
 were dumb for a second after such awful news. 
 
 " Was nothing done were they doing nothing to 
 bring life back ? People are often " 
 
 " He had been ower lang in, Bell. If 1 had been 
 there I could have saved him, I think. I could hae got- 
 ten him out quick; but there was naebody there but 
 wee laddies." 
 
 Bell heard the breakfast-bell ring. " I'll have to go 
 in, Peter."
 
 84 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 He nodded, and with all their deeper thoughts of 
 this, the first tragedy that had cora-e close home to them, 
 unsaid, they parted. 
 
 '' Who was that you were speaking to over the wall, 
 Bell ? " asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " Peter Veitch. Oh, mamma " 
 
 " Peter Veitch ! How often have I told you to hold 
 no unnecessary intercourse with people of his class ? 
 Did you address him first, or did he address you ? " 
 
 " I spoke to him, and he told me that Jamie Rae- 
 burn was drowned this morning when he was bathing." 
 
 "Jamie Raeburn ! How did it happen?" asked 
 Tom, with his mouth full. 
 
 " Indeed ! a very sad thing," said Mrs. Sinclair, " how- 
 ever it happened. It is a painful dispensation to his 
 parents. Let it be a lesson to you, Tom, to be careful. 
 I don't know that I should allow you to bathe. It will 
 cast quite a gloom over the locality." 
 
 " The water is so low just now, I would not have 
 thought it dangerous," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " It was in a deep pool," said Bell. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair glanced at Tom ; he was eating more 
 seriously than usual. He was generally serious at meals. 
 Mr. Sinclair's nieces were not eating, and tears were 
 gleaming in their eyes. He looked at his watch ; it was 
 half-past eight. 
 
 How was the news received at the schoolmaster's 
 house ? Mrs. Gilbert had been up early ; she generally 
 was. The great objection to women attempting the 
 practice of medicine is stated to be their want of 
 strength and nerve, but so far as an outside spectator 
 may judge, the ordinary work of a doctor seems a joke 
 compared to what many women undergo not in strain- 
 ing to ape a class above them, but merely trying to
 
 QUIXSTAR. 85 
 
 make the most of a narrow income in their own sphere. 
 Keeping up appearances may sometimes be a farce, but 
 letting them down is apt to be a tragedy. Mrs. Gil- 
 bert, like many other good women, kept them up. She 
 looked well to the ways of her household. Usually she 
 had a servant recommended as being one to whom she 
 might intrust untold gold, but that was the only thing 
 she could be trusted with untold, and as it was not an 
 article lying about in every corner the advantage was the 
 less. The eye and hand of her mistress must be con- 
 stantly about her, or there was a chance world immedi- 
 ately. Nor in this was Mrs. Gilbert to be pitied. 
 Work, active handwork, even what is called menial, is 
 no hardship, and if not overdone is the best tonic for 
 body and mind. A doctor may say that he is worked to 
 death. Mrs. Raeburn said she was always tired, but 
 Mrs. Gilbert never said to any one, and could not say 
 to her husband, that she was wearied, although that was 
 a frequent thing, for he would at once have made out 
 that she was reproaching him, and that she was con- 
 trasting her own lot with her sister's. Many a woman 
 has been silent in similar circumstances, but it is a dan- 
 gerous thing teaching man, woman, child, or nation to 
 hold its tongue. A death-like torpor or an explosion is 
 likely to be the result. Silence is not always golden, it 
 is sometimes wretchedly leaden. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert was up early, and she saw .and spoke to 
 James as he went out. All she said was, " Good-morning, 
 Jamie ; is John not going with you ? " 
 
 " No ; he is lazy this morning," and, whistling care- 
 lessly, James shut the door with a bang, which Mrs. Gil- 
 bert thought would rouse her inmates, and she felt an- 
 noyed, but speedily forgot her annoyance, having all kinds 
 of small details to attend to.
 
 86 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 The family were assembled, with the exception of 
 James, and breakfast was on the table. Mrs. Gilbert 
 proposed waiting a little for him, but his father said, " No ; 
 James knew the hour, would Mrs. Gilbert just go on." 
 Mr. Gilbert said, " Certainly, go on," and they all sat and 
 ate and chatted, Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Raeburn, hitting 
 on some topics about which they agreed, and still James 
 did not come. " There he is ! " said his mother, as footsteps 
 approached the door, but it was only the untold-gold 
 maiden, to say that a person wanted to speak to Mr. 
 Gilbert. Mr. Gilbert rose and went out to meet the 
 messenger of evil tidings. "Impossible," he said, 
 " drowned ! impossible." " It's true tho', sir," said the 
 man; "the doctor has beeu working with him for an 
 hour, but it's no use ; he thinks he had struck his head 
 on a stone, and had been stunned." 
 
 " Tell your mistress to come here," Mr. Gilbert said 
 to his servant, who was listening with a whitened face. 
 Many times he had been stung by the boy's thoughtless 
 sallies, but this was awful drowned ! It was soon all 
 known nothing could alter it, neither his mother's tears 
 nor his father's hidden grief. He was the first of these 
 school-fellows to end his career. In time he became, even 
 in the hearts of his father and mother, a kind of tender 
 dream ; by others he was forgotten, or remembered as a 
 fact merely a thing that had been. Out of Mrs. Gil- 
 bert's great grief for her sister and brother crept a feeling 
 of thankfulness that her own son was spared to her her 
 only son, her first-born ; the Raeburns had six left, but if 
 John had been taken, on whom she and his father built 
 so much, how could they have borne it ? It was a say- 
 ing among the heathen, " whom the gods love die young," 
 and it is certain that death, the death of a child, is not 
 the heaviest sorrow given to man to carry. The Gil-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 87 
 
 bert children were awe-struck ; it was a fearful shadow 
 that had come in at their door. Mrs. Sinclair went to 
 call and offer her sympathy to Mrs. Raebum, but that 
 lady declined to see any one, and Mrs. Gilbert was com- 
 missioned to tell her that she, Mrs. Sinclair, knew her 
 every feeling, having come through it all twice she had 
 had two lovely children torn from her by death, but 
 from the first she considered they were provided for far 
 better than she could provide for them ; and a great deal 
 more she said which Mrs. Gilbert did not think neces- 
 sary to transmit to the bereaved mother. Mrs. Sinclair 
 asked the children to Old Battle House for the day " for," 
 she said, " it would be unbecoming for them to amuse 
 themselves here, and they can't sit still all day and weep." 
 She took them with her, and John and Tom employed 
 themselves quietly in the stable-yard sawing wood for 
 some purpose of their own, while the girls went into 
 the garden, where Mr. Sinclair chanced to overhear 
 them laughing. He took out his watch and said to him- 
 self, " Tears at half-past eight, laughter at half-past three 
 shallow from beginning to end; they are all alike." 
 
 It did not strike Mr. Sinclair as a happy thing that 
 children should have short memories for their griefs, 
 and be easily diverted from them for a time. If he had 
 been crying and laughing in the course of a short time 
 it might have been feather-headed enough, but that 
 children should do so is the happy arrangement of a higher 
 power. It is to be feared his nature had met some sort 
 of wrench, that he had been deceived, whether in love 
 or friendship cannot be known; but such a deception 
 creates a frightful recoil ; it makes faith and love shrink 
 to .the furthest corner, never perhaps to come fairly and 
 frankly out again. However, it might only be Mr. Sin- 
 clair's ignorance of children, and his want of observation ;
 
 88 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 at any rate, if there was such an episode in his life it was 
 well Mrs. Sinclair had no inkling of it, for inevitably she 
 would have raked it up there are people who will trail 
 ghoul-like fingers through such a spot from maliciousness, 
 or to gratify a low curiosity ; she would have lugged in 
 the topic to offer sympathy, or merely as a thing to talk 
 of, and unconsciously would have earned life-long dis- 
 like, or something very much stronger; she would not 
 have been long at Old Battle House. 
 
 When Mr. and Mrs. Raeburn left, Miss Raeburn 
 went with them. Her sympathies were moved by the 
 circumstances, and although, unlike Mrs. Sinclair, she 
 had no propensity for going about to make herself 
 of use, she organized her brother's household ; things fell 
 into shape before her with no appearance of effort. The 
 fact that Miss Raeburn had nothing but herself to super- 
 intend was a waste of power ; but waste is a law of the 
 world, and she did not feel it so herself; she had made 
 her choice deliberately, and held to it. Meagre, you 
 will say, her nature must have been, wanting in some- 
 thing possibly, but yet you know, though a vessel may 
 be small, if it is full what is there to desire ?
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OLD Mrs. Gilbert, the schoolmaster's aunt, was at 
 once feeble-minded and simple-minded a character it 
 is remarkably easy to put in a ridiculous light. She en- 
 joyed much the kind of religious meetings where the 
 pasture seems not only bare, but sickly, and the litera- 
 ture on her tables was of the same order ; but she was 
 so kindly and humble and industrious, that you felt, 
 though you could assimilate next to nothing out of her 
 mental pabulum, it must have had some life-giving 
 power, or she could not have thriven on it as she did. 
 Now, she liked the Gilbert girls well enough, but she 
 was foolishly fond of John, so fond of him that she 
 bribed him to go with her and another old lady to a 
 weekly prayer-meeting. John walked along the street 
 with them, and sat out the hour demurely. It was a 
 queer old church in which this meeting was held, with 
 galleries in unexpected places, in which, if you sat in an 
 ordinary position, your back was to the speaker. This 
 did not distress John. He arranged himself as comfort- 
 ably as circumstances would permit, and circumstances 
 permitted a good deal of comfort in a quiet way, for the 
 pews were so deep and the lights so sparse that he was 
 entirely sheltered from observation, and could amuse him- 
 self measuring with his eye the great brown beams over 
 his head, or spelling out the half-obliterated texts of 
 Scripture that had been painted long ago on the front
 
 90 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 of the galleries. When more familiar with the situation 
 he wrote his school-exercises for the next day, Mrs. Gil- 
 bert supposing he was taking notes of what the minister 
 was saying, which gave her a glow of happiness, espe- 
 cially as she always found him able to respond intelli- 
 gently to any remarks she made after. Mrs. Gilbert 
 did not mention to any one that she gave John a shilling 
 an hour for his company on these occasions, nor did he 
 mention it, for he had the idea that if his father and 
 mother knew of this source of income it would be 
 stopped at once ; and he was right. It was Mrs. Gil- 
 bert's custom to have her young friends to spend an 
 evening with her once a week, and on the week after the 
 breaking up of the school, and the sudden and melan- 
 choly death of James Raeburn, she asked the Sinclairs 
 also, proposing to improve that distressing event to 
 them all. Now a person whose life is on the lees, and 
 who has seen death so often that in talking the very 
 word seems to have shed part of its awful meaning at 
 least such a person as Mrs. Gilbert has no idea what 
 effect a subject like this has on the minds of children. 
 Much better surely to prepare them for life than for 
 death ; they were not likely to forget the naked fact 
 which had been put before their eyes with such start- 
 ling power. Her intention was good no doubt, but it 
 was overruled by nature's law you cannot put an old 
 head on young shoulders. The awe-stricken faces of the 
 group disappeared instantly as they burst into the gar- 
 den, where they found their school-fellow, Peter Veitch, 
 at woi'k. 
 
 " Peter ought to have his tea with us," Bell remarked. 
 
 " I wonder to hear you," said her sister. " What would 
 mamma say ? He is not at all in our sphere." 
 
 " No," said John Gilbert. " Peter is not fit to oa! with
 
 QUIXSTAR. 91 
 
 Clara and Julia de Lacy, the daughters of a gentleman." 
 He stopped, for he had begun to peel a turnip with his 
 teeth, which he had drawn from the earth and washed in 
 the burn. The others followed his example ; the turnips 
 were delicious, eaten while sitting on the top of the gar- 
 den dike. When Peter's hour of release came the boys 
 had a game, the girls looking on from the top of the 
 dike ; then they all adjourned to a forest of gooseberries, 
 and came pretty close up with happiness. Being hurt by 
 fruit or raw vegetables was a thing unknown, nor did 
 they take cold, and as yet cod-liver oil was not ; the cod 
 might enjoy his liver in the cool retreats about New- 
 foundland for that virtue could go out of it was still 
 among things not generally known. 
 
 But the dark shadow came back in the night. John 
 and Tom were hardier spirits, and they buried their 
 heads in the bedclothes, and put themselves rapidly to 
 sleep with the multiplication-table ; but the girls wept 
 bitterly. Bell could not sleep ; her imagination got the 
 upper hand, and terror took possession of her, till, do as 
 she would, she could not suppress a loud scream, which 
 brought Maddy to her side immediately. 
 
 " What is it ? what is it ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, I could not help it, Maddy ! I thought I saw 
 James Raeburn hi his coffin, and he moved ! I'm cer- 
 tain he moved ! " 
 
 " Wheesht, wheesht, bairn 1 " said Maddy soothingly, 
 stifling her own eeriness at such a statement; ye've been 
 dreaming." 
 
 " But do you think it possible, Maddy ? Oh, it would 
 be horrible ! " 
 
 " It's no' possible. Try no' to think about it, and fa' 
 asleep." 
 
 " But I can't sleep ! Oh what a fearful life an under-
 
 92 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 taker's is, to feel so often as I have felt since James died ! 
 Money can't pay them ! " 
 
 Maddy could not help smiling. " They get used to 
 it, ye ken ; they get used to it," she said. 
 
 " Used to it ! I would never get used to it. I would 
 be in a perpetual state of grief or terror." 
 
 " Have ye heard about Peter Veitch ?" asked Maddy, 
 with the instinct all nurses have of diverting, turning the 
 thoughts to something else as the speediest consolation. 
 
 " No," said Bell eagerly. " I saw him to-night, but 
 I heard nothing particular." 
 
 " Guess what business he wants to be ? " 
 
 " He is very clever. I can't guess ; I never heard 
 him say what he thought of doing." 
 
 " What would you think of a sailor ? " 
 
 " It is dangerous ; he might be drowned." 
 
 "No fear! he's just a bit cork. But I'se warrant his 
 mother will be clean against it. I'm sure folk that hae 
 bairns havena their sorrows to seek." 
 
 " I don't think Peter will ever be a sorrow to his 
 father or mother." 
 
 " If he persists in gaun to the sea, his mother'll greet 
 her een out about it." 
 
 " He'll not go if his mother does not let him," Bell 
 said in a drowsy tone, sleep having come suddenly on 
 her. 
 
 Maddy waited a little, and all being quiet, she, in 
 the language of Effie's models of composition, retired 
 once more to her couch to seek repose.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PETER VEITCH was a youth of affairs, and erratic in 
 his habits, if he could be said to have habits. His mother 
 sometimes remarked " that often she did not see him the 
 whole, blessed day," but of late he had hung a good deal 
 about the house, watching his mother performing her 
 small household duties, while he employed himself with 
 the model of a ship he was making. 
 
 " Mother," he said suddenly one day, " I think I could 
 keep a house myself, and make the meat too." 
 
 " I dinna see there's ony thing to hinder ye, if ye like 
 to tak' patience and pay attention. I've kenned men 
 that lived their lanes ; but it's no common, and I hope 
 it's no in your lot." 
 
 " But I may be cast on a desert island, mother." 
 
 " Weel, when that happens, it'll be as weel that ye 
 dinna ken about housekeeping, as ye'll no likely get a' 
 the bits o' things that's needed lying ready to your 
 hand ; and what ye diuna ken about ye'll no miss sae 
 muckle. Laddie, hae ye nae notion o' what ye wad like 
 to be ? Wad ye no care for being a gardener, like your 
 farther?" 
 
 " I'm no gaun to be a gardener, mother." 
 
 " Then what wad ye like to be ? " and a light flashed 
 in her face. " Wad ye be a minister ? It wad cost a 
 heap, but we wad manage it." 
 
 " If I wanted to be a minister, or a doctor either, I
 
 C4 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 would manage it, but I'm no gaun to be onything o' 
 the kind." 
 
 " Then what are ye thinking o' ? Ye'll hae to mak' 
 up your mind or lang." 
 
 " I've made up my mind lang syne, but I never tell'd 
 ye for fear o' vexin' ye." 
 
 " Vexin' me, bairn ! Ye'll no vex me if ye learn an 
 honest trade and behave yoursel'." 
 
 " Mother, I want to be a sailor." 
 
 Mrs. Veitch looked at her. son, and her face grew 
 white. "Laddie, ye'll no say that again unless ye want 
 to be the death o' me," she said. " Ye dinna ken what 
 yeVe speaking about. A sailor ! that comes o' readin' 
 that Crusoe book. If I had kenned, it hadna come 
 within the door." 
 
 " It's no the book's fau't, mother ; readin' it didna 
 mak' me want to be a sailor. It was because I wanted 
 to be a sailor that I read it." 
 
 " Ye'll never gang to the sea wi' my consent, Peter. 
 Ye dinna ken what a hard, coarse life it is ; beside the 
 constant awful risk. " 
 
 "Mother, I've set my heart on't. What wad ye 
 do for your tea and sugar if naebody gaed to the sea ? " 
 
 "I'm no saying that naebody should gang to the 
 sea; I'm only.sayin 1 that ye shouldna gang. I'll never 
 get a wink o 1 sleep if it's a high wind. The life o' a 
 common sailor " 
 
 " But I'm no gaun to be a common sailor." 
 
 " Laddie, what can ye be ? " 
 
 "Lean be an uncommon sailor." 
 
 " Ye maun aye hae your joke, Peter. But it's a hard 
 life a sailor's very hard, and puir pay." 
 
 " Gardeners dinna often mak' siller either, mother." 
 
 " But it's a pleasant job what the Almighty set the
 
 QUIXSTAR. 5 
 
 first man to do afore there was sic a thing as sin and 
 misery in the warld." 
 
 " Ay, but Adam didna gang out o' ae gentleman's 
 place into anither, making a' things right and tasting 
 naething. If him and his wife had hunkered for days 
 among strawberries, and packed them a' up for the 
 market, without putting ane in their mouths, I wadna 
 blamed them for eatin' an apple when they had the 
 chance." 
 
 " Peter, that's a daurin' way o' speakin', and if ye gang 
 awa' to the sea ye'll just break lowse frae a' that's guid." 
 
 " I'm nae mair likely to do that on the sea than on 
 the land. " 
 
 " Weel, weel ; ye'll see what your faither'll say." 
 
 " He said I wad see what my mother wad say." 
 
 Mrs. Veitch said no more ; she, could not say more 
 just then, and Peter also wisely let the subject drop. 
 But perhaps Mrs. Veitch was herself to blame for her 
 son's strong seagoing propensity. It has been stated as 
 a softer touch relieving the rude recklessness of the race, 
 that the thrifty wives of the Norsemen, when they 
 handed a towel to their husbands, warned them- not to 
 plunge boldly into the middle of it, but to go round 
 the sides, and come to the middle in due time, making 
 the towel serve a certain fixed period, and serve it well. 
 Judged by such traits as this, Mrs. Veitch's veins must 
 have run Norse blood wholly ; so how could the boy 
 help seeking towards the sea? Besides, the name 
 Veitch is the modern form of the grand old Norman 
 De Vesci, which brings in his father guilty also. No 
 wonder that the instinct of the old sea-rovers broke out 
 in Peter, thus hemmed in ; he had hardly a choice. 
 
 One morning Mrs. Sinclair having tossed up the 
 newspaper topics as usual, said to her brother-in-law
 
 96 QtJIXSTAR. 
 
 "I hear that boy Veitch wants to go to sea, and 
 his parents are in great distress about it. Could you 
 not prevent it ? Take him as groom or something ? 
 I've spoken to Mr. Kennedy about it, and he says, ' Let 
 the boy go ; if he tires he'll come back, and if not, why 
 the navy must be manned,' but it is his parents I feel 
 for. I have a deep sympathy with parents." 
 
 " I don't want a groom," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " And Peter would not be a groom. I think he 
 means to rise in the world," Bell said. 
 
 " Poor stupid thing ! What does he expect to rise 
 to ? " asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " To be Admiral of the Fleet, probably," said Mr. 
 Sinclair. 
 
 "There's nothing too absurd," Mrs. Sinclair said. 
 " If people would only, as Mr. Kennedy says, know 
 how much happier they would be by resting contented 
 in the positions in which they find themselves ! " 
 
 " Is Mr. Kennedy unhappy because he is out of his 
 original position ? " asked Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " What was his original position ? " 
 
 " His origin was not lofty." 
 
 " Maddy says he once worked at the same bench as 
 her father," said Bell. 
 
 " Indeed ! " and Mr. Kennedy fell in Mrs. Sinclair's 
 esteem from that hour. It is to be hoped he never had 
 a greater fall. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair meeting Peter Veitch in the garden 
 shortly after, said to him 
 
 " I hear your son wants to go to sea, Peter ? " 
 
 Leaning on the handle of his rake, Peter gave a sigh 
 and said 
 
 " Ay, sir ; it's ower true." 
 
 " Well, Peter, when a boy's head is filled with that
 
 QUIXSTAR. 97 
 
 idea, he is not likely to do much good at anything else. 
 Better let him have his full swing at once." 
 
 " Ay, sir." 
 
 " But do you not think so ? " 
 
 " There's just ae thing that hinders me seeing the 
 thing in sic a distinct light." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " Just this : that I happen to be the laddie's faither." 
 
 " True, Peter ; but when a boy's inclination for any 
 line of life is so decided, it is a cruel thing to thwart him 
 a cruel thing ; " probably Mr. Sinclair was thinking of 
 his own experience " And you are not the first father 
 that's had to give in in such a case." 
 
 " Na ; I'm no the first, and I'll no be the last. If look 
 ing at other folk's trials is ony consolation, it's o' a 
 kind that may be gathered by the bushel." 
 
 " What I mean to say, Peter, is this. If you make 
 up your mind to let the boy go. I know a captain of a 
 vessel, a respectable man, on whom you might depend 
 for doing well by him, and I'll fit him out. I'm in his 
 debt, and would like to serve him," and he walked 
 away, leaving Peter to chew the cud. 
 
 " He means weel," Peter thought ; " but he kens nae- 
 thing aboot it. It's a queer thing that a wilfu' laddie bent 
 on breaking his mother's heart, should get a gentleman 
 to step forward to help him to do it very queer." 
 
 But Peter did not wish to break his mother's heart, 
 
 and his mother felt that, whatever she might say. He 
 
 had that dash of tenderness in his nature a bit of 
 
 woman which no good man is without, but it hardly 
 
 made him falter in his determination, and it could not 
 
 change it. Coming in one afternoon with a headache, he 
 
 laid himself up in the old-fashioned chair by the side of 
 
 ' the fire, and leaning his head in the corner where its stiff 
 
 5
 
 98 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 upright back and elbow met, he shut his eyes and 
 listened to his mother's footsteps. Boys are not usually 
 sentimental, but Peter was soothed unconsciously, and 
 when his mother stopped in one of her many journeys 
 between the table and the fire, for she was ironing, 
 and was often changing her irons and looking at him, 
 said, " Puir thing, he has fa'en asleep," and went and 
 brought a shawl, which she laid softly over him, she did a 
 thing he never forgot. The fireplace was a wide open 
 one, the primitive grate* only some iron bars fixed 
 between stones, which stones, even those behind the fire, 
 were all white the smoke curling up warily and softly, 
 while the kettle stood among the white scenery like a 
 big snail, black and shining. The screen on which Mrs. 
 Veitch hung the clothes as she finished them was stand- 
 ing between the window and the fire, and shaded Pe- 
 ter's face from the light; the cat was sharpening its 
 claws on the foot of it a favorite employment of 
 pussy's. Mrs. Yeitch gave it a push and said, " Gae way, 
 beast," then glanced at her son to see if the noise had 
 roused him, but his eyes were still shut. He was not 
 sleeping though. Many times when he was up among 
 the rigging in cold and fog, and his ship dancing like an 
 egg-shell on a wild sea, this " cottage interior " came up 
 before him. The drowsy afternoon, the subdued hum 
 of the town, his mother's footfall and pussy's scratching, 
 made themselves heard amid the mad roar of winds and 
 waters. For he carried his point, and went to sea ; and 
 his departure was not by any means an event in the 
 place. His father went with him to the station, saw him 
 into the train, shook his hand, and said 
 
 " See and behave yersel', Peter ; and mind, never tell 
 a lee." 
 
 " I'll try, faither."
 
 QTTIXSTAK. 99 
 
 And the boy was launched. The father watched the 
 train till it disappeared in the distance, then walked 
 home slowly, and with a heavy heart. The son could 
 not sit still; he leaned back, and he looked out of the 
 window, and he whistled ; he was in a state of boundless 
 elatiort: he had gained his end; he was abroad in the 
 world on his own resources; body and mind were effer- 
 vescing with young life, and he did not know fear. It is 
 to be doubted that fora time he did not think so often as 
 he should have done of the old folks at home. His moth- 
 er had gone with him to the end of the house, and said 
 
 " Fare ye weel, Peter, and tak' care o' yoursel', and 
 dinna forget to write when ye have a chance." 
 
 " Yes, I'll write I'll no forget," that was all, and 
 Mrs. Veitch turned back into her house, and sat down 
 arid uncurled and smoothed out her apron-strings, her- 
 face set and vacant, till the kettle began to boil and make 
 its lid dance, diverting her thoughts to her little house- 
 hold cares. When her husband came in he drew his 
 chair close to her, and laid his hand on hers, and they 
 looked each other in the face, with an expression some- 
 thing like that of a child that does not know whether to 
 laugh or cry, and won't do either. The wrench was a 
 grievous one, but there was hope in it. 
 
 "Weel, he is fairly off," said Peter; " but he'll be 
 back again some day." 
 
 " Ay, if he's no drooned, and doesna dee o' hard- 
 ship." 
 
 This pair had other children, but these had left the 
 house, and were jogging on in a decent honest way; 
 they caused no anxiety ; Peter was their yoimgest, the 
 light of the house, and they had a craving, hungry sense 
 of loss, wakeful nights and empty days, but what could 
 they do, except what most people have to do some time
 
 100 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 or other tighten the hunger-belt and move on ? When 
 people sit and brood over their sorrows, necessity or 
 conscience is the policeman who taps them on the shoul- 
 der, and says, " Move on, move on ; you are doing your- 
 self no good, and you are hindering the business of life ;" 
 and they move on, and the healing process is begun. 
 Nature never makes a rent but she immediately sets 
 about trying to repair it. She can't fill the gap and put 
 things as they were, but she will smooth and beautify it, 
 she will blow seeds into it that will grow and fructify ; 
 and woe betide the man who will persist in pulling them 
 up and exposing the unsightliness ! 
 
 When Miss Raeburn came back from setting her 
 brother's house in order, she was not long of calling for 
 Mrs. Veitch. " And Peter is away," she said. " I wish 
 I had seen him before he left. I'm fond of Peter." 
 
 Instead of condoling with Mrs. Veitch on the way- 
 wardness of boys in general, and of her son in particu- 
 lar, Miss Raeburn took Peter's departure as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 " I don't wonder at his choice. If I had been a boy 
 I think I would have gone to sea too." 
 
 " Maybe ; but I hope when Peter's had a trial o' the 
 sea hell come back, and content himsel' at hame." 
 
 " But you mustn't hope that. You must think that 
 he'll stick to his business, and be a credit to it and you. 
 If a sailor is not extra bad he is likely to be extra good ; 
 and Peter will hold by the right." 
 
 " Weel, I hope so. He was a clever laddie, and 
 there was nae ill in him. The minister ca'ed ae day, an' 
 he said the navy maun be manned, as if our bit callant 
 was gaun to mak' ony difference to the manning o' the 
 navy, puir thing! And Mr. Sinclair, he would help him 
 too, and get him a ship wi' a gude captain."
 
 QUIXSTAB. 101 
 
 " Indeed. I am glad to hear Mr. Sinclair took an in- 
 terest in him. I hardly know Mr. Sinclair ; he seemed 
 to me a dry kind of stick, but he mustn't be that alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " He was kind eneuch to Peter ; but," she said bit- 
 terly, " it's easy for folk that hae nae bairns o' their ain 
 to say the navy maun be manned." 
 
 " It makes a difference, no doubt," said Miss Raeburn 
 soothingly ; " but there's no fear of Peter. You'll be 
 proud of Peter yet, Mrs. Veitch." 
 
 " I've been far ower proud o' him already, and that's 
 the reason he's been sent away ; and maybe I'll get used 
 to it ; but oh, the day's lang, and the house is dull."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MRS. SINCLAIR was determined to have a tutor for 
 her children, in consequence of the place Tom held in 
 his class at the examination. Such a position was only 
 possible to him either by palpable neglect or partiality 
 on Mr. Gilbert's part. She had not yet mentioned her 
 plan to her brother-in-law, as she was not sure how he 
 might receive a proposal to add another inmate to his 
 household. She was not even sure that she herself had 
 a firm root in Old Battle House, till, to her surprise, 
 Mr. Sinclair said one day, " How long do you mean to 
 stay here ? I've been thinking that if you care for this 
 place you may as well remain as go back to Eastburgh." 
 
 This proposal looked as if it, were an impromptu, 
 but like Sheridan's brilliant things,, it had been carefully 
 thought over in bed, and was at legist pointed, if not pol- 
 ished. Mr. Sinclair had considered that these were his 
 brother's children, and that it might be his duty to keep 
 an eye on them. Mrs. Sinclair, it is true, was not his 
 ideal of womanhood, but she was kindly and good-na- 
 tured, and his sister-in-law, so he took this step. 
 
 " My dear Adam," said the lady, " you could have 
 said nothing that could give me more pleasure. We'll 
 stay ; we could be better nowhere. The house is com- 
 fortable, the climate good, the scenery fine, and the so- 
 ciety not inferior; and you'll help me to do my duty to 
 those dear children. This arrangement quite relieves 
 my anxieties."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 103 
 
 " Well, I'm very glad to hear it." 
 
 " And do you know, I've been thinking Mr. Gilbert, 
 to be sure, is a good man, and for Mrs. Gilbert, I have 
 nothing against her " 
 
 " I should think not," said Mr. Sinclair, wondering 
 what was coming. 
 
 " No, nothing ; but my family, I find, are of too sen- 
 sitive natures for an ordinary country school, and I have 
 been considering the propriety of engaging a tutor." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Mr. Sinclair on the spur of the 
 moment ; " I mean that Gilbert is a very fair teacher, 
 and you'll do more harm than good by making another 
 change." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? because I have set on foot 
 inquiries for a tutor already. I should be sorry if with- 
 drawing my countenance from Mr. Gilbert should hurt 
 him" 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt he'll be able to stand it. The 
 question is, Will you not injure your children ? " 
 
 " I hope not I fondly hope not if I get a proper 
 person. Mr. Kennedy has spoken to a friend of his in 
 Eastburgh, a man of experience, and he is to bring his 
 judgment to bear in the choice of one." 
 
 " Then possibly there is one engaged already ? " 
 
 " It is possible, but not likely." 
 
 " If he is not engaged, I would stop the thing at 
 once ; " and he walked away thinking, " She is a foolish 
 woman. It would take a microscope to discover Tom's 
 sensitive nature ; " while Mrs. Sinclair thought, " He 
 has no sympathy ; still, I would give way in anything 
 less important, but where my children are concerned I 
 am adamant." 
 
 Adamant may be, and no doubt is a very good and 
 necessary thing in its place, still you would have said
 
 104 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 that if children could be spoiled Mrs. Sinclair was tin- 
 woman to do it ; but though treatment is much, the 
 material to be treated is more. 
 
 When Mr. Gilbert resumed his duties he found his 
 highest class decimated. James Raeburn was gone, 
 Peter Veitch was away, Tom Smith was at an academy 
 in Eastburgh, and John Johnston, the dux of the school, 
 had entered a lawyer's office in that city, while un- 
 kindest cut of all Tom Sinclair was reserved for pri- 
 vate teaching. Mr. Gilbert's son kept the top of the 
 class, but it was a small honor to be at the top of a row 
 of mediocrities. The schoolmaster's eyebrows looked 
 bushier, and the pendulous under-lip hung heavier, and 
 his feelings betrayed themselves to the scholars in to 
 them flashes of unaccountable anger, and he went 
 back to his house feeling himself an injured man. " To 
 think," he said to himself, " that Raeburn should be 
 making thousands a year while I drudge on here for a 
 paltry pittance, and even the opportunity of drudging 
 seems fast disappearing ! " 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Gilbert cheerily, as he came in, 
 " the children tell me the school has not gathered fully 
 yet." 
 
 " Gathered no ! and the question is, Will it ever 
 gather ': " 
 
 " It has always gathered yet, and there seems no 
 reason why it should not gather this year as usual." 
 
 " Do you know that Mrs. Sinclair has not sent back 
 her children ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but the loss is hers, not ours. That she should 
 fail to appreciate your abilities does not surprise me." 
 
 " Oh, her judgment goes for nothing, true enough; 
 but you can't make the general public comprehend that, 
 and it is a slur on my reputation."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 105 
 
 " Which your reputation can stand triumphantly." 
 
 " Well, well, Mary, I can only hope that your son 
 may be more successful in life than his father has been." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert declared herself perfectly satisfied with 
 her husband's measure of success, which was true, al- 
 though, as he was not satisfied with it, many times she 
 wished it had been greater. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair secured her tutor, and the evening be- 
 fore he was expected she took an opportunity of saying 
 a word -to her children on the subject. They were in 
 the dining-room, and Mr. Sinclair was standing in one of 
 the windows with his hands in his pockets looking out. 
 
 " Now, my dears," she said, " you know we begin a 
 new era to-morrow. Mr. Doubleday comes " 
 
 " What a name for Tom ! " cried Bell. " I could 
 stand a doubleday now and then, but poor Tom ! Per- 
 haps, though, it may sometimes be read a doubleholi- 
 day." 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair would have enjoyed her daughter's pun 
 more if it had not been at Her son's expense. 
 
 " Well, I want to speak to you for a little," she said. 
 " What do you think is my chief earthly wish ? " paus- 
 ing for an answer. 
 
 " That papa were alive," said Erne. 
 
 " That Tom may be a great man," said Bell. 
 
 Tom's coming greatness at this moment wrapped it- 
 self in silence. 
 
 " Tom, my boy," his mother asked, " have you noth- 
 ing to say ? " 
 
 " No," was Tom's answer. 
 
 " Erne, my dear, to wish that your papa were alive 
 
 is to wish what is impossible ; to wish that Tom may 
 
 may be a great man is to wish what is possible enough ; 
 
 but my chief wish for you all three is your welfare. In 
 
 5*
 
 106 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 getting a tutor I have consulted that before everything. 
 The young man who is coming is poor, of course, but 
 you must not think less of him for that ; and as he can 
 have seen nothing of society, his manners may be awk- 
 ward, but I don't desire you to copy them. He is a 
 good scholar, and all I want you to do is to attend 
 faithfully to your lessons, and treat your teacher as 
 your equal." 
 
 " As their superior, you mean ? " said Mr. Sinclair 
 from his window. 
 
 " Yes, children, remember he is your superior in age, 
 and he knows more than you." 
 
 " And it is possible he may turn out a great man 
 some day," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " If he does, Tom," said Mrs. Sinclair, using the spur 
 gently, " he has begun in very disadvantageous circum- 
 stances compared with you." 
 
 " I don't want to be a great man," said Tom. 
 
 " You won't be disappointed, I suspect," thought 
 Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Tom, my son," said his mother, " that very speech 
 shows greatness. You can't help it." 
 
 " If I can be great without helping it, I'm willing," 
 said Tom. 
 
 " Goodness, Tom ! " said Bell, " are you to be the 
 Great Sinclair ? Mamma, are there any dormant peer- 
 ages in our line ? " 
 
 " Really I don't know, Bell." 
 
 " I know," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " And are there any ? " 
 
 " Yes ; they are all dormant together." 
 
 " Tom, you must waken them," said Bell. 
 
 " Be quiet, Bell," said Tom. " I tell you I don't 
 want to be great."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 107 
 
 " But if you can't help it Thomas Sinclair, Earl of 
 Quixstar." 
 
 " That will do, Bell," said her mother ; " don't tease." 
 
 Next day, when the tutor's chariot wheels were 
 heard approaching, Bell and Effie ensconced themselves 
 in the windows behind the curtains to get a glimpse of 
 the coming man. Tom, true to his great philosophizing 
 nature, was lying on the sofa, the current of his exist- 
 ence no way ruffled. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair entered with Mr. Doubleday, and in- 
 troduced him to his future pupils. He was not tall, and 
 he was thin ; a downy film was on his chin and upper 
 lip, although he looked old enough to have grown a 
 heavier crop; the corners of his mouth were turned up 
 a little on his cheeks, which gave it a crescent shape, the 
 effect of which was peculiar, and he had no forehead to 
 speak of, or if he had, it was hidden by the hair grow- 
 ing far down on it, and then standing sheer up like the 
 scrubby verdure on the side of a steep hill. Nor was 
 this exterior lighted up as it ought to have been by the 
 soul within ; on the contrary, his face might have been 
 that of a sheep, for all you could read in it. Perhaps 
 the soul found it difficult to get up an effective illumi- 
 nation through the small, dim, short-sighted eyes that 
 served it for windows. 
 
 " All the tutors I have read of," thought Bell, u had 
 young ladies falling in love with them ; it will be a very 
 long time before any one falls in love with our tutor. 
 I never saw such a comical mouth ; it is like the pictures 
 I have seen of elves." 
 
 Nor had Mr. Doubleday " an elegant manner and 
 an engaging address." Even Mrs. Sinclair's mind mis- 
 gave her, notwithstanding he had been so highly recom- 
 mended. Hitherto she had striven to keep her children
 
 108 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 unspotted from the vulgar, and here, by her own arrange- 
 ment, Avas a man sent into her house apparently to de- 
 feat her efforts, and it was vexatious, but being her own 
 arrangement she could not immediately quarrel with it. 
 If Mr. Doubleday were merely awkward, she trusted to 
 her own influence to mould his manners, and she set 
 herself to do it to put him at his ease, as she thought ; 
 the truth being that Mr. Doubleday could have stood 
 before kings perfectly at his ease, not from an excess of 
 assurance, but of simplicity. He was a curious being. 
 After he had been some time in the house, Maddy pro- 
 nounced, as her verdict on him, " that it was surprising 
 what he had, and what he hadna," an oracular utterance, 
 which might be applied to most people. So far as ap- 
 peared on the surface, what he had was an aptitude to 
 teach, and a child-like unworldliness ; Avhat he had not was 
 a capacity for putting his best foot foremost ; consequent- 
 ly you will not expect to hear that he was ever Prime 
 Minister or commanded the Channel Fleet, or in any shape 
 often .or ever saw his name in the newspapers, Maddy 
 Fairgrieve's greatometer. . He felt annoyed, as an un- 
 reasoning animal may do by a fly creeping on some part 
 of its body which it can reach neither w^ith tongue nor 
 tail, at Mrs. Sinclair's efforts to mould his manners, and 
 he generally withdrew to his own room, guided by the 
 same kind of instinct as leads the animal to take refuge 
 in the water. 
 
 By diligent and continuous hammering, as the months 
 slipped by Mr. Doubleday began to elicit sparks from 
 Tom's latent intellect, and even to make him take pleasure 
 in his lessons ; with the girls he had no difficulty they 
 were not stupid by any means, and they were easily 
 managed. Besides, their mamma kept dropping in his 
 ear that she di<l not wish them made learned women;
 
 QUIXSTAR. 109 
 
 he was to lend his efforts to make them generally intelli- 
 gent, that they might be able to converse well and agree- 
 ably. It was hard to ask Mr. Doubleday to put the 
 roof on a building for which he was not to lay any 
 secure foundation, and judging from his own powers in 
 this line he was not very likely to do it ; but Mrs. 
 Sinclair trusted a good deal to herself on the point. The 
 likelihood was that her children would inherit a conver- 
 sational gift at least they were not likely to be infected 
 with it by Mr. Doubleday. He was rather a silent person ; 
 he did not get very intimate with any one ; nobody ever 
 heard him say a word of his prospects, his retrospects, 
 his parents or relations, if he had any; even the place of 
 his birth was unknown. Mrs. Sinclair had put him into 
 the prophet's chamber the minor prophets' chamber, 
 a small room which overlooked the stable- yard, but he 
 was not sensitive to affronts not that there was any- 
 thing creeping or abject about him, but he did not no- 
 tice them ; it never occurred to him that he was not in 
 the best room of the house ; it was as natural for him 
 never to think of himself as it was for Mr. Gilbert to 
 be always thinking of himself. 
 
 There was one thing about the tutor that worried 
 Mrs. Sinclair most particularly, and that was his dress. 
 She said to her brother-in-law, " I'm sure it is strange 
 where annoyances come from there's Mr. Doubleday, 
 he's a good teacher, and if he is no acquisition in the 
 house he gives no trouble, but he dresses like a scare- 
 
 Cl'OW." 
 
 " Does he ? I have not noticed it." 
 
 " Like a scarecrow ; and he went to the shoemaker's, 
 it seems, with an old shoe in each pocket to get them 
 mended, and the servants are laughing at him; and I 
 don't wonder. It is a pity he has so little common sense."
 
 110 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 "If Sir Richard Cranstoun had taken his shoes to the 
 shoemaker you would only have thought him eccentric." 
 " Yes, if Sir Richard had done it, which is impossible. 
 And, thinking he might be short of money, I paid him 
 a quarters salary in advance, and spoke to him about 
 dressing better." 
 
 " You spoke to him about it ! I could not have done 
 that." 
 
 " I thought it a duty." 
 
 " You don't know what the lad may have to do with 
 his money." 
 
 " I know that his first duty is to make himself look 
 respectable. Why, people will say I don't pay him suf- 
 ficiently." 
 
 " But if you do, you don't need to care what people 
 say." 
 
 " But I care, and if I see it necessary I'll speak to 
 Mr. Doubleday again. If people are not respectable 
 they will not get respect." 
 
 " Well, they can want it ; that kind of it may not be 
 the breath of his nostrils ; he won't perish." 
 
 " If people are to be hi this world they must mind 
 appearances." 
 
 " I tlon't see the must.' 1 ' 1 
 
 " But I see it very distinctly. There's my friend 
 Miss Raeburn coming in ; I am very glad. Now, Miss 
 Raeburn," she said, after the usual salutations were over, 
 " What do you think of Mr. Doubleday when you see 
 him ? do you not feel inclined to pity him ? " 
 
 " I feel inclined to pity a great many people not 
 him particularly. I think he enjoys life. I watched 
 him a good while one day. He and I were walking the 
 same road; he did not notice me; he was kicking a 
 small stone before him ; sometimes he spoke to himself,
 
 QUIXSTAR. Ill 
 
 sometimes smiled, and always kept sight of the stone 
 following it and giving it a kick farther on." 
 
 " Do you think he can be crazy ? " asked Mrs. Sin- 
 clair anxiously. 
 
 " Not a bit. I think his mind was away in some 
 vague happy reverie, and kicking the stone was a kind 
 of unconscious effervescence of his mood. No, I don't 
 think he is to be pitied." 
 
 " But he wears shabby clothes, I am told," said Mr. 
 Sinclair. 
 
 " Oh, but that does not disturb him, and they are in 
 keeping ; Mr. Doubleday dressed up would not be Mr. 
 Doubleday. No, no, the old clothes don't interfere with 
 his enjoyment." 
 
 " But they interfere with mine," said Mrs. Sinclair ; 
 " it's all very well for you, who are not responsible, and 
 for Mr. Sinclair, who does not see ; but I both see and 
 feel, and if he is to be here he must dress better ; I can't 
 have him going about like a beggar. How would you 
 like, Miss Raeburn, a member of your household going 
 about an object of pity ? How would you like to be 
 pitied yourself, for instance ? " 
 
 " I don't in the least doubt that I am pitied, but as I 
 pity a lot of people, I can't in reason object to being 
 pitied, and it does me no harm." 
 
 " It ought to do you good," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Perhaps it does," rejoined Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " And what do you think you are pitied for ? " asked 
 Mrs. Sinclair ; " for being a single woman ? I assure 
 you I have known single women who were highly re- 
 spected and most useful in their circle, and when they 
 conduct themselves well, people don't laugh at them." 
 
 " But I don't object to being laughed at, Mrs. Sin- 
 clair," said Miss Raeburn. " If I could in any way add
 
 112 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 to the enjoyment of my fellow-creatures I would feel 
 that I had not lived in vain ; v besides, it's a diversion I 
 often indulge in myself, laughing at people mostly in 
 my sleeve, it is true, and really I can't help it." 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Sinclair," said her brother-in-law, " see 
 the advantage of being strong-minded. Miss Raeburn 
 can stand either pity or laughter." 
 
 " Well, I am not strong-minded, very far from it, 
 and it is well for you, Miss Raeburn, that you are ; but, 
 excepting always my great bereavement, there is 
 nothing any one can pity me for, and far less that they 
 could laugh at." 
 
 " It is a mercy," said Miss Raeburn, " that those that 
 need the armor have it, and that those who haven't it 
 don't need it."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IT was generally thought and said that Mr. Sinclair 
 had been a very active business man, but there is reason 
 to doubt that. A genuine business man in ordinary 
 health does not at fifty retire to lead a sort of demi-idle, 
 demi-student life in a country place. He had been the 
 head of a large and flourishing business, but, like Queen 
 Elizabeth, his merit had probably consisted more in 
 knowing when he had good servants and letting them 
 do the work, than in doing it himself; and when he ab- 
 dicated, he likely followed the bent of his taste. But 
 though he liked retirement and his own sitting-room 
 very well, it is not necessary to suppose that he could 
 not enjoy the company of such a lady as Miss Raeburn, 
 or the contrast between her and his sister-in-law quite 
 the contrary ; he had even a romantic vein in him, which 
 cropped to the surface occasionally, and might have been 
 worked with advantage if there had been any one to 
 work it. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Doubleday," he said, as the tutor enter- 
 ed, followed shortly by his young friends ; " have you 
 got the labors of the day over ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," he said, taking out a fat overgrown silver 
 watch and looking at it ; " it's past six o'clock.' 1 
 
 " I'm sure it is," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Labors of the day ! " Mrs. Sinclair said. 
 
 "I trust you and the dear children consider them 
 pleasures."
 
 114 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " I don't know. I try to make it labor both to them 
 and to myself." 
 
 " Do I understand you aright ? " asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am." 
 
 " You said you tried to make the children's lessons 
 labor to them ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair was dumb. 
 
 " And do you find they like it ? " asked Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " I find they don't like it," said Mr. Doubleday ; 
 " hard work is part of the curse." 
 
 " Mr. Doubleday ! " cried Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " But," said Mr. Doubleday, " there is goodness in 
 it. Hard work is good for a fallen race. Few people 
 learn anything that is worth learning easily." 
 
 " But my children are clever, and learn easily. They 
 need not work hard." 
 
 " The girls are quick, the boy is dull," said the tutor. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Doubleday, I never heard any one say 
 that before. You must be taking a wrong method with 
 Tom. Although I am the boy's mother, I can't help 
 seeing his abilities ; they may not be quite on the sur- 
 face " 
 
 "No, ma'am; not quite on the surface, but I don't 
 despair of making something of him, although it will be 
 uphill work for a time." 
 
 Now this might be and taking fallen human nature 
 into account, like Mr. Doubleday, probably it was fun 
 to Miss Raeburn and Mr. Sinclair, but it was death to 
 Mrs. Sinclair; so much so, that she lost sight of the shab- 
 by clothes in the tremendous and peculiar enormity of 
 hearing Tom stigmatized as dull. But think of Mr. 
 Doubleday with his personal appearance, his unfortu- 
 nate dress, and his atrocious truthfulness only the
 
 QUIXSTAR. 115 
 
 possession of the intellect of an archangel could enable 
 him to force a path in this world. And Mrs. Sinclair, 
 although she was perpetually blundering good-natur- 
 edly, it is true on the weak points of others, became 
 instantly alive when she herself was operated on in any 
 vital part, in which she is not by any means singular. 
 
 " Well, but, Mr. Doubleday," said Miss Raeburn, 
 " Tom will waken up ; boys generally do waken up after 
 a while." 
 
 " He may want a little rousing," said his mother; 
 " but you never made a greater mistake, Mr. Double- 
 day, than when you called him dull." 
 
 " He does not get time to be roused," said Mr. Sinclair, 
 who saw the tutor's dismissal casting its shadow before, 
 and wished to prevent it. " He is never long enough 
 with any one teacher to get into a system. I don't 
 wonder he is dull." 
 
 " Oh, Adam ! how can you be so cruel, when you 
 must have seen how I have striven to do the best I can 
 for these fatherless children, and know what sleepless 
 nights I have, thinking of Tom's future." 
 
 " His present is of more consequence meantime," 
 said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " That's unfeeling enough," thought Miss Raeburn, 
 but she did not know that Mrs. Sinclair's pathos came 
 in so often as to have lost a good deal of its effect. 
 
 " So far as I have seen," said Mr. Doubleday, " he 
 has no particular bent in any direction, but he is not 
 likely to do much harm in the world. I have known 
 boys who were positively vicious." 
 
 Poor Mr. Doubleday ! He did not know that truth, 
 or what may be supposed to be truth, had better some- 
 times be left at the bottom of its well. 
 
 Aught of evil that had gathered was dispersed how-
 
 116 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ever by the entrance of the children, and after tea Mr. 
 Doubleday went to his own room, not to chew the cud 
 of offended dignity, as the genus tutor is apt to do, but 
 to get on with the process of making himself a dungeon 
 of knowledge. 
 
 " That man certainly has a crack," said Mrs. Sinclair, 
 when the door closed after his exit. 
 
 " Cracked or not," said Mr. Sinclair, " I would advise 
 you not to think of another change." 
 
 " He has not been brought up at a court, that's one 
 thing easily seen," remarked Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " I doubt I have been unfortunate," Mrs. Sinclair 
 said ; " but I can hardly think of dismissing him imme- 
 diately." 
 
 " Don't mamma," said Bell ; " we all like him. Only 
 this forenoon there was a button hanging off his coat, 
 and I said I would sew it on ; you should have seen how 
 grateful he was; I was ashamed it was such a trifle. 
 When I do a thing of that kind for Tom, I am glad to 
 get off without a scolding for not doing it right." 
 
 " Clever," said Mrs. Sinclair after Mr. Doubleday's 
 young friends had left the room. " Mr. Doubleday says 
 the girls are clever ; I hope they are not too clever ; 
 clever women are often disagreeable men don't like 
 them." 
 
 " Don't they ? " said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " No, they don't ; you must have heard that surely, 
 Miss Raeburn ? " 
 
 " I was not aware ; you see my experience is not 
 wide, and not being clever myself I can't say." 
 
 " Perhaps you would give us your opinion, Adam ? " 
 said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " Well, when I have been persecuted by dulness, I 
 have thought the opposite quality might be a good
 
 QUIXSTAR. 117 
 
 change, but, like Miss Raeburn, my experience is not 
 wide." 
 
 " Far too narrow, and, I doubt, not very fortunate, 
 or you would think more of women than you do. Do 
 you know, Miss Raeburn, Adam thinks women quite in- 
 ferior to men ; but I have hopes of converting him yet." 
 
 " You won't," said Miss Raeburn. " Mr. Sinclair, 
 like me, has been brought up in that faith, and it goes 
 with his grain ; it goes against mine, and yet I have not 
 been able to shake it off; it's a superstition I hardly ex- 
 pect to be able to shed before I die, although reason and 
 observation are all against it." 
 
 " Perhaps, if I have been unfortunate in my feminine 
 acquaintance, you may have been in your masculine, 
 Miss Raeburn ?" said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Well, I have never come across any of the dozen 
 representative men of the age, still I cling to the super- 
 stition, because it is a rest even to think of a lesser 
 providence 'from whom you can get a certain sound 
 when you are in perplexity, even though you find the 
 oracle not dumb-, far from it but fallible, wonderfully 
 fallible." 
 
 " Do you take advice often, Miss Raeburn ? " asked 
 Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 *" That's my weakness, Mr. Sinclair. I always take 
 advice when I think it good, and I often ask it, for I 
 like to give pleasure. You can't please a man more than 
 by asking his advice, except by taking it." 
 
 " How does he feel when you don't take it ? " 
 
 " Like a man, I hope." 
 
 " He would need all his manhood to bear him up. I 
 hope you'll not try me so cruelly, Miss Raeburn." 
 
 " When I ask you for advice, Mr. Sinclair, all you 
 have you to say is, that you won't give it."
 
 118 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Would that not be rude ? " 
 
 " Well, you can say, ' I'm not a bit more capable of 
 advising you than you are of advising yourself, Miss 
 Raeburn.' " 
 
 " But if I did not think that ? " 
 
 " Then you must either be rude, or give it and take 
 the consequences ; a little affliction might be good for 
 you." 
 
 " I'm sure of it," cried Mrs. Sinclair, who caught the 
 last words. " If, for instance, Adam, you had married 
 and lost your wife, you would have been so improved 
 you have no idea. My husband used to say that ; he 
 used to say to me, ' If I had not had you, my dear, I 
 might have grown as curt and dry as Adam." 
 
 Miss Raeburn could not help laughing. " Quite 
 true, Miss Raeburn, I assure you," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " Am I curt and dry ? " asked Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " There now," said Mrs. Sinclair ; " that's how people 
 get into peculiar habits and ways, and don't know it, if 
 they have no one to tell them ; that's where a wife would 
 have been so useful to you." 
 
 " But you said I was to lose her ? " 
 
 " But you would not have lost her influence. I'm 
 always thinking what would have pleased Mr. Sinclair, 
 and then I can sympathize not only with all women who 
 have husbands, but with all who have lost them." 
 
 " You can give pity also to those who never had 
 them ? " said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Quite so," said Mrs. Sinclair, " experience widens 
 one's sympathies in a way you would not believe." 
 
 " In a way one would not believe that's true, I am 
 sure," thought Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Adam stayed longer with us to-night than he usu- 
 ally does, Miss Raeburn," said Mrs. Sinclair, when her
 
 QUIXSTAR. 119 
 
 visitor was about departing. " I think he enjoys your 
 company ; don't be long in coming back. I am sure if 
 he were to marry a suitable elderly lady I would be too 
 happy. Now that we are here he does not need to do 
 it for the sake of comfort he could not be more com- 
 fortable ; but, do you know, I used to be haunted by the 
 notion that he would marry a servant some day. Now 
 don't be long in coming back." 
 
 " Thank you ; no, I won't ; but you must bring Mr. 
 Sinclair to see me ; he can't enjoy my company more 
 than I do his and yours," and they shook hands, Miss 
 Raeburn thinking, " Well, she is a good-natured goose 
 after all, and he can't be ill-natured, or he would not 
 have asked her to stay."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IT was true that Mr. Sinclair did not generally linger 
 long in the family Sitting-room, but occasionally, espe- 
 cially if it chanced to be a wet day, he remained a con- 
 siderable time, walking up and down, a sort of peripa- 
 tetic philosopher, varying his march by stopping to look 
 out from the windows or to speak. Luckily there was 
 no individual with finely strung nerves to be annoyed 
 by the inconstant motion and vibration, but neither was 
 there any one to think that there was music in his foot- 
 step ; it was merely " my uncle," or " my brother-in-law," 
 who had a habit of walking in-doors. 
 
 One wet day Bell was sitting at the table working 
 busily, her very heart in her work, which was some sort 
 of millinery. As her uncle passed and repassed she no- 
 ticed him look at her, and without thinking, but with a 
 wish for sympathy, she held up a spray of artificial 
 flowers to him and said, "Isn't that pretty?" He 
 glanced first at the flowers, then at her, and said, " Poor 
 thing ! " and resumed his walk and the thread of his 
 meditations. Bell went on arranging the flowers in her 
 hat or bonnet, or whatever it was, while the three parts 
 of pity and one of contempt that had made up her uncle's 
 look and tone as he said " Poor thing ! " entered her very 
 soul and killed her happiness outright. However Miss 
 Raeburn might enjoy it, Bell, in common with her 
 mother, did not like to be pitied. She thought, " Uncle
 
 QUIXSTAR. 121 
 
 thinks me silly, but I'm not, and I won't be pitied ; I'll 
 get Mr. Doubleday to teach me mathematics and other 
 things, and 111 work. Uncle thinks I care for nothing 
 but my bonnet, but he'll see that I'm not altogether silly." 
 
 A whole course of lectures on the higher educa- 
 tion could not have roused or quickened a mind so much 
 as these two words of Mr. Sinclair's, " Poor thing ! " 
 But no thanks to him. A man who can't enjoy seeing 
 a girl in her teens touching up her dress, and doing it 
 with buoyancy and spirit for the mere unconscious hap- 
 piness of seeing a very bright thing herself look 
 brighter, you are sure not only misses that pleasure, but 
 he misses many others that lie about for the picking up, 
 and he is to be pitied, only that what people don't know 
 of they don't miss; still, one can't help hoping that 
 whether he knew it or not, Mr. Sinclair enjoyed his 
 walk more with Bell and her finery beside him than if 
 the room had been empty. Bell went on with her work ; 
 she was born a milliner, and she worked the more quickly 
 for the sting she had got. Mr. Sinclair saw it, and he 
 thought, " She is quite pleased with that trumpery; her 
 soul is in it ;" and again he pitied her, but being her na- 
 ture feminine nature there was no help for it. But it 
 was not her nature, only a very small part of it, appro- 
 priate to the short season it was meant to last, and the 
 fleeting character of it might have drawn out his sym- 
 pathy. From being a pleasure, dress will become a duty, 
 a bore, a drag, and finally a burden, to be gladly laid 
 down when the mortal shall put on immortality. 
 
 Yet Miss Raebxirn thought a good deal might have 
 been made of Mr. Sinclair had he been taken in time, as 
 Mrs. Sinclair had suggested, and his sympathies gradu- 
 ally and naturally developed ; and she was right^ proba- 
 bly ; if Bell had been his own daughter, for instance, he 
 6
 
 122 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 might have understood her better for love, like death, 
 carries a torch into hidden places. 
 
 Effie was not more fortunate in gaming her uncle's 
 approbation than her sister. Not that she placed her 
 delight in ribbons and flowers far from it ; but she 
 read continually, and her reading was of a kind as piti- 
 able in Mr. Sinclair's eyes as Bell's millinery. Did he 
 expect that she was to take to the masterpieces of liter- 
 ature as a duck to the water ? It would have been 
 melancholy if she had, but there was no fear of it ; she 
 read endless tales, and she did more she wrote tales,- 
 which she read only to her sister. Bell thought she 
 copied them, but she said they were her own, which 
 they were, so far as a talent for imitation and a good 
 memory would permit. 
 
 As for Tom, his uncle did not expect much from 
 him.- If he kept quietly along the well-trodden middle 
 way he would verify his relative's highest hopes. 
 
 A mother with great expectations, an uncle with 
 very moderate expectations, and a tutor who never 
 formed expectations of any kind, were probably com- 
 plementary to each other, and made circumstances more 
 advantageous to these young people than they on the 
 surface appeared. 
 
 Bell did not find her sister as enthusiastic for more 
 and deeper studies as herself, but she drew Effie into her 
 plans, and got her mother's consent likewise. " If you 
 really want to study these things, my child," said Mrs. 
 Sinclair, " you may. You know I am apt to be too in- 
 dulgent; not that it will cost me anything, for Mr. 
 Doubleday's salary is the same whatever he teaches, but 
 I daresay," and she brightened good-naturedly as the 
 idea occurred to her," " as he'll have more trouble, I'll 
 give him more money, and take the opportunity of
 
 QUIXSTAR. 123 
 
 speaking to him about his dress again, he really needs 
 a word even yet." And Mrs. Sinclair gave him this 
 word with immense tact, as she thought, really with 
 blundering good-nature. But Mr. Doubleday's feelings 
 lay deep ; she had not the power to reach them ; and it 
 was a mercy, the poor man had crooks enough in his 
 lot without a set of nerves on the surface for any stray 
 fingers to play on, like telegraph-wires, by which a false 
 agonizing message may be sent either from thoughtless- 
 ness or wickedness at any time. 
 
 " I'm afraid, Mr. Doubleday, we'll give you a good 
 deal of trouble," said Bell, when they began the new 
 curriculum. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " I hope you'll not grudge it very much ? " 
 
 " No ; I wanted to do this at first, but your mother 
 objected, and Mr. Sinclair said it would be of no use." 
 
 " It won't do us any harm, will it, Mr. Doubleday ? " 
 asked Bell. 
 
 " Harm ! the getting of knowledge is ecstasy, pure 
 ecstasy. Many a time I wish I could throw oif my body 
 as I do the clothes your mother bothers me about that 
 I might burst into infinity and know even as I am 
 known." 
 
 The girls looked at him. " You mean," said Effie, 
 " that you wish to die ? " 
 
 " No, not till it is God's will. But never suppose it is 
 no use learning ; the more you learn, you will feel better 
 and humbler and happier at least I have found it so." 
 
 " But are people who know a great deal not proud 
 of it?" aeked Effie. 
 
 " The more people know, the better they see how 
 ignorant they are. Come, we must begin ; it is a slow 
 process, but I'll do my best not to tire you."
 
 124 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Conic Sections," said Bell; "what are Conic Sec- 
 tions?" 
 
 u You know the figure of a cone a fir-top ? " said 
 Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " Yes, oh yes ! " 
 
 1 Well," and he proceeded to explain the mystery. 
 Bell followed him closely. " I understand -that," she 
 said, " that's very plain ; and that's the first lesson in 
 mathematics, is it ? " 
 
 " The first ! " said Mr. Doubleday, smiling, " no, not 
 the first." 
 
 " But you think I'll be able to learn mathematics, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " If you take trouble." 
 
 Bell felt when she had mastered her lesson a satis- 
 faction which perhaps came within a hundred miles of 
 Mr. Doubleday's pure ecstasy, and gave her some glim- 
 mering of the possibility of it. Mr. Sinclair had un- 
 wittingly shifted her mental soil a little, and behold, 
 what farmers know as an unsown crop appeared 
 alongside millinery came up mathematics. A pupil 
 who could and did sew on his buttons, and made an 
 effort to sympathize with his thirst for knowledge, and 
 put her lips to the same chalice to sip as she was capa- 
 ble, was a dangerous proximity, or would have been 
 for an ordinary tutor, but Mr. Doubleday was not sus- 
 ceptible.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MKS. SINCLAIR was correct in her opinion that 
 people would think she had got in Mr. Doubleday a bar- 
 gain. The Smiths, the clever family that has been men- 
 tioned, said there was an unmistakable sensation of 
 Smike about him, which was an exaggeration, but clev- 
 er people are always under a temptation to exaggerate. 
 
 The Smiths' house bore some general resemblance 
 to Old Battle House, and Mr. Doubleday being occa- 
 sionally rather absent-minded, one day walked straight 
 in, and sat down in a room where two Misses Smith 
 were at work in one of the windows. The Misses 
 Smith knew their man, and saw the mistake instantly, 
 but they said nothing, and Mr. Doubleday meditated 
 for half an hour or so, and then asked, " What time is 
 dinner to be to-day ? " " It won't be for two hours yet," 
 Miss Smith answered. "Ob," said he, "there's com- 
 pany," and he rose with the view of summoning his pupils 
 to the schoolroom. Looking from a window as he 
 passed, he suddenly became aware that he saw a hedge 
 where no hedge should be, then he glanced round the 
 room and said, " I haven't have I come into the wrong 
 house ? I beg pardon, ladies," and with a very red face 
 he made a hurried exit. This was the bones of the 
 story, but the Misses Smith could not resist dressing 
 it up in very funny flesh and blood the last instance 
 of absence of mind, and having happened in their own 
 experience it was the more effective.
 
 126 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 These young ladies, as a matter of course, never 
 spoke of Mr. Doubleday under any other name than 
 " Smike." Bestowing nicknames was a favorite branch 
 of the family cleverness, and it is certain a happy nick- 
 name can hardly be the produce of dull brains ; but 
 they were only in the second class of merit, they took 
 names made to their hands, but they affixed them clev- 
 erly, as when they called the chief butcher of the place 
 the father of the boy who was dux at the examina- 
 tion a man of very bland and smooth manners, who 
 could persuade you that fat was lean, " Old Bloody Po- 
 liteful," also happily borrowed from a work of fiction. 
 
 On another occasion Mr. Doubleday made the 
 same blunder, but this time he did not fall among 
 thorns. He sauntered into the schoolmaster's dwelling; 
 it was not at all like Old Battle House, but it was near 
 it, and he innocently turned in at the one gate instead 
 of the other, and was kindly received by Mrs. Gilbert, 
 and made aware of his mistake. " But don't go, Mr. 
 Doubleday," she said ; " we'll be very glad to make 
 your acquaintance sit down." 
 
 Mr. Gilbert came in, and flung himself wearily into 
 a chair; he had been acquainted with Mr. Doubleday 
 for some time, and was not on ceremony. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Doubleday," he said, " if I had my days 
 to begin again, I would not be a schoolmaster." 
 
 " Do you not like teaching ? To me there is no 
 pleasure like communicating knowledge, except acquir- 
 ing it ; I like to see a child's eye kindle." 
 
 "And how many of them kindle? " asked Mr. Gil- 
 bert. " But it's not the teaching I* object to, it's the 
 perpetual worry ; you're every one's drudge. Just this 
 forenoon Kennedy came in with his advice and inter- 
 ference ; he might have been better employed on a Sat-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 127 
 
 urday. To-morrow he'll give us a collection of com- 
 monplaces, read in a drawling tone. Can't the man 
 speak in the pulpit as he does elsewhere ? how would 
 he like if I were to call on him on Monday and give 
 him my candid opinion of his performance ? " 
 
 " If you thought it would benefit him, you should 
 do it," said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 ".Whether it would benefit him or not, it would 
 make the place too hot for me," said Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 " Not if Mr. Kennedy is of the right spirit. But you 
 could leave the p*lace." 
 
 " I would need to know where I was going first ; a 
 man who has given hostages to fortune in the shape of a 
 wife and family must think what he is about." 
 
 " True so far," said Mr. Doubleday. " I thought 
 Kennedy a good-natured man." 
 
 " So he is, when he gets everything his own way." 
 
 " This," said Mrs. Gilbert, as John entered, " is our 
 only son," and she said, with not a little pride he was 
 growing a tall fine-looking lad " And our family prob- 
 lem just now is what to do with him." 
 
 " We'll not make him a schoolmaster, that's one 
 thing clear at least," said his father. 
 
 " He might be anything," said Mr. Doubleday sim- 
 ply, and with undisguised admiration at John's goodly 
 exterior. 
 
 " It's not so easy being anything, sir," said John, sit- 
 ting down as if he were.going to stay and listen defer- 
 entially to his elders ; but he soon disappeared. 
 
 The two teachers talked about the details of their 
 profession, and when Mr. Doubleday left both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gilbert went with him to the gate of Old Battle 
 House. It was a still December night, with a heaven- 
 ful of big burnished' stars shining out of it. None of
 
 128 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 these three were in love with nature ; they liked her, 
 Mr. Doubleday as far as his short-sightedness let him 
 see her beauties, Mrs. Gilbert with as much love as she 
 could spare from her children, and Mr. Gilbert liked her 
 in his garden among thriving vegetables and trim flower- 
 beds. It was as much as you could expect. The dozen 
 representative men of the age that Miss Raeburn spoke 
 of may love and pursue a dozen objects passionately 
 and successfully, but ordinary people are restricted to 
 narrower limits. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " Grand," said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " Very fine," said Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 When you show your carte to any one, you know 
 at once, if you have eyes in your head, whether it is 
 being looked at with the gaze of love, or friendly inter- 
 est, or mere curiosity, or indifference ; so nature knows 
 her lovers right well too, and rewards them accordingly. 
 To what seems a very poor life she will give a depth 
 and height of enjoyment, and now and then a steeping 
 in bliss which other people have no idea of, and even 
 these three persons with their mild and, considering the 
 occasion, commonplace remarks, were unconsciously led 
 out of the grooves in which they daily ran more or less 
 smoothly, as they stood in the deep silence, into which 
 there entered in subdued and reverent mood the mur- 
 mur of the river. Only two persons in Quixstar were 
 having a very close interview with the stars that night, 
 one a Mr. Singleton, brother to Lady Cranstoun, who 
 was at this time living, or rather dying, at Cranstoun 
 Hall ; he had got himself seated at a window, and the 
 lights in his room put out, and he gazed and gazed till 
 death and the grave he was so near were shut from his 
 sight, and he lost himself in life and immortality ; and
 
 QUIXSTAB. 129 
 
 Miss Raeburn, who with a shawl round her shoulders 
 and another on her head, was out on a balcony on the 
 roof of her house. Miss Raeburn never told her love 
 of nature, and unless you had been very intimate with 
 her you would not have guessed it ; but here she was, 
 worshipping the heavenly bodies with all her might. 
 Her servant came up to say that Mr. Kennedy had 
 called. " My stars ! " cried Miss Raeburn, looking up, 
 " has he well, ask him to come here." 
 
 Mr. Kennedy ascended'; he had often been on the bal- 
 cony on a summer's day, but not before on a winter night. 
 
 "Are you not afraid to risk your valuable health, 
 Miss Raeburn ? " he asked. 
 
 " You don't see, coming out from the light ; but I 
 am clad for the occasion," she said, " and on a night such 
 as this I like to shake hands with David." 
 
 " David who ? " asked Mr. Kennedy. 
 
 " David Jesse, perhaps I'm not sure of his surname. 
 I hope I am not irreverent, the King and Psalmist I 
 mean." 
 
 " Ah ! " -said Mr. Kennedy ; " the stars were finer in 
 Palestine than here, I believe." 
 
 " These are quite fine enough for me," said she. 
 
 " Speaking of stars puts me in mind, I was calling 
 on Peter Veitch's wife as I came along; when she was 
 at the door with me she looked up and said, ' There's the 
 stars, puir things ; I wonder if they are shining on oor 
 Peter ? ' Curious notion of the woman to pity the stars." 
 
 " Ah, when Mrs. Veitch thinks of Peter she is 
 touched with compassion for all creation." 
 
 " They've had a letter from the boy better than his 
 class usually write ; it does not come hoping they are 
 well, as it leaves him at present." 
 
 " Mr. Kennedy, that must be a happy form of ex- 
 6*
 
 130 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 pression, or it would not have recommended itself to 
 such a mass of our fellow-creatures, or survived so long. 
 I wonder who used it first. It is something to have 
 sent a sentence rolling so far and wide. But I hope 
 Peter's letter did not leave him ill, at least ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; he's well enough ; his mother will be too 
 glad to let you see it ; poor body, she believes every 
 one as interested in Peter as she is ? " 
 
 " It is a fine faith, don't you think ? " 
 
 " Well, it pleases her, but it is apt to bore other peo- 
 ple." 
 
 " That's not the way it affects me. Just the last day I 
 was in Eastburgh, a young man I had only seen once or 
 twice before, came up to me, and grasping my hand very 
 firmly, said, ' Miss Raeburn, you have heard of my sister's 
 death ? ' He never doubted my sympathy, and his faith 
 roused my feelings nearly as much as his sorrow. As I 
 walked on after he had emptied out all his grief, I 
 thought, ' In time you'll learn to hide your sorrows. You 
 won't believe that the feelings of every chance acquaint- 
 ance beat in unison with yours ; ' but some people, Mr. 
 Kennedy, keep that faith to the last, and it is the genius 
 of the heart it is more, it is the kernel of Christ's re- 
 ligion." 
 
 " You are enthusiastic, Miss Raeburn, but if you go 
 about the world believing every one as interested in 
 your affairs as you are, the chance is that you are a bore 
 or a fool, or both." 
 
 " Then the fools have the best of it, Mr. Kennedy ; 
 for it is a glorious faith." 
 
 " In a delusion. You must take people as they are 
 in this world, Miss Raeburn." 
 
 " Oh, try to make them better, and genuine sympathy 
 will do much towards that."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 131 
 
 " Give the mass of people plenty to eat and drink 
 that's the genuine sympathy they care for ; and in this 
 parish they are pretty well seen to." 
 
 " Yes ; I often feel thankful for that, that nobody 
 round us need be in actual want." 
 
 " No ; our charities are well organized. Lady Cran- 
 stoun's soup-kitchen does a great deal of good, especially 
 at this season."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HEAKLSTG of Peter's letter, Maddy Fairgrieve called 
 on her friend Mrs. Veitch to ask the particulars. 
 
 " There's no muckle in't," Mrs. Veitch said, producing 
 it from between the leaves of a Bible : " see, ye can read 
 it if ye like." 
 
 Maddy glanced over it. " He was sick for a day or 
 two, but is all right, and likes his business," was her sum- 
 ming up of its contents; " that's a' gude news." 
 
 " I dinna ken," said his mother ; " if he hadna liket it 
 he wad hae come hame again." 
 
 " Peter'll no hen though, or I'm mista'en. I was in 
 asking for Nanny o' the Nose (this was an old woman 
 w"ho had come to Quixstar from a neighboring hamlet, 
 called Friar's Nose, a name which probably echoed a 
 popular witticism some two or three hundred years old), 
 as I cam past. I heard she hadna been weeL : ' 
 
 " What's wrang wi' Nanny, puir body ? " 
 
 " She tell't me a' about it. She had gotten some o r 
 Cranstoun's kail (the vulgar name for the article dis- 
 pensed from her Ladyship's soup-kitchen) ; gude kail she 
 said, but ye ken there's a gey twa three things boiled 
 up among them, and she saw something sooming about 
 in them that fairly upset her, and she hasna gotten the 
 better o't yet. She says puir folk shouldna be nice, but 
 she couldna help it."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 133 
 
 " I ken the feeling," said Mrs. Veitcli ; " and some- 
 times ye're easier scomfished than others'." 
 
 " That's true," said Maddy ; " but I've kent folk that 
 naething wad upset ; no puir folk eithei 1 . They were 
 born without the sense o' scunner, and really it's an ad- 
 vantage, especially if ye're a puir body." 
 
 " Wee), I dinna ken," said Peter, who had been listen- 
 ing ; " if folk hae a sense o' scunner, even if they hae 
 naething else, they'll try to fecht up to something better. 
 I was in Dixori's house the nicht \vi' a message I had 
 for him. His wife was making the parritch, and I saw 
 a thing I never saw before but women hae a talent for 
 invention, there's nae disputing that: she laid seven 
 messes o' parritch on the table. They hadna a dish in 
 the house, except a jug without a handle the milk was hi. 
 The bairns were cried in, and stood round the table like 
 a wheen swine round a trough. If they had a sense o' 
 scunner, surely they couldna come to that." 
 
 " I never heard the like o' that," said Maddy ; " how 
 are the folk sae ill off?." 
 
 " They're no' ill off," said Peter ; " there's six-and- 
 thirty shillings gangs into the house every week that 
 Dixon and his son like to Avork." 
 
 " I pity the. woman," said Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 " Ye needna fash," said her husband ; " the woman 
 matches the men. She has visits frae three sets o' benev- 
 olent leddies, wi' as muckle gumption as that table ; 
 and she tells lees by the yard, and a' liker truth than the 
 very truth itsel', and gets frae them a'. If shame and 
 her were even acquent they've parted company for 
 inony a day." 
 
 " I wad hae thae folk threshed," said Maddy, with 
 righteous indignation ; " ye can only mak' the like o' 
 them feel through their skins."
 
 134 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 "Weel, I canna say I approve o' flogging," said 
 Peter Veitch ; " but I wad not grudge it on them, if it 
 wad mak' them ony better. 1 ' 
 
 " It could hardly mak' them ony waur," said his wife ; 
 " think o' the like o' them lickin' up charity, and mony 
 a gude body ill, ill off, and saying naething and getting 
 as little. Eh ! the warld's ill divided." 
 
 " Ay, gude wife ; ye've gotten a nut to crack there 
 that's broken stronger teeth than yours trying't, and 
 it's no crackit yet, nor ever will be as lang as we're 
 here." 
 
 " I saw Mr. Doubleday passing the day," said Mrs. 
 Veitch, " as if he was bound for a journey. The bairns 
 maun get the play on Saturday, Maddy ? " 
 
 " Ay, except a wee while in the morning. He'll be 
 away to Eastburgh posting a letter to his sweetheart," 
 said Maddy. 
 
 " His sweetheart ! preserve me, has he a sweet- 
 heart?" 
 
 " What for no ? " said Peter. 
 
 " Weel, I dinna ken. Some way a body doesna think 
 o' the like o' him ha'eing a sweetheart. Ye -wad think it 
 wad never come into his head." 
 
 " Sweetheart or no," said Maddy, " he gets letters 
 often aneuch, but he never sends ony away frae this post- 
 office, so I jalouse he taks the answers to Eastburgh. 
 There's mair in him than ye wad think, and he's awful 
 saving." 
 
 " He'll be ettling at furnishing a house by and by," 
 said Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 " May be," said Maddy ; " he wad be the better o' 
 somebody to look after him ; and if he has a sweetheart 
 she'll be able to do that, for I'se warrant she did the 
 courting, and it wadna be done in hints. It wad need
 
 QUIXSTAR. 135 
 
 to be as broad as it was lang before he wad ken what 
 she was after." 
 
 " Hae ye been trying't, Maddy," asked Peter, " that 
 ye're sae weel up to it ? " 
 
 " What wad ye say, Peter ? I dinna think but I wad 
 be better at it than a gey wheen men I've seen try it. 
 They are great gowks whiles. But I'm putting off my 
 time. Gude-nicht wi' ye." 
 
 " Ye'll get the stars to see ye yont," said Mrs. Veitch 
 to her visitor at the door. 
 
 " Ay," said Maddy ; " they're looking as if they had 
 a' been new rubbed up wi' soap and whitening." 
 
 Maddy's notion, from a housemaid's view, corrobo- 
 rated Shakspeare's. She thought the heavens inlaid 
 with patines of bright gold, susceptible of extra lustre.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE pen, like some creeping things, likes a rough 
 surface to travel over, and this one is beginning to be 
 of the opinion of a gentleman who alighted one midsum- 
 mer for a fortnight in Quixstar. He thought life at 
 Quixstar dreadfully slow. He was a London litterateur 
 in want of rest, and he came to this locality seeking it, 
 and did not find it. Poor creature, his taste was so vi- 
 tiated by the whirl and rapidity of life in the great city, 
 that instead of resting he grew restive, and from sheer 
 force of habit and want of anything to do, he sat down 
 and made " a paper " of Quixstar for the periodical with 
 which he was connected. And it must be acknowledged 
 he hit its points cleverly, viewed from his elevation. He 
 stepped from an omnibus on to the chief street of the 
 place, and there was great calm. Grass growing round 
 the paving-stones gave the street the appearance of a 
 fairies' burying-ground. You thought there was no pop- 
 ulation till an empty barrel being rolled along brought 
 man, woman and child to every door and window. The 
 shop-doors were mostly kept shut. He timidly opened 
 one, not sure but that to force an entrance might be a 
 particular insult, and was served with a princely appear- 
 ance of antediluvian leisure. He found that only two 
 magazines were known in Quixstar, and nobody read 
 both. His own periodical was unheard of, (He thought 
 this melancholy. Rather he should have exclaimed, 
 " Oh, sensible people ! Oh, blessed place ! ")
 
 QUIXSTAR. 137 
 
 The early dinner parties and small evening parties 
 got his good-natured quizzical notice. The enjoyments 
 of Quixstar were mild ; its quarrels a storm in a tea-cup. 
 " Dulness, dulness," he said, " is the genius that broods 
 over the place, but the people seem contented amen. 
 The minnow in a pool is contented, for it knows not of 
 the whale amid the roar of Polar seas." Mr. Spencer, 
 so he was named, depicted bits of Quixstar with his pen- 
 cil as well as his pen. He put on canvas the bridge, and 
 Peter Veitch's cottage beside it, with a cow standing 
 near the door in a meditative mood. Peter watched the 
 progress of the work. He liked to look at or hear of 
 anything beyond his ken, and the artist entertained him 
 with the glories and wonders of London. 
 
 " I warrant, sir," said Peter, " ye think London the 
 ax'tree o' creation." 
 
 " You should pay it a visit, Mr. Veitch, and judge 
 for yourself." 
 
 " Na, na ; we hae nae time here for jauntin'," said 
 Peter. 
 
 " Time ! " said the artist ; " I think time is the most 
 plentiful commodity you have." 
 
 " It's no' a commodity," said Peter ; " ye canna sell't." 
 
 " Can't you ? If I give you work for a day, don't I 
 buy your time ?" 
 
 " You buy my labor, no' my time. If time could 
 be sell'd, Mr. Singleton at the Ha' wadna be deein' at 
 twenty -three, and Peter Reid living oif the parish at 
 ninety-seven." 
 
 " That wouldn't be selling time, it would be selling 
 life." 
 
 " And what's life so far as this warld is concerned 
 but time ? " asked Peter. 
 
 " True, but few would sell it."
 
 138 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " I'm no sae sure o' that," said Peter. " Ye'll no say 
 what folk'll do for siller, and it wad be a trade in high 
 wages and light wark." 
 
 " Faust and the devil," said the sketcher. 
 
 " We have folk here that dinna believe in the devil," 
 Peter remarked in answer to the name mentioned with 
 which he was familiar ; the first he had never heard. 
 
 " Ah, they think he is an allegory, do they ? " 
 
 " Weel, allegory or no, the mischief has been done ; 
 sure aneuch it's nae allegory." 
 
 " What queer fish is that ? " asked the painter as 
 Mr. Doubleday passed, apparently unconscious of him 
 and his occupation. 
 
 " Queer ? " said Peter. " Ay, he does look whiles as 
 if he had been eaten and spued again." 
 
 " Eaten and what ? " 
 
 " Ye read your Bible, nae doubt, sir ? " said Peter. 
 
 " Well yes I do." 
 
 " And wi' the understanding, ye'll find spue in the 
 Bible, and it means " 
 
 " I see, I see ; but who is the fellow ? " 
 
 " He is the tutor at Old Battle House, an innocent, 
 but a dungeon they say." 
 
 " Innocence and a dungeon," thought the southern, 
 mystified by Peter's very provincial notes; " well, they 
 have gone together before now. Where is Old Battle 
 House?" 
 
 " The first big house on your left hand after ye cross 
 the brig there. Ye should mak' a picture o' it. It 
 would be grander than my auld biggin'." 
 
 " But not so suited to my purpose." 
 
 " Ye should ken best. But do ye no' think that the 
 cow there," pointing to the sketch, " has a bit touch o' 
 foun'er in her fore-legs ? "
 
 QUIXSTAK. 139 
 
 "Touch of what?" 
 
 " O' founder. She's a wee shaky in the fore-legs, is 
 she no' ? " 
 
 " You mean she is not standing correctly. I don't 
 see that." 
 
 " Then it's a' richt, for ye're the best judge, nae 
 doubt, or should be." 
 
 The artist was fully persuaded he was, and when he 
 left Quixstar he was also fully persuaded he left behind 
 him a benighted people a people who, given an orange, 
 would fail to suck it : they had life, and they made, noth- 
 ing of it. But, his opinion notwithstanding, wherever 
 there are human beings hearts will beat and brains seethe, 
 and as for a daily round, a jog-trot, where is the life that 
 does not in time settle into that ? who is there who does 
 not feel himself bricked in by circumstances ? Besides, 
 the young fry of Quixstar had the liberty of making for 
 the open sea if so minded, and many of them had scat- 
 tered themselves over the world, but hitherto nothing 
 very like a whale had reappeared. The knowledge of 
 this, and of their own mediocre lot in life, did not, as 
 Miss Raeburn sometimes remarked, prevent every suc- 
 ceeding generation of parents believing that their chil- 
 dren were likely to do something great, " Not an un- 
 natural, and I daresay a blessed blindness," she said to 
 good old Mrs. Gilbert when that lady spoke to her of 
 her grandnephew's coming departure to do something 
 somewhere. The old lady thought that Miss Raeburn 
 could not know anything about it, but she did not ven- 
 ture to say so ; she never entered the lists with Miss 
 Raeburn, who had a reputation for being " clever," and 
 an unconscious (no doubt) trick of making people feel 
 that she was not a dunce, for she was really humble, but 
 always impatient of absurdity. Notwithstanding that
 
 140 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 her perceptive powers were a little opaque, Mrs. Gilbert 
 frequently did not enjoy Miss Raeburn's cleverness, and 
 as even the meritorious and laborious bee will sting if 
 annoyed, if she had been heard to make the observation, 
 " that any one might be clever who allowed themselves 
 to say every impudent thing that came into their heads." 
 What truth there is in that the reader may pick out for 
 himself.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 CEKTAINXY when Mr. Gilbert was in good spirits 
 he foresaw great things for his son, and he had strong 
 faith in him and them, but when desponding, when 
 feeling that from no fault of his own he, a man of parts 
 and ambition, was fixed to all appearance as schoolmas- 
 ter of Quixstar for life, while men like Mr. Raeburn 
 were carrying all before them, he wavered ; but hope 
 was still in the ascendant : he could not only brook the 
 idea of being eclipsed by his son, but he could smile in 
 glad anticipation of it. 
 
 John Gilbert had no particular vocation for anything, 
 but he would have preferred being a gentleman, taking 
 that word to mean a man who had plenty of money 
 without working for it. That, however, he could not 
 be, although he thought it hard. Why should he not 
 have been born to wealth as well as the Cranstouns 
 the elder of whom would succeed his father, the young- 
 er having already inherited his uncle Mr. Singleton's 
 fortune or like the Raeburns ? John had been edu- 
 cated solely by his father, and there was one lesson he 
 had imbibed thoroughly, although it had only been giv- 
 en at odd times, and was not in the list of classes 
 Mr. Gilbert taught, but it had fallen in good soil, and 
 it was this if people have not money, they are noth- 
 ing. Not that Mr. Gilbert worshipped money, far from 
 it. In most cases he looked down on rich men looked 
 down on them from a height. It was men of ability
 
 142 QUIXSTAE. 
 
 and character apart altogether from wealth and position 
 that he held in esteem, but somehow or other his son 
 gathered from -his father the lesson that has been 
 mentioned. He did not gather it from his mother. 
 The dyer's hand gets subdued to what it works in ; but 
 there are in this world people and it is a mighty privi- 
 lege to know such who can lie among the pots and 
 yet appear like doves; not that there was anything 
 about Mr. Gilbert that could actually smear, very far 
 from that, but there was much that could corrode ; yet 
 the circumstances of Mrs. Gilbert's life had neither 
 soured nor narrowed her jiature, she could afford to 
 esteem her rich neighbors as well as her poor ones. 
 
 John Gilbert's going away was not an era in Quix- 
 star any more than Peter Veitch's had been, and it was 
 less so in his father's house than Peter's had been, for he 
 was only going to enter a merchant's office in East- 
 burgh, and was to come home every Saturday, therefore 
 there were no set speeches, or tears, or even kisses, 
 the occasion was not too trying, and it was hopeful in 
 the extreme. 
 
 Then Tom Sinclair began to get restive under Mr. 
 Doubleday. He took his mother into his counsel, and 
 told her " he had made up his mind what he was going 
 to be, and he would need no more education. Latin and 
 Greek were all nonsense, and people were beginning to 
 see that. If Bell wanted to go on with Latin she might 
 as well do that as nothing, which was what girls gen- 
 erally did, but he could not afford to lose more time." 
 
 " You're right there, Tom," said Bell ; " I know what 
 you want to be, and the sooner you begin the better." 
 
 " In what direction does your taste point, my son ? " 
 asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " I'm going to be a banker," said Tom.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 143 
 
 " A banker, my boy ! That is a line of life in which 
 there is but small scope for ability." 
 
 " I don't know that," said Bell ; " in emergencies 
 bankers have been Prime Ministers at least in France, 
 and it's a wide field, Finance." 
 
 " But you would need to take care, Tom," said Erne, 
 " or you might do mischief." 
 
 " And get into a biographical dictionary this way," 
 said Bell : " ' Sinclair, Thomas, a Scotchman, born of re- 
 spectable parents, organized the great Quixstar Bubble 
 Company, which brought ruin on thousands of his coun- 
 trymen. Died abroad ; date uncertain.' " 
 
 " Bell," said her mother, " that's carrying your joke a 
 little too far. But you'll think better of it, my boy, and 
 we'll see what your uncle says." 
 
 " I've made up my mind," said Tom. 
 
 " It must be awfully monotonous, Tom," said Bell. 
 " It's mere mechanical work. You'll get no say in the 
 management till your head is as bare as a turnip. I've 
 been in various banks, and could see that. You would 
 not need to dirty your hands, though, and they always 
 have capital pens quills that make it a treat to sign 
 your name." 
 
 Effie said, " A bank clerk once told me that they 
 have periodical burnings of bank-notes." 
 
 " Yes," said Tom ; " the dirty ones that are withdrawn 
 from circulation." 
 
 " Are you sure of that, Tom ? " asked Bell. " Is it 
 not done to teach the young men the fleeting and 
 worthless nature of the article they work among." 
 
 " How will they feel when they are actually burning 
 thousands of pounds ? " said Effie. 
 
 " Like Cleopatra when she drank dissolved pearls, 
 perhaps," said Bell.
 
 144 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " The notes are kept in by a grating," said Tom, 
 " that there may be no mistake." 
 
 " Well, Tom," said Bell, " if you are determined, I'll 
 give you a lot of thin paper which you can cut into 
 squares, and a damp sponge to wet your finger and 
 thumb, and you can begin to practise your business. It 
 must take some practice to count notes so cleverly, and 
 I wouldn't like you to be awkward among the rest." 
 
 " But Tom is not determined," said his mother. " I 
 really think, my boy, it would be a burying of your 
 talents to go into a bank. I would not by any means 
 force your inclination, but I won't deny it will be a deep 
 disappointment to me if you do, and we must consult 
 your uncle." 
 
 "What do you want me to be, mother?" said 
 Tom. 
 
 " I think, my boy, that we are bound to let our light 
 shine in the world that it is wrong to bury our talents. 
 But here comes your uncle, we'll hear what he says. 
 Adam," she said, " my son has just been talking of his 
 wish to begin life to be doing something in the world, 
 in short "' 
 
 "Tired of your lessons, Tom, are you?" said his 
 uncle. 
 
 " What's the use of learning things I'll never need 
 wasting time ! " said Tom. 
 
 ' What do you wish to do ? " 
 
 " I mean to be a banker." 
 
 " Then be a banker. I see nothing to hinder you." 
 
 " But, Adam, only think a moment. There is no 
 scope for ability in banking." 
 
 " The less the better," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " But it's a mere throwing away of Tom," urged 
 Mrs. Sinclair. " If he had even gone to sea like the boy
 
 QUIXSTAR. . 145 
 
 Veitch, or studied for the bar like the butcher's boy, he 
 might have made a name ; but what can he do in a 
 bank ? " 
 
 " Peter Veitch had a taste for danger, and the boy 
 Johnson may inherit a sweet persuasive tongue ; but if 
 Tom wants to spend his life counting money, if it is 
 his deliberate choice, let him have it. I don't think he 
 will disgrace you." 
 
 " Disgrace me ! " gasped Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " No ; he is honest, and will be proof against temp- 
 tation, I don't doubt." 
 
 " I am painfully disappointed, Tom," said his moth- 
 er, after Mr. Sinclair left the room. " Your uncle has 
 no idea of parental feeling. One would have thought 
 he might have taken the place of a father to you all. 
 If he had been capable of that he would have felt some 
 natural ambition that your talents should not at least be 
 buried. But it is only what I might have expected. 
 Well, I'll consent that you try banking; you'll not like 
 it, you'll feel your powers cramped ; but it won't be 
 too late to change, and it's gentlemanly, not like a trade, 
 still " 
 
 " Not like a trade, mamma ! " said Bell ; " it's the 
 very root and essence of trade, buying and selling 
 money. But Tom won't have anything to do with that 
 part of it ; he'll only be a calculating-machine." 
 
 " Wisdom will die with Bell," said Tom. 
 
 " Quite so," said Bell. 
 
 When Bell went to the schoolroom, she said to Mr. 
 Doubleday 
 
 " Tom's going away ! " 
 
 " Going away ? " 
 
 " Yes. He's taken it into his head all of a sudden 
 that he'll be a banker, and says he won't need any more 
 7
 
 146 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 lessons ; and uncle says he can get him into a bank at 
 Eastburgh at once." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday was at one of the windows cutting 
 a quill, and said nothing for some minutes. Tfien he 
 said 
 
 " In that case I'll have to go away too, I suppose ? " 
 
 " You would not think it worth while staying to 
 teach girls only, would you ? " 
 
 " Worth while ? " he repeated, turning round. 
 
 " Yes," she said. " I wish you'd stay. Mamma speaks 
 of sending us to a boarding-school ; I hate the very idea 
 of a boarding-school." 
 
 " Your mamma does not wish me to stay, then ? " 
 
 " Mamma is good : say you'll stay, Mr. Doubleday, 
 and I'll manage it." 
 
 " Stay ? " he said. " I don't want to go I'll never 
 want to go." 
 
 " Then you must like being here ; I wouldn't have 
 thought it. What do you like it for ? " 
 
 " I don't know I really don't know." 
 
 " It must be the tout ensemble of the whole," said 
 she laughing. " Do you not like your own home better ? " 
 
 " No. " 
 
 " But you have friends, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 This was a topic on which Mr. Doubleday never en- 
 larged, and Bell felt she had been thoughtless in touch- 
 ing on it. She feared his home and friends must not be 
 very delightful, or he would speak more of them. 
 
 When this little conversation was repeated to Mrs. 
 Sinclair, she said 
 
 " He doesn't know what he likes to be here for ? He 
 might know that he never was as well treated in his life. 
 Few people very few, would have had the patience
 
 QUIXSTAR. 147 
 
 with him I have had ; and as for your uncle, you would 
 think he makes him of fully more importance than he 
 does me. But I have got him to dress decently ; and 
 since you are so anxious, he may stay, although I con- 
 sider myself foolish in indulging you so far." 
 
 Four of these Quixstar school-fellows were now in 
 Eastburgh, living very innocently as yet, and one was 
 sailing on the sea, and one was sleeping the long sleep 
 in the churchyard at Ironburgh a grand churchyard, 
 where all kinds of absurdities were perpetrated in stones 
 and shells, and flowers and words over the dead, and 
 which on a summer Sunday was thronged by crowds 
 in gay clothing, as if it were a fair. Did they go to 
 mourn, or meditate, or what ? A strange concourse of 
 the living and the dead, enough to make a fastidious 
 corpse yearn for a lone hillside and waving grass.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MRS. SINCLAIR accompanied her son to Eastburgh, 
 and saw him settled in a way suited to his circumstances 
 and prospects. 
 
 " Tom," she said, looking round the handsome rooms 
 she had got for him, " I desire that you should be as 
 comfortable as possible, and that you should cultivate 
 good society. You have excellent introductions ; and 
 people should try to be acquainted with those above 
 them rather than below those who are better than 
 themselves, and they are sure to improve both in mind 
 and manners." 
 
 " But if a lot of fellows insist on improving them- 
 selves by sticking to me, what am I to do that is, fel- 
 lows below me ? " 
 
 " You need not encourage them. There's no diffi- 
 culty in that, Tom." 
 
 " Shake them off? And if the people better than me 
 shake me off?" 
 
 " They won't do that, that's entirely different." 
 
 " I don't see it. I've read in books that we should 
 always choose the best society. Pity the best society ; 
 it would need to strengthen its rails." 
 
 " Tom, I earnestly trust that with these good rooms, 
 and your introductions, and the tastes I have tried to 
 instil into you, you won't disappoint me in this, after I 
 have yielded to all your wishes."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 149 
 
 " Don't be frightened, mother. I won't need much 
 society, and what I have won't be wicked I promise 
 that ; but I'm not ambitious." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert also went with her son, and handed 
 him over to the care of a decent elderly woman she had 
 long known, and with whom John declared he would 
 get on famously. 
 
 " You won't feel dull, John, when you come in at 
 night ? " said his mother anxiously : " you'll only have 
 five nights a week, and you can amuse yourself with a 
 book." 
 
 " Dull ! I don't know what dull means. No fear, I'll 
 get on." 
 
 " And, John, I think I may trust you not to get into 
 extravagant habits." 
 
 " How could I be extravagant if I wished it ? " asked 
 John. 
 
 " I am not afraid of you, John." 
 
 " I'm not afraid either," said he. 
 
 It is certain John was not afraid, and it is equally 
 certain that his expenses at his outset ha life were ex- 
 tremely modest, and that if he had any wishes beyond 
 them, he kept them in curb. Was it not his intention to 
 make money ? only all his intentions were young and 
 very loose in the fibre, and, nothing preventing, those 
 would flourish best that were indigenous. 
 
 The Quixstar lads naturally met occasionally, es- 
 pecially Tom Sinclair and John, although they had not 
 much in common; but their sisters were a bond between 
 them, and the intimacy was encouraged on both sides 
 at home not that Mrs. Gilbert admired Tom deeply, or 
 that Mrs. Sinclair considered John of sufficient mark to 
 make his friendship of the least consequence to Tom, 
 but each felt that her son might have a worse companion.
 
 150 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 John's first essay at hospitality was on Tom's behalf. 
 Mrs. Auld, John's landlady, was a just woman, but not 
 genial not by any means genial. She felt that John had 
 in a manner been committed to her care, and she cared 
 for him conscientiously ; and he, having been accustomed 
 to authority, endured it for a time, till getting more fully 
 fledged, he took to flight. 
 
 On principle, Mrs. Auld objected to him having 
 company, and, generally speaking, when a woman has it 
 in her power, if she does not make her sentiments heard, 
 she makes them felt. 
 
 When John saw his tea table, he felt it was not by 
 any means furnished as he would have liked it to be for 
 his guest. He lifted a small vessel about the size of a 
 humming-bird, which his landlady called a cream-pot, 
 and tasted the contents. When Mrs. Auld came in, he 
 said 
 
 " Couldn't you give us a little better cream ? That 
 does not seem just the thing." 
 
 " No' the thing ! What ails it ? " and she brought 
 her nose swoop down like a hawk on the humming-bird. 
 " Weel, it may be a wee thing turned. What's the 
 callant's folk when he's at hame ? " 
 
 " His uncle lives in Quixstar. He is a retired to- 
 bacconist." 
 
 " A retired tobacconist ! The milk'll do. I'll war- 
 rant he's used to naething better." 
 
 " I can tell you he is used to the very best of every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Then it'll be a gude change to him no' to get the 
 best. Changes are lightsome." 
 
 This might be true, and it was true that Mrs. Auld 
 was a good, honest woman, trusted by Mrs. Gilbert, but 
 it was not likely that a youth getting daily more
 
 QUIXSTAR. ];")! 
 
 in the ways of the world was going to stay with her 
 longer than he could help he, a young man rejoicing 
 in a cane and a ring, which last article of luxury he 
 transferred to his pocket from Saturday to Monday, the 
 homage which his youthful vanity paid to good sense. 
 His example commended itself to Tom Sinclair, who, 
 although slow and fond of his ease, gratified his mother 
 by careful attention to his toilet. 
 
 In the matter of changing his lodgings, John went 
 mildly to work. If he had said to his mother that he 
 wished to do so, the likelihood is she would have made 
 no objection, but he began by dropping hints at a dis- 
 tance, that he was not quite comfortable, and so on, lead- 
 ing the way gradually. 
 
 Then he amused himself of an evening writing such 
 an epistle as this, in a scrapy feminine hand : " SIR, In 
 answer to your advertisement, I am a widow without 
 family, but with an airy bedroom and well-furnished 
 sitting-room ; would be happy to let the same, with coals, 
 gas, and attendance. Rent 5s. per week inclusive. 
 Entry immediate. Early answer will oblige." This he 
 would stick into a book as a mark, perfectly certain that 
 his landlady would not fail to read it to how many 
 landladies are the Avritten documents of their inmates 
 sacred ? Mrs. Auld read, and burned with indignation. 
 It never entered her mind that she was being played 
 upon, and she was between the horns of a dilemma: 
 either she must take no notice, or she must stand con- 
 victed of having read the note. John arrives to see the 
 success of his stratagem. He instantly knows that it 
 has taken effect. 
 
 " I hope nothing is annoying you, Mrs. Auld ? " he 
 remarks in mild tones. 
 
 " What mak's ye ask that ? " says Mrs. A. snappishly.
 
 152 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " I thought you looked a little as if yon were." 
 
 " Weel, I havena lived till this time o' day to be an- 
 noyed wi' trifles." 
 
 " A trifle ! Is it anything I could put right ? " 
 
 " Ye didna leave that letter there for me to read ? " 
 says Mrs. Auld, unable to contain herself longer. 
 
 " What letter ? " says John innocently. 
 
 " I read it. I mak' it a duty to read onything that's 
 lying aboot, as your mother gied me a charge o' ye. I 
 took ye mainly to oblige her, and ye're free to leave 
 when ye like ; but tak' my word for it," pointing to the 
 note, " that woman'll mak' her rent oot o' ye in some 
 shape." 
 
 Mrs. Auld withdrew, shutting the door with a bang, 
 not having her feelings soothed by hearing her lodger 
 burst into hearty laughter. John was not long in getting 
 out from under Mrs. Auld's watchful care. And the 
 boys continued their weekly visit to Quixstar till Time 
 stole them away, and quietly and effectually put men in 
 their place. 
 
 In these years Peter Veitch had only been homo once, 
 and then his visit had been limited to a day and n. night, 
 and the only person he saw out of his own family was 
 Mr. Kennedy, whom he met on the street and accosted. 
 Mr. Kennedy looked at him, and did not know him. Peter 
 introduced himself. 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Kennedy ; " I see ; and you've tired 
 of the sea, and have come back to take up the spade and 
 the hoe again ? All right." 
 
 " I have not tired of the sea, I am going back to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Indeed ? Ah, well, see and behave yourself, " and 
 Mr. Kennedy shook hands he was rather in a hurry.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Time stole the boys, he took the girls too, 
 not however before a snatch had been made at them 
 from a most unlikely quarter. The Gilbert girls had 
 been singularly pretty in the bud, so as to alarm their 
 mamma for their future fate, but the flower did not by 
 any means come up to the promise of the bud, which 
 shows that people ought not to eat sorrow with a long 
 spoon. However, they were well enough better than 
 the average; but John's good looks had gone on im- 
 proving with the years. Scripture writers tell us of 
 people who were well-favored and goodly to look upon, 
 as if it were rather an advantage than otherwise, and 
 there were persons in Quixstar and elsewhere whose 
 eyes rested with great enjoyment on John Gilbert, his 
 father and mother, his grandaunt, and even Miss Raeburn 
 was weak enough to come under the spell ; and younger 
 eyes than theirs were fascinated. Mr. Gilbert felt that 
 John was the ladder by which the family was to rise to 
 fortune, and his mother well, she did not think less of 
 her daughters, but she thought much of her son. 
 
 At this particular time, however, there was a pair of 
 weak spectacled eyes that never saw John Gilbert with- 
 out the sharpest pang of envy. What had befallen 
 Mr. Doubleday ? There were times when he would 
 have given his right hand, nay, I verily believe his hope 
 of salvation, if onlv his soul could have been clad in snoh
 
 154 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 a body as John Gilbert's. Mr. Doubleday was still at 
 Old Battle House. 
 
 "He was harmless and inoffensive," Mrs. Sinclair 
 said, " and as the girls objected point-blank to being sent 
 to a boarding-school, and got on well enough with him, 
 she would rather have him than a governess indeed, 
 she would not have a governess on any consideration. 
 Besides, there was Mr. Sinclair in the house, and you 
 never could tell what might happen, and they had all 
 got accustomed to Mr. Doubleday, odd being as he was 
 singularly harmless ; but he was not quite a fixture, he 
 would have to leave some day," etc., etc. 
 
 It was Maddy Fairgrieve who first discovered the 
 impending calamity. One morning she went into the 
 schoolroom to finish her dusting. She had a light foot ; 
 and Mr. Doubleday, who was standing in one of the win- 
 dows, did not hear her. He was holding a glove in his 
 hand, and he kissed it repeatedly. Turning round, he 
 became aware of Maddy's presence, and not being quick- 
 witted, he looked caught, and hid the glove in his pocket. 
 At this instant Bell came in, and spied one of her gloves. 
 
 " Did I leave my gloves last night ? " said she. 
 " Here's one where's the other ? Maddy, did you see 
 it lying about ? " 
 
 " No," said Maddy ; " I didna see it lying about " 
 which was the truth. 
 
 " It must be somewhere, though," said Bell, and she 
 proceeded to hunt for it. 
 
 No doubt Mr. Doubleday felt as if he had been 
 guilty of theft, and he slowly drew the glove out of his 
 pocket. 
 
 " There it is," he said simply. 
 
 " Out of your pocket ! Did you mistake it for your 
 own ? The last instance of absence of mind ! " said Bell,
 
 QUIXSTAK. 155 
 
 her face as clear as day. It was evident the tutor had 
 never told his love. 
 
 Maddy retreated to her own quarters, and laughed. 
 " He's no blate," she thought. " Aside Bell he looks 
 'like naething but a skinned rabbit. Wait till her 
 mamma finds it out, and it will be a business ! And the 
 woman that writes to him so often I'll warrant she 
 has him tied neck and heels. It's aye the way wi' stu- 
 dent callants ; they entangle themselves before they've 
 had time to draw their wits up frae their heels. But 
 I dinna think Bell'll interfere wi' her rights. I wonder 
 if he kens what like he is ! " and Maddy laughed again, 
 judging, as women are apt to do, and men also, by mere 
 externals, and feeling herself certain that Mr. Double- 
 day was making a terrible breach in his honor by re- 
 pudiating a prior claim. 
 
 Bell was neai'ly a grown-up young lady, and no doubt 
 there were people who described her as bold and bounc- 
 ing. If an angel were to descend, some one would find 
 fault with the poise of his wings, and discover that he 
 was either over fluent or over reticent. Bell was large 
 not too large and bold with the boldness of a free, 
 well-set nature, that thinks no evil. It was a pleasure to 
 watch her eyes, or to meet them. They were not of that- 
 blue which is reckoned so soft and womanly ; nor that 
 black which glitters and scintillates so beautifully by mere 
 force of the coloring pigment for as often as not they 
 are like the sham drawers in a druggist's shop, apparently 
 full of wares subtle for life or death, but having actually 
 nothing behind the appearance. Bell's eyes were grey, 
 that clear calm grey, at which to look merely gives you 
 a feeling of rest when they are at rest, but that kindle 
 at the least friction of heart or soul, like a lucifer-match 
 drawn across a rough surface. Her nose was straight,
 
 156 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 good, and unobtrusive ; she had a clean-cut mouth, which 
 opened well, and showed a row of teeth not small, to 
 be sure, perhaps a little too big for beauty but white 
 and regular as no dentist could make them, and giving 
 the impression of high health and strength without a 
 particle of coarseness; she had a good forehead, as 
 became a mathematical student, with fair hair and plenty 
 of it. 
 
 Alas ! that beside her Mr. Doubleday justified Mad- 
 dy's comparison is too true. Exit he had fallen in love. 
 Love, you see, can kindle his torch in a turnip lantern as 
 well as in a silver sconce, and even spectrum analysis 
 would reveal the combustible material to be very much 
 alike in both cases. Think of Mr. Doubleday in this state 
 of incandescence. How he would have manifested his 
 feelings if he had never learned the ABC cannot be 
 known, but it is not very likely it would have occurred 
 to him to kiss a glove and put it in his pocket if he had 
 never read of such a thing being done, although love 
 does a good deal in the way of inspiration. 
 
 What was pretty well known to him,-having lived 
 so long under the same roof with Mrs. Sinclair even 
 to him, innocent of anything like keen worldly wisdom 
 as he was was the likelihood that she would not 
 smile on his wishes in the matter of her daughter, 
 and he was in a strait between two, whether to ask 
 Mrs. Sinclair for her permission to win his love, or to 
 woo without it. Mr. Doubleday never hated any one, 
 jt was not in him to do so, but he had a conscious 
 overallish feeling toward Mrs. Sinclair which made him 
 always more comfortable in her absence than her pres- 
 ence, and it is a very difficult matter to go and lay 
 open your deepest feelings to a person for whom you 
 have no more regard than this ; and as it is easiest, when
 
 QtJIXSTAR. 157 
 
 you are perplexed but not pushed, to do nothing, Mr. 
 Doubleday would probably never have thought of doing 
 anything, had not cruel fate kept the wound of love open 
 by laying the blister of jealousy over it. John Gilbert 
 came often to Old Battle House. John Gilbert was good- 
 looking and clever. Mr. Doubleday did not think hum- 
 bly of himself ; he was conscious of powers of some kind, 
 but he knew he had neither the clear sight nor the agility 
 which springs to opportunity, and till now he had never 
 felt the want. Often as he had heard Mrs. Sinclair dis- 
 course to her son with the view of stinging him to ex- 
 ertion, on the number of clever people in the world who 
 never got any benefit from their cleverness because they 
 did not know how to use it, could not dress it for the 
 market, and by the pricking of his thumbs had known 
 that while Mrs. Sinclair was seeking to rouse her son, 
 she was also speaking at him, he had never winced. 
 What could such a woman know of the bliss of pursuing 
 knowledge for the sake of knowledge ? When he had 
 hinted at such an idea she hooted it. " That's all very 
 well, Mr. Doubleday," she said, " but if you carry out 
 that notion you'll crawl through the world a poor man." 
 
 " I don't object to crawling through the world a 
 poor man." 
 
 " Very well, you'll get no respect." 
 
 " I can do without respect." 
 
 " Oh, if you come to that, you are independent, to 
 be sure." 
 
 " No, ma'am, I'm not so independent; next to my 
 own approval, I value that of a good man." 
 
 " And you think a good man will approve of lazi- 
 ness." 
 
 " You said poverty ; you did not say laziness." 
 
 " Well, people are poor because they are lazy."
 
 158 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " If that is your conviction, ma'am, I'll not dis- 
 turb it." 
 
 What was he to do ? He could still forget himself 
 in his books his first love but the next lesson in 
 mathematics came, and John Gilbert came. True, it was 
 a natural enough thing that John Gilbert should come, 
 he had always come, he was a friend of Tom's, and 
 besides, there was Effie, " But what," thought Mr. 
 Doubleday, " what could she possibly be in any one's 
 eyes compared with Bell ? " 
 
 Now many people thought Effie the better-looking 
 of the two. She was less every way than her sister, she 
 was pretty, did not look into things too high for her, and 
 was not strong-minded ; her mamma said she was quite 
 a sensitive plant, and always had been, and John had 
 teased Effie from their childhood up. 
 
 Sometimes Mr. Doubleday thought of opening up 
 the matter to Mr. Sinclair. He liked Mr. Sinclair. 
 Mr. Sinclair was his friend, and oftener than once he had 
 tried to do it, but failed ; he had led a life so out of the 
 crowd that he had a womanish shrinking; it seemed as 
 if it would vulgarize a sacred feeling to talk of it, so the 
 sweet and the sour stuff went on burning together, no 
 one being the wiser except Maddy. It needed a lively 
 imagination to originate the idea of Mr. Doubleday 
 being in love. 
 
 But, grievous to say, Maddy was not Mr. Doubleday's 
 friend in this matter. She was a just woman, and she 
 was indignant at the wrong done to the tutor's supposed 
 betrothed ; still, if he had been a fine-looking youth, 
 of frank and genial bearing, perhaps her sense of justice 
 might not have been in the ascendant. 
 
 " But," she thought, " I needna distress myseF ; Bell 
 will never tak' up wi' the like o' him." She sounded
 
 QUIXSTAR. 159 
 
 affairs, however, and took an opportunity of bringing 
 the tutor in as a topic. " Would you call Mr. Double- 
 day gude-looking, Miss Sinclair ? " she said. 
 
 " No," said Bell," I would not, nor any other person." 
 
 " Puir man," said Maddy. 
 
 " Do you pity a man because he is not a beauty, 
 Maddy ? " 
 
 l< No no' if he has other things." 
 
 " Mr. Doubleday has plenty of other things. He is 
 good, and he is learned, and he never despises igno- 
 rance, but he should not use his hands. It's a very 
 funny thing that with such a mind he should not know 
 by intuition how to fold paper and tie a string, but it 
 actually puts me in a fever to see him try to make up 
 a parcel." 
 
 " He's a stupid body," said Maddy. 
 
 " That he is not," said Bell emphatically. " It is a 
 pity he is so handless, but it is not so bad in a man as 
 a woman." . 
 
 " I dinna ken," said Maddy ; " there's heaps o' bits o' 
 jobs about a house a man can do if he has hands. What 
 use would Mr. Doubleday be at a flitting, think ye ? " 
 
 "None," said Bell, laughing; " I would never engage 
 him to help at a flitting." 
 
 " Weel, I like a smart, look-active man far afore a 
 dungeon." 
 
 " Dungeons are good in their place. You can draw 
 a great deal out of a dungeon. First and last, I have 
 got more good from Mr. Doubleday than almost any 
 one." Bell stood up for her tutor warmly, but, even to 
 Maddy's experienced eyes, as calmly as if she had been 
 speaking of old Peter Veitch.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THERE are people who having got a startling piece 
 of information do not burn to impart it, who having 
 made a discovery by their own unaided wisdom can yet 
 refrain from publishing it, thereby abstaining from giv- 
 ing a skeptical world triumphant proof of that wisdom. 
 There are such people, although they are rather thinly 
 sown, and you could hardly expect that Mrs. Sinclair's old 
 and valuable servant would forego the pleasure of a mild 
 and respectful crow over her mistress. 
 
 Some changes were being made in the household ar- 
 rangements, and Mrs. Sinclair remarked to Maddy, " We 
 could make use of Mr. Doubleday's room now, if we had 
 it. Hell have to be leaving some day." 
 
 " It's high time," said Maddy, with a mysterious 
 snort. 
 
 " I should think I am the best judge of that," said 
 Mrs. Sinclair loftily. 
 
 " Maybe ; but he's dune a' the gude he's likely to do 
 here." 
 
 " He's not going to do you any harm, is he, Maddy ? " 
 
 " Na ; there's nae fear o' me. I wadna tak' up wi' 
 the like o' him." 
 
 " Who's taking up with him ? not Mary (one of the 
 servants) ? But Mr. Doubleday has more sense. You 
 imagine things, Maddy." 
 
 " Maybe. When Miss Bell runs off wi' the tutor 
 I'll maybe imagine that too."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 161 
 
 " Really, Maddy, you should think twice before you 
 speak. You're an old servant, but there is a limit to 
 freedom." 
 
 Maddy snorted, and held her tongue. Mrs. Sinclair, 
 however, had intended the remark to draw out all she 
 might have to say, and her sudden and complete silence 
 was provoking. 
 
 " There is a limit to freedom, and therefore, Maddy, 
 I can't think a person of your sense would have said 
 what you did say without grounds," Mrs. Sinclair said, 
 sure that a seasoning of compliment would untie the 
 budget ; but Maddy was disposed to play her fish a little 
 longer on the hook. 
 
 " Oh, nae grounds but my ain imagination," said 
 Maddy. 
 
 " Maddy," said Mrs. Sinclair, looking from the win- 
 dow at the garden, on which the sun was shining, ; ' why 
 should we indulge in bad temper when all nature is 
 smiling ? " 
 
 " I dinna ken your reason, but I imagine I do it out 
 o' a spirit o' contradiction." 
 
 " It is a very bad spirit." 
 
 "Very." 
 
 "And one you ought to guard against, as well as 
 setting reports afloat that have no foundation." 
 
 " I never did that." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me you have the slightest 
 ground for saying what you said a little ago ? " 
 
 <; Yes," said Maddy shortly. 
 
 " Then what are they ? As a mother I have a right to 
 know. What can they possibly be ? " 
 
 Then Maddy thawed, and unfolded the glove scene 
 and other tell-tale trifles. 
 
 Most people, who had been as long in the world as
 
 162 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair, would have slept on information such as 
 this before taking action on it. Mrs. Sinclair went 
 immediately in search of the tutor. She looked into the 
 dining-room, and found not him, but Miss Raeburn and 
 Mr. Sinclair, they having come in from the garden as 
 she descended the stairs. She scarcely had presence of 
 mind for the ordinary greeting. " I'm looking for Mr. 
 Doubleday," she said; "I thought after I got. him 
 polished a little he would be as harmless in the house 
 as the cat ; and what do you think I have just heard of 
 him?" 
 
 " That he is in love with Bell ? " said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Miss Raeburn ! is it possible that you knew of 
 guessed of such a thing, and never told me ? I avoided 
 getting a governess in case in case," here she glanced 
 at Mr. Sinclair, " anything ridiculous should happen ; and 
 now why, oh why, did you not give me warning ? " 
 
 " I am innocent," said Miss Raeburn. " I made a 
 mere random guess. Even jealousy did not sharpen my 
 eight. I have seen nothing, although I'm in love with 
 Bell myself." 
 
 "I'll give you Maddy's story," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 When she had finished, her brother-in-law spoke 
 first, and said, " It is nonsense. Doubleday is not such 
 a sentimental fool. He looked closely at the glove to 
 see if it was his own, and thinking it his own put it in 
 his pocket that is all." 
 
 " If I could think that was all, what a relief it would 
 be ! What do you think, Miss Raeburn ? " 
 
 Being feminine and romantic, Miss Raeburn leaned 
 to Maddy's view of the subject. " I suppose if it were 
 the case, you wouldn't approve of such an attachment ? " 
 said she. 
 
 " Miss Raeburn, are you mad ? Well, it is easy to
 
 QUIXSTAK. 163 
 
 bear other people's calamities. I must question Mr. 
 Doubleday or Bell, or both. What do you think, 
 Adam ? " 
 
 " Oh, by all means question them. If Bell wants to 
 marry the man, let her do it ; she might do worse." 
 
 " I'll not let her do it ; I at least will stand between 
 my children and ruin." 
 
 "Well, I know nothing about these things. Take 
 your own way ; but he is a good man and a scholar ; and 
 there's no accounting for taste " and having given his 
 opinion, Mr. Sinclair left the two ladies to manage such 
 a delicate matter their own way. 
 
 " I declare to you," said Mrs. Sinclair solemnly, " I 
 declare to you, Miss Raeburn, I would rather that Bell 
 should live and die an old maid than marry Mr. Double- 
 day," then, catching a sparkle in Miss Raeburn's eye 
 " Of course you know I didn't mean that is old 
 maids are often very tfseful, and I did not mean " 
 
 " I know you didn't, Mrs. Sinclair ; and I have not 
 got a long nose. But if I were you, I would not 
 question Bell on this subject. Most likely she knows 
 nothing about it, and there's no need that she should 
 know it." 
 
 " And there's no need that she shouldn't." 
 
 "She is very young," urged Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Old-maidish caution," thought Mrs. Sinclair ; and 
 she said " Perhaps the best thing would be to send 
 away Mr. Doubleday immediately, without asking any- 
 thing about it ? " 
 
 " But where could he go to immediately ? " 
 
 " Oh, a man can never be at a loss. One could hardly 
 have turned a governess out at a moment's notice ; but a 
 man is different." 
 
 " Yes ; but Mr. Doubleday has not the faculty of look-
 
 164 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ing after himself most men have, and I doubt he has no 
 money." 
 
 "If he had the impudence to think of Bell, he is able 
 to look after himself; and he must have money. He has 
 been well paid here, and what has he done with it ? " 
 
 " Given it away. I suspect there is some drain upou 
 him." 
 
 " "Well, I am not bound to supply his drains. You 
 don't see the thing as I do. Did you ever know such 
 impudence ? The more I think of it " 
 
 " The cat may look at the king, you know ; and a 
 man of education and ability is any one's equal. You 
 can't expect people to grovel in humility. But I don't 
 believe Bell cares for him more than I do at least it is 
 very unlikely ; yet if she did, he would be a good hus- 
 band." 
 
 "I thought Adam unfeeling," said Mrs. Sinclair; 
 " and I can only say, Miss Raeburn, that you can't know 
 a mother's feelings" 
 
 " Perhaps I can't ; but I think you should give Mr. 
 Doubleday a little while's grace people never regret 
 doing anything in a kindly way. Reverse the case, and 
 suppose he had been your son." 
 
 " I don't think, Miss Raeburn, that I am in the habit of 
 doing unkind things ; but when one's child is threatened, 
 really I must take my own way." 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair took her own way, and cited Mr. 
 Doubleday to her presence. 
 
 " Mr. Doubleday," she said, " possibly it may come 
 upon you by surprise: the intimation that owing to 
 circumstances over which I have had no control, I must 
 from to-day dispense with your services." 
 
 " I have been thinking of leaving for some time ; I 
 have wished to leave."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 165 
 
 " I am glad of that, that we are of one mind on that 
 point." 
 
 " I have thought, Mrs. Sinclair, that I might better 
 my position " 
 
 " And I'm sure I don't object to your doing that 
 not at all." 
 
 " I'm not ambitious ; but " 
 
 " But you ought to be. I for one would be delighted 
 to see you in a Professor's chair." 
 
 " Would that content you ? " he said eagerly. 
 
 " Perfectly, Mr. Doubleday." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday for once in his life jumped to a con- 
 clusion. 
 
 " Then I may speak to Bell ? " he said in agitation. 
 
 " About what ? " asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 Mr. Doubleday's fingers were playiug nervously 
 with one of the buttons of his coat, and he stammered, 
 " I am she is that is " 
 
 " You don't mean that you have been guilty of any 
 imprudence, Mr. Doubleday ? " said Mrs. Sinclair sharp- 
 ly. " I have been hearing " 
 
 " I never told any one ! " broke forth Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " That's so far good," said Mrs. Sinclair. " I don't 
 think I can blame, myself for want of vigilance. If I 
 had taken a fluent good-looking youth into my house, it 
 would have been different ; indeed, I would not have 
 done it; but with you I never dreamt of danger. I 
 wouldn't for the world do an unkindly thing, but in the 
 circumstances when will it be convenient for you to go, 
 Mr. Doubleday?" 
 
 " To-day ! " said Mr. Doubleday, suddenly and short- 
 ly, and he left Mrs. Sinclair seated on her throne of 
 judgment, angry, vexed, and good-natured. How sur- 
 prised she would have been had she known that the tutor
 
 166 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 cut the interview short from an instinctive feeling of re- 
 pulsion ! " 
 
 He went to the schoolroom to gather together the 
 books that belonged to him lying there. Bell was sit- 
 ting at the table writing. He did not speak, and she 
 did not speak. At length she looked up and said 
 . " You're making a clean sweep. What are you go- 
 ing to do with all these books ? and what's the hurry ? " 
 
 " I'm going away to-night, and I'll take them with 
 me. 1 ' 
 
 " Going to-night ! but you're coming back ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Going for good and all ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "Nonsense! I don't believe it. You would have 
 given us warning." 
 
 " I did not know I was going till a few minutes ago. 
 Your mamma asked me to go." 
 
 " She asked you to go ? " said Bell in surprise. 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " I suppose she thought me so ugly and so sunk in 
 my books that I had not common feeling." 
 
 " Mr. Doubleday, what in the world has happened ? 
 I am sure you misunderstand mamma ! " 
 
 " I am not so wretchedly dull ! " he said bitterly. 
 
 " Neither is mamma so unjust and unkind. What is 
 the meaning of it ? Why does mamma want you to 
 go?" 
 
 " She is afraid that you should learn to like me." 
 
 " That's not the thing. She knows well enough that 
 we like you ; we've liked you all along, so that can r t be 
 the reason," and she looked inquiringly at him. 
 
 " She is afraid," said he, turning over his books ner- 
 vously, " that that I like love you too well."
 
 QtJIXSTAR. 167 
 
 " I see it ! " cried Bell, with animation. " I was half 
 thinking of that. Mamma is afraid that we'll want to 
 marry ! No danger ! That's an idea that runs in mamma's 
 head. The farthest back thing I remember is her saying 
 she was afraid uncle would marry, and he's not married 
 yet. Don't take offence at mamma, Mr. Doubleday; I 
 can put her right about that in half a second. Marry ! 
 we would never tMnk of it for a moment f " 
 
 " Would you not would you really not, Bell ? not 
 if I were, as your mamma suggested, a Professor ? " 
 
 " If I were going to marry, it would be the man I 
 should think of, not his business. I would not mind 
 much what his business was if it was something clean ; 
 not a chimney-sweep, for instance." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday laughed in spite of himself, " I must 
 go," he thought. " It will be easier to go at once. Her 
 mind awoke at my touch I cannot reach her heart." 
 
 " I shall soon be forgotten," he said aloud. 
 
 " Not by me," said she. " I shall never open a dic- 
 tionary without thinking of you, and when you're away, 
 where can we go but to the dictionary, and it will be a 
 bore. I'm lazy, and I like spoon-meat. But you won't 
 really go to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes. I may as well go to-night as to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, said she, " I have often thought you were 
 losing time with us when you might have been doing 
 something much more important in the world ; but it 
 was pleasant. I shall always look back on these years." 
 
 " Will you ? And if we should meet again " 
 
 "If? there's no if in the matter ; you will surely come 
 back and see us now and then ; if you are near, you 
 might come every Saturday, like Tom." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday smiled faintly and shook his head. 
 He bade the girls good-bye in the schoolroom, and there
 
 168 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 was no word said but good-bye. Mrs. Sinclair met him 
 in the lobby. " Now," she said, " Mr. Doubleday, if 
 ever I can do anything for you, you have only to let me 
 know. And I would like to give you two pieces of ad- 
 vice : cultivate ambition, and, Mr. Doubleday, act hon- 
 orably to the the person to whom you are engaged." 
 
 " To whom I am engaged ? " said Mr. Doubleday, 
 mystified. 
 
 " Yes. I have been told you are engaged to be mar- 
 ried." 
 
 " Whoever told you that told you what is false, 
 ma'am. Good-bye."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 MK. DOUBLEDAY walked on walked out of his par- 
 adise ; took his solitary way, no more intending or even 
 wishing to go back than if an angel with a drawn sword 
 guarded the entrance. It seemed to him the natural 
 course of things. He had been so accustomed to be dis- 
 appointed that the prosperity of his wishes would have 
 dazzled him as the sun dazzles weak eyes. Besides, he 
 carried his love with him as one carries a jewel in a case, 
 and however often he might take her out and look at 
 her she would still be the same the scholar in whom 
 he had had supreme delight, her face always alive with 
 interest and fresh with youth. He walked on, strange 
 to say, with a sense of elation. For months he had felt 
 as if he had been living in deceit, in a false, feverish 
 dream ; now he was awake and free. Hope had not 
 hung in the air when he was born, as genius is said to 
 do at certain times of a nation's life, waiting to enter a 
 favored newly-made body ; he was not buoyant, and a 
 half lifeless hope dies more easily; he abhorred anything 
 like deceit, now that too was over. As Mrs. Sinclair 
 said, " When all nature is smiling, why should we in- 
 dulge in bad temper ? " The sun was shining, and send- 
 ing a long afternoon shadow before him, which he could 
 neither overtake nor yet get quit of, any more than he 
 could all at once get quit of the shadow of his vanished 
 hope. He walked more quickly than was usual with 
 8
 
 170 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 him, but that was because when people are walking to a 
 railway station they strike into a business pace whether 
 they will or not, rather than with the view of walking 
 down internal tumults. He came up to old Peter Veitch 
 standing leaning over a gate at the entrance of a field. 
 
 " Fine day, sir," said Peter. 
 
 " Very fine," said Mr. Doubleday, and was passing 
 on, when Peter said, " You'll hae heard the news ? " 
 
 " No," he said, his tone implying that he did not care 
 to hear it, but when Peter had got a stai'tling bit of 
 news, like many people he was fond of telling it. 
 
 " Lord Winkworth died this morning," he said. 
 (This nobleman had some estates in the county, and a 
 residence not very far from Cranstoun Hall, a favorite 
 residence, where he mostly lived, and where he had 
 died.) 
 
 Mr. Doubleday was not so struck as Peter expected ; 
 he said, " Indeed," somewhat absently. 
 
 " Sudden in the end," Peter continued ; " he had 
 been no' sae weel, off an' on, for a while. Eh, Mr. 
 Doubleday, it's a blessing that great folk dee." 
 
 " You're surely not pleased at the man's death, 
 Peter ? " 
 
 " No, no, sir; but when ye see puir folk fechting on 
 a' their lives, and living in damp houses, wi' a wind 
 blawing through them fit to tak' onybody up the lum, 
 and getting the cauld, drapping into the ground like a 
 broken leaf, it looks hard ; but when the like o' Lord 
 Winkworth's ta'en away, that had doctors frae a' parts, 
 and everything done for him that could be done the 
 house and the very passages, they tell me, were heated 
 up to an equal temperature a' the year round, it brings 
 things to their level. When their time comes the rich 
 maun gang, "they canna creesh the hand o' death."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 171 
 
 " I envy him," said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " He had a gey and easy billet, ye wad think," said 
 Peter ; " but I'm no sure I wad hae changed wi' him. 
 To be flattered and made o', and hae a' body takin' off 
 their hats to ye, and hae your pouches fou o' siller frae 
 the cradle to the grave, is trying very trying; I'm 
 no sure how I wad hae come out o' sic an ordeal." 
 
 " Be certain he had his own share of evils," said Mr. 
 Doubleday; "no man comes into this world and goes 
 out of it without them ; it's not his life I envy, it's his 
 death." 
 
 " Are ye tired o' life, sir ye're young to hae gotten 
 that length ? " 
 
 " There's not much worth living for," answered Mr. 
 Doubleday ; " and think what he'll know now." 
 
 " Dear kens that's ayont me. I canna say I want to 
 dee it's no' natural ; but I've enjoyed life ; I've wrought 
 hard, and had my ain trials ; but working wi' your hands 
 keeps body and mind in order, if ye're no' ower sair 
 wrought how you folk that work wi' your heads- come 
 on I dinna ken. Weel, I tak' a dook in the burn every 
 morning, and that's ae thing worth living for, for ye're 
 just a laddie when ye come out; and I often get a hearty 
 laugh and that's anither thing worth living for ; but ye 
 dinna look in a humor for that. Ye haena the tooth- 
 ache, have ye, sir ? " 
 
 " No, I never had toothache in my life." 
 
 " Then be thankfu' ; it's no' every ane that can tell 
 the tale." 
 
 Next morning Mr. Sinclair looked over the edges of 
 his paper at breakfast, and said, " Surely Mr. Doubleday 
 is late to-day ? " 
 
 "Do you not know?" said Mrs. Sinclair; "he is 
 away."
 
 172 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Where to ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; his boxes are addressed to Eastburgh. 
 If you had not been out driving, he and they might have 
 been sent to the station together." 
 
 " You don't mean that he is not coming back ? " 
 
 " Most certainly I mean that." 
 
 " Impossible ! you could not turn him out at a mo- 
 ment's warning ? " 
 
 " He proposed going, and I must say I did not press 
 him to stay." 
 
 " But I did," said Bell. " I did not want him to go 
 in such a hurry ; we liked him, and although we gave him 
 so much trouble, he liked us. I'm very sorry he is gone ; 
 I feel like a fish out of water." 
 
 " I think, Adam, you'll allow that my prompt action 
 was hardly misplaced," said Mrs. Sinclair, with a know- 
 ing smile. 
 
 " It's done at any rate, and can't be undone," said 
 Mr. Sinclair, and he did not think the more of his sister- 
 in-law for her energy, which savored of heartlessness. 
 
 " I'm glad, for Mr. Doubleday's sake," said Bell. " I 
 always felt he was wasting his time here. :> 
 
 " That's something like sense, Bell," said her uncle. 
 " Well, what do Effie and you propose doing now ? 
 But perhaps your education is finished ? " 
 
 " Except as regards music," said Mrs. Sinclair; "they 
 will go on with it." 
 
 " I know, uncle," said Bell, " that you are laughing at 
 us about our education being finished, and I don't like it. 
 Mr. Doubleday once told me that the greatest of all 
 reverence is reverence for what is beneath you." 
 
 " And you claim reverence as being beneath me ? " 
 
 " I am a good deal younger at least." 
 
 "That's undeniable, I must allow."
 
 QUIXSTAE. 173 
 
 " But, Bell," said Mrs. Sinclair, " it was quite natural 
 of your uncle to suppose your education finished. By 
 the time I was your "age," at this point Mr. Sinclair re- 
 tired with his newspaper, " I had not only finished my 
 education, I had refused more than one oifer of marriage, 
 and good ones too." 
 
 " Why, mamma," said Effie, " did you refuse them ? " 
 
 " Because, my dear, I was kept for your papa." 
 
 " But, mamma, tell us the particxilars : I would like to 
 hear them of all things ? " 
 
 "Tell us about papa," said Bell. "What kind of 
 man was he ? " 
 
 Bell, when she thought of her father, always pictured 
 him to herself as a man among men, the fact being that he 
 was nothing worse and nothing better than a solemn 
 goose. 
 
 " The most excellent of men, my dear." 
 
 " Was he like uncle ? " 
 
 " No ; not at all. What your uncle might have been 
 if he had early in life married a superior woman we 
 can't say. No ; your father was not like him," etc. 
 
 Bell, as her uncle allowed, showed sense occasionally, 
 but her wisdom was not of the kind that could smartly 
 discern a want of that quality in the opinions and acts of 
 her elders. It could not enter her mind to criticise 
 her mother or her uncle. A woman must be bad indeed 
 before she loses her prestige, and in the eyes of her 
 children Mrs. Sinclair was eminently wise and good. 
 
 When Mr. Sinclair had finished his newspaper he sat 
 for half an hour or so meditating, and the subject of his 
 meditations was his nieces. "His attention had been 
 called " to them pointedly by the schoolroom-quake that 
 had taken place, and he had looked at them particularly 
 that morning, critically and disinterestedly, and had dis-
 
 174 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 covered that they were grown up, and that each in her 
 own way looked well, but he preferred Bell upon the 
 larger pattern. " Doubleday has taste," he thought, smil- 
 ing, " if he has not wisdom." Mr. Sinclair smiled, so 
 that if there was any similar episode in his own life the 
 probability is he had come to regard it from the elderly 
 point of view as a piece of romantic nonsense, otherwise 
 one would think he might have sighed in token of 
 sympathy for Mr. Doubleday, and hi memory of his own 
 young self. 
 
 Then he thought, " Their mother is not overgifted 
 with sense, I'll have to mount guard ; " whereupon he 
 called them into his room, " Now," he said, " I know 
 you have nothing to do " 
 
 " We intend" said Erne. 
 
 " Yes, yes, you intend. Well, I daresay, but if you'll 
 come here two hours every day I'll see that you do some- 
 thing, as well as intend to do it. What do you say ? " 
 
 " Oh, we'll come. What are we to do ? " 
 
 " Anything you like, except trifle. See, Eflie," and 
 he took from a shelf Robertson's History of Charles the 
 Fifth, an abridged edition, " if you would read such a 
 book as that you might be the better for it ; but I sup- 
 pose you wouldn't ? " 
 
 " I've read it," said Eflie ; " ask me questions, and 
 you'll see ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't doubt you, and I'm glad you can read a 
 book of that class very glad." 
 
 Xext he examined Bell as to her mathematical ac- 
 quirements, and said, " Xot so bad ; well, you can go now, 
 and come here every morning at ten. I'll see that you 
 make some use of two hours out of the twenty-four." 
 This was all the encouragement Mr. Sinclair vouchsafed 
 his nieces.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 175 
 
 When Tom came home the following Saturday, he 
 said to his sisters, in his usual laconic fashion, " What's 
 the row been ? " 
 
 " What row ? " asked Effie. 
 
 " We met Doubleday on the street in Eastburgh 
 yesterday, and we could not make him out. He has left, 
 it seems, for good. Have we tired of our mathematics, 
 Bell?" 
 
 "Who was with you when you met Mr. Double- 
 day ?" asked Effie. 
 
 "Answer my question, and I'll answer yours," said 
 Tom. 
 
 "Thomas, my brother," said Bell; "ask first, was 
 there a row ? " 
 
 " Doubleday didn't leave at an hour's notice without 
 a row." 
 
 " He left without a row," echoed Bell. 
 
 " Effie," he said, " how was it ? why did he leave ? 
 You may as well tell me. I'll get it from mamma at 
 any rate." 
 
 " Tom," said Bell, " it's a long story. You have 
 heard of cumulative force ? " 
 
 " I say, no nonsense. What was it, Effie ? " 
 Bell said, " Mr. Doubleday took his shoes to the 
 mending ; Mr. Doubleday stayed at home ; Mr. Double- 
 day went to the post for a letter, and Mr. Doubleday 
 sometimes got none: cumulative force and mamma 
 said he had better go, and he went." 
 
 "Effie," said Tom, "can you speak sense?" 
 
 " I fancy," said Effie, " mamma and he differed about 
 something, I don't know what, and he went off in_a 
 hurry; that's all I know. Now, who was with you 
 when you met him John Gilbert?" Tom nodded. 
 
 " How was Mr. Doubleday looking ? " asked Bell.
 
 176 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 " Through his spectacles," said Tom. 
 
 " That is very satisfactory," rejoined Bell. 
 
 " Is John coming over to-night ? " Effie asked. 
 
 " Yes ; and his sisters."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BELL seized an opportunity in the course of the even- 
 ing to pay a hasty visit to Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Miss Raeburn is not out, I hope ? " said she to the 
 servant who opened the door. 
 
 " No ; I'm not out. Come away, Tibby," cried Miss 
 Raeburn from her sitting-room. 
 
 " I was afraid, from the blinds being down, that you 
 were out." 
 
 " I was reading a book for which I wanted a dim 
 religious light," said Miss Raeburn ; " and also to feel 
 alone, which you can't do so thoroughly with open win- 
 dows." 
 
 " I have interrupted you, then ? " 
 
 " If you had not been you, you would have inter- 
 rupted me ; but being you child, I could wish to have 
 you for the prop of my old age." 
 
 " You're not old," said Bell. 
 
 " Just so old that when I go into a druggist's shop 
 for anything, I get it wrapped up in a document setting 
 forth the merits of an unguent warranted to make thin 
 hair grow thick, when all other means have failed." 
 
 " But that's by chance," said Bell ; " I don't believe 
 the common run of shopmen are so clever as to pick 
 and choose what will suit each different customer." 
 
 " There are clever ones among them, though. I 
 saw a circular the other day from a man who has invent-
 
 178 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ed a specific, offering his portrait a first-class thing, 
 he said, both as a likeness and a work of art to every 
 shopkeeper who would put it in his window, and sell 
 his specific with a percentage ; besides, he remarked, 
 the portrait and the specific would be the means of in- 
 definitely extending the exhibitor's usual business." 
 
 " People must be fearfully fond of money," said Bell, 
 " that act with such consummate impudence to get it. 
 If that man could sell impudence at so much the ounce, I 
 would buy some of it to give to Mr. Doubleday as a 
 parting gift. He would be much the better of it. You 
 know he has left us ? " 
 
 " Perfectly. Everybody in Quixstar knows." 
 
 " I daresay. It was to speak about him I came. I 
 haven't long to stay." 
 
 " Speak then, Tibby" Miss Raeburn generally had a 
 name for those she specially liked, other than that by 
 which they were commonly known. 
 
 ' ; What do you think will become of him, Miss Rae- 
 burn ? " 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Do you think hell be able to look after himself ? 
 I always felt as if he were a creature that needed to be 
 taken in and done for ; and to think he was sent off at a 
 moment's notice ! Mamma won't hear reason, and I don't 
 like to speak to uncle about it, so I came to you." 
 
 " To ask whether I thought he was likely to sink or 
 swim ? I think he'll swim, or get some strong swimmer 
 to take him in tow." 
 
 " I would like to hear of it." 
 
 " Oh, he'll write ; be sure of that." 
 
 " Whom will he write to ? " 
 
 " Your uncle or Mr. Gilbert, probably." 
 
 "I liked him, and he is such a helpless being; posi-
 
 QUIXSTAE. 179 
 
 tively he couldn't wipe his own spectacles properly. I 
 used to take them from him and do it ; and yet he wrote 
 beautifully, and he is so simple. One day he met a knife- 
 grinder on the road, and got his knife sharpened. He 
 had no change, and gave the man a one-pound note. The 
 man was to get change and bring it to him at the house 
 in the evening, not to keep him waiting. He never saw 
 either man or money again, at which he wondered, he 
 told me." 
 
 " We must hope he won't fall among thieves, then," 
 said Miss Raeburn; "only, if he should, he would have 
 the happiness of not knowing it." 
 
 " I doubt," said Bell, and she sighed, " happiness and 
 he have never had much to do with each other. I know 
 he had an uncomfortable home, although he never exactly 
 said so." 
 
 " I hope we'll hear of him getting into some con- 
 genial post soon." 
 
 " I am very sorry for him," said Bell ; " but it has 
 been a comfort to speak of him to you." 
 
 " I wonder," thought Miss Raeburn when her visitor 
 was gone, " if she really cares for him ; it would be a piece 
 of amazing luck for him, and they are complementary to 
 each other. Pity is akin to love, they say, but is love akin 
 to pity ? I trow not. Pity is the poor relation that claims 
 kindred with the rich ; love is the rich relation that for- 
 gets the poor ; love likes to glory in its object, not to pity ; 
 it is hardly possible, but stranger things have happened." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday wrote wrote both to -Mr. Sinclair 
 and Mr. Gilbert, regretting he had not seen them before 
 leaving. His letters were dated from a provincial town, 
 and stated that he had got the place of classical and 
 mathematical master in a school there, and little more. 
 A faint dropping fire of letters was kept up for a con-
 
 180 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 siderable time, then one of Mr. Sinclair's letters was 
 returned to him, marked "Not found," and Mr. Double- 
 day was lost sight of and apparently forgotten, or nearly 
 so, by the inhabitants of Quixstar. They kept the " nega- 
 tive," however, so that fortune had only to throw a 
 strong light upon him for good or evil, and they would 
 be all able to supply his portrait immediately. 
 
 And Mrs. Sinclair had rest, and those that were in the 
 house with her. And the girls spent two hours every 
 forenoon in their uncle's room, he not interfering much 
 with them, only seeing that they did not trifle, and giving 
 them help when they needed it, and he could give it ; 
 for when he couldn't he never hesitated to say so a 
 touch of greatness to which every one is not equal and 
 exerted himself to hunt down the information wanted, 
 and they came to know each other better, and to respect 
 and like each other not love. The truth is, when one 
 person has been in the habit of snubbing, and another of 
 being snubbed, no conditions more unfavorable to love 
 ever existed. Not that there had ever been any really 
 bad feeling on either side ; there never had been anything 
 worse than indifference, which gradually gave place to 
 an interested regard, so that by the time another summer 
 came round, and Mr. Sinclair was of a sudden left alone 
 in his house, he woke up at least to a partial sense of 
 their value. The stillness was oppressive, and he 
 caught himself counting the time till they should be 
 home again, not that he was at all without resources, or 
 that he needed company, but that, unknown to himself, 
 he had got trained to listen to his nieces' tongues, and 
 watch their looks.
 
 , CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE reason of this temporary eclipse at Old Battle 
 House, or the motive power rather, was Tom. He liked 
 fishing, and he liked loch-fishing. He had spent his holi- 
 days often in this way alone, but on the present occasion 
 his mother thought it well to accompany him, and they 
 all went to Lochside, a place in the West Highlands, so 
 out of the way that Mrs. Sinclair, who did not appreciate 
 scenery, and liked conveniencies, said if she had known 
 the difficulty of getting the necessaries of life she 
 never would have gone. She allowed her daughters 
 " being always," as she said, " far too good-natured " to 
 ask the Gilbert girls to visit them there. 
 
 " I wouldn't let them go," said Mr. Gilbert to his 
 wife when he heard of the invitation. 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " Well, for one thing, Mrs. Sinclair is always speak- 
 ing down on people ; and after all, who is she ? Her hus- 
 band was a mere nothing. No doubt she has money. 
 Without it what would she be ? I don't like her." 
 
 " But she is not asking you to visit her?" said his wife. 
 
 " No ; I daresay she knows better than that." 
 
 " I don't see the difference between visiting them at 
 Old Battle House, and visiting them in the West High- 
 lands." 
 
 " She'll let you know it some day, though ; she'll 
 think she has done you a great favor." 
 
 " Well, I think it is very kind of her to ask the girls
 
 182 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 to go with them ; and they are very anxious to go. They 
 have not very much change, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I know that well enough. I don't need to be 
 told that we are poor." Mr. Gilbert had come out of his 
 school in a bad mood. 
 
 " I neither think nor feel that we are poor ; " said Mrs. 
 Gilbert cheerily, and she diverted the conversation to 
 other topics. His was a trying occupation, and we are 
 all poor creatures. But what a remarkable thing the 
 love of a good woman is ! After having for years tacked, 
 and humored, and managed, and kept down her own in- 
 firmities of temper and temperament, all to soothe, and 
 cheer, and " keep up " her husband, she loved him now, 
 when he was wonderfully real, as much as when she 
 married him, thinking he was her ideal. Surely this is 
 instinct. It is said women don't reason ; if so, many a 
 man ought to be thankful. 
 
 After Tom's furlough was over the Gilberts went, 
 according to Mrs. Sinclair's arrangement, for she ex- 
 plained, " When my son is with us we'll not have room, 
 our accommodation is so limited." 
 
 " Why did the woman ask them, if she hasn't room ? " 
 said Mr. Gilbert. 
 
 It was good-natured of Tom Sinclair to consent to 
 this invitation being given, for when he came, as he did 
 regularly at the end of the week, he had to betake him- 
 self to an inn in which great ease could not be had 
 not a modern palace dropped at the foot of a mountain, 
 but a little primitive Highland public-house. Oftener 
 than not he brought John Gilbert with him, and John 
 was an acquisition in any company, both useful and or- 
 namental. 
 
 " What a lovely sunset ! '' Erne exclaimed, when they 
 were out one evening on the loch.
 
 QTJIXSTAR. 183 
 
 " Oh, the sunset is well enough," said John ; " per- 
 fectly well." 
 
 " Can anything in nature equal it ? " pursued Effie 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Something in art is very like it," said John. " You've 
 seen a red bottle in a druggist's window at night ? " 
 
 " John, you are a Vandal," cried Bell. " I feel moved 
 to capsize you into the water." John was leaning over 
 the boat, and it would not have been difficult to make 
 him lose his balance. 
 
 "Do," he said, "and I'll take you with me. I like 
 pleasant company." 
 
 " Thank you," said Bell ; " I don't like my pleasure 
 damped." 
 
 " "What's the use of going off in spasms about a sun- 
 set ? " Tom remarked. " Jack is right ; that round disk 
 is very like the red bottle in a druggist's window." 
 
 " But wandering oft with brute unconscious gaze, 
 man marks not thee," declaimed Effie. 
 
 " Oh, Jemmy Thomson, Jemmy Thomson oh ! " 
 chanted John. 
 
 " I wish you would look to your oar, Jack," said 
 Jane Gilbert ; " you'll land us all in the water yet." 
 
 " I can't work miracles," said John. " I'll hardly 
 land you in the water." 
 
 " Suppose you tumble us in ? " Jane said. 
 
 "Well, suppose it, if it gives you any enjoyment." 
 
 " Sit still, Jane, and we're all safe," said Tom. 
 
 "Oh, I can trust you perfectly, Tom; if you had 
 not been here, I don't think I would have come," Jane 
 said. 
 
 " Tom does not speak, Jane," said Bell ; " his feelings 
 are .too deep for words." 
 
 " Here is little Mary in the corner," Effie said, "does
 
 184 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 not speak either. Come, what are you thinking about ? 
 are your thoughts also too deep for words ? " 
 
 Mary Gilbert, the youngest of the group, answered, 
 " No, they are not ; but I never can get room to speak, 
 you all speak so much." 
 
 "Stupid thing!" said Bell. J' Can you not bounce 
 in whether any one is speaking or not ? But we'll all 
 hold our tongues for two seconds, and give you a 
 chance." 
 
 " I was thinking," said Mary, " that it would be de- 
 lightful to stay out on the loch all night." 
 
 " I second that motion," said her brother. " The 
 truth is, I'm frightened to go in." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Mary in wonder. 
 
 " The pillows in my bed are so hard. I wished I 
 could take off my ears last night, and fling them on 
 the table, they were so much in iny way. My head felt 
 all ears together." 
 
 "Are you sure it was not a crumpled rose leaf, 
 John ? " asked Bell. 
 
 " What are the pillows stuffed with ? " Eflie inquired. 
 
 " Road metal, so far as I could judge," replied John. 
 
 " I could weep to think of it," said Bell. 
 
 " And Tom," Jane Gilbert said, " it is on our account 
 you are subjected to such hardships." 
 
 " Entirely on your account that we are subjected to 
 hard pillows." 
 
 " Well, I won't forget it," said Jane. 
 
 " Neither will I," John said, " unless I get concussion 
 of the brain some night." 
 
 " Oh, there is the moon coming over the hill ! " cried 
 Effie. 
 
 " Let her come," said John ; " give her time 5 don't 
 hurry her."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 185 
 
 " Hurry ! " Effie answered. " How calm and majes- 
 tic she looks ! " 
 
 " She has nothing else to do," John said. " If I were 
 up there I could look calm too." 
 
 " But not majestic, John," Bell said ; " not majestic. 
 ' Uneasy lies the. head,' you know." 
 
 " One gets accustomed to it," said Tom. 
 
 " To the moon ? " 
 
 " No ; to the hardness of the pillows." 
 
 " Tom, you are not romantic," said Bell, " and it's a 
 pity." 
 
 " I don't know that it is," said John, " I'm too ro- 
 mantic too easily touched up, and it's trying; for in- 
 stance, at this moment, I don't envy the man who could 
 look at that moon without tears." 
 
 " There they are the tears," said Bell, as a shower 
 came pattering down with little warning, just as Mary 
 Gilbert's voice struck in, singing, 
 
 " Oh had we some bright little isle of our own, 
 In a blue summer ocean far off alone, 
 Where the bee banquets on through a whol* year of flowers " 
 
 and " there are never no showers," her brother added. 
 Amidst laughter they made for the shore, and all hands 
 helped to draw the boat up on the beach.
 
 CHAPTER XXVHI. 
 
 " DEAR Miss RAEBUKNT," Bell wrote to her friend at 
 Quixstar, "if you were on the loch, and from that point 
 of view saw the house in which we are living, you would 
 think it was a place where Virtue attired in white muslin 
 should have her dwelling. It is heavenly. Quixstar is 
 good, but I doubt we shall miss the loch sadly when we 
 return. Somehow water seems to scenery what the eye 
 is to the face. We could fancy ourselves in Eden here. 
 Mamma does not like it ; she says we can't live on scenery. 
 Isn't it a humbling thing, Miss Raeburn, that we can't do 
 without food ? I remember Mr. Doubleday used to get 
 impatient of his body. I begin to sympathize with him, 
 although it is difficult to imagine what we'll be without 
 it. There is a postman passes our door on some long 
 round, and hands in our letters. If we could shut out 
 him and the newspapers there would be almost nothing 
 to desire. Effie and I don't look at the neAvspapers ; but 
 mamma and Jane Gilbert will read them, and speak of 
 the news. News are quite out of keeping here. By the 
 bye, mamma has changed her opinion of Jane Gilbert. 
 She did not care much for her, but now she thinks her 
 remarkably pleasant and obliging.' I always thought her 
 good-natured, but not bright. Mary is my favorite, only 
 she is so shy. I am positively thankful when it is a wet 
 day, that I may get rest with a clear conscience, and I 
 hibernate on these days. If it is only mist, I must be
 
 QUIXSTAR. 187 
 
 out. Mist is a beautiful creature, whether lying or trail- 
 ing, or flying before the wind, or climbing the mountains 
 like a living thing with the sun's rays glittering on its 
 back. Effie and I were on the loch in a boat by four 
 o'clock yesterday morning. The mist was writhing in 
 the glens, on the far side of the loch the mountains were 
 standing dark as night, and on our side the sun picked 
 out every scaur and cranny. The boat sat like a duck on 
 the waters, that sparkled and glittered. Water always 
 looks young and fresh, even when its face is wrinkled 
 by a breeze, and a dark cloud above quenches its light ; 
 it 'may look angry, but it does not look old. We 
 seemed to be the only human beings in possession ; it 
 was singularly delicious. We were fishing, and it is as- 
 tonishing how you get into the spirit of it. I am not sure 
 that it is right to fish for amusement ; but we eat all we 
 catch, so that is not so bad. John Gilbert says fish grow 
 unconscious whenever they are taken out of the water, 
 and don't suffer. I hope that is true. Tom always breaks 
 their necks to make sure their misery is over, but I 
 don't like to see him doing it. I have been out all day, 
 and am a little tired, so I mean to do nothing more 
 than sit in the window, and watch the moonlight on 
 the loch and the hills. When it is a dark night it has a 
 strange eerie effect to go out. and listen to the intense 
 silence. We'll not be long of being home now. I am 
 yours, T. B. SINCLAIR." 
 
 " MY DEAR TIBBY," wrote Miss Raeburn, " I am glad 
 you enjoy scenery. I can do with it too when there is a 
 sufficiency of appetizing food, and mist is very nice to 
 people who have not got rheumatism ; but what is scenery 
 compared with the things that have been taking place 
 here ? What do you think of Mr. Kennedy having gone
 
 188 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 over to the Roman Catholic Church, actually entering a 
 convent, and leaving his poor invalid wife to make the 
 best of it ? For my part, I am prepared for your uncle 
 turning a Mahometan. Then we have had a murder, or 
 what promises to be one ; and the eldest Miss Smith has 
 run off with a dancing-master. And we are to have 
 a prize-fight ; but don't tell, for I got it in confidence. 
 Dear Tibby, I was innocently bursting with my news, 
 but as you say news of any kind is quite out of place 
 hi Paradise, so rather than write another note I'll just 
 draw my pen through what I have written, and hope 
 you'll excuse my thoughtlessness. Your uncle is weary- 
 ing for you ; so am I. What a fine touch that is : Tom 
 twisting the trouts' necks from extreme tenderness ! I 
 think I '11 make a picture of it. Peter Veitch is at home 
 just now ; and your uncle having once tasted the sweets 
 of pedagogy hankers after them again, and has Peter 
 in training an hour every evening. There I am tres- 
 passing again, so no more. J. RAEBURX." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Sinclair, when she heard this 
 missive read, " they speak of women doing unaccountable 
 things, but of all unaccountable beings commend me to 
 an old bachelor. Peter Veitch at Old Battle House every 
 evening! What is your uncle thinking of? But of 
 course, it's a far more natural thing to take an interest in 
 a boy out of a cottar's house than in his brother's chil- 
 dren." 
 
 " I think," said Jane Gilbert, " that is not nearly so 
 remarkable as Mr. Kennedy turning Roman Catholic. 
 I have a letter from mamma, but it is strange she does 
 not mention it." 
 
 " Nor the murder, nor Miss Smith's runaway match, 
 nor the prize-fight either, I suppose ?" said Bell.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 189 
 
 ft Leave old maids alone for news," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " Most people like news, mamma." 
 
 "Yes, Effie; but people who have had no experi- 
 ence view them differently. For instance, Miss Raeburn 
 evidently enjoys telling about Miss Smith. Now, I have 
 no feeling but the most profound sympathy for Mr. and 
 Mrs. Smith." 
 
 " But how do you feel for Mrs. Kennedy ? " asked 
 Jane Gilbert. " For my part, it seems incredible. Gone 
 into a convent ! He was the last man I would have ex- 
 pected to do that." 
 
 " Oh," said Bell, " don't you see it is all a joke ? Miss 
 Raeburn has been amusing herself a little at my ex- 
 pense." 
 
 " Has she-? and how do you like it ? " asked her mam- 
 ma. " If I were you, I would ask her to amuse herself 
 at her own expense next time." 
 
 " I like a joke, although it is at my own cost," said 
 Bell. " I wonder you take it so seriously, mamma. I 
 thought you would have laughed." 
 
 " Why ? I don't see anything laughable in stringing 
 together untruths. Probably Miss Raeburn thinks it 
 clever, but I don't see it. At her age she might have 
 more sense." 
 
 " But," said Tom, " is it necessary to suppose she is 
 joking?" 
 
 " Not necessary, Tom, but expedient," answered Bell. 
 
 " Why ? People as good as Mr. Kennedy have gone 
 over to the Roman Catholics befoi'e now," he said. 
 
 " Better, I believe." rejoined Bell. " Fancy Mr. Ken- 
 nedy with a hair shirt, and a discipline." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said her brother. " Monks live com- 
 fortably enough, and are not overworked. I know Miss 
 Raeburn is right about the prize-fight. Why should
 
 190 QUIXSTAE. 
 
 she be wrong about the other things ? Miss Smith is a 
 sensible person, and if a man was willing to keep her 
 she knew better than not to have him." 
 
 " I have a line from your uncle," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 " If he were like any other person, he might have told 
 me what was going on, but he says nothing. What do 
 you know about the prize-fight, Tom ? " 
 
 " Merely that such a thing is to be." 
 
 " You have nothing to do with it, I hope ? " said Mrs. 
 Sinclair. 
 
 " Thank you ; no." 
 
 " Who has ? " asked Effie. 
 
 "Walter Cranstoun is the mainspring," answered 
 Tom. 
 
 " How vexed Sir Richard and Lady Cranstoun must 
 be ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sinclair. " I feel for them, and it 
 makes me doubly thankful for my own mercies." 
 
 " There's John coming," cried Effie, " He was in 
 Quixstar last night, and will be able to tell us. John, 
 has Mr. Kennedy turned a Roman Catholic become a 
 monk ? " she abruptly asked whenever he appeared in 
 the doorway. 
 
 John was quick and ready. " Catch him," he said. 
 " Wouldn't he have to get up at two every morning to 
 say his prayers ? " 
 
 " What would mamma say if she heard you, John ? " 
 said his eldest sister. 
 
 " If she said what she thought, she would say I was 
 right." 
 
 " Has Miss Smith run away with a dancing-master ? " 
 
 " Not that I heard of." 
 
 " I never doubted Miss Raeburn was joking," said 
 Bell. 
 
 " A poor joke," said Mrs. Sinclair. " My dear girls,
 
 QUIXSTAR. 191 
 
 whatever you set up for, don't set up, for being clever 
 women. A clever woman is no comfort to herself or any 
 other person." 
 
 . " But I don't think Miss Raeburn sets up for being 
 clever, mamma," Bell remarked. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Bell," said John. " Clever- 
 ness, like murder, will out. I know it by myself. I 
 have often made conscientious efforts to be stupid, but it 
 won't do. Whatever happens, I hope my friends will 
 not forget that mind, I'm serious." 
 
 " More than serious," said Bell ; " melancholy and 
 morose. We'll hear of you in la Trappe shortly." 
 
 John burst into a curious laugh. " You've hit it," he 
 said, " sure enough. I'll be in a trap if I don't look 
 out." 
 
 " What kind of trap, John?" asked Erne. "What 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " That's another way of being clever, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Sinclair, " to speak in riddles, and see a joke where 
 no one else sees it. You may depend on it, John," turn- 
 ing to him, " no one enjoys that kind of thing, and it had 
 better be dropped." 
 
 " Thank you," said John, " I'll try."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " JOHN," said Tom, when they were waiting in front 
 of the house for the girls to walk in the evening, " I 
 can only say that if you are getting into another mess 
 I'll not help you. I have done it once, and I won't 
 do it again. I have regretted doing it once you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 " I hear, at any rate, but it is bad taste to introduce 
 disagreeable topics here, and now " 
 
 " It is worse taste to act like a fool. Mind, I warn 
 you I won't be soft twice." 
 
 " How lovely the sands look from this point, with 
 the evening sun on them ! " Erne said as she came out. 
 
 " Exactly what I was saying to your brother, Effie, but 
 I doubt that sort of thing is lost on him. He does not 
 care for it." 
 
 " But you do," she said, " although you sometimes 
 pretend not. Why don't you always speak so that one 
 may know what you mean ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I always look what I mean, Effie," he said, 
 in a soft aside that made her blush like the little pools 
 on the sands, which had reddened under the western 
 sky. He went on, " ' Oh had we some bright little isle 
 of our own,' as Mary sang the other night." 
 
 " Come, Jack," said Tom, " don't be sentimental. 
 We have enough of that without you chiming in." 
 
 John Gilbert had been coming out a little in the
 
 QUIXSTAR. 193 
 
 world, and had overstepped his income. Being cashier 
 in his office he helped himself, not largely, and with the 
 intention of replacing the money before it could be miss- 
 ed. To accomplish this he had thrown himself on Tom's 
 mercy, and not in vain. It was a touch-and-go business, 
 and as the French say it is the first step that costs, he 
 took it lightly. However, he might be quite sure that 
 Tom would keep his word, and let him find his way out 
 of such another scrape if he got into another with- 
 out his assistance. 
 
 Bell was the last to come out, and she found only 
 Mary Gilbert waiting for her. 
 
 " Have they really gone off and left us ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes ; Tom and Jane went first, and then Effie and 
 John." 
 
 " We'll not follow. I don't care about walking. 
 We'll sit down somewhere and dream. See, yon little 
 toy yacht that came in sight a while ago has cast anchor. 
 How innocent and pretty it looks ! " 
 
 They crossed to where the stump of a tree lay by 
 the brink of a mountain stream, which after a heavy rain 
 shot down its rocky bed so white and frothy that it 
 looked like a band of frosted silver gleaming in the dark 
 breast of the hill, but now it was gliding quietly past 
 with only a drowsy gurgle like the purr of a sleep- 
 ing cat. 
 
 " Now," said Bell, " We'll sit here where we can see 
 everything, and let the music of the burn creep in our 
 ears." 
 
 " Shall we sit long ? I wish I had brought a book," 
 said Mary. 
 
 " A book ! Oh Mary, it would be a sin to read in a 
 night like this. Dream, I'm going to dream." 
 
 It was a place in which to dream, if quietness and 
 9
 
 194 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 beauty induce day-dreams. The skies were very bright 
 and the blue concave seemed so near, that the birds 
 floating aloft looked as if they would brush against it, 
 and come down glittering in the dyes of heaven. The 
 water was still, and the mews flying on its surface might 
 have been taken for silver rings jointed in four places, 
 and set rolling on a crystal flood. The trim little yacht 
 sat on the loch, her image so thoroughly reproduced 
 that if she had been a living thing she would have snifled 
 about it, and made advances as a kitten does when it 
 sees itself in a mirror. The land too was taking advan- 
 tage of his brother sea's good humor to lock his hand 
 in his, and they appeared one. It was difficult to distin- 
 guish them, and tell where the water ended and the 
 shore began. The very mountains were trying to look 
 at themselves in the glass, and the downy gold-tinged 
 cloudlets changed places in the water as they did in the 
 sky with a slow, lazy grace of movement. 
 
 The girls sat silent for a long time, when Bell said 
 suddenly, " Mary, you are the very thing for an evening 
 like this." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because you can hold your tongue." 
 
 " Any one can do that. It's not difficult." 
 
 " Not very many people can do it well." Mary 
 laughed. 
 
 " But don't you know, Mary, that there is a silence 
 that is oppressive, and a silence that is delicious ? the 
 people that are silent, not meaning in the least either to 
 soothe or irritate you." 
 
 " Then it must be you who are either in a good or 
 bad humor." 
 
 " Perhaps, possibly ; I don't know," said Bell mus- 
 ingly."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 195 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mary, in a tone of alarm ; " there's a 
 man coming down the hill above us." 
 
 " Are you frightened ? The people are not savages." 
 
 " Ho ; but we are far from the house, and he may be 
 a sturdy beggar." 
 
 " If he is a beggar, I hope he is sturdy, poor creature. 
 People that beg would need to be sturdy, I think." 
 
 " Bell, I don't believe you know what fear is." 
 
 " Oh, I could be as frightened as any one if I saw 
 good cause, but the man coming is one of the men be- 
 longing to that yacht. I have watched him all the time : 
 two landed, one went along the shore, the other up the 
 hill, and now he's coming down again, and we'll have 
 the pleasure of gazing at a human being other than our- 
 selves." 
 
 " I hope he'll pass and take no notice of us." 
 
 " To be sure he will ! You are easily frightened, 
 Mary." 
 
 The man in passing looked very broadly at them 
 with a half smile on his face. It seemed as if he would 
 go on, then he stopped, turned and said, " I suppose you 
 don't know me ? My mother was not sure of me." 
 
 " Peter Veitch ! " cried Bell, starting up and laugh- 
 ing with pleasure. " Your mother must not have had 
 her spectacles on ; you have grown a hairy creature, but 
 I would know a Quixstar face looking out of a bear's 
 skin." 
 
 " I would not have known him," said Mary. 
 
 " But how are you here ? " Bell asked. " I heard 
 uncle was teaching you, and I know he does not allow 
 trifling; and how did you know us we are a little 
 changed I should think ? " 
 
 " I'll sit down before I tell you, although you don't 
 ask me."
 
 196 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Oh, yes. Share our stump ; Mary, can you " 
 
 Peter was just putting his foot on a grassy knoll, 
 when Bell cried 
 
 " Not there ; don't set your foot down there. Oh, 
 it's done." 
 
 " What is it ? What is done ? " he asked, puzzled. 
 
 " Look here," and she went on her knees on the 
 grass, while he did the same, " do you see what you've 
 done now ? You have bombarded a city, made a vol- 
 canic eruption, an earthquake." It was an ant-hill into 
 which he had crashed his foot, making an awful commo- 
 tion. " These creatures will have a third edition of their 
 newspaper out to-night how do you think you'll figure 
 in it?" 
 
 " The ants were hurrying hither and thither in terri- 
 ble confusion, those of them that had escaped destruc- 
 tion wildly asking what had happened, and the news 
 spread in a way that might have made the telegraph 
 blush for its deliberation, then gangs of the little shiny 
 brown and black insects set to work to bury the dead 
 and repair the ruin. 
 
 " I have made fearful havoc," said Peter, looking up 
 from the curious sight and meeting Bell's eyes, " and I'm 
 very sorry." 
 
 " So am I, but it can't be helped," and at this very 
 moment across the ant-hill a look printed a thought be- 
 tween these two that never might remove printed it, 
 however, in invisible ink. 
 
 " We can't do anything to help them, I suppose ? " 
 said Mary. 
 
 " Stand out of their way, that's all," said Bell. " I 
 wonder if the little atoms can feel grief? " 
 
 il I hope not," said Peter, " or I must have caused 
 lamentation and woe."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 197 
 
 " Well, now that the hubbub is over, what have you 
 to do with that fairy ship lying on that fairy ocean ? " 
 Bell asked, pointing to the yacht. 
 
 "I am a visitor on board; it belongs to "Walter 
 Cranstoun." 
 
 " I commend his taste ; to glide about on a summer 
 sea in such an ark as that must be a very charming 
 thing." 
 
 " He finds a week or two enough at a time, though," 
 said Peter, " and so it is." 
 
 " What don't you like the sea ? " 
 
 " Yes, the sea ; but I don't call that pretty pond the 
 sea; at sea we have work as well as enjoyment that's 
 all enjoyment, and one tires- of it." 
 
 " Do you enjoy a storm at sea ? " 
 
 " Enjoy is not the word. I don't know that I could 
 make you understand it; it is something deeper and 
 higher than enjoyment. I wish you had been in a storm, 
 you would not forget it ; you would know what I mean." 
 
 " Tell me true are you not frightened ? " 
 
 " No," he said. 
 
 " Oh," said Mary, " it is as safe on the sea as on the 
 land. God is everywhere." 
 
 " Yes ; but it is not as safe on the sea as on the land," 
 said Bell. " You don't think, Mary, that sitting in the 
 parlor at Quixstar on a dark windy Avinter night is not 
 safer than being on a ship in the Atlantic ? If one place 
 were as safe as another, where would courage be ? You 
 used to be a bold little urchin, Peter ; I suppose you 
 are that yet." 
 
 " An urchin ? You can judge for yourself." They 
 looked at him, and laughed. He was rather tall not 
 dark, however ; his hair was lightish brown and still un- 
 ruly no treatment could take the curl out of it; his
 
 198 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 skin was brown with the sea tan ; he had an open good- 
 looking face, keen grey eyes, with sight like a vulture's, 
 a hearty laugh, and a frank manner, which bridged the 
 interval since he and these girls had been school-fellows 
 with the agility of a cat. 
 
 " What are you and uncle studying mathematics ? " 
 asked Bell. " I thought so, that is his hobby, but some- 
 times I think he is not very bright, at least he seems so 
 astonished at me understanding a thing readily that either 
 he must have had great difficulty himself, or he must 
 have thought me next thing to an idiot. I suppose you 
 need mathematics to take the latitude and longitude?" 
 
 " Oh, I could do that before I knew mathematics at 
 all; but I like to get to the bottom of things." 
 
 " That's very like you ; but the worst of it is one 
 never can get to the bottom of things. 
 
 " Well, as far as one can get." 
 
 " But don't you feel worried when you're baffled ? I 
 feel as I do when I am listening to intense silence, my 
 very external ears seem to stand up, but you make noth- 
 ing of it. By the way, why are you not in white ducks 
 and a blue jacket isn't that the proper sailor rig ? For 
 anything I see, you might be a mere landlubber." 
 
 " That's what I am at present ; you should see me at 
 work." 
 
 " What do you do ? Is it hard work, hauling at ropes 
 and singing Dibdin's songs ? I love Tom Bowling. I 
 really would like to go a voyage to see into things." 
 
 " Would you ? " said Peter with enthusiasm. " When 
 you do, I hope it will be in my ship." 
 
 " Bell does not know what fear is," said Mary. " I 
 would not go a sea-voyage if I could help it." 
 
 " What ! when it is as safe on sea as on land ? " said 
 Bell.
 
 QUIXSTAK. 199 
 
 " Oh, I forgot," said Mary. 
 
 " Has uncle been telling you yet that mathematics 
 is pure poetry, Peter ? " 
 
 " No, we have no poetic flights ; we stick to busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " I have not been able to see the poetry yet, but I 
 may in time. Uncle does not talk much ; how do you 
 get on with him ? " 
 
 " Oh, well enough.' 1 
 
 " You'll have plenty to speak about ; for my part, I 
 can never think of anything to say." 
 
 " I would never have guessed that." 
 
 " Ah, when I am beside people that I can say any- 
 thing to that comes into my head I get on, but with 
 uncle I always catch myself thinking what to say, and 
 when you do that nothing seems worth saying." 
 
 " I'm glad I'm not Mr. Sinclair," said Peter. " Are 
 you going to be here long ? " 
 
 " Till Friday." 
 
 " That is the day I arrive in Quixstar too. Do you 
 see that man down there ? He came ashore with me in 
 search of milk or eggs or something, and lie is getting 
 impatient to be off." 
 
 " But you'll stop and go to the house with us and see 
 the others ? we're all here." 
 
 " I'm sorry I can't wait. Tell them so, will you ? " 
 and he bade them good-bye, and strode down the hill 
 with nothing of the porpoise-roll of the conventional 
 sailor in his gait. 
 
 " He is changed," said Bell, " but very like himself." 
 
 " He seems to have stood hardships well." 
 
 " I hope he has not had many hardships, Mary," 
 
 " They waited till the boat pushed off, leaving a 
 trail behind it as of arms stretched out to clasp some
 
 200 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 loved one and say farewell. Then the yacht spreading 
 her sails glided away, and was lost to view round the 
 nearest point. S.till they lingered; it was a night that 
 did not seem made for sleep, yet the deep rosy sleep of 
 youth was not out of keeping with its exceeding beauty 
 and majesty.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WHEN Bell and Mary went in they found the others 
 assembled. 
 
 " What became of you ? " said John. 
 
 " Rather, what became of you ? " Bell answered ; 
 " why didn't you wait for us ? But we have had an ad- 
 venture which you have missed." 
 
 " I had a kind of adventure too," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 " A man, something like a sailor, passed the house ; 
 when he saw me sitting in the window he came forward 
 and held out his hand. I said, ' No, no, I don't want 
 any.' 
 
 " ' Any what ? ' he said. 
 
 " ' Shells or silks, or whatever you are selling,' I said. 
 
 " ' I am not selling anything. I am Peter Veitch, the 
 son of Peter Veitch at Quixstar.' 
 
 " ' Well,' I said ; ' what do you want ? ' . 
 
 " ' Nothing,' he said, and went off quickly. 
 
 " I thought how true the words of the poet are, ' The 
 child is father of the man ! ' He used to be a very for- 
 ward boy, and it was certainly impudent enough of him 
 to accost me as he did. If I had not checked him, no 
 doubt he would have pushed himself in when we go 
 back to Quixstar, especially as your uncle patronizes 
 him." 
 
 Bell listened, her face red with vexation. 
 
 " Why were you so unkind, mamma ? " she said ; 
 "it is not like you." 
 9*
 
 202 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Unkind, my love? It was true kindness to let the 
 lad know his place at once." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I believe he came ashore chiefly to see 
 us, like the warm-hearted sailor he is. "What will he 
 think?" 
 
 " Don't be foolish. Bell. I had no intention of hurt- 
 ing the lad's feelings. He would see that well enough. 1 " 
 
 Bell said no more, but her spirits hung fire the rest 
 of the evening, which Tom at length observing, said 
 
 " Something must be going to happen. I have not 
 heard Bell's voice for half an hour." 
 
 " I have been in silent thought," said she ; " I read 
 somewhere the other day that silent thought is electrici- 
 ty in abeyance. There's a grand name for holding your 
 tongue, Tom. You keep a good stock of electricity in 
 abeyance." 
 
 " You are distressed about the sea-king, I perceive," 
 said John Gilbert. 
 
 " Yes, I am ; very," she said. 
 
 " He had not felt the snubbing deeply, do you 
 think ? " said Mary " or he would not have spoken to us." 
 
 "He could not help, feeling it," said Bell; "but he 
 has a fine nature. He always had, and he overlook- 
 ed it." 
 
 " Do fine natures swallow a snubbing easily ? " asked 
 John. 
 
 " I should think," said Tom, " fine natures that have 
 come to maturity in the forecastle of a ship would ; but 
 you have not told us your adventure yet, Bell." 
 
 " Merely that we had half an hour's talk with Peter 
 on the hillside ; that's all." 
 
 "And discovered the fineness of his' nature ?" 
 
 " Rediscovered it only." 
 
 " Jane," said" Bell next morning to Miss Gilbert, " you
 
 QUIXSTAR. 203 
 
 must have had a dull walk last night with Tom. Effie 
 says she and John never made up to you." 
 
 " How do you think it would be dull ? " 
 
 " Oh, Tom has so little to say. I don't mind, because 
 I'm his sister, and am fond of him, and know his good 
 points, but it is different with you." 
 
 u I can't know him quite so well as you do, still " 
 
 " What do you and he talk about ? I sometimes tell 
 him if ever he gets a wife she'll have to do the courtship, 
 for he won't take the trouble." 
 
 Jane blushed and said, " Do you really think so ? 
 What do we talk of? Various things. He has a very 
 sound judgment, I think, and he is steady and well-be- 
 haved" ' 
 
 " Steady and well-behaved ! " cried Bell, laughing, 
 " I should think he is." 
 
 "Well, you should be thankful. I know people 
 whose brothens are not that, and it is a great thing to 
 have to do with men you don't need to be anxious 
 about." 
 
 "It is a fine negative pitch of bliss, certainly." 
 
 " Negative or not, what can you enjoy if you are al- 
 ways anxious ? " 
 
 " Now, I could imagine a case where anxiety would 
 give a keen edge to happiness." 
 
 " Maybe. But there's mamma now ; to be sure papa 
 and the rest of us are all she could wish, but she has had 
 constant anxiety about money how to make the most of 
 a very limited income, and it is tiresome. Even if John 
 had plenty of money I would not guarantee that he 
 would not make ducks and drakes of it ; but your brother 
 wilPcertainly never land himself in a disagreeable po- 
 sition." 
 
 " Not if he knows it."
 
 204 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " And he will always know what he is about. As I 
 said, he appears to me to have such a sound judgment." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You can't think how tiresome it is to have so little 
 money ! Mamma manages without losing her temper or 
 spirits, but I couldn't." 
 
 " I think I could," said Bell ; " it would be horrible 
 if happiness depended on money when so few people 
 have it." 
 
 " So mamma always says, but I have my own ideas 
 about it." 
 
 It has been a custom among some semi-barbarous 
 people to break all the beautiful dishes after a banquet, 
 as a savage bravado of wealth, or perhaps to prevent 
 them ever being put to less worthy or noble uses ; but 
 when the Sinclairs left this fair scene on which they, or 
 some of them, had been feasting for weeks, they left it 
 as fair as ever. The greatest vulgar man alive can't fold 
 up the mountains and the tarns when he goes away, and 
 have them unfolded and specially arranged for his own 
 use when he returns. Possibly if he could do it he 
 would.. No, 
 
 " the pomp that fills 
 The circuit of the summer hills " 
 
 goes on without the faintest reference to him ; nay, it 
 makes the rude masses from the heart of a city as free 
 of its glories as majesty itself can be. 
 
 On the day the Sinclairs left, just as they got out of 
 the loch a steamer entered it, freighted to the water's 
 edge with an excursion party. It passed quite close. 
 The decks were crowded ; there was singing and laugh- 
 ter, and fiddles playing, and babies crying. The sea 
 was strewn with nut-shells, orange-skins, and empty
 
 QUIXSTAR. 205 
 
 paper bags. The day was hot, and on board there seem- 
 ed to be a general swelter. It was enjoyment in the 
 very rough. 
 
 " These," said Tom, " are going to spend the day at 
 our late quarters." 
 
 " What desecration ! " said Effie. 
 
 " Why desecration ? " asked Bell. " I like to think 
 of all these lungs being filled with fine air and these 
 eyes with beauty, even if they are not very conscious 
 of it. I saw one man, at least, with hard hands and 
 corrugated face, who was laying his very ears into the 
 scenery. If you had seen him ! He was gazing and 
 gazing with a perfect dream of delight in his face." 
 
 " Probably thinking where he would get a light for 
 his pipe," said Tom. 
 
 "Well, -there is no law against a blending of enjoy- 
 ments, is there, Tom ? You and I ought to have a 
 respect for tobacco," said Bell. 
 
 And the steamer churned on its way, leaving the 
 water behind it a wide belt of white angry foam, over 
 which the sea-gulls hovered and circled, dipping into it 
 with their dainty pink feet curled up as if to keep them 
 from being wet, and seizing any remnants of food thrown 
 overboard. Was ever dirty work done by such grace- 
 ful-looking scavengers ?
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 PETER VEITCH had walked into hie father's house 
 unannounced on a Saturday afternoon. His father and 
 mother were sitting at a table at the window, he reading 
 a newspaper, she with one of her hands buried in the 
 foot of the stocking she was darning. The house was 
 resting from its usual Saturday forenoon scrubbing, the 
 fireside was white as of old, a big pot was simmering over 
 a clear glow of cinders in the grate, except for an odor 
 more rank than savory that escaped from it, it might 
 have been a painted pot upon a painted fire, both looked 
 so unlike any bustle of human affairs. 
 
 Peter stood for a second ; then he said, " Mother ! 
 father ! do you not know me ? " 
 
 " Gude guide us ! Peter, is it you, bairn ? " said 
 Mrs. Veitch, seizing his hand and stroking it. 
 
 " Man, Peter, I wadna kenned ye ! " said his father, 
 gazing at him. " Ye're nae mair like what ye was than 
 a full-grown puddock is like a powowit." 
 
 " Maybe," said Peter. I don't think I had a tail to 
 lose, had I ? " 
 
 " I'm sure if ye had ye wad hae lost it," said his 
 mother, " for ye was a wild laddie. I thought if your 
 head hadna been weel fastened on, ye wad hae come in 
 without it some day," and the tears glittered in her eyes. 
 
 " But it's on yet, you see ; and I'm back all right 
 neither drowned nor wrecked ; and the scent of grum- 
 phy's supper comes over me like an old song."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 207 
 
 Peter's father and mother were proud of him he was 
 their son ; but he was not the little urchin in baggy mole- 
 skins that had left them, and about whom they had 
 agonized at parting, and who had promised to come 
 back unchanged. The thing was not possible. 
 
 We part with our dearest friend, and Time instantly 
 begins to insert a fine wedge, and by degrees splits our 
 interests, our cares, our feelings, our occupations, all 
 that makes our lives. We meet, but they will not dove- 
 tail again. The son of this pair had come back to them 
 a stranger almost, a full-developed man who had seen 
 something of the world, with different ideas and aims 
 and education, and even a different language, only his 
 heart was in the right place still. His father cross-ex- 
 amined him about his business, and his mother about 
 himself. 
 
 " Bairn," she said, " I'll warrant ye hae had a heap 
 o' hardships. Mony a nicht I couldna steek an e'e for 
 thinking o' ye." 
 
 But Peter wouldn't confess to hardships. " I've 
 roughed it a little," he said ; " that's all. And now I'll 
 go out and take a look about the place, I think, for auld 
 lang syne." 
 
 " Ay, do so," said his father ; " and, man, if ye're 
 passing Mr. Kennedy's door, wad ye look in and tell him 
 I canna come on Monday, but if Tuesday'll do I'll come ? 
 He sent a message when I was out that he wanted me 
 in the garden on Monday." 
 
 " Hout, man," said his wife, " Peter'll no' care for 
 gaun errands now." 
 
 " Just as much as ever I did, mother. I'll report 
 myself to the minister, and give the message." 
 
 Peter strolled about for a while, not sentimentally 
 at all, not as a man after the lapse of half a lifetime looks
 
 208 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 at the haunts of his youth, but in joyous mood, for he 
 had life before him, and was in high health and spirits. 
 
 Being Saturday evening, he found Mr. Kennedy in 
 his study. It was the gloaming; and Mr. Kennedy, 
 seeing what he supposed was a rustic in his Sunday 
 clothes, thought to himself, " Some young fool wanting 
 to get married." 
 
 Peter introduced himself, and gave his father's mes- 
 sage. 
 
 " So you are Peter Veitch ? " said Mr. Kennedy, not 
 visibly struck by the intelligence. " Well, I hope you 
 are behaving yourself. And you have tired of the sea, 
 and are going to take to the spade and the hoe a'gain ? " 
 
 This was precisely the remark Mr. Kennedy had 
 made the last time he saw Peter ; but when memory be- 
 gins to get just a little blurred, the same circumstances 
 bring up not merely the same ideas, but the same words. 
 
 " No, I am not tired of the sea. I like it better than 
 I did at first." 
 
 "Ay, indeed ? Well, there are not many who can 
 say that. You've grown a good deal, Peter." 
 
 " Yes, I have been long away. My father and mother 
 have been telling me of a good many changes here 
 
 " Yes, yes, changes. Change is the great law of the 
 world, and we must all submit," Mr. Kennedy said, half 
 speaking to himself. " Well, my lad, I'm glad you are 
 liking your calling and behaving yourself; it is always a 
 comfort to hear of a lad behaving himself. This is Satur- 
 day evening; but I'll see you again." Holding open the 
 door, he continued, " You'll find your way out, I daresay ; 
 and tell your father Tuesday will do as well as Mon- 
 day. Good-night. I'm very glad to know that you are 
 behaving yourself. 
 
 Thinking over this interview after he retired to his
 
 QUIXSTAR. 209 
 
 chamber, Peter laughed. Peter found his sleeping quar- 
 ters in his father's house exactly as he had left them, not 
 that from romantic devotion the door had been locked, 
 and the apartment kept sacred in his absence that was 
 impossible, owing to the simple fact that it had not a 
 door. It was reached by a stair, the stair being a ladder 
 laid against what appeared to be a hole cut in the roof 
 of the passage. A bed canopied by the sloping rafters, a 
 chair, and two Atfsfe big blue-painted boxes which had 
 contained the whole worldly wealth of Peter and his 
 wife when as yet they were serving man and maiden, 
 made up the furniture of the room, but the sailor had not 
 been accustomed to very luxurious quarters, nor did it 
 matter to him. After he was in bed he had an opportu- 
 nity of watching the heavens from the four panes of 
 glass that shone like an eye in the roof of his nest, till he 
 fell asleep with the imaginary dash of billows in his ear. 
 When he awoke it was Sabbath morning, and labor 
 knew it, and was still. He opened the sky-light, and 
 looked out. The smoke of the household fires was be- 
 ginning to steal from the chimneys, and lose itself in the 
 pure morning air. He could see in the garden the little 
 hut of divots he had made for a rabbit-house still stand- 
 ing, the top of it grown over with the minutely wrought 
 rich little flower called None-so-pretty ,- almost a weed, 
 yet the workmanship and the tints are exquisite : any- 
 thing more perfect than the coloring, shaping, and 
 arranging of the leaves into the bright green rosettes 
 clustered so humbly on the ground need not be seen ; 
 dear it is to every man and woman who has ever been a 
 child in an old-fashioned garden. The water glided past 
 from the upland glens where all night it had been singing 
 a quiet tune to the sleeping woods. Some horses were 
 in a field on the north side of the water, and of all rural
 
 210 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 sights on a Sunday, horses at large are not the least pleas- 
 ant. Birds are pleasant. They may have their trials ; it 
 is said that they feel bereavements deeply, but one can't 
 believe that their coquettish little noddles were ever 
 made for anything but enjoyment. If labor is a curse, it 
 has not alighted on them. Do they have twinges of rheu- 
 matism? do the small wings ever feel stiff? do the tiny 
 throats ever crave a lozenge ? are they ever in low 
 spirits ? It cannot be ; they are always having change of 
 air and scene. I am persuaded their lives are all holiday, 
 or why should they hop, sing, and dance as they do ? 
 Therefore, although they are a sight passing pleasant, 
 you are not so much en rapport with them as with the 
 hard-worked horses. The horse that on Saturday laid 
 its whole mind and strength to dragging a burden, on 
 Sunday saunters leisurely in the park, twitches his tail, 
 cocks and uncocks his ears twenty times in a minute, 
 picks out the dainty morsels in the field, and eats in the 
 society of his intimates, or lays his neck across a dike 
 and has an interview with a neighbor, or takes a canter 
 or a roll on the grass as if intoxicated with the air of 
 freedom. Swift must have been contemplating horses at 
 large on a Sunday when he conceived the idea of that 
 remarkable kingdom where the horses were the masters, 
 and the yahoos did all the dirty work. Bees are com- 
 monly supposed to have no regard for the Sunday, but 
 that is a mistake. Like the Jews, they have a Sabbath 
 of their own, and keep it. Winter is their resting- 
 time, and the whole summer is a preparation for it. On 
 this Sunday they were away travelling through the air, 
 and alighting on a tall French willow in the garden, pass- 
 ing from pink bloom to pink bloom, with a low hum 
 of satisfaction, gathering taxes from Flora, who makes 
 no resistance to the diligent civil little officials.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 211 
 
 Of old, Peter had been accustomed to wash his face 
 at the back-door, as less favored or distinguished mem- 
 bers of the family were expected to do still, but he 
 found now that his mother's care bad given him the 
 means of making his toilet before he descended. It 
 was a brief inartificial process. Also his mother stayed 
 in from church to cook a dinner, which was not her 
 custom not that they went without dinner on Sunday, 
 only it managed to cook itself on ordinary occasions ; 
 but Benjamin had come home safe. 
 
 On Monday morning Mr. Sinclair in walking past 
 the gardener's cottage was hailed by his wife. " Ye'll 
 ken what's happened, Mr. Sinclair ? " she said. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Was ye no' in the kirk yesterday ? " 
 
 " Yes, I was there." 
 
 " Is't possible that ye didna see our Peter, the sailor ? " 
 
 " I did not observe him ; but," he said apologetically, 
 " I don't notice people in church." 
 
 It was inconceivable to Mrs. Veitch how any one 
 could have failed to see Peter. 
 
 " He cam' hame on Saturday, and his ship is repairing, 
 so he'll bide a wee the now." 
 
 " Tell him I'll expect to see him to-day," said Mr. 
 Sinclair. 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I'll do that." 
 
 Maddy Fairgrieve was in Peter's cottage shortly 
 after Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " I'm sure, Maddy," said Mrs. Veitch, " ye kenned 
 Peter was come hame. How did ye no' tell Mr. Sin- 
 clair ? He didna ken." 
 
 " Weel, he kens noo. I dinua think he is far ahint. 
 What cam' o' you yesterday forenoon." 
 
 "I had the denner to look after. I ran out on
 
 212 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Saturday nicht, on the spur o' the moment, and killed a 
 hen, and I was vexed after I saw how mony eggs was 
 in't; but Peter's no 1 at hame every day," said Mrs. 
 Veitch, trying to excuse herself for the extravagance she 
 had been guilty of. " It wad hae laid on a' simmer, but 
 it canna be helped now." Her habitual thrift was assert- 
 ing itself in spite of her maternal feelings. Nor is it 
 trifling (apart from the pleasure of a smile) to record 
 this trait of Mrs. Veitch's character. Probably thrift 
 has founded more families than soldiership or legal 
 acumen : even royal houses have been built on this very 
 homely and fast disappearing quality. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair and Peter entered on their mathematical 
 studies at once, and resumed them immediately on Peter's 
 return from his visit to Mr. Cranstoun on board the 
 yacht a visit accounted for by Mr. Cranstoun's anxiety 
 to have the opinion of a practical seaman on his new 
 toy, Tom Sinclair alleging that Mr. Cranstoun was short 
 of hands, and had asked Peter to stop a gap, but Peter 
 never worried himself seeking for reasons why kind- 
 ness was shown him, but was always ready to take it for 
 kindness pure and simple. A nature like this keeps 
 wonderfully free from the vexatious dust that clogs the 
 movements of more complicated machinery.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " OH, Miss Bell," said Maddy Fairgrieve when the 
 family returned, "I am glad you're come back. I've 
 just been like a fish out o' water the time you've been 
 away, and so has your uncle, but he doesna let on." 
 
 " I rather think, Maddy, he has enjoyed our absence." 
 
 " He couldna do that wha likes an empty house ? 
 and even now that ye're come hame, I dinna seem o' 
 much use." 
 
 " What, Maddy ! do you want me to say we couldn't 
 do without you ? " 
 
 " I never want folk to say what's no' true ; but I like 
 best to work among bairns, and there's nane o' ye bairns 
 now." 
 
 " That's a melancholy fact. I dearly love my own 
 little disappeared self, that you used to order about so." 
 
 11 Me order ! I was far ower simple wi' ye a' ; but I 
 whiles think if I could just fa' in wi' a widower with a 
 young family I wad hae naething to wish for." 
 
 " Oh, Maddy, what a pity widowers don't know ! 
 We'll advertise. Plenty of people do that," said Bell, 
 laughing; "I'll draw up the advertisement, if not for 
 your sake for that of the young family, in whom I'm in- 
 terested already. What shall we say ? We'll begin with 
 ' Widowers ' then ' respectable ' in brackets. Come, 
 help, Maddy ; it must be short and to the point. ' A 
 kind-hearted and experienced woman wishes to marry
 
 214 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 a man with as many small encumbrances as possible ; 
 preferences and cartes exchanged.' Will that do ? How 
 many words is it ? twenty- four, I declare. Now you get 
 eighteen for sixpence ; what can we strike out ? I think 
 the person who invented that system invented a power- 
 ful educational engine. We could just say, 'Woman 
 wishes to marry man,' etc., and leave him to find out 
 your good qualities at his leisure, and then he'll only 
 cost you sixpence. Cheap, if good. You must get 
 your carte taken again, and in a new gown ; and when 
 your head is between the tongs, just look pleasant, will 
 you ? remember what is at stake." 
 
 " Ye're a daft lassie," said Maddy ; " wad ye really 
 send a thing like that to a paper ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " And bring a' the riff-raff o' the country down on a 
 body. Na, na ! we'll leave it to Providence." 
 
 " But Providence works by instruments, Maddy." 
 
 " That's true ; but we'll no' put an instrument like that 
 in his hand. There's the door-bell ringing ; that'll be 
 Peter Veitch to his lesson wi' your uncle. I was diverted 
 wi' his mother. She was angry Mr. Sinclair didna see 
 him in the kirk the first Sunday he was at hame." 
 
 " Well, it was not unnatural ; he is the apple of her 
 eye." 
 
 " Apple ! but folk needna be silly, they micht haud 
 their tongues ; I think I could hae done that." 
 
 " Ay ; but everybody is not you." 
 
 " That's true ; and Peter is a fine-looking laddie, and 
 just as free and frank as ever. When he cam' in the 
 first time, he says, ' Ha, Maddy, is that you ? You're not 
 a day older ; and how's the keeper ? ' " 
 
 " What did he mean by that ? " asked Bell ; " what's 
 the keeper ? "
 
 QtTIXSTAR. 215 
 
 " He wad ken best himsel' what he meant," replied 
 Maddy, laughing. / i 
 
 " I wish uncle would ask Peter to stay a little after 
 his lesson is over." 
 
 " He'll do that some nicht likely," said Maddy. 
 
 " I wish he would," echoed Bell. 
 
 Left to the freedom of his own will, that is what Mr. 
 Sinclair would have done, but he was specially warned 
 by his sister-in-law not to do it. 
 
 " No good ever conies. of taking people out of their 
 own stations," she said ; " and it may do evil. The girls 
 have good sense, and have been well brought up, and I 
 can trust them perfectly, still " 
 
 " I'm sure," said Mr. Sinclair, with a tinge of irony, 
 " if they come to grief, it won't be your blame. Well, 
 I'll keep Peter to myself." 
 
 " I'm glad you see and appreciate my views ; if you 
 were to bring the lad in for a little just before he sails 
 I would not mind ; his parents are decent people, and 
 deserve to be noticed, perhaps." 
 
 " I don't appreciate your views," said Mr. Sinclair, 
 with customary bluntness, " but, as I said, I'll keep Peter 
 to myself." 
 
 And Peter came and went without being admitted 
 into Mrs. Sinclair's dovecot ; but the doves were to be 
 met elsewhere, and they were met, and the ink in which 
 the thought was printed across the ant-hill began to grow 
 visible to two pairs of eyes in the warmth of these meet- 
 ings, and when Mrs. Sinclair and her daughters were 
 sitting together of an evening, and Effie would remark, 
 " Peter Veitch is with uncle ; I heard him come in," and 
 Mrs. Sinclair said, " Yes, my dear," Bell said nothing 5 
 but as the hour wore on, she would lean her head on her 
 hand, or, putting her hands on the table, would lay down
 
 216 QtJIXSTAR. 
 
 her head altogether. When her mother would ask, 
 " What's the matter, Bell ; have you a headache ? " 
 " No, I haven't a headache ; I'm listening. I like to 
 listen, even if there's nothing to hear. If you train 
 yourself to listening your hearing gets very sharp." 
 And by this system of training Bell heard her uncle 
 going to the door with his pupil, and making such an 
 uncommon and valuable remark as this, " It seems a fine 
 night," and the rejoinder, "Very; good-bye, sir," and 
 felt her happiness sensibly increased. 
 
 Peter had keen eyes and ears also, yet even his sight 
 could not pierce a stone wall nor see through a door ; 
 but we have all heard of the miser who upbraided his 
 son for rubbing his allowance of bread on the locked 
 door of a room, in a closet of which there stood cheese, 
 as a most luxurious extravagance ; so Peter found it a 
 great luxury to have the chance of sending his eyes 
 along passages where Bell might possibly be, and of 
 passing the door of a room in which she likely was. To 
 see her standing at a window as he approached the 
 house was it is not good to overstate a case but it 
 was very apt to confuse his ideas of the old Egyptian's 
 problems, and give Mr. Sinclair an opportunity of 
 demonstrating the whole thing to his own satisfaction 
 principally.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THERE were blackguards in Quixstar, not many or 
 great to be sure, still not to be despised in their own 
 line. Advancing civilization has not left the blackguards 
 behind, at least those capable of taking the arm she 
 holds out to them, and keeping pace with her. From 
 these she has taken the ruffian bearing, the bludgeon, 
 and the crape, and substituted an oily tongue and a pen, 
 which may make them less mischievous, or more so. 
 But about this time there was a revival of the brutal 
 type, and Mr. Cranstoun had got two young athletes, not 
 very bad yet, but with fine possibilities of undeveloped 
 blackguardism about them, to enter a protest against 
 the effeminacy of the age, and to give an exhibition of 
 the noble art of self-defence. This was the one grain of 
 truth among Miss Raeburn's fictions in that letter which 
 any one who liked her would have called amusing, and 
 which one who did not like her would have called foolish, 
 and even wicked. Walter Cranstoun specially invited 
 Peter Veitch to be present, an invitation which was 
 accepted. This was not a very great honor, as any 
 one in the secret of the hour and the men was free to go 
 to it; and it was curious to observe the kind of people 
 among whom the mystery of the impending event had 
 been whispered. 
 
 The theatre of operations was a field of Sir Richard's, 
 chosen near the railway station for convenience, and out 
 10
 
 218 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 from the station gate came most of the spectators. They 
 were not like people going to a sheep or cattle market, 
 nor like brokers on their \vay to a displenishing sale, nor 
 like guests for a wedding, nor mourners for a funeral, 
 and yet they had a dash of all these characters in their 
 less respectable phases, but if told they were going to a 
 prize-fight you would at once have recognized the fit- 
 ness of the thing, and there is always a certain beauty 
 in fitness they were the men for the occasion, and it 
 was the occasion for the men. 
 
 It was not a sight good to look upon, but Peter 
 Veitch stood and looked at it; so did John Gilbert. 
 John had come from Eastburgh on purpose to be present 
 he enjoyed seeing life ; but he returned to Eastburgh 
 as soon as it was over, so that if his own family heard 
 he was there they might be pretty sure that report was 
 a mistake. 
 
 Mr. Cranstoun and more than a dozen kindred spirits 
 retired to the inn at Quixstar to dine and settle their 
 bets. It is a rational thing to dine a wise thing to 
 dine in company a right genial thing to dine with old 
 friends therefore Peter Veitch accompanied them ; he 
 had no dislike to seeing life any more than John Gil- 
 bert. 
 
 Old Peter Veitch and his wife sat long by the fire 
 that night, she audibly wondering " what was keeping 
 that callant," and he prolonging his usual smoke, filling 
 his pipe oftener than once; but they were not anxious. 
 " He's nae ill gate," his mother said, and Peter sat, his 
 eyes half shut, and with that pleased idiotic look on his 
 face peculiar to people in the act of smoking. 
 
 At length, convinced that Peter had found a night's 
 quarters elsewhere, they rose to go to bed, when there 
 came a dull thud against the house-door.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 219 
 
 " Preserve me ! what's that ? " said Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 " We'll look and see," said her husband. 
 
 They opened the door, and sitting on the step with 
 his back to them and his head bent forward was a man. 
 Mrs. Veitch stooped to look at him, and even in the 
 gray light she recognized her son. 
 
 " It's Peter," she cried, " and something has come 
 ower him." 
 
 The old man put a hand on his son's shoulder and 
 peered into his face. 
 
 " He's drunk," he said, " the first thing is to get him 
 in." 
 
 Without another word, and with much exertion, 
 they got him into the house ; to get him up to his own 
 bed was impossible he was drunk and incapable ; they 
 placed him on a chair, and there he sat helplessly, his 
 mother at his shoulder supporting him. She and her 
 husband gazed at each other; not only had they hitherto 
 had perfect confidence in their son, they had looked up to 
 him as to a superior being, and the mingling of love and 
 pity and grief and amaze in their faces was wonderful. 
 They got him to lie down on the bed, where he soon 
 fell asleep, while they took their seats on each side of the 
 fire again, saying never a word. They had made an idol 
 of Peter, and they were struck dumb ; fallen greatness 
 men handle gently, even when they are not connected 
 with it. 
 
 Before six the gardener went out to his daily la- 
 bor, and Mrs. Veitch went into her garden to lay some 
 clothes on the hedge to dry ; when she came in again the 
 bed was empty, she got a great start, but immediately a 
 voice from the upper regions cried, " Mother, I am here." 
 She went up and spoke to him; he only said, "Leave 
 me alone, mother."
 
 220 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Peter Veitch had not spent the last years of his life 
 in a sheltered seclusion ; but it is one thing to see other 
 people in a state of drunkenness, and another to behold 
 yourself on that beastly eminence. He hunted all round 
 for some excuse, some palliation, but found none, nor 
 the shadow of such a thing, so with a frightful headache 
 he lay in misery and humiliation. It came into his mind, 
 What if Mr. Kennedy should meet him, and ask how he 
 was behaving himself? and in the midst of his wretch- 
 edness he laughed, then he rose and shook off his sin. so 
 far as genuine repentance will do that, and, clothed in 
 his right mind, he went down when his mother called 
 him to dinner. 
 
 There was an awkwardness, although Peter and his 
 wife exerted themselves to talk jauntily about various 
 things, and Mrs. Veitch, by way of drawing her son out 
 of his own thoughts and into the stream of conversation, 
 asked cheerily, " What o'clock are ye, Peter ? The 
 knock was standing this forenoon, and I'm no sure that 
 she's richt." 
 
 Then Peter had to reveal that on the previous night 
 he bad been robbed of purse and watch the watch 
 that had been his grandfather's, which had been given 
 to him by his mother when he went to sea. 
 
 " Robbed ! " cried his father in the excitement of the 
 moment ; " that beats a'." 
 
 " Weel, weel," said Mrs. Yeitch, " it was o' sma' value. 
 Ye wad hae gotten naething fort but the price o' auld 
 silver." 
 
 This watch, that had for many a year told off the 
 hours of a good man's life, was by this time in the melt- 
 ing-pot. 
 
 It was not native talent that committed the robbery, 
 although it must be allowed that there were natives
 
 QUIXSTAR. 221 
 
 equal to it, but a deputation of professional metropoli- 
 tan thieves that had been sent that day to Quixstar on 
 business, and a good deal of property changed hands, 
 and did so with safety no efforts were made by the 
 owners to recover it. 
 
 " That was a fine affair at the station yesterday ! " 
 said Tom Sinclair to his sisters when he appeared next 
 day. " The field is trampled as if a herd of buffaloes 
 had been in it. I'm told that the "very game was scared ; 
 and by the way, the sea-king was crapulous." 
 
 " That's the name John Gilbert invented for Peter 
 Veitch," said Effie ; " but what does crapulous mean ? " 
 
 " What ! You learned ladies don't know what crap- 
 ulous means ? Go to the dictionary." 
 
 " I know," said Bell ; " it's from the Latin crapitas, 
 crapitos, crapitorum, to use obsolete long words." 
 
 " Oh, a little learning is a dangerous thing," said Tom. 
 
 " Drink deep," said Bell, laying her hand on her 
 brother's shoulder ; " and that is exactly what Peter 
 Veitch did not do." 
 
 " Crapulous," said Effie, who had gone to the dic- 
 tionary, " means sick with drunkenness." 
 
 " You have it," said Tom. 
 
 "Peter Veitch was not drunk," said Bell. "You 
 may have been told so, but it is a mistake." 
 
 " If it's a mistake, all the better for him," said Tom ; 
 " but it's a common thing among sailors, especially when 
 they get a run on shore. Very likely he's used to it." 
 
 Bell did not trust herself to speak again. A drunk- 
 en common sailor ! " It's a lie," she said to herself em- 
 phatically, " and I'll make sure of it. Whom can I ask ? 
 There is no one I can ask but himself, and I'll do it this 
 very evening." 
 
 As the man who plans murder fixes his eye on what
 
 222 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 he will have, revenge or booty, and loses sight of the 
 means and their consequences, so Bell thought of nothing 
 but the straightest road to her end, and as the door 
 opened in the evening to admit Peter to his lesson, he 
 lifted up his eyes and beheld her come sweeping down 
 the staircase, her figure, especially her head, framed in 
 a sheaf of bright rays which the autumn sun sent through 
 the window behind her, and he was dazzled. What if 
 this wondrous vision had hailed him with the unminced 
 question, " Were you drunk last night ? " 
 
 But it came on and said, " How do you do ? Yes ; 
 I think uncle is waiting for you," and disappeared through 
 a door. 
 
 If Bell had asked that question she would have 
 proved herself her mother's daughter, which she was not. 
 Nature in making her had taken a leap back among her 
 ancestors to select the materials, and in coming down the 
 stairs it had flashed on her, " If it is true, have I any right 
 to humble him before me ? and if it is not true, have I 
 any right to insult him ? " which correct instinct produced 
 the very tame interview recorded, although one would 
 really have liked to know how Peter would have taken it. 
 It is to be feared that, humbled in his OAVU eyes though 
 he was, it would have gone far to prove the goddess 
 mortal. As it was, he went away with the picture set 
 in rays hung up in his memory for ever. 
 
 When Mr. Sinclair came in from seeing his pupil to 
 the door he said, " Peter leaves to-morrow to rejoin his 
 ship. He is a fine young man." 
 
 " You might have asked him in for a little," said Mrs. 
 Sinclair. 
 
 " I might, but probably he'll be busy to-night, and I 
 did not ask him."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 So Bell held her faith in Peter Veitch unshaken. 
 Faith and love go hand in hand all the world over, and 
 anything more terrible than their divorce human nature 
 is not called upon to endure, yet just such an engine of 
 torture as this was being slowly but surely prepared for 
 nerves of the finest in Quixstar. 
 
 How many people must come into this world, and go 
 out of it, without encountering genuine sympathy. Not 
 the kind of people who lift up their voices and cry aloud 
 for it, who meet with nothing congenial, and tell you of 
 their very fine and delicate feelings when you fall in 
 with such, look out for some extra piece of selfishness, 
 and you'll not likely be disappointed ; but those whose 
 fineness of feeling shows itself in care for others, and in 
 freedom from selfishness, the good and the humble, 
 whose humility is not a creeping self-conscious thing, 
 leaving them liable to be trampled on, but a quality that 
 is always clad in dignity and self-respect. Such a 
 person was Mrs. Gilbert. It would need a fine touch to 
 draw her truly. Her daily life was a repetition of 
 details too trifling to be dwelt on, but which had to get 
 her best attention, or the domestic machine would have 
 begun to creak and groan. She did not delight in them, 
 but she attended to them well and ungrudgingly. Many 
 women would have become smaller and narrower in 
 such circumstances, but she had capacity to guard against
 
 224 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 that only this very capacity, and the high tone on which 
 her nature was pitched, if they increased her enjoyments, 
 laid her open also to keener suffering. 
 
 Despite her love and it was deep and true she 
 could not help taking the measure of her children in 
 some degree. She saw the hardness, the want of eleva- 
 tion, the worldy shrewdness of her eldest daughter, and 
 had done her best to combat them. If Jane could have 
 been infected, smitten, with some higher qualities, no 
 doubt she would have been; but you'll not teach a 
 drumhead cabbage to shrink by putting it alongside a 
 sensitive plant. Still, love made the best of it. Jane 
 would be able to stand her own ground. Mrs. Gilbert 
 had less anxiety about her than about Mary, who was 
 shy and dreamy, with little force of character. But 
 John she had every reason to feel satisfied about him. 
 He had got safely over the most perilous time, the first 
 years of being out from under his father's roof. Yes ; 
 John's conduct and prospects were all that could be 
 desired. She and his father believed that, but there 
 were people who could have told them otherwise ; and 
 the wonder is, that some one with a conscientious love 
 of carrying evil tidings had not made known to them 
 that their son was spending money faster than he made 
 it. He liked to do this, and he did it ; but he came 
 home every Saturday as innocent and as carelessly ready 
 to enjoy himself as ever. He was not bad not de- 
 praved, that is; if he had been possessed of a sufficient 
 private fortune he would have acquired a good name, 
 for he would have been under no temptation to do 
 wrong, at least wrong of the kind he fell into. 
 
 "Are you going out, Bell ? " Mrs. Sinclair asked. 
 " And where are you going ? " 
 
 " To Miss Raeburn's. Will you come ? "
 
 QUIXSTAR. 225 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you. I daresay you have fallen 
 in love with Miss Raeburn ? " 
 " Long ago. I do like her ! " 
 
 o o 
 
 " Well, I don't object. I don't think you'll get much 
 harm from her. She often says unfortunate things; 
 but my influence is greater than hers yet, although tact 
 is not quite a thing that can be taught." 
 
 The shortest cut to Miss Raeburn's house was past 
 Peter Veitch's cottage, and Bell took that way. While 
 the sailor had been at home she took the other way out 
 of deference to herself, for certainly no other person 
 would have charged her with passing his father's house 
 because he was there; but conscience makes cowards 
 of us all. Now however it was different; different 
 indeed ! all the difference between keen vivid interest 
 and blank dulness ! 
 
 As she was passing the door, Mrs. Veitch came out. 
 They spoke. 
 
 " And Maddy's leaving ye ? " said Mrs. Yeitch. 
 
 " Leaving ? I never heard of it," Bell said. 
 
 " She'll be ower blate to tell ye, likely." 
 
 "Blate!" said Bell; " what should make her blate? 
 Nonsense ! " 
 
 " She's gaun to be married. I wonder ye dinna ken." 
 
 " She must have been wooed by pi'oxy, surely. I 
 can't believe it." 
 
 " It was made up the time ye was awa'. It's the 
 gamekeeper the man whose wife died eighteen months 
 syne, leaving a lot o' wee bairns. I dinna think but 
 Maddy'll mak' a gude stepmother." 
 
 " First-class ! " said Bell, laughing. " I remember 
 she said something one day she no doubt intended for 
 a hint, but I was dull, and did not take it up. Provi- 
 dence indeed ! " Bell said to herself. 
 10*
 
 226 QUIXSTAE. 
 
 "I've just gotten a letter from Peter," said Mrs. 
 Veitch, speaking on the theme nearest her heart. " His 
 ship is to sail the morn." 
 
 " You'll miss him after having him so long." 
 
 " Miss ! miss is nae word for't ! Eh, Miss Sinclair, 
 be glad ye hae naething to do wi' sailors." 
 
 " It's to Melbourne he's going, isn't it ? That's often 
 a pleasant voyage', and not dangerous." 
 
 " Maybe ; but it'll be a weary time ere we see him 
 again, if ever." 
 
 " You should not look at the dark side," said Bell 
 cheerily, as they parted ; and Mrs. Veitch thought, " It's 
 easy speaking. It wad mak' nae odds to her if Peter 
 was at the bottom o' the sea ; but oh, the difference to his 
 faither and me ! " 
 
 " Ah, Tibby," said Miss Raeburn, " I'm always glad 
 to see you. Come and tell me how the world's using 
 you. You look a little glum ; what's amiss ? " 
 
 " Nothing, except original depravity, if I am looking 
 glum. The world uses me too well ; that's the only thing 
 I have to complain of." 
 
 " It is not a common complaint." 
 
 " Well, you see, I have nothing to do but enjoy my- 
 self, and I have done that remarkably well yet." 
 
 " Is there anything to hinder you going on doing it ? n 
 
 " Nothing ; but I would like to have work some- 
 thing to do." 
 
 . " Send away the housemaid and beat the carpets." 
 
 " That would be turning her out of a situation." 
 
 " But you don't mean to stand idle till every other 
 creature in the world has got work, do you ? " 
 
 " I can beat carpets, and I like it it is very exhilara- 
 ting; still, that's not the kind of work " 
 
 " There it is," said Miss Raeburn. " Now r Tibby, I
 
 QUIXSTAR. 227 
 
 thought you had more sense than join in that stupid caut 
 about having nothing to do. If you really can't get 
 anything to do, be content to do nothing, and hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 " It's all very well for you, Miss Raeburn, who have 
 no care that you want to divert" 
 
 " And pray what care have you that you want to 
 divert ? This is something new. Out with it, Tibby ! " 
 
 " It's nothing very great ; but I don't want to think 
 too much about it, and as it concerns another person I 
 can't tell it." 
 
 " How very, very mysterious ! And you want some- 
 thing to drive dull care away? I could give you some 
 hours' work in my garden every day, if that would do. 
 I'm going to have Peter Veitch, and you would be un- 
 der his orders, and his conversation might divert your 
 thoughts." 
 
 " He is a good old man ! " said Bell warmly. 
 
 " Excellent among the excellent," said Miss Raeburn, 
 looking straight into her visitor's face ; " and you could 
 sympathize with him on his son's departure." 
 
 " I couldn't I think he was right to go. I wonder at 
 Tom, for instance, our Tom do you know what he is 
 going to do ? " 
 
 " Something rational, I don't doubt." 
 
 " The bank he is in at Eastburgh is going to open a 
 branch here, and they have offered Tom the manage- 
 ment, and he means to take it. Think of it ! at his age, 
 when he might do anything ! Why, he might as well 
 be a horse in a mill." 
 
 "I think Tom is right; he is not a dunce. A. man 
 that can take the correct measure of himself is no 
 dunce." 
 
 " Of course, Tom is not ; if he were a duiicc I would
 
 228 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 not wonder at it, or if he were compelled by circum- 
 stances but his own free choice ! " 
 
 " You approve of Peter Veitch going to sea ; that's 
 generally thought a monotonous life ! " 
 
 "It can't be monotonous to a person with any mind. 
 Peter does not find it so; he told me if he had his 
 choice to make now, with all the experience he has had, 
 he would still go to sea." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, very glad that he has not mis- 
 taken his vocation ; still, I must say I sympathize with 
 Tom preferring Jo stay on dry land at the kingly occu- 
 pation of counting out his money, and he'll have ex- 
 ercise for his mind in dealings with his customers ; it 
 won't do to hand out money to any one." 
 
 " Oh, he'll need to know their circumstances, whether 
 they have money, and how much ; very interesting ! " 
 
 " To know these things is very interesting to most 
 people who are not babes in the wood suffering from 
 mysterious cares which they cannot reveal. I have 
 been young, and now I am old " 
 
 " You're not old, Miss Raeburn." 
 
 " Oldish, and I think it is well when the average 
 shoemaker sticks to his last ; he is likely to do more good 
 and less ill by that than any other course." 
 
 " Have you had a visit from uncle ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I thought you were reproducing his ideas in differ- 
 ent words." 
 
 " Great minds jump," said Miss Raeburn. "What 
 does your mamma think ? " 
 
 " Oh, she thinks Tom is burying himself, but is 
 reconciled to it because she'll have him beside her." 
 
 "And having him always at home may be the means 
 of lightening your load of mysterious care."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 229 
 
 " Ah, you may laugh. Have you ever known care, 
 Miss Raeburn ? " 
 
 " Have I ever known anything else ? Have you 
 never guessed ? But it is a sad story " 
 
 " Ah, I am sorry if I have touched on you really 
 always look so happy." 
 
 " Looks ! what are looks ? When I think of my hus- 
 band" 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Bell, with a start, " have you a hus- 
 band?" 
 
 " No ; that's the point. I ought to have one there's 
 one born for every woman, but he and I have missed 
 each other, and either he is gone, or he is wandering in 
 lonely wretchedness, or he is tied to the wrong person. 
 Conceive what I suffer sitting here in helpless ignorance. 
 Talk of care, indeed ! " 
 
 " And he may be suffering as much on your account," 
 said Bell. 
 
 " True ; I did not think of that." 
 
 " I'm vexed I have suggested it ; it was very heed- 
 less " 
 
 The door-bell rang. " That," said Bell, " is a man. 
 I saw him pass the window. Perhaps Mr. Phantom, 
 your husband ? " 
 
 " Not Mr. Phantom, my husband, but Mr. Raeburn, 
 my brother," she said as Mr. Raeburn entered.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 IT was fine moonlight, and Bell took the round- 
 about way home. Two people in different parts of the 
 world, both looking at the moon, have in all ages and 
 nations been supposed by this act to have communion at 
 once ethereal and comforting. Bell gazed at the moon, 
 and Peter Yeitch gazed at it he saw not only the moon 
 in the heavens, but half a dozen moons floating about on 
 the inky waters of the harbor. Possibly five thousand 
 pairs of lovers were looking at the moon that night, but 
 she carried no distinct messages. Nature is like a deaf 
 and dumb mother she is infinitely tender, she will 
 soothe and comfort, and smile and weep, but she does 
 not hear, and she cannot answer. In the midst of the 
 rude and civil bustle on the ship's deck before departure, 
 the moon showed Peter the red tiles of his father's 
 cottage, and the gravel in front of Old Battle House 
 whitened by her rays, contrasting with the straight line 
 of deep shadow thrown across it by the building, and 
 made his heart glad, while she enveloped Bell in a happy 
 reverie broken in upon by a voice that said, " Whither 
 bound ? " She started, but it was only John Gilbert. 
 
 " Homeward bound," she answered. 
 
 " You neither saw nor heard me coming," he said. 
 " Where have you been ? " 
 
 "I was at Miss Raeburu's, and I left when her 
 brother from Ironburgh came."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 231 
 
 " Mr. Raeburn indeed ! are you sure ? " 
 " Quite sure ; is it of any consequence ? I both saw 
 and spoke to him." 
 
 " Then you are right. I am on my way to see Mrs. 
 Gilbert." 
 
 " Is it not too late to go in on the old lady ? " 
 " No ; I'll be in time for supper, and I can make 
 myself useful conducting the orgies." 
 
 " I hope they are not too bois-terous ? " 
 " I try not to go to sleep at least. By the bye, I'll 
 give you something ; I got a bunch of them the other 
 night from her," he took out his pocket-book ; " I forgot 
 all about them." 
 
 " What are they ? " 
 
 " Not pound-notes," he said, taking out some slips of 
 paper, " it is a copy of verses. Mrs. Gilbert has a lot 
 for distribution ; you'll see it's ' Lines by a Pious Idiot.' 
 Of course lines by pious idiots are not scarce, it is the 
 artlessness of the confession I admire. Give one to 
 Effie, and here is one for yourself, which you'll keep for 
 my sake ; you may as well think of two idiots when 
 you are about it." 
 
 " John, you are a regardless mortal, I doubt." 
 "I'm glad you donibt it; but I must tear myself 
 away, or Mrs. G. will have put on her night-cap." 
 
 When Bell got within the gates of Old Battle House 
 she stood for a little, enjoying the stillness and the 
 moonlight. As she stood she heard a sound as of sup- 
 pressed sobbing among the thick dark bushes. The 
 bushes were high, and she saw no one, but wondering 
 who or what it could be she turned into a narrow foot- 
 path and went to the place the sound seemed to come 
 from. She stood, and getting accustomed to the dark- 
 ness a figure appeared leaning against a tree. She in-
 
 232 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 stantly recognized her sister's dress. . " Effie," she said 
 in astonishment, " is it you ? What are you doing here ? " 
 
 Effie sobbed again. 
 
 " What is it ? What in the world is it, Effie ? Tell 
 me?" 
 
 " John Gilbert is going away," said Effie between 
 sobs. 
 
 " Never mind John Gilbert, but tell me what you 
 are crying about." 
 
 " I tell you he is going away to Van Diemen's Land 
 or Australia, or some of these places, and we may never 
 see him again." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I parted with him only a few minutes 
 ago, and he said nothing about it." 
 
 " He does not wish it known." 
 
 " Not known ! How can he help it being known ? 
 and why did he tell you if he does not want it known ? 
 I don't understand it." 
 
 " You mustn't tell. Even his mother is not to know 
 till he is off." 
 
 " What has he done ? and why does he tell you only ? " 
 
 " I've known him all my life," sobbed Effie ; " and 
 and we are engaged." 
 
 " Engaged ! To be married do you mean ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and it may be years before he comes back 
 if ever." 
 
 " Oh, Effie, Effie ! " said Bell in a tone of profound 
 tenderness, " I am sorry for you. Does mamma know ? " 
 
 " No ; and you must not tell her. I did not intend 
 to tell you, but I could not help it." 
 
 " You have done wrong, Effie, and John Gilbert has 
 done wrong hi getting your promise, and binding you 
 not to tell, and he must have some reason not good I 
 doubt for going abroad in this way."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 233 
 
 " Right or wrong, I love him," said Effle proudly and 
 passionately, " and you must promise here to keep our 
 secret." 
 
 Bell was surprised at such force of will in her sister, 
 who had hitherto appeared always glad to follow rather 
 than to lead. She was eifectually diverted from her own 
 cares whatever they might be, but she would not give 
 her sister an unconditional promise to keep her secret. 
 While she was soothing and comforting Effie, Miss 
 Raeburn was saying to her brother 
 
 " How long are you going to stay this time, Jamie ? " 
 
 " I must be in Ironburgh to-morrow forenoon." 
 
 " Then we'll hardly have time to thaw. Isn't it curious 
 how you and I should need thawing when we meet now- 
 a-days ? " 
 
 " I did not know that, Joan, but I'll break the ice 
 boldly. I came to speak of John Gilbert. Do you 
 know anything about him ? " 
 
 " Do I know about John Gilbert ? How know ? " 
 
 " Do you see him often ? Does he come home 
 regularly ? " 
 
 " Yes. What do you mean ? He was often at Loch- 
 side with the Sinclairs in summer. They are intimate, 
 more so of late than they used to be. John is clever." 
 
 " Too clever, I am afraid." 
 
 " What is it, Jamie ? He has not been doing anything 
 bad ? " 
 
 " He has put my name to a bill, and got it cashed." 
 
 " Forgery ! " said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Yes ; that's the name for it. I have not denied my 
 signature yet." 
 
 ''Don't do it," she said earnestly. " It would kill his 
 mother." 
 
 " It is entirely on her account I have paused. Even
 
 234 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Jane does not know of it. Thank God it is none of my 
 sons." 
 
 Miss Raeburn was silent. She had more personal 
 affection for John Gilbert than she had for any of her 
 nephews, except the boy who was drowned, and the 
 eldest, who had been much with her as a child, and with 
 whom she kept up a close correspondence now that he 
 was in India in some civil capacity. She knew little of 
 the others, the intercourse between Ironburgh and Quix- 
 star had grown more and more slack as years passed. Mr. 
 Gilbert imagined he was undervalued by his wife's rela- 
 tives, as well as by the world hi general, and this small 
 jealousy worked its natural effect. Then Miss Raeburn 
 did not pai'ticularly affect her brother's wife. If blame, 
 or how much, attached to either party, it cannot be known, 
 but so it was. Time can bring this state of matters about 
 in the best regulated families, and whereas in early life 
 Mr. Raeburn and his sister blended like two drops of 
 quicksilver, it had come to pass that now, as Miss Rae- 
 burn said, they needed a little time to thaw when they met. 
 
 " It will kill his mother," repeated Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " I don't know, Joan. It is amazing what people 
 will live through." 
 
 " But she need not know. Take up the bill as 
 genuine." 
 
 " But what dependence can you have on him in 
 future ? I think if it had been one of my own sons, I 
 would have let the law take its course. It might be bet- 
 ter for him in the end." 
 
 " That you would not. Is the sum a lai'ge one ? " 
 
 " It is quite large enough ; but I don't mind the loss 
 to myself. It is the depravity of the boy." 
 
 " I don't believe he can be depraved. He may be 
 foolish."'
 
 QUIXSTAR. 235 
 
 " Don't defend- him, Joan." 
 
 " But you'll not expose him ? You'll give him another 
 chance for his mother's sake ? " 
 
 " That is what he calculated on." 
 
 "But he can't be hardened. I don't believe he is 
 hardened. See him. I'll ask him to come here in 
 the morning, and you can judge what had best be 
 done." 
 
 When Miss Raeburn sent, inviting him to breakfast, 
 John Gilbert was supping with Mrs. Gilbert, and ac- 
 commodating himself to the lady's ideas with the same 
 facility with which he suited himself to less worthy com- 
 pany. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert had unbounded faith in her grandnephew. 
 She considered she had had a hand in his training, and 
 she liked to look at her handiwork. He was always 
 ready to manage any little business matters for her, and 
 she had much pleasure in a staff for her old age, which 
 was at once useful and ornamental. On this night he told 
 her that he had been distributing the " Lines " she had 
 given him, and she said he would never regret being so 
 well employed. He waited kindly on his old friend, 
 for he really liked her, and he had a pleasure in doing it. 
 No ; he was not depraved, but he was very easy-going. 
 Before he left he asked his aunt for a loan, not quite an 
 insignificant one, and she gave it without an instant's 
 hesitation. His conscience ^mote him, but the pang was 
 momentary. He would repay her shortly, without doubt ; 
 as for his uncle Raeburn, he would never miss the mon- 
 ey. It was merely a loan without his knowledge, and 
 before long he would speedily repay it too. When he 
 went home and heard of Miss Raeburn's invitation, it did 
 not give him unmixed enjoyment, it confirmed him in 
 the plan he had been maturing for some time*, but he
 
 236 QUIXSTAH. 
 
 said, " Well, I'll see. If I'm not lazy in the morning I 
 may go." 
 
 " In the morning, Mrs. Gilbert not hearing her son 
 moving, knocked at his door, and getting no answer went 
 in, but he was not there. " He has not been lazy," she 
 thought; " I wonder I did not hear him go out." None 
 of them had seen or heard him go out, but it was con- 
 cluded he had gone to Miss Raeburn's, and without 
 further remark they had breakfast, and Mr. Gilbert went 
 away to his labor of teaching his part of that large 
 section of humanity which, being shut into schools day 
 by day for long hours, wonders how the rest of mankind 
 spends its continual holiday ; when a message came from 
 Miss Raeburn to say that if If Mr. John could not come 
 to breakfast, would he come up for a few minutes 
 after ? " 
 
 " What can have become of him ? " said Mary. " It 
 makes me think of the morning James Raeburn was 
 drowned/' 
 
 " Nonsense," said Jane. " He has remembered some- 
 thing he wanted to do in Eastburgh early, and has gone 
 off without thinking. At all events, he is quite able to 
 take care of himself." 
 
 Jane was of opinion that most people were quite able 
 to take care of themselves. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert was surprised, but not anxious. She 
 had confidence in her son, and that does not shake and 
 fall at once. In truth, she had no misgiving. Tom Sin- 
 clair came in for a minute as he passed the door on his 
 way to the station, and undertook to make John send 
 an account of himself whenever he reached Eastburgh. 
 
 Tom had his suspicions, which were verified when, 
 on reaching Eastburgh, John Gilbert was non est inven- 
 tus. He was angry ; " He has not taken my advice," he
 
 QTJIXSTAR. 237 
 
 thought, " and he must stand the consequences. Well, 
 I did not undertake to tell his mother if I got him ; I 
 only undertook to make him report himself. They'll 
 hear of it soon enough," and Tom went about his usual 
 business not greatly ruffled.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 As there is a pause in nature before the crash of a 
 storm, so a stillness came over the schoolmaster's dwell- 
 ing, waiting for what might be dreaded as evil tidings. 
 John's absence without explanation was so unaccount- 
 able. They did not send here and there inquiring for 
 him they waited. When Mr. Raeburn made a brief 
 call, there was no particular allusion made to John's 
 absence ; and he went home, paid for, and concealed 
 his nephew's guilt. The Gilberts kept quiet that was 
 not what Mr. Gilbert would have done, he was not self- 
 contained naturally ; he would have asked everywhere 
 if any one had seen his son ; he would have given up 
 his school for the time, and perhaps, taken to bed with 
 grief, but his wife's strength of mind came to his help. 
 " Why compromise John in the eyes of the public ? " 
 she said ; and he was persuaded to go on as usual. More- 
 over, Jane's constant iteration that Jack could take care 
 of himself had its effect on her father. It also had its 
 effect on her mother : she shrank from it it was a 
 coarse view of the case. 
 
 Whether John's absence was the result of thought- 
 lessness merely, or folly, or something darker, he had no 
 idea of the suffering he caused, as day after day went 
 past till nearly a week was gone, and nothing was heard 
 of him. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert was sitting alone one evening brooding
 
 QUIXSTAR. 239 
 
 over the subject. The tide of love for her son swelled 
 within her her thoughts hunted round him and round 
 him ; and feeling the terrible strain, she had said to her- 
 self, " How cruel he is ! how cruel ! " at the same time 
 shrinking from her own words, when suddenly Erne 
 Sinclair slipped into the room and said abruptly 
 
 " Have you not heard yet from John, Mrs. Gilbert ? 
 You should have heard by this time. He was to write 
 before he sailed." 
 
 " Sailed ! " said Mrs. Gilbert. 
 
 " Yes. Oh, he did not want it known, but he told 
 me. He was to write, and I have not heard yet." 
 
 An incontrollable pang shot through Mrs. Gilbert, 
 and the blood rushed to her face. He had told this 
 girl, and left her his mother in ignorance and an- 
 guish ! 
 
 " He was to write to me to the post-office in East- 
 burgh, and I have been there to-day and there is no 
 letter; and I am so anxious so anxious," pursued 
 Effie. "I didn't mean to tell you my own mamma 
 doesn't know ; but I thought you would have heard 
 from him, and I am so anxious." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Gilbert was seeking excuses for 
 her son, and Effie's eyes and her blushing face pleaded 
 for her. 
 
 " Effie," said she, almost trembling as she spoke, " do 
 you know why he went ? Has he done anything wrong ? " 
 
 " No, oh dear no ! He said he would get on better 
 in the colonies ; that was all." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert saw that was all Effie knew. If only 
 she could be sure that was all ! 
 
 " And where has he gone ? " 
 
 "To Australia; be wasn't sure what part. Are you 
 angry at him going away without telling, Mrs. Gilbert ? "
 
 240 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " I am grieved grieved in a way you can't under- 
 stand." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert had known Effie all her life : that she 
 should ask if she was angry at her son going away as he 
 had done was quite the kind of question she would have 
 expected her to put. But there are times when any 
 kind of human sympathy seems very poor and inadequate. 
 
 While Effie sat, the postman came to the door. She 
 ran for the letter^John's writing was on the back of it 
 it was to his mother. Mrs. Gilbert opened it and read 
 
 " DEAR MOTHER, I sail to-day for Melbourne. I 
 did not tell you, for if I had, neither you nor my father 
 would have let me go. Now, a man has a far better 
 chance of getting on in a new country than in our old 
 crowded island. I hope you have not been uneasy. I 
 mean to come home before long with a fortune. My 
 love to you all. I am your affectionate son, 
 
 " JOHX GILBERT. 
 
 "F.iS. Write to the post-office at Melbourne; I'll 
 call there when I land." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert held the note in her hand like one in a 
 dream. Was this her son, her very son in whom her 
 life was almost bound up "? He hoped she had not been 
 uneasy ! 
 
 Effie started up. 
 
 " My letter will be in Eastburgh. I'll go for it the 
 first thing to-morrow," she exclaimed. " You'll keep our 
 secret, Mrs. Gilbert ? I only told it through stress of 
 anxiety. You'll keep it ? " 
 
 " Yes," Mrs. Gilbert said, hardly knowing what she 
 was saying. 
 
 " Good-bye," cried Effie ; and she went as abruptly 
 as she had come.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 241 
 
 The first member of the family to come in was Jane. 
 Mrs. Gilbert was sitting, still with the note in her hand. 
 She was not thinking, she could not think, she was hard- 
 ly feeling, she was almost beyond that with this thing 
 that had come upon her. 
 
 " From John ! " Jane cried, seizing the letter. After 
 she had read it, she sat a moment without speaking, then 
 she said slowly, " He is more foolish than I thought him, 
 if he has gone in this way from no cause ; yet I think if 
 there had been anything wrong, anything to make us 
 ashamed and affronted, we would have heard of it by 
 this time." 
 
 " Jane ! " Mrs. Gilbert said, in a tone which meant, 
 " Have pity." 
 
 " It is true, mamma. It is a great trial, but it might 
 have been worse. Plenty of people go to Australia. 
 He is likely enough to get on." 
 
 When Mary read John's short farewell she bui-st 
 into tears. 
 
 " It's a relief to hear of him ; but oh, why has he left 
 us ? Surely he does not know how we love him ? " 
 
 " No, Mary," her mother said ; " I think he does not." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert's voice sounded dry and hollow. 
 
 " Mary," Mr. Gilbert said, coming beside his wife's 
 chair when their daughters had left the room ; " I al- 
 ways thought your son would do something for you. I 
 have never been able to do much, but " here his voice 
 faltered, and he left her abruptly, and for an hour walked 
 up and down the garden. 
 
 " There's papa walking," said Jane to her sister, 
 looking from their bedroom window ; " to look at him 
 just now one would not think he wanted energy." 
 
 " And does he?" asked Mary." 
 
 " I daresay you know that as well as I do. I love 
 11
 
 242 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 papa, but one can't be blind to facts. Would he ever 
 have dozed on here all his life if he had been ener- 
 getic?" 
 
 " I never thought of it," said Hary. 
 
 " But I have. Papa is a very good man, but he has 
 done little or nothing for his family, beyond keeping 
 them alive. Jack is different ; he may do well, or he 
 may not ; he has the energy, and he is clever, but he 
 wants balance. I would not like to be tied to his 
 chariot-wheels ; one would never know what to expect. 
 Papa and mamma are surprised at him going off; I 
 am not, although I would never have expected him to 
 do it in such a foolish way." 
 
 " You don't surely think yourself wiser than papa 
 and mamma, Jane ? " 
 
 " No, not wiser ; but I have a faculty of seeing 
 things as they are ; they haven't. Many people live in 
 a delusion from first to last, especially about themselves 
 and their friends." 
 
 " I think," said Mary, " I would prefer living in a 
 delusion. If any amount of wisdom or sense could 
 make me see mamma as a mere ordinaiy woman, I 
 would not have it at any price." 
 
 " I was not speaking of mamma ; but I say while we 
 are in this world, we can't afford to shut our eyes to facts ; 
 we can't believe we have been living in ease and luxury 
 when we have had the utmost difficulty to make ends 
 meet. You must know that ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know it ; but I have never felt it." 
 
 " But I have, and it's galling and tiresome. Look 
 at the Sinclairs and Raeburns, and even the Smiths 
 although I don't envy the Smiths, I like to feel secure, 
 all rolling in money ; it makes a wonderful difference." 
 
 Perhaps if Mrs. Gilbert had heard this conversation
 
 QUIXSTAR. 243 
 
 it would have pained her as much, if not more, than her 
 son's unforeseen flight. Her family life, happy as she 
 esteemed it, noble as it really was, reduced to the 
 measure of pounds, shillings, and pence, and by her own 
 daughter ! 
 
 Perhaps the most touching thing in all the history 
 of cruelty is the story of the woman who was accused 
 of witchcraft, and whose husband and children gave 
 evidence against her. She denied the crime to the last, 
 but said " Let me die. Since my husband and my chil- 
 dren believe me guilty. I have no wish to live." To such 
 a woman as Mrs. Gilbert, the bitterness of being disap- 
 pointed in her children could not be much short of the 
 bitterness of death. She sat still in her parlor-window, 
 the place where for so many years she had sewed and 
 worked for them, and determined to lock all her grief 
 and anxiety up in her own mind, to throw her care on 
 God and not to darken her dwelling with it, and she 
 did it ; and Mr. Gilbert, who leaned on his wife with all 
 his might although he did not know it, seeing her cheer- 
 ful as usual, began to think that it was not such a calam- 
 ity after all, John having betaken himself to a new 
 country that it might turn out to have been for the 
 best, in truth, the very high-road to fortune.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE sudden flight of the schoolmaster's good looking 
 son did not pass without remark ; on the contrary, it was 
 the subject of much comment of a nature readily im- 
 agined. 
 
 Next to his own family and his old aunt, the person 
 who put most heart into the interest she took in it was 
 Miss Raeburn. She wrote a letter to meet him on land- 
 ing, telling him what his uncle Raeburn had done ; how 
 no one but he and herself knew of the matter, and 
 beseeching him to act wisely in the future. " You should 
 do this from the highest motive, John," she wrote; 
 " but surely you will do it for your mother's sake ; don't 
 make her suffer more than you have done already. 
 There are not very many people in the world to whom 
 I look up, but positively I am never beside your mother 
 without feeling little; she seems to live iu i purer 
 atmosphere than other people ; all the small spites and 
 jealousies and worldliness that abound seem smaller and 
 more hateful in her presence ; don't wound such a nature, 
 for the wound will be terrible, I warn you." 
 
 His father and his mother, his sisters and Effie Sin- 
 clair, all wrote to welcome the voyager on his arrival, 
 such was the profusion of love thrown at his feet, and 
 the boy did not know how to value it. 
 
 Miss Raeburn was mistaken in thinking that the 
 secret of John's flight lay between her brother and her-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 245 
 
 self. One of the clerks in the bank, an amateur " expert," 
 had detected, or thought he detected, the forgery, and 
 he was not to be done out of his conviction because the 
 bill was paid as genuine and passed into oblivion. He, 
 the clerk, was ultimate with one of the Smith youug men, 
 and mentioned it to him, the Smith young man mention- 
 ed it to his mother, and his mother mentioned it to Mrs. 
 Sinclair, and in this fashion the story was propagated 
 and whispered about. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair did not regret John Gilbert's depart- 
 ure herself; no doubt he was very good-looking and 
 clever, but he was only the schoolmaster's son, and, 
 what was a great deal worse, penniless. But that did 
 not prevent her sympathizing with his'family ; and as she 
 believed they would never be much the better of John, 
 she thought one or both of the girls ought to be doing 
 something, and the sooner the better ; so having heard 
 of a family at the Cape of Good Hope wanting a gov- 
 erness, she thought she would call and oifer the post to 
 Jane Gilbert. 
 
 Happily she found Jane in and alone. 
 
 " I am sorry Mrs. Gilbert is. not in," said Mrs. Sin- 
 clair. 
 
 " I am very sorry too, and mamma will be vexed at 
 missing you ; we are always so glad to see you." 
 
 Now Jane was not a hypocrite ; she was always glad 
 to see Mrs. Sinclair or any of the Sinclairs at this time. 
 
 " I wished to see your mamma, to sympathize with 
 her on her loss. How you must all have felt Mr. Rae- 
 b urn's kindness ! " 
 
 " Mr. Raeburn's kindness ? " said Jane. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Sinclair, who never for a moment 
 doubted that the Gilberts knew the whole circumstances, 
 or perhaps even she would hardly have introduced the
 
 246 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 subject to them. " Yes," she said, " in paying the money 
 and saying nothing about it giving him another 
 chance." 
 
 Jane felt her face burn she had always suspected 
 something ; but she was equal to the moment. 
 
 "I think you must be under some mistake, dear 
 Mrs. Sinclair ; so far as I am aware, uncle Raeburn did 
 nothing." 
 
 "Mistake!" cried Mrs. Sinclair, "there can be no 
 mistake ; I had it almost directly from the bank-clerk 
 who detected the forgery." 
 
 " Forgery ! Oh, Mrs. Sinclair, you are most complete- 
 ly mistaken forgery ! " 
 
 If Jane had felt sure of her ground, sure that she 
 could refute the charge triumphantly, she would have 
 said a great deal; but she was not sure, it tallied with 
 her own suspicions, and she dared say nothing more, 
 and still her face burned and her heart beat. 
 
 " Well, well," said Mrs. Sinclair good-naturedly, " if 
 it is a mistake, so much the better. I came with a 
 message for you particularly." 
 
 " A message to her from whom ? " Was the shame 
 of John's doings to blight and change her own lot ? So 
 Jane hurriedly thought, and sickened at the possi- 
 bility. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, a message ; I have been thinking, as 
 you can't look to your brother now, and will have little 
 or nothing in event of anything happening to your 
 father (Jane must have enjoyed this, it was not shutting 
 her eyes to facts), that it would be well for you to begin to 
 do something for yourself. We'll hope your father has 
 many years to live, but an elderly woman turned out 
 on the world can hardly find a place, and I don't wonder 
 so now is the time for you to try to make a little
 
 QUIXSTAR. 247 
 
 money ; and, as I heard of a situation I could get for you, 
 I thought I would let you know." 
 
 During this speech Jane had gathered her senses 
 and regained confidence. 
 
 " You are exceedingly kind, Mrs. Sinclair," she said. 
 
 " Oh, don't mention it ; I delight in doing anything 
 to oblige ; I thought of you, but the situation would suit 
 either you or Mary, you could settle which yourselves." 
 
 " We are certainly greatly obliged." 
 
 " Don't speak of it ; you can think over it, and let 
 me know to-morrow perhaps." 
 
 " Well," said Jane, " I don't think mamma could 
 want Mary " 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure you are as dear to her as Mary ; but 
 your mamma will see it to be for good to one of you." 
 
 " Yes, oh yes ; mamma will feel very grateful, but " 
 
 " There need be no buts ; we'll say it's a settled 
 thing that one of you go ; it's only to the cape a very 
 nice climate, I believe." 
 
 " Mamma could not do without one of us " 
 
 " Well, it would be a trial tjf course, but it might be 
 a good thing for you both to take situations ; mean- 
 time" 
 
 "I did not intend to make it public just yet, but 
 since you are so very kind I think I must tell you that 
 I am engaged to be married." 
 
 " Married ! " cried Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And may I ask who is the happy man ? Do I know 
 him ? " 
 
 " No, you must not ask ; I'll leave some other person 
 to tell you that." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I haven't an idea ; gentlemen are 
 rather scarce hereabout, but I wish you much happi-
 
 248 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ness. I'll set the girls to sew you a cushion. May I ask 
 if he is in a good position ? It's not curiosity, Jane, it's 
 real interest in your welfare." 
 
 " Yes," said Jane, " he is in a very good position ; I 
 have nothing to wish for." 
 
 " You are not going far away, I hope ? " 
 
 " Oh no ; not very far." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that. It will cheer your father 
 and mother, and they need something to cheer them 
 after this sad affair of John's." 
 
 " We would have preferred having him at home," 
 said Jane ; " but there was nothing sad about his going 
 away ; we are all very hopeful." 
 
 " This will be news for the girls," said Mrs. Sinclair, as 
 she parted with Jane. " They'll soon guess ; they are 
 better at guessing than I am." 
 
 " What a mercy," thought Jane when she was alone, 
 " that there was nobody in but me ; she'll surely never 
 overhaul John to papa or mamma. I don't doubt she 
 is right, but 111 keep it to myself; somehow I can bear 
 things better than the others ; I hope they'll never hear 
 of this." 
 
 And they never did; that was one terrible grief 
 spared them by a special providence, if we can call one 
 providence more special than another. 
 
 It took Mrs. Sinclair only five minutes to Avalk home, 
 but in that space of time she had every unmarried man 
 she knew of within a radius of a dozen miles up in re- 
 view before her. If Jane had not said he was in such a 
 good position that she had nothing to wish for, it would 
 have been comparatively easy to fix on one. If she had 
 only had the presence of mind to ask if he were old or 
 young ! When she said the word " old," the idea of Mr. 
 Sinclair suddenly flashed on her. " Can it possibly be
 
 QUIXSTAR. 249 
 
 Adam ? " she thought. " It is possible, but not likely. 
 He can feel no want of company ; and when a man gets 
 into a set of habits he does not care for being put out of 
 them, and Jane has no attractions to distinguish her from 
 the common herd of girls. No ; I am fairly at a loss." 
 
 When dinner was nearly over, she said, " Now, I have 
 a piece of news for you, which is new and true. I saw 
 Jane Gilbert to-day, and she told me she is going to be 
 married." 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair kept her eye carefully on her brother- 
 in-law as she made this announcement, but to all appear- 
 ance he was completely unmoved. Observing her look 
 at him, he said, " Is that so very astonishing ? " 
 
 " Well, you know," she said, " Jane is not good-look- 
 ing, and she has no money, and she has a brother who is 
 no credit to her, by all accounts." 
 
 " Perhaps she is a fortune in herself," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Mary would have been my choice," said Bell ; " but 
 Jane will be a good wife. I hope the man is good, who- 
 ever he is." 
 
 " She said he was in a good position, and not far away. 
 Can't you think who he is ? " asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " I can't guess," said Bell. " He may be in Ironburgh ; 
 that's not far away, compared with Australia." 
 
 " Oh, but I understood he was in the neighborhood. 
 Can't you help us, Tom ? " 
 
 " Tom must be chock-full of electricity on such a 
 subject, but he holds it finely in abeyance," said Bell. 
 
 " I don't know," said Tom, " why women are always 
 so interested and make such an ado about a marriage 
 men would be glad to get the thing done as quietly 
 as possible. But no ; from the first blush of it till it is 
 fairly over, a hullabaloo must be kept up, or women 
 wouldn't think it a marriage, I suppose." 
 11*
 
 250 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Tom," said Bell, " you could do as Mr. Drysdale the 
 baker here did, who married his housekeeper. When 
 told the minister was come, he put off his apron, went 
 up stairs for a little, was married, came down and put 
 on his apron again, and went about his business." 
 
 "Well, that was rational," said Tom. "He must 
 have had a sensible woman to deal with. For my part, 
 I hate an uproar at a wedding." 
 
 " I agree with you, Tom," Bell said, " but the cus- 
 tom of all times and nations is against us, so I doubt we 
 must be in the wrong. At least, two people can hardly 
 set up against the voice of the whole race." 
 
 When Mr. Sinclair went away as usual Mrs. Sinclair 
 said 
 
 " I don't doubt your uncle thinks me silly in being so 
 taken up about Jane Gilbert's marriage, but I would 
 really like to know who the bridegroom-elect is. I have 
 a great curiosity." 
 
 " Well, mother," said Tom, " you may soon know 
 that, for I am in a position to tell you. I am going to 
 marry Jane Gilbert. I'm going out; I'll not be back 
 for two hours; get familiar with the idea, and have 
 the talking over in that time, will you, and oblige me ? " 
 
 Having thus thrown his shell on the carpet, Tom 
 retired, not waiting for the explosion thereby showing 
 his wisdom. 
 
 It did not seem as if the talking were to be done im- 
 mediately, for the three ladies sat in blank silence, struck 
 dumb with surprise. Whom the gods mean to destroy 
 they first blind. Poor Mrs. Sinclair felt this in her in- 
 most soul she had been blind indeed ; but any one, she 
 argued, would have been blind. Tom had known the 
 Gilbert girls all his life almost, and it is rarely that the 
 familiar strikes. Then, according to her taste, they had
 
 QUIXSTAR. 251 
 
 positively no attractions, yet yet this thing had come 
 upon her, and she knew she could not set her foot on it 
 so triumphantly as she had done in the case of Mr. Dou- 
 bleday. If Tom had a quality, it was sticking to his 
 point. 
 
 Effie was the first to speak. " I'm glad of it," she 
 said. " I like the Gilberts.' 1 
 
 " Liking them is one thing and marrying them is 
 another. The daughter of a country schoolmaster, and 
 the sister of a man who has had to flee for forgery ! " 
 said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 Effie turned from white to red, and back to white 
 again. 
 
 " Even if that is true, mamma " Bell began. 
 
 "It is true, to my certain knowledge; though Jane 
 Gilbert pretended she never heard of it, and denied it 
 stoutly. There is more in that girl than I thought." 
 
 " You know, mamma," said Bell, " you'll never 
 change Tom's determination." 
 
 " I was infatuated to take them to Lochside with us 
 not that I wanted them, but you and Effie would have 
 it. See what's come of it ; and he might have had the 
 pick of the young ladies of the county ! " 
 
 " Hardly, mamma," said Bell ; " Tom is good and 
 true, and all that, but he is not attractive. If I were 
 not his sister, he is a man I would never wish to speak 
 to twice. I am sure Jane will be a very good wife ; but 
 at any rate it is a thing we can't help, and we must make 
 the best of it." 
 
 " I must say, Bell, you are cool. I'll get sympathy 
 from you, at least, Effie. There's one thing Tom will 
 find out in time, that he-' 11 ^et the whole family to keep. 
 I have no idea that John will ever come to any good 
 he'll just go from bad to worse, and that'll be seen."
 
 252 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Don't, mamma ! don't say that ! I can't bear it ! " 
 cried Effie, and she ran from the room. 
 
 " She is very sensitive," said her mother. " She had 
 always very fine feelings. She feels it more than his 
 own sister ; Jane braved it out very coolly, I must
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 IF Mrs. Sinclair could have despatched Jane Gilbert 
 to a distance as easily as she did Mr. Doubleday, she 
 would not have been very long about it, but like every 
 other person in this world she had to submit to the in- 
 evitable, and when the time came she did it with what 
 grace she might. She was too good-natured, and had 
 too little real strength of character to stand out when 
 her daughters were pleased and her son determined. 
 
 No one supposed but that Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert 
 must rejoice in such a match for their daughter. Mr. 
 Gilbert did. It pleased his vanity immensjely, not to 
 say that it relieved his anxiety as to the future and pro- 
 moted Jane's happiness, but Mrs. Gilbert had not such 
 unmingled satisfaction. No doubt Tom was a perfectly 
 respectable man, but she knew him to be hard and self- 
 ish, and she feared that Jane and he would agree only 
 too well, whereas under different influences Jane might 
 have been improved and elevated; but like the other 
 mother she had to submit to the inevitable. So Jane 
 and Tom were married, and lived in a fine house on 
 the outskirts of Quixstar, called, by the taste of its mis- 
 tress, St. Hilda's Lodge. 
 
 When John Gilbert arrived at Melbourne he posted 
 a newspaper to his mother, and that was the sole notice 
 that came to Quixstar for many a day to show that he 
 was in existence. The Spanish Inquisition in its moments 
 of profoundest thought and ingenuity never inflicted
 
 254 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 keener torture than John Gilbert did in pure thought- 
 lessness, and there have been and are many John Gil- 
 berts. 
 
 Then came a letter a long letter, written jointly to 
 his father and mother nearly filled with details of 
 people he had met, whose name was legion, of all whom, 
 if they did not know him, knew some one he knew or was 
 connected with his father, his uncles, his grandfathers. 
 It seemed as if you only had to go to the antipodes to 
 fall into not merely a centre, but a circumference, of 
 interested friends. Very likely there were Ephraim 
 Jenkinsons among the multitude, but as Mrs. Tom 
 Sinclair justly remarked, " John took nothing with him, 
 so he could hardly be fleeced." She thought of the pos- 
 sible stealing of his purse, while his mother thought of 
 the possible contamination of his nature. Not a word 
 did he say of what he had been doing, was doing, or 
 meant to do, how he liked the place, whether he was 
 in comfort, or discomfort ; not a word. Effie got no 
 letter from him. His mother gave her this one to read, 
 and she was not even named in it. 
 
 And in all this time Peter Veitch had never been 
 home. His ship had been twice in London, but he had 
 not had time to visit Quixstar. 
 
 " Time ! " said Mrs. Sinclair when she heard of it. 
 " Where there is a will there is a way. That lad is 
 forgetting his duty to his parents, but it will let your 
 uncle see that his sagacity may be at fault." 
 
 Mr. Sinclair did not see this at all. He thought the 
 more of Peter for denying himself what would have 
 been a very keen gratification, that he might do his 
 duty. And Bell was of like opinion. She was given 
 to think well of Peter, and his mother showed her his 
 letters occasionally. She was rather fond of showing
 
 QUIXSTAR. 255 
 
 them. " I tell't him the last time I wrote to him," she 
 said, " that ye whiles read his letters and thocht a heap 
 o' them." 
 
 " Perhaps he may not like people reading his letters, 
 Mrs. Veitch ? " 
 
 " What for should he no' like it ? There's naething 
 in them he need be ashamed o', and ye see he aye speers 
 after ye." 
 
 These messages coming from Peter, and going to 
 him in this way, were a shade more substantial and 
 satisfactory than those that came and went vifi the moon, 
 although they were good too of their kind. 
 
 Poor Effie she did not come out as a strong mind- 
 ed heroine ; true to her role of sensitiveness, she lost 
 heart and spirit. Bell soothed and comforted and humor- 
 ed her, but she refused to be comforted that is, in pri- 
 vate, for in public she seemed rather to forget her grief. 
 After reading John's letter she came home, and wept 
 bitterly. Then Bell said to her, " If I were you, Effie, I 
 would not pine after a worthless man like a love-sick 
 girl. I would rise and shake it off, and not let it eat into 
 my life to make it useless." 
 
 " He may not be worthless," sobbed Effie. 
 
 " Well, stop thinking of him till he has proved him- 
 self worthy. Why, he does not even mention you," 
 concluded Bell indignantly. 
 
 " People often don't speak of those they are always 
 thinking about." 
 
 " You are infatuated, Effie. A woman may not, but 
 what should hinder a man ? What should hinder John 
 Gilbert ? It would have been the most natural thing in 
 the world. So natural, that for him not to do it looks 
 as if he had entirely forgotten you, or omitted you on 
 purpose."
 
 256 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 " You are cruel, Bell.'' 
 
 " I wish I could be crueller. I wish I could kill the 
 idea of John Gilbert out of you. He will be the bane of 
 your life, as he is of mine at present. Even his mother 
 has nothing to say for him. Oh, how I pity his mother ! " 
 
 Bell's love for her sister was great all the greater 
 that it was the love of a strong nature for a weak one 
 not that Bell ever for a moment thought her sister 
 weak; quite the contrary, nature had most kindly denied 
 Bell the faculty of seeing flaws in her friends. 
 
 She felt the responsibility of being Effie's sole confi- 
 dant, and wished to tell her mother the story, but to this 
 Effie would not consent, and Bell's post was not envia- 
 ble. Thinking that change of scene might be beneficial, 
 she eagerly accepted an invitation they got from a dis- 
 tant relative of Mrs. Sinclair's to visit her in Ironburgh. 
 Effie hung back. She was a stricken deer that did not 
 want to leave the spot she was on, but Bell carried her 
 off, and found her reward. 
 
 Their hostess was rather a stiff, starched individual, 
 with three daughters resembling herself; but Mrs. Rae- 
 burn came with her carriage very often, and took them 
 to spend the day with her. Effie never disguised her 
 eagerness to go, but Bell, out of courtesy to the friends 
 she was staying with, often declined, and laid herself on 
 the altar of duty, very thankful to see her sister looking 
 like herself again. 
 
 One day when Bell was out alone, she seized the op- 
 portunity (for it was not often she was alone) of going 
 to look at some parts of the town that she knew her 
 cousins so-called would shrink from putting their foot 
 in. She walked on, thinking and observing as she went, 
 when she came up to a little boy in a perfect storm of 
 grief. His face was all " begrutten," and he was sobbing
 
 QUIXSTAR. 257 
 
 as if his heart would break. Wondering what could 
 be the cause of such extreme abandonment, she stopped 
 to see if she could do anything in the way of consolation. 
 
 " What is it, my man ? " she said soothingly. 
 
 " Oh, my peerie (top) ! my peerie ! " he sobbed. 
 
 " Is that all ? What has happened to it ? " 
 
 " It's gane down the cundy (conduit), an' I'll never 
 see't again," and he pointed to a grating over a drain 
 which had a gap in it wide enough to swallow his toy. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " never mind, dry your face and cheer 
 up, I'll give you a penny to buy another." 
 
 His awful grief vanished on the instant, and she was 
 fishing in her purse for the promised coin, when a woman 
 came out of a door. " Mother," cried the urchin, " she's 
 gaunna gie me a penny to buy a new peerie." 
 
 " Bairn," she said, " ye're fit to ruin a body in peeries, 
 this is the second ye've lost ; if ye loss anither I'll peerie 
 ye ;"then turning to Bell she said, " Ye're far owerkind, 
 mem." 
 
 It began to rain > and the boy's mother asked Bell to 
 wait a little in her house till the shower went off. As 
 Bell sat waiting she heard a deep ominous cough, which 
 did not seem far off, and she looked inquiringly at her 
 hostess, who said, " Ay, it's a man that lives but and ben 
 wi' us ; he has been ill for a while, and he's no unco 
 weel off." 
 
 " Is he not ? " Bell said. 
 
 " He bides wi' a sister, and she drinks, and he has an 
 awfu' time o't wi' her. He had been in a better way 
 ance, for he keepit them a' that's his faither and mother 
 and her like but she's the only ane left now, and he 
 cam' hame ill a while syne, and tried to keep a bit schule 
 as laug as he was able, but he's past that the now. I 
 doubt his siller has melted away. I'm often wae for him.
 
 258 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 I wish he may get his meat; when I'm niakin' a bit 
 denner, I gey an' often tak' him in some." 
 
 " Has he no friends ? " asked Bell. " Can nothing be 
 done for him ? " 
 
 " Weel, I dinna ken, I'm sure." 
 
 " I can give some money ; I don't know of anything 
 else I can do." 
 
 " Money," said the woman, " would do him gude, if 
 he could get the use o't." 
 
 " Perhaps you would take charge of it, and get what's 
 necessary ? " 
 
 " I think ye should gie him't yersel' ; if I took it he 
 would think I had been begging for him ; now if ye gie 
 him't, I'm no to ken onything about it." 
 
 " That may be true, but I have no pretence for call- 
 ing. I could not justify my intrusion." 
 
 " Weel, mem, there's mony a leddy that doesna stick 
 at bouncing into a puir body's house whether they have 
 an errand or no'; but he's at a gey low pass, he may be 
 glad o' a word o' sympathy." 
 
 " Would you go in then, and say I heard he was not 
 very well, and would be glad to see him if he would let 
 me?" 
 
 The woman immediately opened her neighbor's door, 
 and Bell heard her say, " There's a leddy wantin' to see 
 ye, sir." 
 
 " A lady ! What lady ? " 
 
 " I couldna say, sir ; she's a stranger to me." 
 
 " And to me too. I know no ladies that could come 
 here. Say I don't want to see her. Say anything you 
 like." 
 
 There was something in the voice that made Bell 
 listen. 
 
 " But, sir " the w r oman began.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 259 
 
 " She's not to come here," he said. " I don't want to 
 see her." 
 
 In the face of this mandate Bell stepped into the 
 room. 
 
 " I can hardly be mistaken," she said. " I really wish 
 to see you, Mr. Doubleday." 
 
 Of a truth it was Mr. Doubleday, fallen upon evil 
 days. He looked keenly at her, and his first act (show- 
 ing wonderful presence of mind for him) was to raise his 
 hand to his head and pull off a striped worsted nightcap ; 
 the blood rushed to his thin white face and receded 
 again, while a smile faintly gleamed on it, like a single 
 shaft of afternoon light on tarnished December snow. 
 
 " Miss Sinclair ! " was all he said. 
 
 He lay back on his dirty cushions. Poor man, ill- 
 ness and poverty had not added to his attractions. Never 
 celebrated for his attention to dress, he was worse now 
 than ever. An old black suit, glazed and whitey-brown, 
 hung on his shrunken body, the coat was fastened across 
 his breast with a great stalwart yellow pin, the only vig- 
 orous-looking thing in the house ; no shirt was visible ; 
 his eyes were as feeble and his hair as erect and scrubby 
 as ever. Whether the one rapid touch he had given to 
 his toilet by snatching off his nightcap was an improve- 
 ment might be doubted. A small table was before him, 
 covered with books, and he had been writing, or trying 
 to do so. 
 
 Bell lifted a chair near him and sat down. 
 
 " Still busy among books, Mr. Doubleday," she said 
 cheerily. " Do you know I was dreaming about you 
 last night, but I did not expect to have the pleasure of 
 seeing you to-day." 
 
 It would have been a trying thing for Mr. Doubleday 
 to have met Bell in any circumstances, but here, in this
 
 260 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 squalid room, feeble and poverty-stricken, with the dread 
 that his sister might burst in at any moment in any stage 
 of drunkenness it was too much for him ; he could not 
 speak. 
 
 Bell looked into his books and remarked upon them 
 by way of making talk, for she hardly knew what to 
 say ; as to offering him money, that she could not do, 
 although he seemed to want the common necessaries of 
 life. On the only chair besides the one she sat on stood 
 a basin of porridge and sour milk that had been the 
 breakfast he had tried to eat, and there was no appear- 
 ance of any other food in the house, although it was long 
 past the hour when an invalid ought to have had some 
 tempting nourishment. 
 
 " Miss Sinclair," he said at last, " it is very kind of 
 you to come here, but you must not stay long in a place 
 like this." 
 
 " Must I not ? Do you remember how long it is 
 since ycoi left Quixstar ? " 
 
 "Yes; it is five years past on the 17th of last Sep- 
 tember. This is November. I don't know the day of 
 the month." 
 
 " It's the 15th. Why don't you ask what we've been 
 doing all that time ? You should ask what we've been 
 studying at least ? and do you know we've had a mar- 
 riage amongst us ; guess whom ? " 
 
 " Not you ? " 
 
 " No, not me. Jane Gilbert and Tom are married 
 and settled in Quixstar. He keeps a little - money- 
 shop." 
 
 Bell looked at her watch, and Mr. Doubleday fain 
 would, have asked what o'clock it was, for his own 
 watch having been disposed of from necessity, he had 
 no means of knowing the hour, except by guessing; but
 
 QUIXSTAR. 261 
 
 he refrained lest he should betray his circumstances. 
 And during the long hours of his sleepless nights he 
 comforted himself by thinking that knowing the exact 
 time would not make it go more quickly. 
 
 He trembled lest his sister should come in. What 
 a man of his temperament suffered from this coarse 
 woman, no one but himself knew. If she came in she 
 would ask money from Miss Sinclair without an instant's 
 hesitation, he was well aware. 
 
 Bell saw that for some reason'he was impatient she 
 should go, and she rose and said 
 
 " I'll come soon back, unless you seriously object," 
 and she laughed. 
 
 " Don't come," he said ; " don't come to such a place 
 as this." 
 
 " No," said she ; " I really think I can't. I make it a 
 rule never to visit an old friend unless he lives in a fine 
 house." 
 
 " Go," he said, suddenly and eagerly as a coarse, re- 
 pulsive-looking woman passed the window. He looked 
 positively frightened. 
 
 Hurriedly saying good-bye, Bell passed out, and en- 
 countering Miss Doubleday, shrank from her. " And 
 that is his sister," she thought ; "how horrible!" then 
 she turned back and went into their neighbor's house ; 
 she said, " Take that," giving some money, " and do 
 what you can for him as soon as you can. I could not 
 offer it to him." 
 
 The woman was surprised at the tones of her voice, 
 thanked her, and went 'further into details of his cir- 
 cumstances, but Bell left her abruptly ; she could hardly 
 stand it ; she would have wept but that she was on the 
 street ; the very depths of her tenderness and compas- 
 sion were stirred.
 
 262 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 In the dark hours of his life during the past five 
 years, the idea of Bell Sinclair had many times gleamed 
 on Mr. Doubleday as you have seen lightning play 
 round the black shoulder of a hill at night, and instantly 
 disappear, leaving a shadow of gladness in your mind. 
 But it took all the hours of this wretched night to 
 master the feelings which the sight of her had revived. 
 Toil and disappointment had kept him company since he 
 could think or feel, and now disease and poverty had 
 joined the party; anS when they were sitting round 
 him like dogs of the desert waiting for their prey, that 
 was the moment chosen to send the angel of his dreams 
 to look at him. 
 
 In night and darkness, when the imagination is roused 
 and the judgment asleep, how misery seems steeped 
 in misery, and calamity descends into blacker blackness ; 
 with the morning sun comes a lightening of body and 
 mind. After this wild night Mr. Doubleday looked his 
 lot hi the face, and, bad though it was, it was not really 
 worse than it had been yesterday morning. 
 
 Why should all the lessons of faith and patience 
 he had been years in learning be lost in a single night ? 
 He rose, and with trembling fingers got himself into his 
 clothes once more. He was alone in the house, without 
 fire or breakfast. He sat down and read his Greek Tes- 
 tament, a book he was fond of, for its doctrines were 
 not foolishness to him as they were to the polite people 
 in whose language it was written ; and if ever he had 
 found stumbling-blocks there, that time was past. In 
 a little he heard a knock at his door, and his kindly 
 neighbor entered. She had suspected he was alone, and 
 had come to see what she could do for him. She brought 
 him the never-failing cup of tea, but it had the bitter, 
 stewed, sickly taste which belongs to coarse cheap tea
 
 QUIXSTAK. 263 
 
 that is always kept hatching in a pot by the side of a 
 fire. He could not have relished it if he had been 
 well, and he was at that stage of illness when he longed 
 for something that had taste and substance. He swal- 
 lowed it, however, and told the good woman that he 
 did not know how he could ever repay her kindness, for 
 his was an humble, grateful soul, and she left him with 
 a motherly yearning towards him, determined that he 
 should have a dinner of the best from the stranger's 
 bounty. Feeling faint, he rose and looked into the 
 press, where he found the porridge and sour milk that 
 had been left the previous day. He ate that and felt 
 refreshed, the sharp acid suited his palate ; and after 
 his meal he bent his head in silent thanks.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 dinner was over in the respectable mansion 
 where the Sinclairs were visiting, Bell went to her room 
 to write a letter to Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " DEAK MRS. PHANTOM," she began, " Mamma's good 
 cousin and her three daughters are very kind to us 
 oppressively kind, I may say ; for they have the notion 
 that they should entertain their guests from morning to 
 night, and accordingly they never lose sight of us from 
 the time we rise till we go to bed. It is comparatively 
 easy for them, as they are four, and mount duty by turns ; 
 but imagine us being obliged to sit upright, not to yawn, 
 to look pleased and even animated, and generally to be- 
 have ourselves for thirteen or fourteen hours a day. 
 One good thing is, that Effie gets no opportunity to 
 mope ; she has given up writing poetry, which I take to 
 be a symptom of returning health and spirits, and we 
 have met many friends. If we had gone to Australia we 
 could hardly have fallen in with more; w r e could nearly 
 match John Gilbert, I had to apologize to the ladies 
 for leaving them just now, by saying I was going to 
 write a rather particular letter, and would like to be 
 alone. The truth is, I expect to ' greet ' before I am done, 
 and that is a manifestation of the weakness of humanity 
 which it is better should take place privately. I was 
 
 taking a walk to-day in out-of-the-way places, and who 
 t
 
 QUIXSTAK. 265 
 
 do- you think I discovered by the merest chance ? Mr. 
 Doubleday! Are you not hyper-astonished? I found 
 him in sickness and want, tormented by a fearful-looking 
 drunken sister. I am thankful I had the presence of 
 mind not to look surprised or take any notice of his de- 
 plorable state. Their next neighbor told me, among 
 other things, that they had not been able to pay for gas, 
 and it had been cut off; so he sits mostly in the dark, 
 but sometimes gets a candle. One night when this 
 neighbor went in his sister was lying in a drunken sleep, 
 and when Mr. Doubleday snuffed the candle he put the 
 snuffers on a stocking he had folded and laid down for 
 the purpose, that he might not risk making a noise and 
 disturbing her by putting them in the snuffer-tray. Think 
 of it ! He is certainly too good for this world. ISTow, 
 what is to be done ? My impulse would have been to 
 take him direct to Old Battle House, but I don't think 
 mamma would like it : then I thought of writing to 
 uncle, but it struck me you would see and understand 
 the thing better. How would it do to subscribe among 
 us money to send him to a warmer climate ? I would 
 give a year's income and more, and feel I had never grat- 
 ified myself so much in my life. The difficulty would 
 be to persuade him ; only he must see that staying 
 where he is, is next thing to suicide. I know you 
 will throw yourself into this, and it must be done quick- 
 ly. There is no time to be put off. It must have been 
 this sister who wrote to him so often when he was with 
 us asking money, I don't doubt. He has had a hard 
 life. I expect to hear from you immediately." 
 
 To whom Miss Raeburn : 
 
 " MY DEAR TIBBY, Gradually insidiously and fool- 
 ishly, I admit I have allowed the habit of you to grow 
 12
 
 266 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 upon me till now that I am deprived of you, I feel like 
 the drunkard who cannot get his dram. Does it become 
 my duty to lay you down firmly now, rather than go on 
 and be enslaved in all time coming ? Say ? 
 
 " It will be your turn likely to be hyper-astonished 
 when I tell you that I do not pity Mr. Doubleday. It 
 would be impertinent to pity him. Such a man is above 
 the world. There are a great many people about whom 
 one can't help thinking, when one hears of their death, 
 that it will take some little time before they shake into 
 the ways of heaven; but these won't be strange to Mr. 
 Doubleday : he will fit in much better there than ever 
 he has done here ; and if it were not for the sixth com- 
 mandment, the kindest thing would be to let him stay 
 where he is ; but it will hardly do to fly in the face of 
 the decalogue, therefore by all means let us get him to a 
 warmer climate, and there need be no difficulty. The 
 proper object of pity is that wretched sister of his. You 
 don't depict her as an angel of light ; but could nothing 
 be done for her ? If we all got our deserts, who Avould 
 escape a Avhipping ? For myself, I feel wofully wicked, 
 feeble, and fallible ; but observe, Tibby, I don't say that to 
 every one. The other day I was dining with the Smiths, 
 and I was sitting beside Mr. Kennedy. There was some 
 talk about a preacher who has made a little sensation 
 by his preaching. Among other things he had said from 
 the pulpit, one of the company remarked, was, ' that the 
 devil heard every sermon that was preached.' I said, 
 ' Poor wretch, that must be no slight part of his punish- 
 ment.' The words were not out of my mouth when I 
 felt my face burn ; but as I had spoken low I hoped they 
 might not have been heard. However, one of the Smiths, 
 to whose juvenile bones it was of course marrow, called 
 out
 
 QUIXSTAR. 267 
 
 " ' Mr. Kennedy, did you hear what Miss Raeburn 
 said?' 
 
 " ' Perfectly,' said Mr. Kennedy ; ' and I agree with 
 her. I would not like to hear every sermon that is 
 preached either' which I believe ; but it was a foolish 
 speech of mine, and I have been sitting in the chair of 
 repentance ever since. 
 
 "Mrs. Smith told me confidentially but everybody 
 knows that her eldest son is to be married immediate- 
 ly to an Ironburgh heiress with 70,000, and they are 
 going round the globe for their marriage trip. It is, she 
 said, a marriage of pure affection on both sides. 
 
 " If the bride has 35,000 and they go half round the 
 globe, or if she has 17,500 and they go to Paris, it will 
 do very well. I am glad of this, for I like to see people 
 happy after their kind, and this is a thing that will 
 make the Smiths very happy. Mr. Johnston the butcher 
 Old Bloody Politeful, as the Smiths call him gave 
 me a New Zealand newspaper the other day, from 
 which it seems his son John is making quite a figure 
 there. How proud and happy his father looked! It 
 was very natural, and I got into the spirit of it myself. 
 Who knows but Quixstar may be famous yet through 
 its great men ? ' the obscure little town of Quixstar,' 
 as the newspapers wickedly say when they have occa- 
 sion to mention it. 
 
 " I see a cloud like a man's hand gathering over our 
 little society here. It may increase or blow off; all I 
 can say is, I am glad it is two men who are going to 
 make fools of themselves, and not two women. I have 
 as much esprit de corps as that, and as much esprit de 
 race as to be sorry two men I have a regard for or 
 whether I have a regard for them or not should fall out 
 by the way.
 
 268 QU1XSTAR. 
 
 " I will be in Ironburgh the day after to-morrow, 
 to get Mr. Doubleday excavated. If you and Effie give 
 so much, I will make up all deficiencies, and you could 
 present the money as a mark of gratitude. It will not 
 be public at all, and he need have no delicacy about it ; 
 at least I hope not. Au revoir." 
 
 Without doubt, whether she thought it or not, 
 Miss Raeburn was clever in more ways than one. In 
 the course of a few days she had Mr. Doubleday and 
 his outfit packed and sent off en route to the shores of the 
 Mediterranean, and his sister put into a retreat for the 
 inebriate, hoping the best. By some she was called 
 odd, and she was odd, so far as pursuing her way re- 
 gardless of remark is odd. 
 
 There are people who tell us that oddities will die 
 out; that the excessive attrition of modern times, the 
 railways, steamers, telegraphs, and newspapers, will rub 
 every corner down, till men and women are reduced to 
 uniformity, as if they had been turned out of one mould. 
 No fear ! Nature has never yet been beaten out of the 
 field by art; she has never yet shown herself so little fer- 
 tile in resource. There will be oddities to the end of time ; 
 but the types may change, the patterns will be different; 
 and Dame Nature has the new patterns in her pocket, 
 all ready to be handed out as needed. The retired med- 
 ical woman, for instance will she be less worth know- 
 ing than the same type of woman whose energies nevep 
 had an outlet, but who left perhaps a song or a proverb, 
 or a ballad or racy saying, floating on society nameless, 
 the only witness that she had ever existed ? One would 
 like to be the infant whose birth w r as announced in the 
 newspapers yesterday, for he may live to meet her, and 
 she will be worth meeting only there are so many things 
 one would like to meet and to see, and time is short.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 269 
 
 When Mrs. Sinclair heard of Mr. Doubleday's reap- 
 pearance on the scene, her maternal instincts flew to 
 arms at once, but quite unnecessarily. It is true that 
 Mr. Doubleday's love was of a kind that, like the her- 
 rings in Loch Fyne if such a comparison may be al- 
 lowed could be nourished on invisible food ; and men 
 of his stamp are not keenly observant; still, even the 
 snail has eyes at the ends of its feelers ; and during the 
 few days' intercourse he had with Bell before leaving, 
 he knew by instinct that his love was hopeless. He 
 would have liked to have died then, wrapped in the ely- 
 sium of her presence ; but people don't die when they 
 like, and Mr. Doubleday went away, recovered a good 
 measure of health, and returned; while many of the in- 
 valids who left Britain that winter, desiring to live with 
 a very intensity of desire, who had much to live for 
 love, wealth, and all that the world can give never 
 came back. 
 
 Miss Raeburn returned to Quixstar as soon as Mr. 
 Doubleday was fairly off, leaving Bell and her sister at her 
 brother's (Mr. Raeburn's) house, where they were more 
 at home than in the stiff establishment of their relative. 
 
 Mrs. Raeburn liked to have girls with her, having 
 none of her own a fact she often bewailed. Of late 
 she had sometimes got Mary Gilbert for a week or two, 
 but Mary was very valuable at home, and liked best to 
 stay there. Since Jane's influence had been withdrawn, 
 and she had become her mother's sole companion, she 
 had improved and developed amazingly; and Mrs. Rae- 
 burn, in the kindness of her heart, thought what a good 
 daughter-in-law she would make. If she had been eager 
 to prevent any of her sons falling in love with her, it 
 would have been the very thing that would have taken 
 place ; as it was, not one of them did so.
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 MiSS RAEBTJKN" was no sooner home than she had a 
 call from old Mrs. Gilbert, who came with a letter in her 
 hand she had got from her grandnephew, about which 
 she wished to consult Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " You see," she said, " there is a letter enclosed in 
 mine which I am to give to Miss Effie Sinclair, and say 
 nothing about it, or my own either; but I like none o' 
 these underhand ways, so I brought it to you to read, 
 to see what you think of it." 
 
 The letter was dated about two months before, from 
 a place Hongatonga by name, and was as follows : 
 
 "MY DEAR AUNT, Among the many kind friends 
 that I left at home, after my own immediate family, 
 there is no one I think so often about as yourself. How 
 often I think of the tea-drinkings we juveniles had with 
 you ! I see the old fluted silver tea-pot with the island 
 on its side, in which resided a big G, as distinctly at 
 this moment as if it were before me. Is it still in exist- 
 ence ? " 
 
 [" What would hinder it ? " interjected Mrs. Gilbert 
 to Miss Raeburn, who was reading aloud.] 
 
 " I have seen a good deal of the world since I last 
 saw it. This is a fine country, with a great future before 
 it. The town where I am will be a large, handsome 
 place when it is all built. Five years ago the place
 
 QUIXSTAR. 271 
 
 where it stands was bush; now it has ten thousand in- 
 habitants many, I may say most, of them Scotch. There 
 is a man here who knew my uncle Gilbert. His father 
 had a large tea-shop in Eastburgh in my uncle's time. 
 Wilson was his name ; his mother's name was Adamson. 
 Do you remember them ? He is married to a woman, 
 or lady I should perhaps say, from the same place as 
 Mr. Kennedy, and she knew Mr. K. very well when he 
 was a boy. Speaking of Mr. Kennedy reminds me that 
 we are not very well off for ministers here, and religion 
 suffers accordingly. If you know any good preacher 
 who can't fall readily into a berth at home, advise him 
 by all means to come out ; there is a good field, and he 
 would meet with fair encouragement. Some earnest meu 
 here have set agoing revival meetings at present, and 
 much good has been done. I have been at most of them 
 in the evenings ; and souls are being turned to Christ 
 up to 11.30. [" O John ! John ! " ejaculated Miss Rae- 
 burn.] But I can't say I approve of such late hours, even 
 for religious purposes. Mr. Wilson takes an active hand 
 in these things. He has a large sheep run. Sheep are 
 a remarkably good investment here ; indeed, there are 
 many good investments. You can get fifteen, twenty, 
 and even twenty-five per cent., and the most perfect se- 
 curity no risk whatever. I have just been thinking it 
 is a pity your money should bring you such trifling re- 
 turns, when it could be put out to such advantage here ; 
 so if you like to send it, or some of it say 2000 or 
 so to me, I'll do my best for you ; I'll send you a clear 
 400 a year for it at the least. I enclose a letter for 
 Miss E. Sinclair; would you give it to herself quietly, 
 and say nothing of having had a letter from me, so that 
 no suspicion may be raised ? I remain your affectionate 
 nephew, JOHN GILBERT.
 
 272 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 "P. S. Would you not think of coming out here 
 yourself? Old Mrs. Adamson, Mrs. Wilson's mother, 
 came out recently. She is eighty-three, and the likeli- 
 hood is, by coming to the 'colony she will add ten years 
 to her life. That is almost invariably the effect of such 
 a change. I'll expect the money at all events. You 
 know me well enough to know that I'll do nothing for 
 
 O O 
 
 you I would not do for myself. J. G." 
 
 Miss Raeburn closed the letter with a smile on her 
 face. She could not help it, and she thought, " Oh for 
 dull mediocrity ! " 
 
 " Well," she said to Mrs. Gilbert, " what are you 
 going to do ? Transfer yourself and your money to the 
 antipodes ? " 
 
 " Na ; I'll no' transfer myself, although, if I would 
 have done that for onybody, it would have been for 
 John. Isn't it strange that the laddie says nothing about 
 what he is doing, or how he lives, or about the ways and 
 habits o' the folk, nor how he never wrote to me before, 
 and writes so seldom to anybody ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it is strange." 
 
 " But I think I might send him the siller ? " 
 
 " If you lose 2000, can you still live comfortably ? " 
 
 " Na ; if I were to lose 2000 I would be next door 
 to a beggar." 
 
 " Then don't send it." 
 
 " Do you think no' ? He's a clever business man, 
 John, and he has a sense of religion." 
 
 " That may or may not be, but you have no right to 
 risk bringing yourself from comfort to poverty in your 
 old age. Take my advice, Mrs. Gilbert. I love John 
 as much as you do, but I would not send him that 
 money."
 
 QUIXSTAK. 273 
 
 " Would you not ? " 
 
 " Most decidedly not ; and I would burn that letter 
 in case his mother asks to see it." 
 
 " But I would like to keep it for his sake ! " said the 
 old lady, with a tear in her eye. 
 
 " Then you must not say anything about it. It 
 would pain his mother exceedingly. As for Effie's letter, 
 I'll post it in Eastburgh to-morrow if you like, and it 
 can take its chance of falling into her mother's fingers. 
 Like you, I hate underhand dealings." 
 
 And Mrs. Gilbert went away in the state people 
 often are after taking advice, not very sure whether to 
 act on it or not ; but she decided to wait a while. Age 
 is not impulsive. To do her justice, it was not the high 
 interest she thought of chiefly. She considered that the 
 money would give John some standing where he was 
 rightly judging that human nature at Hongatonga was 
 much the same as at Quixstar. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair forwarded John's letter to Effie with- 
 out suspicion or remark, and she got in it Mr. Raeburn's 
 dining-room when she and her sister were alone. 
 
 " Who is it from ? " asked Bell. 
 
 Eifie turned round, with her face slightly flushed, 
 and said 
 
 " John Gilbert." 
 
 " John Gilbert ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and it is impertinent," said Eflie. " More than 
 that, he has enclosed it to some one to post, and com- 
 promised me. Who in the world can he have sent it to, 
 do you think ? " 
 
 " I cannot even guess," said Bell, astonished at her 
 sister's change of mood. " Do you mean to answer it ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Eflie, tossing the letter into 
 the fire. 
 
 12*
 
 274 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 " I'm glad that's over, " said Bell. 
 
 " It is time it was over, " said Effie indignantly. 
 
 " John is not so fortunate," Bell said, " as the man 
 who threw off his friends as a huntsman his pack, for he 
 knew when he liked he could whistle them back." 
 
 " He seems to have thought that though, but he'll 
 never whistle me back." 
 
 Bell, while she was devoutly glad that this unfortunate 
 episode was over, was as much surprised as glad. She 
 would have expected that John's writing, his mere hand- 
 writing, whatever he might have said, would have been 
 meat and drink to Effie : that she would cling to him 
 through everything, but it seemed that happily she was 
 mistaken. 
 
 When, the Sinclair's went home they were escorted 
 by George Raeburn, Mr. Jlaeburn's second son, who was 
 young, good-looking, and a partner in his father's very 
 lucrative business. Mrs. Sinclair threw no obstacle in 
 the way of his crossing the threshold of Old Battle 
 House and recrossing it, but when he had seen the young 
 ladies safely under their mother's wing he went direct 
 to his aunt's, Miss Raeburn's. 
 
 There he flung himself on a sofa and said, " Aunt, I 
 want your help. You'll help me to get that girl for 
 my wife ? " 
 
 " Miss Sinclair, you mean ? " 
 
 " You'll help me ? " 
 
 " That I will not. It's a case in which a man ought 
 to help himself. I'll not hinder you, though. Besides, 
 if Bell thought you needed help of mine, and had asked 
 it, she wouldn't have you. She likes people that can 
 help themselves." 
 
 " Bell, did you say ? It's Effie I want." 
 
 " Oh, it's Effie ! That's different. Certainly there's no
 
 QUIXSTAK. 275 
 
 accounting for tastes. Why, she can't hold the candle 
 to Bell." 
 
 " Candle or not, I never cared for any one in the 
 world as I care for Effie." 
 
 " Well, I don't think you need despair. Bell's 
 knight might have to win his spurs, but if you want my 
 candid opinion, I think Effie might be had for the pick- 
 ing up." 
 
 " Has she no lovers already ? Such a creature as she 
 must have lovers." 
 
 " She has one, I suspect." 
 
 " Oh dear," groaned the youth. 
 
 " But he is afflicted with a fell disease " 
 
 " He must be intensely selfish then to think of 
 marrying." 
 
 " A fell disease, known among the children of men 
 as impecuniosity ; but Effie has money, and not little. 
 She would not be deprived of the necessaries of life 
 though she married him." 
 
 " Do you know what she thinks of him how she 
 feels?" 
 
 " Not in the least, but I can guess how her mother 
 feels if she knows of it bitterly, I am sure." 
 
 " Effie is a gentle, sensitive creature ; she will be 
 guided by her mother." 
 
 " Well, well," said Miss Raeburn, " you can wait 
 and see." 
 
 " Yes, I must wait ; if I were too sudden I might do 
 more ill than good." 
 
 " And how long are you going to wait ? " 
 
 " Till I see I am sure of success. No woman shall 
 ever refuse me," 
 
 " That is to say, to save your pride, you'll put her in 
 the position you'll not put yourself in ; she must as good
 
 276 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 as say yes before she is asked. If she's worth having, 
 she won't do it ; but I wish you success in your wooing." 
 " That's why you are not married," George said 
 to himself. He thought he was wiser than his aunt, 
 which perhaps he was, and he carried on his courtship 
 that winter after his own plan, not impetuously nor con- 
 spicuously till he judged the fruit ripe enough to pull, 
 when he pulled it, and it toppled into his hand very 
 prettily, the parent tree making no resistance to being 
 thus despoiled of one of its ornaments ; but, for various 
 good reasons, the marriage was not to take place till 
 the close of summer. Every one was pleased with this 
 arrangement; it carried pain to one heart only. Mrs. 
 Gilbert thought of her son not that it could be said 
 there was a time when she did not think of him, sleep- 
 ing and waking he was in her mind. She had been 
 jealous of his love to this girl ; now she was jealous for 
 him ; so soon and so utterly forgotten ; but though he 
 was her son, Mrs. Gilbert was just. Effie, she allowed, 
 was right to forget him if she could, and it appeared she 
 could. His mother could not; the form of the child, 
 the boy, the man, seemed to be continually passing the 
 window where she sat ; but he was not there ; he was 
 afloat on a rough world, away out of her reach, possibly 
 ill or in want, and a tremendous yearning of love came 
 over her, followed by a sterner mood, when she thought 
 of his heartlessness in going; in never writing; in 
 writing that mere husk of a letter, and for a moment 
 her reason judged him as if he had been another wom- 
 an's son. " Ah," she thought, " I was unutterably thank- 
 ful for his life when James Kaeburn was drowned how 
 blind we are, how blind ! " It was a terrible thing to 
 see as clearly as she saw, and love as deeply as she 
 loved ; but, Mr. Gilbert appearing at the garden gate,
 
 QUIXSTAR. 277 
 
 her face smoothed, and her voice cleared, and she was 
 ready to pick out the little thorns that gathered daily 
 in his path. " Your mother," he sometimes remarked to 
 Mary, " has got pretty well over John's departure. To 
 be sure it was a greater disappointment and loss to me 
 than to her. Well, he'll be coming home some day 
 with a fortune."
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE same law which causes an apple to fall, keeps 
 the planets in their places, and fills all the little curves 
 of a coast with a tide of waters, as well as the great bays 
 where the navies of the world may float. As apples to 
 planets are the persons of this story, as curves to bays 
 the place where they played their parts, but the same 
 laws governed them as govern greater people in greater 
 places. The autobiographies of men of mark reveal a . 
 sad but most complete family resemblance in the rise, 
 progress, and continuation of their quarrels to that which 
 takes place among smaller men. 
 
 About the time Mr. Doubleday was rescued from 
 his melancholy circumstances, the cloud the size of a 
 man's hand, that Miss Raeburn alluded to in her letter 
 to Bell, arose. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was sitting by his fire reading one sulky 
 November day, when a person wishing to see him was 
 shown into his room. He was a little rough-and-ready- 
 looking man, with glittering eyes and weather-beaten 
 face ; wearing a shaggy coat buttoned up to his neck ; 
 the sleeves of a sad-colored flannel shirt appeared at his 
 wrists, and his gloveless hands looked hard and dry and 
 not over clean; the thumbs were unmercifully bent back, 
 as if each had swallowed a dose of strychnine on its own 
 account. He put his hat on the table and sat down. If 
 his manner had been of the subdued and resigned order
 
 QUIXSTAR. 279 
 
 you would have expected him to open down a bundle 
 of soiled and miscellaneous stationery for inspection and 
 purchase, but it was not ; he seated himself like a man 
 and an equal. 
 
 " My name is Miller," he said, " Miller from Iron- 
 burgh." Mr. Sinclair did not look as if he felt striking- 
 ly enlightened. " I used to know you by sight, sir, when 
 you lived in Ironburgh ; that's a good many years since 
 now. You'll find it slow here, I should say, sir ? I 
 have a note of introduction to you, sir," and he handed 
 it to Mr. Sinclair. " It's from Mr. Duncan ; you knew 
 Mr. Duncan, I think?" 
 
 " Yes, I knew him very well." 
 
 The note ran thus : " DEAR SIR, Mr. Miller is a 
 worthy man, help him if you can. I am, yours truly, 
 J. DuisrcAsr." 
 
 Mr. Sinclair looked up and said, " Well ? " 
 
 " The fact is, sir, I am a deputation from a Society 
 in Ironburgh The Rational Relaxation Society, it is 
 called ; our object is to promote the well-being of the 
 working classes. People, sir, must have amusement, 
 it is a craving implanted in us by the Creator. They 
 get it in many ways questionable, or positively bad ; our 
 object is to beat bad forms of it out of the field by pro- 
 viding what are good and innocent ; we are of no party, 
 sect, or denomination, but we think we are the hand- 
 maids of religion." 
 
 " What do you do ? " asked Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Well, we do a number of" things. We select a 
 place,' say Quixstar; we have meetings, we get hold of 
 the young men, we elicit native talent, we have industri- 
 al exhibitions, we have lectures illustrated by diagrams 
 of all parts of the globe ; in winter we may have a pop- 
 ular exhibition of astronomy, in summer botany with
 
 280 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 open-air excursions, and so on. We vary things as we 
 see cause." 
 
 " If people are interested " Mr. Sinclair began. 
 
 " They are interested, sir ; greatly interested. There 
 are millions of good minds that never awake in this 
 world because there is no one to knock them up. That's 
 our business to knock up sleeping intellect. Not an 
 inglorious mission, I should say, sir ? " 
 
 Now, it might almost have been taken for granted 
 that Mr. Sinclair, having a contempt for humbug and a 
 dislike to newfangled panaceas, would have snuffed Mr. 
 Miller and his Rational Relaxations out on the spot. 
 He- was not a public-spirited man ; and to be tied to the 
 tail of a noisy society was not much to his taste quite 
 the contrary ; but by the time a man that is, a good 
 man comes to be as old as Mr. Sinclair, he becomes 
 less selfish, more pitiful, far less harsh, and more lenient 
 in his judgments, and thinks twice before he stamps out 
 an effort for the good of his fellow-men ; although, as we 
 will see, there was quite enough of the old Adam in Mr. 
 Sinclair even yet. 
 
 " You may do good," he said to Mr. Miller, " and 
 there is plenty of room for it." 
 
 " There's one thing we want, to begin with," said 
 the deputy, " and that is a place to have a meeting in." 
 
 " Why, there's Mr. Gilbert's schoolroom. You can't 
 get a better place than that." 
 
 Quixstar was not overdone with accommodation of 
 this kind. There was a large hall or room in the princi- 
 pal inn, which was used for public occasions, but 'at this 
 precise time it was undergoing repair, after having been 
 nearly destroyed by fire. 
 
 " No better," said Mr. Miller ; " but we can't get it." 
 
 " Not get it ! Does Mr. Gilbert object ? "
 
 QUIXSTAR. 281 
 
 " No, but Mr. Kennedy does. I have been at him 
 both last night and this morning." 
 
 " There must be some mistake, surely,"^ said Mr. 
 Sinclair. 
 
 "No mistake that we're not to get it. He's the 
 toughest old chap I've met for a while." 
 
 " He is a personal friend of mine. He has not under- 
 stood fully. I have no doubt a word from me will set 
 matters straight." 
 
 " Well, sir, if you think so " 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; and you may make any arrange- 
 ments necessary, in the certainty of getting the school- 
 room." 
 
 His visitor being gone, Mr. Sinclair wrote to Mr. 
 Kennedy : 
 
 " MY DEAE SIR, I have just had a young man with 
 me who tells me he has seen you about getting the 
 schoolroom to hold a meeting in, and that you refused 
 it. Allow me to vouch for the good intentions of the 
 society he represents, and for his own respectability, in 
 which case you will not hesitate to grant the use of 
 the schoolroom. I will take it as a personal favor. I 
 am, dear sir, yours very truly, A. SINCLAIR." 
 
 To which Mr. Kennedy : 
 
 " My DEAR SIR, I wish you had asked any other 
 favor within my power ; I would have been too happy 
 to oblige you. I don't doubt the respectability of the 
 young man who called here ; but he should attend to 
 the proverb, ' Let the shoemaker stick to his last.' I am 
 sorry to repeat my refusal, as I would do anything to 
 oblige you personally. I am, dear sir, yours truly, 
 
 "JAMES KENNEDY."
 
 282 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair rejoined : 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I hope you will reconsider your de- 
 cision. I think you will allow that the proposed meet- 
 ing is at least an innocent thing. I am sure that the 
 humbler portion of your parishioners would enjoy such 
 an evening's entertainment as this society proposes to 
 give us ; and if you will look into the matter for a mo- 
 ment, although your own views may be a little different 
 on some points, you will hardly throw obstacles in their 
 way. I am, sir, your most obedient servant, 
 
 "A. SINCLAIR." 
 
 Mr. Kennedy put this last missive in his pocket, and 
 going out, looked in on Miss Raeburn by the way, and 
 showed her Mr. Sinclair's notes, telling her how he had 
 replied to them. 
 
 " Think of Mr. Sinclair sending me a second applica- 
 tion," he said, " as if I were a fool, and wrote without 
 consideration, or did not know my own mind ! He'll 
 find his mistake." 
 
 " But why don't you let them have the schoolroom, 
 Mr. Kennedy ? What great harm could it do ? " asked 
 Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Establish a precedent for one thing a bad prece- 
 dent. Why, the Mormons would be wanting it next 
 to make my parish a recruiting-ground for the Great 
 Salt Lake." 
 
 " Hardly," said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Then, set a lot of people in this parish spouting 
 and thinking they can settle the nation, and where is 
 it to stop ? Intelligent, forsooth ! a parcel of block- 
 heads ! " 
 
 " Now I think you hard on us, Mr. Kennedy."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 283 
 
 " Not too hard. Besides, I know Sir Richard would 
 be as averse to giving the schoolroom for any such pur- 
 pose as I am." 
 
 "'Is Mr. Gilbert agreeable ? " 
 
 " Oh, Gilbert ! " said Mr. Kennedy, in a tone which 
 Mr. Gilbert might count it one of his many mercies that 
 he did not hear it would have unhinged him for a fort- 
 night. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Gilbert ; he is in possession, and posses- 
 sion is nine points of the law. If I were you, Mr. Ken- 
 nedy, I would not only let them have the schoolroom, I 
 would head the movement. Take it in your own hands, 
 and you may direct and mould it." 
 
 " But I highly disapprove of it, Miss Raeburn. Any 
 intelligent man that wants to improve himself can easily 
 get a book I am always glad to lend books myself 
 and sit in his own house and read, a far more likely 
 means to the end than running to so-called entertain- 
 ments." 
 
 " If a man can read he will do. He has his entertain- 
 ment in his own hand ; but what about the people who 
 won't read, and want entertainment ? " 
 
 " The best thing they can do is to go to bed early, 
 and they'll rise the fresher for their day's work." 
 
 " I once told such a torpid man as that system pro- 
 duces that it was thought possible the stars were inhab- 
 ited, and he said to me afterwards that he never slept 
 all night thinking of it." 
 
 " Well, did the suggesting df such a speculation do 
 him any good, or would his night's rest not have been 
 better for him ? " 
 
 "If you can make a man think beyond his daily 
 round you have done a good thing, Mr. Kennedy." 
 
 " But even your thinking men, what do they make
 
 284 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 of it? Peter Veitch, for instance, who is not the least 
 intelligent of his class " 
 
 " My old friend Peter the gardener ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I had an account sent me by him some 'time 
 ago. The spelling is the most original thing you ever 
 saw laughable." 
 
 " Not a bit laughable, except to the eye. If you un- 
 derstood his meaning the end was served. Spelling is 
 a mere conventionalism. It may be as well that people 
 should all spell alike, but I would never measure a man's 
 mind by his spelling. If I had left school at ten years 
 old like Peter, and done a hard day's work every day 
 since, I would never have attempted to spell at all, like- 
 ly. Culture has not come Peter's way, except with the 
 spade, yet he thinks for himself, and is not generally far 
 wrong, but he has no instinct for the niceties of spelling, 
 and I sympathize with him. I've never been able to 
 spell myself. 
 
 " Indeed. Well, you see Peter has got creditably 
 through life without being entertained in the evening. 
 I'm going home to write to Mr. Sinclair. As long ago 
 as when he came I had a presentiment he would work 
 mischief, and I'm not often mistaken."
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 As Miss Raeburn watched Mr. Kennedy's retreat- 
 ing figure she said to herself, " It's a pity they should 
 quarrel, and about nothing." 
 
 It is always a marvellous pity when people quarrel. 
 A quarrel is like that abominable weed the dandelion : 
 allowed to flourish, it gives off noxious seeds allround ; 
 cut down, it leaves roots of bitterness that can hardly 
 be dug out. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy wrote to Mr. Sinclair again : 
 
 " SIR, I have no occasion to reconsider my decision. 
 I never decide, even on trifling matters, without full con- 
 sideration. 
 
 " My views diifer on every point from those of Mr. 
 Miller and his society. I am as anxious for the welfare 
 of the working classes as you can be, but to unsettle 
 their minds and raise tastes they can have no means of 
 gratifying is not, in my humble opinion, the way to im- 
 prove them. I am, etc., J. KENNEDY." 
 
 Mr. Sinclair wrote yet again : 
 
 " SIR, If you really have duly considered the mat- 
 ter, I am entirely at a loss to know what reasons have 
 influenced you in persisting in your refusal to give this 
 society the use of the schoolroom for an evening or two. 
 I suppose it is hopeless to urge the request, I am, etc., 
 
 "A. SINCLAIR."
 
 286 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Mr. Kennedy begs to inform Mr. Sinclair that he 
 has received his note, which hi his opinion does not call 
 for a reply." 
 
 Just as Mr. Kennedy sent off this epistle the last 
 shot one of the young Smiths paid him a visit, and Mr. 
 Kennedy being full of the affair spoke of nothing else, 
 and read the correspondence between himself and Mr. 
 Sinclair. Mr. Smith thought the whole thing very laugh- 
 able, and when he left Mr. Kennedy he sat down and 
 whipped up an airy Punchified article, in which he in- 
 serted the letters of Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Sinclair ver- 
 batim, and sent it to the MicMleburgh and Quixstar Ob- 
 server, the local organ. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Sinclair a day or two after, as she 
 finished her usual morning researches among the news- 
 papers, " well Bell, your uncle has certainly come out 
 at last. Just look at this." 
 
 Bell glanced over Mr. Smith's article. " I wonder 
 who did that ? " she said. " It is clever, but it will vex 
 uncle. Would it do to put away the paper, and not let 
 him see it ? " 
 
 Before Mrs. Sinclair could answer Mr. Sinclair ap- 
 peared, and she immediately said, " Bell wants to keep 
 that paper out of your way for fear of vexing you; but 
 I think if you like to mix yourself up in a thing like that 
 you must just take the consequences." 
 
 "Mr. Sinclair read the article, while Mrs. Sinclair 
 and her daughter were discussing a letter from Erne, 
 who was on a visit to the mother of her betrothed. 
 
 " Ay, Bell," said Mr. Sinclair softly, for he was touch- 
 ed by this little evidence of his niece's consideration for 
 him, " so you thought I could not stand that ? I can 
 stand that, and a great deal more than that, yet I think
 
 QUIXSTAR. 287 
 
 it is a very ill-advised thing of Kennedy to publish such 
 an article." 
 
 " But, uncle, Mr. Kennedy never wrote it. He could 
 not do anything like that." 
 
 " No ; but he empowered some one to do it, else how 
 could the letters have been given ? " 
 
 " It's my opinion, Adam," said Mrs. Sinclair " only 
 you never ask my opinion, that you had much better 
 have let the thing alone. Within my memory the work- 
 ing classes neither had relaxation nor entertainment, 
 and you got really good devoted servants, who stuck 
 to their work and made that their entertainment. You 
 don't get such servants now that there is a constant crav- 
 ing for change and excitement." 
 
 " It's a puzzle to me," said Bell. " I would like 
 every one to be cultivated and refined, and to have as 
 much enjoyment in life as I have; but, then, who would 
 do the dirty work ? I would revolt from it, and any 
 one educated as I have been would, and yet it must be 
 done ; and even work that is not dirty is often fright- 
 fully heavy and monotonous. When we went to see 
 Mr. Doubleday off, the steamer was behind its time in 
 sailing, and we waited On board. I watched two men 
 loading the next ship with pig iron. One on the quay 
 fixed a rope round so many bars of iron, swung the 
 crane round, and lowered the iron into the hold. The 
 man in the hold put the iron in its place, and sent up the 
 rope. That went on without variation the entire day I 
 suppose. Even to look at the monotony was weaiisome. 
 The men were beginning to get old, and they had kindly, 
 patient Scotch faces ; no want of mind in them. In my 
 circumstances these men might have shone; and here 
 am I, with every privilege, and I don't shine. Why should 
 they be there, and I here? There is no end to puzzles/'
 
 288 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " None," said her uncle ; " meantime we must do what 
 we can. I don't suppose all we'll attempt here will 
 make the people victims of culture, but it may give 
 them an idea of something higher and better than mere 
 animal enjoyment. By the bye, I had a call from Peter 
 Veitch last night." 
 
 " What did old Peter want ?" asked Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " It was not old Peter ; it was his son, the sailor." 
 
 " And does he resume his mathematical studies with 
 you ? " 
 
 " No ; he is only to be here a day or two. He is cap- 
 tain now ; he has got a fine ship to command, one of a 
 line between Liverpool and Melbourne." 
 
 " The old people will be proud," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 " He'll be quite by way of a gentleman now." 
 
 " Peter was born a gentleman," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 " He is one of Bell's puzzles." 
 
 " My puzzle ? " said Bell, with a terrible conscious- 
 ness, and wondering what her uncle meant. 
 
 " Yes ; he should have been born in a palace, and he 
 was born in a cottage." 
 
 When Mr. Sinclair left the breakfast-table he said to 
 Bell, " I would like if you would come to my room for 
 a little when you are ready ; there's no hurry." 
 
 This was an unusual request. What could he want ? 
 Could it be anything about Peter Veitch ? Bell thought, 
 and blushed, and felt ashamed of her own silliness, re- 
 membering the proverb, "As the fool thinks the bell 
 clinks." She went to her uncle's room, not without some 
 perturbation, and was thankful (as people often are) that 
 no one knew her thoughts but herself. 
 
 Her uncle said, " Come here, I want to show you 
 these," and he unrolled some papers that were lying 
 near him on the table.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 289 
 
 " You see," he said, " as the schoolroom can't be had 
 for any purpose except such as Mr. Kennedy approves, 
 I have made up my mind to build a hall, and have 
 got the plans here." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Bell, suddenly recovering the full use of 
 her senses. "And have you got a site ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have got that too, and a very good one ; 
 but do you approve of the thing of its being done at 
 all?" 
 
 " I have not had time to think." 
 
 " Take time." 
 
 " It's a thing that's much needed here it will be a 
 public good." 
 
 " That's what I think, and I mean to make it com- 
 plete." Here he was interrupted by the room-door being 
 opened and a visitor coming in. Bell was standing at 
 the table with her back to the door; turning round to 
 see who entered, she met Peter Veitch. Both were 
 taken by surprise, so much so that their greeting was 
 rather constrained, and Mr. Sinclair looking on said, 
 " Surely you've met before since you were at school ? 
 Bell, you know Peter Veitch? " " Can it be possible," 
 he thought, " that she is of her .mother's opinion, and 
 does not think he is good enough company for her ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know Peter very well, but I did not 
 expect to see him here." 
 
 " Roll out the plans then, Bell," said her uncle, " and 
 I'll get Peter's opinion of them as well as yours." 
 
 " Plans of what ? " asked Peter. 
 
 " Did you see the Middleburgh and Quixstar Ob- 
 server this morning ? " Bell asked. 
 
 " Yes, I saw it," said Peter, " and I know so little of 
 the people here now, that I could not even guess who 
 wrote yon article." 
 13
 
 290 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " It was not written without Mr. Kennedy's knowl- 
 edge, that's clear," said Mr. Sinclair with emphasis; 
 " and I, for one, don't envy him the authorship." 
 
 " From seeming evil still educing good," said Bell. 
 " Uncle is going to build a hall to make us independent 
 in all time coming, and here are the plans ; will you look 
 at them?" 
 
 The three drew their chairs to the table, and Mr. 
 Sinclair went into his plans really with enthusiasm, 
 while his two young friends did not listen with the pro- 
 found attention they might have done ; the great and 
 the little problems of life had suddenly disappeared, 
 and they were conscious only of being together. 
 
 " Well, now that I have explained them all to you 
 fully, "what do you think of them ? " asked Mr. Sinclair, 
 with the tone of a man who feels he has done his best. 
 
 " Nothing could be better," said Peter, cloaking his 
 ignorance in vagueness. 
 
 " Which of them could not be better ? " said Mr. 
 Sinclair, " which of the three plans ? " 
 
 Knowing nearly as much of them as when he sat 
 down, Peter was rather at a loss, but thinking that Mr. 
 Sinclair had dilated more on the merits of No. 2 than 
 the others, he said. " Taking everything into considera- 
 tion, I should be inclined to give the preference to 
 No. 2." 
 
 " And you, Bell ? " said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " That's what I think too." 
 
 " Then, I think you are both right, according to my 
 judgment. It is neither too plain nor too ornamental, 
 and it is commodious. Well, I think we've spent time 
 enough over them," looking at his watch. " I'll take a 
 walk with you, Peter, if you have nothing better to do. 
 I dare say, Bell, you're tired of us."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 291 
 
 It was too tantalizing the cutting short of this un- 
 looked-for meeting, but Mr. Sinclair had no notion of 
 his own cruelty, not the slightest, he was as innocent as 
 possible. He went into the lobby to get his hat and 
 coat, and Peter was idiotic enough to let that mo- 
 mentary opportunity pass without saying a word, from 
 sheer want of the necessary impudence ; by the time, 
 though, that he had walked to the gate with Mr. Sin- 
 clair, the thought that he would be away many months, 
 that when he came back he might hear of Bell's mar- 
 riage then, as he had heard of her sister's now, gave him 
 the courage of desperation, and he said to Mr. Sinclair : 
 
 " I'll be back immediately. I want to speak to Miss 
 Sinclair." 
 
 It could not occur to him to use any subterfuge to 
 say he had left something behind, and he returned to 
 the house, and going straight in, he met Mrs. Sinclair in 
 the passage. They exchanged some sort of greeting, 
 and she said-^ 
 
 " Have you forgotten anything ? " 
 
 " No ; I want to speak to Miss - Sinclair," he 
 said. 
 
 " I'll take any message. She's engaged, I think." 
 
 " Oh, not much engaged, mamma," said Bell, emerg- 
 ing from her uncle's room. " I'll go with you to the 
 gate, Peter," she said, taking a shawl from the lobby- 
 stand. 
 
 " Let me put that on," he said ; " I'm accustomed to 
 unfurling sails, you know," and he threw it round her 
 shoulders. 
 
 They stepped out of the house. 
 
 " Bell," he said hurriedly," I can't do things smooth- 
 ly, or in a civilized fashion, but make allowances. I'll 
 be away for months say you won't forget me."
 
 292 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 They were just at the gate, where Mr. Sinclair was 
 waiting. 
 
 " No," she said, as they shook hands, " I will not." 
 Peter felt light in the head, and answered Mr. Sin- 
 clair's remarks rather at random. Bell stood a minute 
 or two fastening the gate very securely, then walked 
 round the garden unconscious of every external thing. 
 
 " Oh, how this spring of love resembleth 
 The uncertain glory of an April day, 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away."
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 MR. SINCLAIR'S intentions were soon public prop- 
 erty. In the newspapers appeared this paragraph: 
 
 " QUIXSTAR. "We understand that the wealthy and 
 philanthropic Mr. Sinclair of Quixstar has secured a site 
 on which he means to erect a hall and other accommoda- 
 tion, including library and reading-room, for the use of 
 the people of Quixstar. The plans have already been 
 drawn out by the eminent architects Messrs. Black and 
 White of Eastburgh, and we have had the pleasure of 
 inspecting them at their office. The design is at once 
 substantial and elegant. Too much praise cannot be 
 awarded to the noble and public-spirited gentleman who 
 has thus come forward at once to supply a long felt 
 want, and to add an interesting and ornamental feature 
 to the town." 
 
 Some men enjoy having their trumpet blown, and, on 
 an occasion such as this, could move in their little sphere 
 to the music of it, thoroughly convinced that they were 
 doing a great public good from exalted motives. Mr. 
 Sinclair was not so blind. He believed that the hall 
 would be a benefit to the place, but he also knew that 
 to benefit the place was not his chief motive ; he had 
 determined not to be baulked by Mr. Kennedy. If it 
 was a good work he had certainly been provoked to it 
 taking the modern sense of that word and felt hum- 
 bled in his own eyes, and he was annoyed at the para-
 
 294 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 graph and the writer of it, who was wholly unknown to 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy on reading it at once attributed the 
 authorship to Mr. Sinclair, and was seized with a deep 
 and subtle pity for the man reduced to the abject shift 
 of puffing himself. 
 
 Even the eyes of the inhabitants of Cranstoun Hall 
 fell on this paragraph, and it was a subject of remark at 
 luncheon on the day of its appearance. 
 
 " Sinclair," said Sir Richard ; " Sinclair ; that's the 
 retired tobacconist, isn't it, that got that mole catcher for 
 me ? Knew him, I suppose, from filling his snuff-box 
 for him. The man must have more money than he 
 knows what to do with." 
 
 " Of what possible use can a public hall be in Quix- 
 star ? " asked Lady Cranstoun. 
 
 " It is to be used for the elevation of the working 
 classes," said her eldest son ; " to make them happy, in- 
 telligent, and so on." 
 
 " They are certainly not very intelligent," said Lady 
 Winkworth, who hadMropped in to luncheon ; " at least 
 I don't find them so." 
 
 " Don't you ? " said Mr. Cranstoun. " What subjects 
 have you tried them on, Lady Winkworth ? " 
 
 " They were the wives of working men that I have 
 called for chiefly, and I only tried to give them some 
 hints about cookery. My cook had been telling me that 
 excellent puddings can be made of the crusts of bread, 
 and a most nutritive soup from the liquor of a boiled 
 leg of mutton, and I tried to explain it to them, but they 
 only looked stupid, and said nothing." 
 
 Mr. Cranstoun laughed. 
 
 " You did not say anything about catching a hare be- 
 fore cooking it, did you ? "
 
 QUIXSTAR. 295 
 
 " No ; hare ! Why, hare is game. Lord Winkworth 
 used to be vei-y strict about his game." 
 
 " I'll give a lecture," said Mr. Cranstoun. " There's 
 not a better dodge going than the working classes. See 
 if' I don't give it to the women about cookery. I pur- 
 loined one of your ladyship's tracts the other day, with 
 cookery receipts at the end of it, and comrnxtted them 
 to memory for the very purpose. One How to make 
 a leg of mutton dine a family of six, seven days; and 
 another about rice. You take a quarter of a pound of 
 rice, put in three gallons of water, one teaspoonful of 
 Bait, one half-teaspoonful of pepper, one large onion 
 shred, simmer for twelve hours by the side of a clear 
 fire, and you will be surprised at the amount of whole- 
 some food. If I could drive these things home, I would 
 feel that I had not lived in vain. Bacon's death from 
 stuffing a fowl with snow would be nothing to it." 
 
 " I remember," said Sir Richard, " Mr. Kennedy 
 speaking to me about the schoolroom being asked for 
 some meeting. He refused it. I said he was quite 
 right quite right. What's the use of all this lectur- 
 ing ? If lecturing will make the world better, it should 
 mend rapidly." 
 
 " To be sure it will," said George. " There won't be 
 a topic nor an audience left for me soon. I shall have 
 to assemble the birds, and give a lecture on nest-archi- 
 tecture." 
 
 " I think," said Lady Winkworth, " you should de- 
 vote yourself to the development of rice make it your 
 specialty." 
 
 George laughed. 
 
 Generally at such crises the ladies of a man's house- 
 hold throw themselves into the melee with much zeal 
 and devotion ; but in this case the breach wae not wid-
 
 296 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ened by feminine influence. Mrs. Kennedy, as we 
 know, was not in a state to take an active part in any- 
 thing. Mrs. Sinclair ignored the subject altogether, ex- 
 cept when she lamented her brother-in-law's folly to 
 Mr. Kennedy. " You know, Mr. Kennedy, if he had 
 asked my opinion, he would not have entered on such a 
 thing at all. But he never does ask my opinion." 
 
 " No," thought Mr. Kennedy ; " his own opinion is 
 perfect in his own eyes." 
 
 Or when she bewailed to her son and daughter-in- 
 law his more than folly in spending money money that 
 ought to be kept for his brother's children in a way 
 that would do more harm than good. Tom said noth- 
 ing not an unusual way with him of expressing his 
 opinion. Jane, however, eagerly agreed with her moth- 
 er-in-law. Bell sympathized with her uncle, but in a 
 quiet way ; as for Effie, she was occupied with her own 
 affairs ; so that, when the first sensation made by the 
 projected scheme blew over, the building went on dur- 
 ing the winter growing steadfastly, and the only visible 
 bad effect yet was a curious kind of blindness which had 
 befallen Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Kennedy when they met 
 they could not see each other. How must it have ap- 
 peared to those creatures who leave their silver bowers 
 to come to succor us that succor want, and want it 
 often very grievously ? Couldn't they have whispered 
 in the ears of these two men, " Don't quarrel ; nothing 
 your world can give is worth quarrelling about ? " If 
 they did whisper some such sounds it was in deaf ears, 
 for even at a burial across an open grave where, if 
 anywhere, the scales should have fallen from their eyes, 
 they were as blind as ever. 
 
 It was about this time that there appeared an- an- 
 nouncement in the newspapers of the intention of a
 
 QUIXSTAE. 297 
 
 young scion of royalty to visit Eastshire, where he was 
 to be the guest of the Duke of Eastshire, and at the 
 same time honor with a visit Sir Richard Cranstoun of 
 Cranstoun Hall. Many people saw that paragraph ; but 
 into the minds of none of them did it sink except that 
 of Mr. Miller, the active and energetic member of the 
 Rational Relaxation Society. It flashed on him like an 
 inspiration royalty being in the immediate vicinity of 
 Quixstar, why shouldn't it be asked to lay the founda- 
 tion stone of the new hall ? He pondered over it ; and, 
 not being above the weakness of wishing to get credit 
 for his own bright ideas, he took no one into his coun- 
 sel ; and he wrote his letter of application, not without 
 having duly considered what he was asking, and how he 
 was asking it. If the request was granted, good and 
 well ; if it was not, still good and well in a minor de- 
 gree, in the first case it would be a grand triumph for 
 the R. R. Society and for the pro-hall people of Quix- 
 star ; in either case it would be an advertisement of no 
 secondary order. That would be a stern spirit, de- 
 manding more of human nature than it is capable of, 
 who would deny to the good man a conscious satisfac- 
 tion in his own good deeds; and Mr. Miller stepped 
 about his usual business with considerable buoyancy, 
 pending an answer to his request. The answer came; 
 it was a refusal, declining for the boy the oifered honor 
 in the most courteous terms. Instantly Mr. Miller sent 
 both letters to the newspapers, and Great Britain be- 
 came aware that there was a Rational Relaxation So- 
 ciety, that there was a town Quixstar by name, where a 
 Mr. Sinclair was building a hall. The inhabitants of 
 Quixstar itself were variously affected by seeing them- 
 selves placarded in connection with royalty. 
 
 The milder and more easily pleased spirits, to whom 
 13*
 
 298 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 fault-finding was neither a pleasure nor a habit, thought 
 it well a hall should be built, good of Mr. Sinclair to 
 build it, right that royalty should be asked to stamp it, 
 and perfectly proper that royalty should decline or not 
 at its convenience ; and they were delighted that it should 
 decline in such courteous and condescending tenns. But 
 there were the lean spirits the men of the Cassius type, 
 whom Caesar did not fear, but said were to be feared 
 those who asked what royalty did to earn the immense 
 revenues it drew from the thews and sinews of working 
 men, and what right it had to refuse a request, however 
 trifling, from the sovereign people ; these were compar- 
 atively few though, and lean, chiefly through attending 
 to public aifairs rather than their own. There were 
 people who laughed good-naturedly, and people who 
 laughed in derision, at the clever Smith family. There 
 was Mr. Kennedy, who was very angry, and was of 
 opinion that he did well to be very angry. There were 
 the Cranstouns, the elders of whom considered such a 
 liberty taken with the throne from such a quarter not 
 far short of high treason, and the younger, who thought 
 it a pretty good joke. Miss Raeburn was amused, and 
 Mr. Sinclair was vexed and annoyed more than he cared 
 to show. He had called spirits from the vast deep of 
 modern push, and found that they were beyond his con- 
 trol. As for Mrs. Sinclair, she told her daughters she 
 considered this request for royal countenance the one 
 redeeming point in the whole affair a piece of good 
 sense she would not have given their uncle credit for. 
 Mr. Kennedy gave him credit for it though, and his 
 pity for Mr. Sinclair waxed deeper and subtler and 
 blinder than ever.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 ABOUT this time the Gilberts' interest in public 
 affairs was in some measure swallowed up by interest 
 in their own. A letter had come from John, in which 
 he stated his intention of being home about the begin- 
 ning of summer. It was addressed to his mother, 
 and made her heart beat not with unalloyed pleasure. 
 He said, 
 
 " MY DEAR MOTHER, I have got all of your letters, 
 I suppose, and a good bundle they would have been, if I 
 had kept them [letters these in writing every one of 
 which Mrs. Gilbert had shed tears]. You people who, 
 like oysters, stay always in one place, suppose it some- 
 thing desperate to be so far from one's native town as I 
 am, but those who move about the world think nothing 
 of it. So Jane is married ; well, Tom is very a decent 
 fellow, and I congratulate them both ; and Effie Sinclair 
 proposes stepping out of the avuncular nest, and so the 
 world wags. [Mrs. Gilbert had considered and recon- 
 sidered whether she would give him this piece of news, 
 and deciding to do so, lest it should come upon him 
 from a less sympathetic quarter, had done it in the gen- 
 tlest way she could devise.] We have had an election 
 here. Our elections are conducted by ballot, so that 
 though there has been a good deal of excitement, there has 
 not been so much commotion as on similar occasions in
 
 300 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 the old country. The contest was regarding Free-trade 
 and Protection. There is a loud and stupid cry in the 
 colony for protection for native industry, a most delu- 
 sive and pernicious theory, which you would have 
 thought, might have been exploded by this time, but all 
 over the globe you find people who block the way. Ed- 
 ucation is another question of interest here, as at home. 
 I think I see my father cocking his ears at the mention 
 of it. Well, it is in a wonderfully satisfactory state, ev- 
 ery facility being given for every child in the colony be- 
 ing educated that is, wherever twenty children can be 
 got together, for that is the smallest number for which 
 the government will grant its allowance. Any child 
 not able to pay has only to get a declaration to that ef- 
 fect from a magistrate or minister, and he is taught gra- 
 tis. They are wanting now to make education compul- 
 sory and secular, which may be an improvement. There 
 was a great piiblic meeting about it the other night, and 
 a funny thing happened. One speaker made a very 
 good speech; he spoke with authority. I asked some 
 one, Who is that ? and was told that he was a barrister 
 from New Zealand, and a rising man in that colony. 
 He sat down ; I was just at his back ; he and the man 
 next him began to look at each other ; at last the New 
 Zealander put out his hand and said, ' You ; re Tom 
 Smith,' and Tom said, '.And you're John Johnston.' 
 'NoAV,' I said, sticking my head in betAveen them, 'are 
 you very much nearer identification when you have 
 found out that the one of you is Tom Smith and the 
 other John Johnston ? I'll clinch the business you 
 both hail from Quixstar, and I am John Gilbert.' We 
 were all very happy, and at the end of the meeting 
 Smith took us to his hotel, where we were introduced 
 to his wife, and had supper. It is said she is enormous-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 301 
 
 ly rich ; he is a lucky fellow. Couldn't yoii look out 
 some moneyed ladies for me to pick and choose among 
 when I come home ? I mean to try the cuckoo's plan 
 for once, and have no winter in my year, and two sum- 
 mers; look out for me the time the pea puts on the 
 bloom next spring. By the bye, Tom Smith was nearly 
 drowned ; he was bathing in the river a morning or two 
 after I first saw him, and took the cramp; I happened to 
 be passing at the time, and pulled him out. His wife has 
 been in an extraordinary state of gratitude. He tells the 
 stale story of seeing all his life before him when he was 
 sinking. When I'm pulled out of the water I'll invent 
 something fresher than that." 
 
 This letter was what John sent to his mother to feed 
 her love on, but love is like the cactus order of plants, 
 which can find moisture in a dry and thirsty desert. 
 
 November and December are proverbially gloomy 
 months, and they are gloomy, but it is a chastened 
 gloom, a gloom that softens one's mood ; they linger 
 among decayed grandeur like people that have seen bet- 
 ter days, even the birds those of them at least that 
 have remained to share their fallen state respect their 
 misfortunes and hush their songs, except when one by 
 mistake sends out a note and stops short, shocked at its 
 own heedlessness. But for dour, wild, weird gloom 
 there is nothing like a surly January day, with its lead- 
 en colors, its sullen inky clouds driven before the wind 
 like a herd of old-world monsters ; trees twisting their 
 naked arms in despair; a bare desolate earth, and a 
 bleak desolate sky ; yet there is an undertone of vigor 
 in the wind, and a clear freshness is the young year 
 waking up in a fit of the nightmare ? It was on such a 
 day as this that the foundation-stone of Mr. Sinclair's 
 hall ought to have been laid by youthful royalty, if Mr.
 
 302 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Miller had got his own way. If any one supposes Mr. Mil- 
 ler's mood would have been influenced by the weather, 
 any one supposes a laughable thing ; but he felt that 
 other people had less wisdom and energy than himself, 
 otherwise, the boy being on the spot, the stone would 
 have been laid with a flourish of trumpets, instead of 
 the occasion slipping past almost wholly unimproved. 
 
 The illustrious boy paid his promised visit, however, 
 to Cranstoun Hall, and with his tutor and another gentle- 
 man walked the length and breadth of Quixstar, seeing 
 what was to be seen. They did so uninterruptedly, 
 few people being aware of the rank of the visitor. 
 Maddy Fairgrieve, now Jackson, and a happy stepmother, 
 looked in on Mrs. Veitch in the afternoon. " Did you 
 see the Prince ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Ou ay, I saw him," said Mrs. Yeitch ; " him and 
 twa gentlemen cam' and stood a gude while lookin' at 
 our midden it seems the thick o' a battle was there 
 twa three hundred year syne. I forgot a' about it, and 
 wondered what they were looking at ; they werena like 
 folk wantin' to buy dung. When Peter cam' in and tell't 
 me it was the Prince, I thought I should hae asked him 
 in to get a drink o' milk or something, but I was that ill 
 wi' the toothache I could not be fashed." 
 
 " It's been a cauld day," said Maddy. " I think aye 
 at this time o' the year the wind gangs through ye like 
 a knife; no very gude for the toothache, And what like 
 was he ? " 
 
 " Weel, he was muckle like other callants. I dinna 
 think but our Peter looked better than him at his age." 
 
 /' It's a pity but ye had asked him in," said Maddy. 
 
 " Hoot, the like o' him wad get something some- 
 where. I kent that, or I wad hae asked him in, ill as T 
 was."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 303 
 
 " Ob, he wadna starve, I daursay," said Maddy ; " but 
 it'll maybe be a while or sic an honor conies your way 
 again." 
 
 " Weel, weel, we can live without it. Puir thing, 
 I'se warrant his mother thinks a heap o' him." 
 
 " It's likely, or she'll no' be like you." 
 
 " Weel, I fancy we're a' ae flesh and blood."
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 NOTHING of its kind could exceed the beauty of 
 Quixstar in May, except perhaps its beauty in June. 
 June might be a degree richer, but oh ! May was fresh 
 and vivid and very lovely, especially towards the close 
 of the month, when the leaves had got themselves fully 
 unfolded, and had lost none of their exquisite delicacy 
 of coloring, when the lilac and laburnum were hanging 
 in full cluster in all the gardens, and the fruit of the fol- 
 lowing autumn was making its first appearance in a 
 cloud of red and white startling into beauty the homely 
 apple and pear trees, and the spring flowers, matchless, 
 in the grace of simplicity, still lingered. 
 
 Mr. Kennedy did not appreciate his garden as he 
 might have done. He had it kept in good order, and 
 got a second-hand pleasiire out of it. He liked to hear 
 people say, " You have a fine place, or a sweet place, 
 Mr. Kennedy ; " but that is a vulgar enjoyment com- 
 pared with what the man has into whose ear Nature 
 herself whispers. 
 
 A lilac-tree stood very near Mr. Kennedy's bedroom 
 window, which had performed its annual miracle of 
 crowning itself with no end of the richest white clus- 
 ters, drooping slightly with their own weight. It was 
 a miracle that did not attract much attention, not even 
 from the kind of people who don't believe anything but 
 what they understand ; and there were people in Quix-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 305 
 
 star who had reached this point the point where the 
 fool and the philosopher met. 
 
 It was no miracle to Mr. Kennedy how all that fine 
 workmanship, which could stand inspection with the 
 most powerful microscope, that skill in grouping, and 
 chaste purity of color, came there. It was a matter of 
 course, but it was not a matter of course that his property 
 should be destroyed, and one night when the dog began 
 to bark, Mr. Kennedy, thinking some one might be 
 tearing off branches from the trees, opened his window 
 and looked out, meeting the gentle incense from the 
 lilac, which added charm did not strike him either. A 
 man was standing in the shadow of the twilight hard- 
 ly twilight, for at that season the day seems to linger 
 and linger for the kiss of the jocund morning before de- 
 parting forever. 
 
 " What do you want ? " cried Mr. Kennedy. 
 
 " My dear sir," said the stranger, " what could I pos- 
 sibly want at this hour but a bed ? " 
 
 " Do you take this house for an inn ? " 
 
 " Yes ; a place of spiritual refreshment. The house 
 remains, but the hosts change. The word manse " 
 here a fit of coughing came on. 
 
 " The sooner you go to the inn the better," said Mr. 
 Kennedy. 
 
 " I've just come from the inn. I can't get a bed 
 there." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because they've washed all their blankets, and 
 they're wet not a dry rag in the house. " 
 
 " You can't get a bed here." 
 
 " What ! My father used to tell me that the manses 
 of Scotland were famous for hospitality. ' Tom,' he used 
 to say, ' whenever you are at a loss throw yourself on
 
 306 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 the hospitality of the manse.' My father, Dr. Robertson 
 of Hongatonga ; you have heard of him, of course " 
 
 Mr. Kennedy said he had not. 
 
 " Impossible ! The well-known Dr. Robertson, author 
 of a Commentary on the Epistles of Peter. I bet you 
 have the book on your shelves, and I could find it for 
 you ! " 
 
 " Thank you. No, I don't bet ; and as I have said, 
 you can't get a bed here." 
 
 " Then let me have a chair a sofa anything ? My 
 father said, ( Throw yourself on the hospitality of the 
 manse. ' " 
 
 " You can't get in here." 
 
 " And I'm not able to go farther ; in my state of 
 health the night air is death," and he had another fit of 
 coughing. 
 
 " Get a chair or a sofa in the inn." 
 
 " I'll sleep at the foot of this tree rather, and you can 
 let Dr. Robertson know the cause of my death. Mis- 
 taken man ; he used to say, ' Throw yourself on the hos- 
 pitality of the manse.' " 
 
 Now Mr. Kennedy was hospitable, and he did not 
 like to have the death of any one laid to his door. At 
 the same time he was not inclined to be the victim of an 
 impostor, and he said 
 
 " I know nothing of Dr. Robertson, but if there is 
 such a man I have no proof that you are his son. Seek 
 shelter elsewhere." 
 
 " Strange that you should not know of Dr. Robertson 
 of Hongatonga. Why, I should have thought my friend 
 Mr. Gilbert would have mentioned him to you. He 
 often talked to me of you. He used to say, ' Robertson, 
 you may be fortunate in your father, and his Commen- 
 tary may be good, but if our minister at Quixstar were
 
 QUIXSTAR. 307 
 
 to publish merely -his ordinary discourses few Commen- 
 taries could hold the candle to them.' " 
 
 " Gilbert John Gilbert. Do you know him ? " 
 
 " Intimately very intimately." 
 
 " And he used to speak to you of me ? " 
 
 " Often, very often. You are no stranger to me, 
 Mr. Kennedy. You see I am not an impostor." 
 
 " Well, if I were sure " Mr. Kennedy began. 
 
 " Gae 'way to your bed, Mr. Kennedy," a voice shout- 
 ed from behind the garden wall, and there -was an im- 
 mediate burst of laughter. 
 
 " I'll take the advice," said Mr. Kennedy ; " and if you 
 are intimate with John Gilbert, his father and mother 
 will be glad to see you. Make your way to them." And 
 Mr. Kennedy took in his head and shut the window. 
 
 And John Gilbert for it was he lay down at the 
 foot of the tree, and slept well and soundly, without 
 detriment to his health, which was remarkably good. 
 He had gone to the inn-the first thing on his arrival in 
 his native place, and on leaving it had stumbled into 
 the manse garden, his senses not being very acute at the 
 moment. It was not the first time by many that he had 
 slept under the open canopy of heaven. It was well for 
 herself that his mother did not know and could not 
 guess all the outs and ins of his history. In the morn- 
 ing he went to St. Hilda's Lodge and startled the ser- 
 vant who opened the door to his very early visit, by his 
 outlandish and unkempt look, so that she was not at all 
 sure of letting him in ; but he got in and made his way 
 to a bedroom, where he effected such a change in his ap- 
 pearance that on his emerging again she was not sure 
 he was the same person she had let in. 
 
 " Well, John," said Tom, " you've got back. Have 
 you seen your father and mother yet ? "
 
 308 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " No ; I wanted to see you first." 
 
 " Which means," said Tom, " that you have come 
 home without a penny." 
 
 " No, it doesn't. See," he said, " I have more than 
 a penny," and he held up a penny and a halfpenny. 
 " That is the fortune with which I return to my native 
 land ; but I'm not going to stay long. Don't be fright- 
 ened." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " I am going back to where I came from. Mean- 
 time, you must lend me some money." 
 
 " I won't lend you money. I'll give you a little." 
 
 " Well ; so that I get it I don't mind." 
 
 " Oh, Jack, you've got home again," said Jane; "and 
 better-looking than ever, I declare. Have you made a 
 fortune ? What did my mother say when she saw 
 you ? " 
 
 " She hasn't seen me yet." 
 
 " John ! " said Jane, in a tone of reproach. 
 
 " Well, I have only arrived, and I thought I would 
 come here and smooth my outward man a little 
 first." 
 
 " Have you made money, John ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Not much. I've told Tom the amount of my for- 
 tune quite frankly. 
 
 " How much is it, Tom ? " 
 
 " Just as much as when he went away." 
 
 " If I had been you, John," she said, " I would not 
 have come home till I had something to come with. I 
 wonder at you. I would have had more pride." 
 
 And this was the outcome of Mrs. Gilbert's visions 
 and anxieties about her children ! Why, they were 
 strangers to her, foreign to her very nature ! Jane in 
 her hard respectable worldliness, and John in his care-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 309 
 
 less easy-going vagabondism. Still both loved their 
 mother. It was not that John did not love his father 
 and mother that he did not hurry to them, but that 
 through all he had a sense that he might have been a 
 better son. However, he meant to do wonders yet. 
 
 When Jane and he passed the parlor window, Mrs. 
 Gilbert was in her usual seat. She looked up, and a 
 great rush of blood dyed her face and faded out of it 
 again ; that was the only sign of extra emotion she gave. 
 After the first surprise and greetings were over, John 
 reclined in an easy chair, and Jane discoursed largely 
 about herself and her concerns. In a little the window 
 was shadowed for a moment by two figures passing, and 
 Jane said, " There's Bell and Effie. It's an early call." 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert looked at her son. She was anxious 
 how he might feel in meeting Eifie, and hastened to the 
 door to take the girls into another room to save him 
 the shock, or at least to give him time to prepare for 
 it, but Jane cried 
 
 " Bring them here, mamma, they'll like to see Jack." 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, as he shook hands ; " I was sure 
 you would no sooner know that I was here than you 
 would be across to see me." 
 
 " We did not know that you were here," said Bell ; 
 " but I am very glad to see you." 
 
 " I did not believe you would ever come back," said 
 Effie, without apparent emotion. 
 
 " To be sure I've come back. I heard of your wed- 
 ding and came back to dance at it for the express pur- 
 pose. I'm not very intimate with George, but you and 
 I are old friends." 
 
 " Oh, George will make you as welcome as I. I 
 really thought that you would be Mr. Wandermere who 
 was to have come home next year."
 
 310 QTJIXSTAR. 
 
 " I've come home to look for a wife," said John. 
 
 " Are ladies scarce where you come from ? " asked 
 Effie. 
 
 " Far from it ; but I have a tinge of patriarchal ro- 
 mance about me. I want a daughter of my own peo- 
 ple," said John. 
 
 Whatever old-fashioned notions of embarrassment 
 or constraint, or possibly of a fainting-fit occurring at 
 the meeting again, under such altered circumstances, of 
 two who had been ardent lovers, any one present might 
 have had, were thoroughly put to flight by the easy 
 nonchalance of Effie and John. 
 
 Bell wondered if she had only dreamed that she had 
 found her sister among the trees, sobbing as if her heart 
 would break ; and Mrs. Gilbert thought times had 
 changed since she was young, when broken hearts were 
 an article of firm belief. 
 
 " She's a nice little thing, Efiie,'' said John when 
 they were gone ; " and she'll have plenty of cash. 
 George is a lucky fellow ; but it's always the people 
 who have much that get more. Is there no word of 
 Bell going off?" 
 
 " No," said his mother. 
 
 " Bell won't be so easily pleased as Efiie," said Mary. 
 
 " Easily pleased ! " said Jane ; " George is a capital 
 match. I wish he had chosen you instead of Effie ; 
 that's all the ill I wish you, Mary." 
 
 " Do you know," said Bell to her sister on the way 
 home, " I was frightened when I heard John Gilbert 
 was home ? I did not know how you might feel." 
 
 "How I would feel!" said Effie; "how should I 
 feel ? I have no feeling in the matter." Then a minute 
 after, " He is amazingly good-looking, and not changed, 
 except for the better."
 
 QUIXSTAB. 311 
 
 " It is a pity he is not as good as he is good-looking." 
 
 " But he is not bad," said Effie. " No one says he is 
 bad. For his own sake I hope he is not." 
 
 Bell thought " I wonder how she feels. I have not 
 the least idea; but feeling of some kind she must have." 
 Erne's feat of legerdemain in transferring her love so 
 entirely was a thing out of Bell's power. 
 
 His son had come home, and Mr. Gilbert, in his 
 school, was not aware of it. On his way home from his 
 daily toil he met Jane and Tom Sinclair, who told him. 
 His eyes instantly lighted up. 
 
 " How is he looking ? " he asked. 
 
 " I never saw him look better," said Jane. 
 
 " What has he been doing all this time ? " 
 
 " A good many things, I fancy," said Tom. 
 
 " And he has come back without a farthing," Jane re- 
 marked. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert's countenance fell, and he said hurriedly, 
 " If he has his health that's everything," and passed on. 
 
 Happily parental love is seldom measured by money ; 
 and although it grieved and disappointed Mr. Gilbert 
 bitterly that, while other men who had started with 
 John were honorably settled in life and prosperous, his 
 son his only son should still be the rolling stone that 
 gathers no moss ; yet he was young, and he comforted 
 himself by thinking that he would before long take root 
 and flourish. He went in and welcomed the wanderer 
 with a voice not altogether steady ; and when he looked 
 at him he immediately began the old castle-building. 
 
 John himself talked of the wonders he was going to 
 do, and smoked and lounged in-doors, and hung about 
 out of doors, and cultivated a close intimacy with his 
 grand-aunt, and was very often at Old Battle House, 
 and patronized St. Hilda's Lodge a good deal, and vis-
 
 312 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ited the Smiths and Miss Raeburn, and gave out that he 
 was to leave for the antipodes again in the autumn. 
 Careless as he was, and thoughtless in giving her so 
 much pain, the best thing about John was his love for 
 and belief in his mother. When a boy she had given 
 him a Bible, in which she had written his name. Not 
 having seen it after he left, she hoped lie had taken it 
 with him ; and when he returned, the first thing she no- 
 ticed on his dressing-table was this Bible. How it 
 gladdened her heart ! Nor was he a hypocrite in this ; 
 he carried it about with him from love of his mother. 
 
 The first time he met Mr. Kennedy they stood and 
 talked a good while, when just as they were parting, " By 
 the bye, said Mr. Kennedy, " I had a curious nocturnal 
 visit from a friend of yours lately." 
 
 " Ay ! said John, who was that ? " 
 
 " Robertson. Do you know any one of the name of 
 Robertson in Hongatonga ? " 
 
 " Well, yes ; a Rev. Dr. Robertson ; but it was not 
 him, was it ? " 
 
 " No, his son." 
 
 " Ah, Tom ! he's a scamp, and a thorn in his father's 
 side. Yes, I knew he was over. And how did he in- 
 troduce himself ? what did he want ? " 
 
 " He wanted a night's lodging, and did not bring an 
 introduction. He said he knew you that you had 
 talked to him of me." 
 
 " He has brass enough for anything. Did he stay 
 all night ? " 
 
 " I never let him in." 
 
 " You were wise ; no saying when you would have 
 got him out. Poor Tom ! it's a pity. He would tell 
 you his father had written a Commentary ? " 
 
 " Yes ; on the Epistles of Peter."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 313 
 
 " Ay, that's Tom's sheet-anchor when he's begging. 
 And he would tell you that his father told him to throw 
 himself on the hospitality of the manse ? " 
 
 " Exactly. " 
 
 " Ay, that's his story regularly. I wonder he does 
 not tire of it, and invent a change sometimes ; I would if 
 I were he." 
 
 " Perhaps he hasn't as much brains." 
 
 " Ah, Tom doesn't want for brains, if he only made a 
 good use of them." 
 
 " That's it," said Mr. Kennedy. " Well I'm glad to 
 find I was right in warning him off; it's very rarely I'm 
 wrong. I had my qualms about it after he had a bad 
 cough. " 
 
 " He is subject to a bad cough when it suits him." 
 
 " The rascal ! Well, good-bye, Mr. Gilbert. Come 
 in any time you are passing ; I would like to hear some- 
 thing of your travels and experience." 
 14
 
 CHAPTER XLYI. 
 
 THERE was another arrival of an old friend at Quix- 
 star in June when the east wind was supposed to have 
 retreated to its cave although every now and then it 
 tried to break out, and whined and showed its teeth and 
 the south and the west winds to come out and breathe 
 their gentle healing influences over the land in the per- 
 son of Mr. Doubleday, who was to be Miss Raeburn's 
 guest during the summer. 
 
 Mr. Doubleday had no money, which was bad; and, 
 what was worse, he had no home^ his sister, such as 
 she was, being dead. To have no home worthy the 
 name had been his lot for many a day, so that he felt it 
 the less, and Miss Raeburn's kindness the more. ' Having 
 gone away apparently moribund, he had come back re- 
 divivus,a,nd Miss Raeburn determined his health should 
 be further confirmed by a summer in the open air. 
 Meantime she was using all the influence within her 
 reach, backed by his own merits which were not quite 
 unknown to get him an appointment in some colonial 
 college, where the climate might suit his constitution ; 
 and she had great hopes of success. 
 
 Bell Sinclair almost danced round him for joy when 
 she saw him return so well; and he, poor man, not hav- 
 ing been accustomed to even ordinary kindness, thought 
 this so extraordinary, that the smouldering ashes of the 
 fire within him, blown upon by hope, began once more 
 to flicker up into a kind of blaze. A professorship in a
 
 QUIXSTAB. 315 
 
 congenial climate, Bell for a wife, and half the globe be- 
 tween them and her mother! Talk of the Elysian 
 fields ! a barren common by comparison ! 
 
 Miss Raeburn was not one of those people who 
 never doubt the wisdom of their own acts and decisions ; 
 and when she saw, as she was not long in seeing, the 
 bent of her guest's thoughts, she felt that her disci'e- 
 tion had been at fault. What could she do ? There 
 was no pretext on which she could send him away, yet 
 she was exposing him to needless suffering. 
 
 " Have you read many novels, Mr. Doubleday ? " 
 she said to him one day when they were sitting alone. 
 " I daresay not ; they are hardly in your line." 
 
 " Not much, but I used to read them as a boy. I 
 like a good novel yet." 
 
 " So do I ; nothing better, and I like to watch a 
 novel going on round me if it is a good one." 
 
 " Observing people never was my forte" said Mr. 
 Doubleday. " It is a gift which, to my loss, I have not." 
 
 " Well, I have it a little. I don't know that I could 
 trust to its correctness if much depended on it, but for 
 my own amusement it does very well. At present, for 
 instance, we have a pair and a half of lovers under our 
 eyes pretty frequently." 
 
 " A pair and a half! " said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " Yes ; we have Effie and George Raeburn, and we 
 have Bell, and I strongly suspect an invisible half. As 
 the phrase is, her affections are engaged, I have good 
 reason to think." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday moved uneasily on his chair that 
 was all the sign of emotion he gave. The sinking of 
 the heart, the extinction of hope, the blank and pathetic 
 resignation, were invisible even to Miss Raeburn were 
 known only to divine sympathy.
 
 316 QUIXSTAB. 
 
 Miss Raeburn feeling that she had done a good deed 
 in warning him, and hoping that she had not been too 
 long about it, went on 
 
 " I wonder if Effie and George will float away into 
 commonplace comfort without more ado ! It looks like 
 it, but I have my own doubts. We shall see." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday made no rejoinder. 
 
 " Come," she said, " you must not fall into a brown 
 study. Suppose we have a walk ? " 
 
 " Yes ; certainly." 
 
 " And we'll have lunch first." 
 
 He could not eat, the strain of feeling had given him 
 a sensation of sickness, a choking in his throat. Hope, 
 like a cat, has nine lives. You may throw it out of the 
 window, it will crawl in at the door, and when it does 
 die it dies hard. 
 
 When they went out Mr. Doubleday sometimes stood 
 still, and sometimes strode on rapidly, forgetting for 
 the moment that he had a companion ; and Avhom 
 should they meet but Bell and Effie and John Gilbert, 
 who suggested that they might turn back with them, 
 which they did. Bell saw the dazed, wishful look in 
 Mr. Doubleday's face instantly, and without thinking 
 she said 
 
 " What's the matter, Mr. Doubleday ? " 
 
 " You have seen a ghost, sir ! Boswell's Johnson 
 would say," John remarked. 
 
 " What like was it ? " asked Effie. " Had it a white 
 gown, and eyes like little moons ? " 
 
 " Oh come, don't let us speak nonsense," said Bell. 
 She and Miss Raeburn seemed naturally to fall behind. 
 Effie and John, with Mr. Doubleday sometimes behind 
 and sometimes before them, but supposed to be in their 
 company, led the way.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 317 
 
 " You look a little tired, Tibby," said Miss Raeburn. 
 " Have you had a long walk ? " 
 
 " Pretty long." 
 
 " And has John been with you all the way ? " 
 
 " No ; we met him, and he turned with us just as 
 you did. He is a most unaccountable creature. How 
 such a man can hang about idle so long I don't know. 
 Why, it's four months since he came home. However, 
 he says he is going away soon." 
 
 " He is an ornament to the place," said Miss Rae- 
 burn. " We'll all miss him when he goes." 
 
 " Jane and Tom are very angry at him. It is a great 
 pity he is not as useful as ornamental. Where has Mr. 
 Doubleday disappeared to ? " 
 
 All Mr. Doubleday's old feeling with regard to John 
 Gilbert had revived, and it had occurred to him that he 
 was not absolutely compelled to walk before Bell's eyes 
 in the company of her handsome and favored lover, so 
 he had taken another way home. 
 
 On reaching her own door Miss Raeburn bade the 
 Sinclairs good-bye, and asked John Gilbert to go in 
 with her to dinner, which he did, not to the delight of 
 her other guest ; but one pang more or less, what after 
 all did it signify ? 
 
 " John," said Miss Raeburn, " before we went out 
 to-day Mr. Doubleday and I were speculating a little 
 as to whether Effie Sinclair's marriage would go on 
 to the end as smoothly as it promises. What think 
 you?" 
 
 "I?" said John. "I really don't know. Is there 
 anything to hinder it doing so ? " 
 
 " I was asking what you thought. I hope not. If 
 there is any such hindrance it should be got out of the 
 way."
 
 318 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Miss Raeburn glanced accidently at Mr. Doubleday, 
 which glance John caught. 
 
 " What does Miss Raeburn mean, Mr. Doubleday ? " 
 he said. " You are not going to put a stone on the line 
 to upset Miss Effie's marriage, are you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Mr. Doubleday simply. 
 
 " You hear that, Miss Raeburn ?" said John. "What 
 is it you are afraid of for Erne ? You haven't found 
 that George has a previous engagement he is called on 
 to fulfil ? " 
 
 " No ; I h*S / not found that George had a previous 
 engagement, and if any one attempts to break up his 
 present one it will be a cruel thing very cruel to Erne." 
 
 " Are people saying anything of that kind ? I have 
 not heard it." 
 
 " Neither have I," said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Then I'll not repeat it," said John. " It would be a 
 pity to set a report of that kind afloat. They were tell- 
 ing me to-day that the new hall is about finished, and 
 that there is to be some sort of affair at the opening of 
 it. Mr. Doubleday, you'll have to give a speech." 
 
 " I'm sorry I can't speak," said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " But you're not too old to learn." 
 
 " No, not too old ; but there are other impediments." 
 
 " I think of giving a speech myself. My sister and 
 Tom are very angry at the hall being built ; but if Mr. 
 Sinclair keeps it in his own hands, and manages it well, 
 it may turn out a very good investment." 
 
 " He is not going to do that, though. He is going 
 to hand it over to the town ; and, by the way, speaking 
 -of investments, is your aunt, old Mrs. Gilbert, thinking 
 of investing in any of the colonies, do you know ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? " said John, with a slight in- 
 crease of color.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 319 
 
 " I thought she might consult you on business mat- 
 ters, and you should advise her strongly against it. She 
 can live comfortably, and ought not to risk loss. I think 
 I must speak to her myself. I could strengthen your 
 advice." 
 
 This was Miss Raeburn's way of letting John know 
 that she suspected what he might be about. She could 
 have done better, probably. If a thing is worth speak- 
 ing of at all, kindly, direct speaking is likely to do more 
 good than a game at side-hitting. However clever, it 
 is apt to put up the qaills of human na""re. It says vir- 
 tually, " You see how acute and dexterous I am. I see 
 through and through you;" it does not say, " I am deep- 
 ly interested in your welfare, and would like to talk of 
 so-and-so with you," etc. 
 
 "By the bye, what has become of the sea-king?" 
 John asked. " I have not seen or heard of him since I 
 came." 
 
 " Peter Veitch, you mean ? " Miss Raeburn said. 
 " He is at sea 5 but he is expected home about this time." 
 
 " Does he come home every time his ship is in ? " 
 
 "Not every time; but he is expected at pres- 
 ent." 
 
 " I used to think Bell Sinclair had a sneaking kind- 
 ness for him." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " Did you never think so, Mr. Doubleday ? You 
 who see so sharply into things, is Bell's heart still to 
 let, think you ? " 
 
 " To let ! " said Mr. Doubleday, to whose ears the 
 very sound of Bell's name was something sacred ; " to 
 let ! " 
 
 " Yes ; you know what I mean has it got a ten- 
 ant?"
 
 320 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Can't you peep in yourself, John, and see ? " said 
 Miss Raeburn. 
 
 "Well, no. You can't quite make out Bell at a 
 glance, and I have no time for a protracted siege, which 
 it might be if the place is well garrisoned. Come, Mr. 
 Doubleday, have you no inkling of the state of affairs ? " 
 
 Mr. Doubleday said, " I have heard I have been 
 told that her affections are engaged, but it may be a 
 mistake it may be all a mistake." As he spoke the 
 last words he kindled to life at the idea. He had all 
 along thought that John Gilbert -was the man. Peter 
 Veitch seemed an unlikely substitute. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Doubleday, thank you for taking 
 such a lively interest in me. If I win Bell you'll go 
 with us to Hongatonga, won't you ? But first you and 
 I must find out if there is any chance before I bring up 
 the siege-train." 
 
 Miss Raeburn looked pretty steadily at John she 
 had a sort of feeling that he was performing on her the 
 operation vulgarly known as throwing dust in your 
 eyes. If he was, his face did not betray him in any 
 way. 
 
 That evening on his way home he dropped in at 
 Old Battle House. George Raeburn was there also ; 
 and they had a little concert, both vocal and instrumen- 
 tal. Mrs. Sinclair remarked that John was a great ac- 
 quisition he could do anything, and do anything well ; 
 and George echoed her. He had not the slightest tinge 
 of jealousy; not however from the exceeding loyalty 
 of his own nature, for he was keen, and shrewd, and 
 proud, but because George Raeburn's betrothed was 
 above suspicion.
 
 CHAPTER XL VII. 
 
 " You are not much given, Mr. Doubleday," resumed 
 Miss Raeburn, as they sat at night by the fire, " to spec- 
 ulate on men and things ? You take people, I fancy, to 
 be pretty much what they seem ? " 
 
 It was at such a time and in such circumstances that 
 Mr. Doubleday shone. Alone with his hostess in an 
 atmosphere that suited him, he was so good; so great 
 even, and so lovable, that had there ever been a person 
 in the wide world sufficiently interested in him to draw 
 him out, he might have been found to have no small con- 
 versational talents. But there had not been, and penury 
 had chilled the genial current of his soul, as it has done 
 that of many another besides his. 
 
 " You are right," he said. I don't speculate on peo- 
 ple as individuals ; but neither do I take them for what 
 they seem. I have a kind of instinct that serves me as 
 a guide." 
 
 " Like children and dogs, perhaps ; but I have seen 
 both children and dogs make great mistakes." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think I'm infallible, but my world is not 
 the world of men, so it matters the less." 
 
 " And why shouldn't your world be the world of 
 men ? On what ground do you claim the right to stand 
 aside?" 
 
 " From unfitness." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 14*
 
 322 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " It is true. I shrink " 
 
 " Ah, I can believe that you shrink. Well, I don't. 
 I have the necessary amount of impudence when I am 
 abroad in the world to feel myself as clever as other 
 people, and cleverer than some. But there was a time 
 in my life when I could have gone largely into the shrink 
 business, and I understand that kind of thing. There is 
 a way for people, though, afflicted with incurable shrink, 
 to descend into the arena, which I wonder you have 
 never thought of why not turn author?" 
 
 "Compile a school-book a Latin primer? They 
 exist by the dozen already, better than I could make." 
 
 " You know if you are going to wait till you supply 
 a felt want till there is a vacant nitch for you to fill, 
 you'll be like the man who sat down till the river would 
 flow past and let him over dry-shod. But I didn't mean 
 a school-book. You have read immensely, and you 
 must have thought a great deal. You don't mean to 
 tell me that the thoughts of such a man as you are 
 worth nothing?" 
 
 His face flushed these were perhaps the first words 
 of appreciation and encouragement that had ever fallen 
 on his ear. 
 
 " Now," she said, "I've thrown in the acorn; I shall 
 long to see the oak. How proud I shall be ! " 
 
 " Oaks are long in coming to maturity." 
 
 " Oh, but I'll wait a little. If I just see the first 
 tender shoot beginning to appear, I'll be satisfied. 
 Well begun is half ended, you know." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday sat in silence for some time that 
 silence which is the flood-gate of the deeper heart. 
 Appreciation by a person for whom he had a regard 
 honest, hearty appreciation, without a tinge of pity or 
 patronage in it, was an entire novelty to him. Miss
 
 QUIXStAR. 323 
 
 Raeburn had small idea of the depths in him she had 
 stirred. 
 
 " What will you begin with ? " she went on. " Not 
 a novel, I imagine. I have sometimes thought I would 
 like to write a novel myself. Couldn't you and I go 
 snacks in writing one ? " 
 
 " I know," said he, " nobody would read my part of 
 it after it was written." 
 
 " I don't see that at all. There is no end to the va- 
 riety of tastes, and what does not suit one suits another. 
 What do you say to threading up the people round us ? 
 I think they would do very well." 
 
 " Doesn't a novel need something striking ? Are the 
 people here sufficiently outstanding, do you think ? " 
 
 " Quite sufficiently, if we could make them stand 
 out that's the difficulty. We might be the better of 
 a bit of scarlet, but we could try to manufacture it for 
 ourselves ; and if John Gilbert were dipped in sepia 
 he is clever and gentlemanly and made some shades 
 blacker, he would be a very good scoundrel." 
 
 " I thought you liked John Gilbert ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I love him. I can't help it. People say you 
 can't love what you don't respect. That must be a mis- 
 take. What does your instinct say of him ? " 
 
 " I iever could trust my instinct about him." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " He caused me so much suffering ! " 
 
 " Suffering ! John Gilbert ! How ? " 
 
 " I imagined I thought that he and Bell Sinclair 
 that Bell Sinclair and he were " 
 
 " Were lovers ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and how I have loved her ! Oh, how I 
 have loved her He stopped as if ashamed, and said 
 in lower tones, " I have never spoken of it, but your
 
 324 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 sympathy drew me on. Do you think it possible that a 
 woman such a woman as Bell Sinclair could love 
 me?" 
 
 " I think it possible, and most likely, if she did not 
 love some one else. Bell does that. I'm sure of it ; as 
 sure as if she had told me." 
 
 " But she did not tell you," he said eagerly ; " and 
 you may be mistaken." 
 
 " No, Mr. Doubleday ; it would be cruel to let you 
 think so, but I am glad you have spoken of it. It is a 
 sorry business to eat one's own heart in silence ; and let 
 us be thankful she does not love John. It's a wonder," 
 she went on, half speaking to herself; " it's a wonder 
 so much of the very best love in this world is wasted. 
 No, not wasted. Such love as yours, Mr. Doubleday, 
 cannot be wasted. The trees shed their leaves only to 
 be enriched by them again, and you'll be richer; your 
 book will be richer, and thereby mankind will be richer 
 through your disappointed love." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday smiled a ghastly smile. 
 
 " Besides," she went on, " love cannot be disappoint- 
 ed. A woman wanting to marry for a home, or a man 
 for the sake of comfort, may be disappointed, but love 
 cannot. Love goes on loving." 
 
 " I know that well," said he wearily. * 
 
 " Ah," thought Miss Raeburn, as she went to bed, 
 " that is a page for our novel. Poor man, Mr. Doubleday 
 does not seem to have been made for success in any shape. 
 He has been made for something higher and better. 
 Modest merit goes to the wall in this world. Commend 
 me to the Secretary of the Rational Relaxation Society. 
 He'll not stick at trifles," and as Mr. Miller and his 
 doings came up before her she laughed. " I declare," 
 she thought, " we'll put him into our novel too. I'll
 
 QUIXSTAR. 325 
 
 do Mr. Doubleday, and he'll never recognize himself; 
 and he and Mr. Miller, and Mr. Sinclair and Mr.Kennedy, 
 will contrast like the white and pink and purple and 
 yellow flowers in a ribbon border."
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII. 
 
 MR. SINCLAIR'S hall was nearly finished, and it was 
 a neat, substantial thing, not by any means destitute of 
 ornament either; attached to it was a reading-room, 
 and accommodation for a library, in which a nucleus of 
 books was already placed. In front, close to the street, 
 was a handsome drinking-fountain for" man and beast; 
 and the ground round the building and between it and 
 the fountain was laid out in flowers and grass. Mr. Sin- 
 clair would have handed over his building to the town 
 quietly, but Mr. Miller knew better, and he was instant 
 in season, and very often, to refined tastes, out of sea- 
 son. Mr. Sinclair disliked " push," specially disliked 
 it carried into religious or benevolent movements ; but 
 what will you? Even commercially he disliked it. 
 The business into which he had entered, so much against 
 his inclination, had, from a small beginning made by his 
 great-granduncle, struck root and spread gradually and 
 securely. There had been no forcing, and to push like 
 younger houses would have been beneath its dignity. 
 Such a thing as an extra demonstration at the opening 
 of the hall would not have occurred to Mr. Sinclair, but 
 Mr. Miller suggested the wisdom and propriety of a 
 grand opening night. 
 
 " They never," he urged, " could have such an oppor- 
 tunity of gathering a meeting. People would come, if 
 only from curiosity, and why not turn curiosity to a 
 good account ? "
 
 QUIXSTAK. 327 
 
 " Well, well, if it is to do good," said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " It will do an immense deal of good immense at 
 least we must hope so, and not lose such an opportunity." 
 
 Accordingly Mr. Miller vigorously rushed in where 
 Mr. Sinclair very much disliked to tread ; not that the 
 Secretary was a fool, very far from that he was a real- 
 ly good, energetic, earnest man, clad, it may be, in a 
 rather thickish skin, a species of garment admirably 
 adapted for wear in this world, but not to be had ready- 
 made in any tailor's shop, so far as I am aware. Think 
 of a patent pachyderm overcoat. The man who could 
 invent that would be nearly as blessed as the man who 
 invented sleep. However expensive it might be, I 
 would hasten to present one to Mr. Doubleday, and 
 another to Mr. Gilbert, and expect they would both 
 come to the front ere long sheathed in such a uniform. 
 Neither was Mr. Sinclair an angel, only a somewhat 
 fastidious man. If he objected to any of Mr. Miller's 
 arrangements, Mr. Miller said 
 
 " We must do it, sir. Keep ourselves and our ob- 
 ject before the public. It won't do in these days to 
 creep about as if w r e were ashamed." 
 
 " I've been in a fair." said Mr. Sinclair, " where all the 
 showmen tried which could to make the greatest din. 
 The loudest noise attracted most customers." 
 
 " Exactly, sir that's it to a hair. Do all you can 
 to rouse attention it's the only way. Things have 
 changed since your " youth he was going to say, but 
 he checked himself and said, " Things are managed dif- 
 ferently now from what they once were." 
 
 Mr. Miller drew up a placard, headed " Grand Inau-' 
 guration Soiree," in very tall letters, all the colors of the 
 rainbow, and had it affixed to every dead wall, and every 
 green tree, and dry-stone dike ; probably he cvon stuck
 
 328 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 one on a cairn among the hills, that the birds of the air 
 might carry the matter, and he did not hesitate to enclose 
 half-a-dozen copies to Mr. Kennedy with compliments, 
 and a polite request that he would intimate the meeting 
 from his pulpit on the following Sunday. Mr. Kennedy 
 was very wroth, thinking that Mr. Sinclair was the au- 
 thor of this audacious and gratuitous insult, whereas 
 that individual knew nothing of the circumstance. 
 
 The Secretary was jubilant when Lady Winkworth. 
 sent for some dozens of tickets to distribute among her 
 dependants, and declared her intention of being present 
 herself. Her Ladyship took fits of trying to do good 
 spasmodic they were, and not always productive of 
 benefit, as witness her visits to the laborers' cottages, 
 where in a family of half-a-dozen children it may be sup- 
 posed that crusts for puddings were not very plentiful, 
 and gigots of mutton unknown, but her benevolent 
 efforts were very sincere. 
 
 Decidedly Mr. Miller had a touch of greatness about 
 him, for he could infect others with a portion of his own 
 enthusiasm ; for example, he infected Bell Sinclair, who 
 threw herself into the occasion with all her might, and 
 drew with her her sister, Miss Raeburn, Peter Veitch 
 who had arrived in the nick of time, John Gilbert, and 
 Mary, and George Raeburn. She did not attempt to 
 enlist Mr. Doubleday ; indeed, Miss Raeburn had given 
 her the slightest, faintest, far-awayest hint of the state of 
 matters in that quarter, that Bell might shape her man- 
 ner a little less affectionately towards Mr. Doubleday 
 for you see Mr. D. did not know, how should he ? that 
 a free, frank show of interest is no sign of love, but the 
 opposite. These two woman were incapable of discuss- 
 ing such a thing as this fully, far less of making it the 
 subject of a joke. It was a danger that had not occurred
 
 QUIXSTAR. 329 
 
 to Bell ; she loved Mr. Doubleday as Mr. Doubleday, 
 but well, Miss Raeburn had told him that it was a 
 likely thing she should love him if she did not love 
 some one else ; the truth is it was not a likely thing it 
 was possible, of course, anything is possible, but it was 
 not likely. 
 
 When Bell and her corps of volunteers employed 
 themselves for a day or two adorning the hall for the 
 grand occasion, Miss Raeburn seated Mr. Doubleday in 
 state at a desk, that he might begin the projected book. 
 
 " What will you call it. think you ? " she asked. 
 
 " I have been meditating on that. Dreams from the 
 Depths of Dreariness would be descriptive and allitera- 
 tive." 
 
 " Trash ! " said Miss Raeburn. " I'm not going to 
 humor you not too far at least; set to work cheerily, 
 disappointments should only make people braver." 
 
 " If that's true I should be the impersonation of 
 bravery by this time." 
 
 " If you don't set to work instantly, " said she, " I'll 
 get your name put into these flaming placards as one of 
 the speakers on the grand opening night ; keep that in 
 mind, and be good." 
 
 The hall was large, and there were several workmen 
 present to help with the decorations, but after the general 
 effect was planned the amateur decorators separated to 
 superintend the details. They paired by natural selec- 
 tion, Bell having Captain Veitch as her lieutenant, 
 George, as a matter of course, attending Effie, while Miss 
 Raeburn was left with Mary and John Gilbert. John 
 and Mary looked after the others as they moved away. 
 Mary said, " Eflie is very pretty ; I don't wonder at 
 George's taste." 
 
 " Too pretty for a poor man," said John. " I don't
 
 330 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 wonder at his taste, but I wonder prodigiously at 
 hers." 
 
 " Do you ? Why, what fault have you to George ? " 
 Mary asked. Mary had a gentle liking for George Rae- 
 burn, which under sunshine would have grown and ri- 
 pened into love, as surely and imperceptibly as the 
 peach grows and ripens from crude greenness into the 
 soft, delicious fruit, clad in purple velvet shot with 
 green, but this was not to be, it appeared. 
 
 "What fault have you?" she said. "I am sure he 
 loves Effie quite as much as if she had not a farthing in 
 the world." 
 
 " Quite as much," said John, " and a great deal more. 
 George is not the man to marry the beggar maid." 
 
 " I think you are wrong there," said his sister. 
 
 " I think so too," said Miss Raeburn. " George is a 
 keen business man, and fond of making money, but he 
 would not marry for it, I am confident." 
 
 John shrugged his shoulders. " Deplorable, isn't it, 
 Miss Raeburn, for a poor wretch like me to be left out 
 in the cold ? You perceive I was right about Bell and 
 the sea-king ? No use bringing up my artillery there." 
 
 " I see they are standing speaking together ; I don't 
 see anything more at this moment." 
 
 " Of course not. It's a great shame ; I ought to have 
 had one of them, and wpuld have had if I had not gone 
 away. ; Oh why left I my hame, why did I cross the 
 deep ? ' What do you suppose people in these circum- 
 stances get to say, Miss Raeburn ? " looking across to 
 where Bell and Peter were standing. " I can't imagine 
 it's not the eloquence of silence, you'll observe," and 
 he strolled along the hall, and in a little joined Effie and 
 George. 
 
 " George," he said, " Miss Raeburn's compliments,
 
 QUIXSTAR. 331 
 
 and she wants your advice as to whether there should 
 be a crown or a star in bay leaves over the platform. I 
 say a star; what sense is there in a crown ? unless, in- 
 deed, it means to indicate that Rational Relaxations 
 crown a youth of labor with an age of ease ; but a star 
 a star, you see, is the emblem of brilliancy and hope 
 and general excelsiorism, and they should appeal to the 
 young ; why, by the time a man is my age it would take 
 a steam-engine to drag him out of his ruts. What say 
 you, Erne a crown or a star ? " 
 
 " Oh, a star, by all means a star ! " 
 
 " Convey our sentiments to Miss Raeburn, will you, 
 George, and your own, and I'll help Effie till you come 
 back?" 
 
 George went to the other end of the hall, and had a 
 long confabulation with his aunt and Mary, at the end 
 of which they looked where Effie and John were stand- 
 ing with their backs to them ; suddenly Effie turned, 
 and they saw her face. 
 
 " Isn't she beautiful when she is so animated ? " 
 George said. 
 
 " Yes, and she is very animated just now ; John must 
 be finding something to say." 
 
 " Something amusing, no doubt," said George ; " he 
 is not often at a loss." 
 
 Effie was saying at this moment to John, certainly 
 with animation, " Go 'for any sake go ; people are not 
 blind." 
 
 "No; but what can they see? nothing; they can't 
 hear, luckily, and we are not among tell-tale rushes." 
 
 " Rushes or not, John Gilbert, go. I'll not have you 
 stay any longer; do go," she ended in a tone of en- 
 treaty. 
 
 George came up to them. We were wondering
 
 332 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 what you were discussing with such interest," he 
 said. 
 
 "Miss Raeburn's age," said John. "I was just say- 
 ing that to see her whisking about at the other end of 
 the hall you might take her for sixteen. I would fall 
 in love with her if I thought I had a chance." 
 
 " You might try, said George dryly. 
 
 " Au revoir, then ; keep an eye on us, when you see 
 me sink gracefully on one knee you'll know what I am 
 about." 
 
 " He'll go to destruction yet," said George, looking 
 after him. 
 
 " Oh no !" cried Effie in sharp, sudden tones. 
 
 " You don't like to hear me say so, and I don't like 
 to say it, but think of his father toiling among a pack of 
 unruly children while he hangs about idle. He ought to 
 be flogged. A man of ability, too, for almost any 
 thing." 
 
 There was no rejoinder. 
 
 By this time Bell and Peter had strayed into the 
 library, which they had all to themselves, and both were 
 to appearance intently occupied in examining it. 
 
 " Plenty of room for books here," said Bell. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " If people can be got to read, it is a good habit." 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " When kept in its place, and people don't forget 
 their work for it." 
 
 " Of course, of course." 
 
 " What kind of books do you like best ? " 
 
 " Oh, any kind. Never mind books," said he. She 
 moved hastily away. Instinctively she felt what was 
 coming, and she was afraid afraid with that strange 
 kind of fear that is compounded of intense hope and joy.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 333 
 
 " Bell," he said bluntly, " you promised not to forget 
 me. Can you marry a sailor ? " 
 
 She answered, but -not to the ear. That was out of 
 her power for the moment, but he understood right 
 well. 
 
 " I can hardly believe it's ti-ue," he said after a little. 
 " Do you know you have been at sea with me for 
 years ? " 
 
 " Have I ? You would not leave the sea ? You 
 like it." 
 
 He looked at her anxiously. ''' It was my first love," 
 he said, " and I cling to it." 
 
 " You have not married it, I hope, like the Doges of 
 Venice ? for I would not have you commit bigamy." 
 
 " So far that I stick to it for better and for worse. 
 Don't tempt me to be unfaithful. You have promised 
 to marry a sailor, and I hold you to it." 
 
 " I can bear your absence ; but oh, if you were drown- 
 ed!" 
 
 " I'll not be drowned if I can help it. Life is very 
 dear to me, for your sake." 
 
 " I'll bear it," she said ; " even if you are drowned. 
 I'll live on the past till we meet again." 
 
 " I knew it," he said triumphantly ; " I knew that I 
 had loved both wisely and well." 
 
 " I love, but I did not think about wisdom. How- 
 ever, I hope you are good. Indeed, I believe it," she 
 said simply. 
 
 " I try to be so, at least, and you'll help me." 
 
 " Rather you'll help me. Do you know I loved you 
 before you before I thought you cared for me at all 
 and I was frightened you never would care for me ? 
 How miserable I would have been, and how I would 
 have despised myself for making my own misery ! When
 
 334 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 you used to come to uncle for mathematics I strained 
 my ears to hear your voice as you came in and went out. 
 I feel ashamed of it yet." 
 
 He listened with eager delight in his face. " Say it 
 again," he said. 
 
 " One confession is enough." 
 
 " I had the start of you, though ; I loved you when 
 at school, and I never despaired of winning you." 
 
 '' That's very like you. I believe I have made my- 
 self too-cheap." 
 
 " I never despaired of winning you when you were 
 out of my sight, but when I came near you" 
 . " I acted as a scarecrow." 
 
 " I was frightened." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you can be frightened. I would 
 not have believed it." 
 
 " Well, that's all over. I feel as if I were in a 
 dream " 
 
 At this point John Gilbert walked in. 
 
 " Well, it's cool, I must say, of you two to shut your- 
 selves in here with your favorite authors, and leave us 
 to toil among bays and laurels, with no hope of wearing 
 any. Were you explaining the Gulf Stream, Captain 
 Veitch, to Miss Sinclair how is it the great weather- 
 breeder of the North Atlantic ? I would like a little 
 information about it myself." 
 
 "I daresay we "have stayed too long," said Peter. 
 " Come, we'll go and help you if we can." 
 
 " You can't, for we're done ; but it is proposed that 
 we meet here to-morrow to cut bread and butter." 
 
 " Bread and butter ? " queried Bell. 
 
 "Yes to add to the bill of fare to-morrow night; 
 it is thought it will make the thing like a family. A ton 
 of bread and butter wouldn't make me feel like a family.
 
 QUIXSTAB. 335 
 
 but imaginations differ, so by all means let us meet. 
 The hall holds five hundred. Each will need a loaf 
 each loaf will need two pounds of butter. Yes, there 
 will be M r ork for the whole of us. Captain Veitch, 
 you'll bring your cutlass to cut the bread, and I'll bring 
 a few trowels to manage the -butter, but mind, Bell 
 and you must not get into the Gulf Stream again." 
 
 " Really, John, you must make a speech," said Miss 
 Raeburn. 
 
 " If I were not so fatally bashful," said he. " No, no ; 
 the bread and butter is my line. I'll stick to it, but 
 you'll get Mr. Doubleday to speak. By the way, Bell, 
 do you know why he is not here to-day V " 
 
 " I suppose it was his own good pleasure to stay at 
 home." 
 
 " Ah, you have heard the pretty fiction about the 
 oyster when it gets a wound ? It straightway plasters a 
 pearl over it. Well, Mr. Doubleday has begun the 
 pearl business. He is a stricken deer not that deer 
 make pearls, do they ? " 
 
 " What puts such nonsense into your head John ? " 
 asked Miss Raeburn, laughing. 
 
 " My general omniscience. And Bell. Mr. Double- 
 day has the pen in hand to write a book, to be entitled 
 ' A Rope of Pearls ; or the Thoughts of A Doubleday. 
 By a Single Man.' " 
 
 " It's a pity, John," said George Raeburn, " that the 
 office of jester is out of date. You might have filled it 
 to some potentate." 
 
 "If he who wins laughs, you should be more fitted 
 for that post at present than me," said John. 
 
 " I never attempt wit," said George. 
 
 " Wherein your wisdom shines out," retorted John.
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 A SOIKEE or tea-meeting is not reckoned a high-class 
 entertainment. Whether Miss Raeburn would have given 
 a page or two of her novel to it cannot be known ; but 
 when it has figured in a novel, it has been as a subject 
 for ridicule on account of being vulgar and common- 
 place. Fastidious people may go to such a thing as ex- 
 pediency compels, but they are either bored o^r disgusted, 
 or both. And in all conscience the vulgar and the com- 
 monplace abound, as they do in every assembly of hu- 
 man beings. The vulgarity exhibited at a garden-party 
 at a nobleman's mansion on the banks of the Thames 
 may be less coarse, but it is not therefore a better ar- 
 ticle ; and the refined individual who gives the light of 
 his countenance to a tea-meeting in the certainty of be- 
 ing bored or disgusted, will be so ; he has neither the 
 insight nor the sympathy to know all that is before him. 
 What to him are the lined faces that light up at a joke 
 not worth a smile the horny hands the w r oman fat 
 and frank, her face shining with soap, with a child by 
 her side and another on her knee, which her husband 
 takes when it gets heavy with sleep the elderly thin 
 woman with the blank expression, resulting from living 
 alone in one little room the sharp, ambitious artisan 
 who chafes at being kept down and kept back for want 
 of that education he sees men get who can neither use it 
 nor value it the giggling girls and the awkward lads.
 
 QUIXSTAR. 337 
 
 coarse enough, to be sure, but out of whom in a year or 
 two hard toil will take the buoyancy the decent, pawkie 
 man who, though not refined, sees pretty far into a 
 milestone, and can take the measure of things in his own 
 way ? They are nothing >to him, for he does not see 
 them. Of course, there is the smug successful trades- 
 man with the unctuous face and the narrow soul; but 
 narrow souls are not confined to one rank. If he had 
 been a few rounds higher up the ladder, his narrow- 
 ness and self-complacency might have been under a 
 thicker veil, perhaps. Does the refined man know how 
 far he himself is the creature of circumstances, and that 
 circumstances mean divine sovereignty ? 
 
 Bell went to the hall next forenoon alone. Erne had 
 had enough of it, she said ; George had gone to Iron- 
 burgh, intending however to be back for the evening's 
 entertainment; and Miss Raeburn stayed at home to 
 look after her guest. On reaching the theatre of opera- 
 tions, Bell saw written in chalk on the fountain the 
 words, " Adam's wine, uncommon fine," and on the 
 door of the hall, " Sinclair's snuff-box will hold us all at 
 a pinch," and she laughed. Inside the door were Peter 
 Veitch and Mr. Miller talking. 
 
 " Ah, Mr Miller," she said, " the mind of the com- 
 munity is waking up already. Have you seen the in- 
 scriptions outside ? " and she laughed again. 
 
 " No," he said, and went out to take a survey. 
 
 " The wit," she said to Peter, " is not excessively 
 bright ; but when one is very happy, it is so easy to 
 laugh.' 1 One can imagine his answer. 
 
 " How is it you are alone ? " he asked. 
 
 She explained. 
 
 " We are in luck, then," said he. 
 15
 
 338 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Do you call it luck to have all their work to do as 
 well as our own ? " 
 
 " Decidedly. But I don't see why you should work. 
 Let the people that do the rest manage the bread and 
 butter." 
 
 " I could do that ; but I want to show my warm in- 
 terest in the affair, so we'll begin. You can help, if you 
 like." 
 
 But he did not help much he rather hindered. 
 
 " I am glad you are awkward at this work," she said. 
 
 " Glad ! I should think you would rather be sorry." 
 
 " No, for I have observed that men good for little 
 household matters are often not good for much else." 
 
 " How should that be ? " 
 
 " Oh, no doubt he is not the perfect man who stands 
 at one end of the line, and he is the perfect man who 
 stands at both ends, and fills and illustrates all between ; 
 but we don't have men of that stamp about Quixstar. 
 I should think they are not very plentiful anywhere." 
 
 " Then you are not quite blind to my faults ? " 
 
 " I was not speaking of faults. I know well enough 
 you are not perfect, but you" are a good match for me 
 that is, I think I can match you. I would not like to 
 feel myself inferior." 
 
 " The man is the head of the woman," said Peter 
 solemnly. 
 
 " The heads are one, and both are either. You'll 
 find that." 
 
 " I hope I shall. I find it already, and it's a delight- 
 ful sensation." 
 
 Shortly Eflie and John Gilbert walked in. 
 
 " I took a remorse of conscience." said Effie, " and 
 came to see if you would really be the better for my 
 help."
 
 QUIXSTAK. 339 
 
 " And I," said John, " knew perfectly well you would 
 have fallen into the Gulf Stream again, and came to pick 
 you out." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind," said Peter. " Miss Sinclair 
 has been telling me, apropos of bread and butter cut- 
 ting, that men who can help with their wives' work can 
 rarely do their own to purpose. Did you know that ? " 
 
 " There may be exceptions, of course," said Bell. 
 " Burke could describe a gown he had seen on a fine 
 lady so well that his wife could make one exactly the 
 same from his directions; but Burkes don't grow -on 
 every hedge." 
 
 " I can't pretend to Bell's range of information," said 
 John, " but I know for certain that hedges often harbor 
 hares." 
 
 " Oh, John, that is smart ! " said Bell, while they all 
 laughed exuberantly. " I do enjoy being quizzed, when 
 it is so very well done." 
 
 " By the way," said John, " may I ask when you sail, 
 Captain Veitch ? " 
 
 " On the 20th of this month ;" and I have to leave 
 Quixstar the day after to-morrow, to my grief." 
 
 " To all our griefs," said John ; " but be thankful you 
 are here for the grand opening occasion. Perhaps you 
 may get some hints you could transfer to the world afloat 
 anent rational relaxations." 
 
 The 20th was the day fixed for the wedding of Effie 
 and George.
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 DAYLIGHT was jostled out of the hall on the night 
 of the inauguration soiree by a brilliant flush of gas, 
 arranged so as to show the building and decorations to 
 the utmost advantage. The place filled rapidly, long 
 before the hour of meeting, for the interest of the public 
 had been well stirred, and curiosity was strong. The 
 Old Battle House party, with the Gilberts, took their 
 seats early ; but Peter Veitch, who had that faculty 
 common to great men if he was not great of never 
 losing a moment's time, arrived at the precise stroke of 
 the hour, and was rewarded by having to stand during 
 the evening, which was no punishment, for his position 
 commanded a full view of Bell Sinclair's face, and in the 
 seat at the end of which he stood were several members 
 of the Smith family, the one next him being a young 
 lady, who interested and amused him by her remarks 
 on men and things. 
 
 Lady Winkworth drove up to the door in a carriage 
 and pair, accompanied by a grandson and Mr. Cranstoun. 
 When Mr. Miller heard this, which he did immediately 
 for like any other general lighting a battle he had a 
 personal staff flying about to bring him intelligence and 
 do his behests he determined to have Mr. Cranstoun on 
 the platform. It would sound well in the newspapers that 
 Mr. Cranstoun of Cranstoun Hall was on the platform. 
 Accordingly he waylaid that gentleman, and found no
 
 QUIXSTAR. 341 
 
 difficulty whatever in carrying his point. Mr. Cranstoun 
 adorned that elevation with his gentlemanly presence and 
 jovial smile. Lady Winkworth, who was an exceedingly 
 stout woman, walking up the middle of the hill leaning 
 on the arm of her grandson, a very tall, slim lad, suggested 
 the idea of a barrel escorted by a pencil-case to Miss 
 Smith, and she suggested it to Captain Veitch. 
 
 Great as Mr. Miller in some points undoubtedly was, 
 he failed to originate any new idea in the proceedings of 
 the evening. In the matter of entertainment for an 
 evening, public or private, the inventive faculty of Great 
 Britain seems now threadbare ; decidedly she is greater 
 at work than play. But the grosser matter was on this 
 occasion a triumph, and the faces of many of the people 
 as they partook of it proclaimed that. The thin, wan 
 woman who lived in one little room alone, for instance, 
 and sipped her weak beverage with no kindred glance to 
 meet hers, and no cheerful voice to chase the blank 
 expression from her face why, the brilliant light, the 
 happy-looking company, the profusion of good things, 
 were a fairy tale to her. She could not be merry she 
 had lost the trick of it but you saw grave gratification 
 gather on her face. She quaffed the tea as nectar, and 
 from the painfully thrifty habits engendered by necessity, 
 you saw her gather all her crumbs together with her 
 spoon and eat them at least one person in the assembly 
 saw this and understood it. 
 
 Then there was music. Bell Sinclair had sent her 
 piano a very fine one and played on it herself, John 
 Gilbert accompanying her on his violin. Most of the 
 audience must have heard a fiddle of some kind before, 
 but many of them had never heard a piano, and when 
 the sweet tones fell on the unaccustomed ears, it seemed 
 like melody escaped from heaven.
 
 342 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 -" Do you think Miss Sinclair plays well ? " asked 
 Miss Smith of Captain Veitch. 
 
 " Exquisitely ! " he said with enthusiasm. " Exquis- 
 itely ! " 
 
 " Do you really think so ? There were several false 
 notes in that last thing she played." ' 
 
 " May be. Not to my ear." 
 
 " Ah, your ear cannot be veiy acute." 
 
 Peter Veitch senior, unexpectedly to his son Mr. 
 Miller had only pressed him into the service after the 
 meeting was convened, not being aware of his gift be- 
 fore contributed his share to the evening's entertain- 
 ment, lie sang " O' a' the airts the wind can blaw," 
 and " Auld Robin Gray," and when he was vociferously 
 encored he gave " There's nae luck about the house," 
 and he did them well ; the -pathos and the humor, and 
 the language and the singing, and the somewhat thin, 
 toilworn, undersized man, with the shrewd, good-hu- 
 mored Scotch face, were all the very best of their kind. 
 Some people thought his part the feature of the evening. 
 
 A Rev. Dr. Buckram came after Peter, but he 
 seemed to think it was infra dig. for him to be there at 
 all, and he was quite unaccustomed to speak at soirees, 
 which seemed to be the case, as his speech was a failure. 
 
 Then native talent showed again. A youth with his 
 face at a white heat, and looking dangerously calm, gave 
 his ideas on " The age we live in." The age was mar- 
 vellous steam, telegraphs, girdles round the world in 
 forty minutes ; newspapers, intelligence, science, onward 
 march, rapid strides, etc., etc., but he wound up by say- 
 ing " Great as the age was and since time was evolved 
 from chaos, there never had been a greater it had two 
 wants : the one, a first-class epic poem ; the other, a 
 method of travelling through the air, and he doubted if
 
 QUIXSTAR. 343 
 
 there was any one in Quickstar capable of writing the 
 one or inventing and organizing the other. But time 
 will show." (Great applause.) 
 
 " Now, Captain Veitch," said Miss Smith, " make 
 your way to the front and give us ' Tom Bowling,' or 
 ' Black-Eyed Susan.' " 
 
 " Thank you, no ; the Veitch family has distinguished 
 itself quite enough for one night. I would rather stay 
 where I am," and he looked down on her with a smile 
 w r hich made her bridle with pleasure, while he was only 
 thinking how well he was placed for seeing Miss Sin- 
 clair, and he thought, " Bell is not looking pleased. 
 What can be annoying her ? " 
 
 Would you believe it ? Bell was jealous actually 
 she was small enough to be jealous. One would not 
 have expected it ; but you never can tell how people are 
 to turn up. She saw Peter apparently enjoying himself 
 amazingly, and laughing and talking with Miss Smith, 
 and for the first and last time in her life she was jeal- 
 ous. Probably she is ashamed of it till this day. Peter 
 might have been away for a year, he might have seen 
 her enjoying herself in any company, and he would not 
 have been jealous ; he would as soon have doubted that 
 the sun would rise next morning as doubted her ; in 
 which, you see, she was not his match. 
 
 There were a good many lovers of low degree 
 sprinkled over the hall. What an evening it was for 
 them ! Like the flight of the Prophet, it became an 
 era or time to date from both before and after. Al- 
 ready the finest human associations were beginning to 
 twine round the stone and mortar of Mr. Sinclair's 
 hall. 
 
 What an evening too it was for Effie Sinclair ! Ex- 
 cept the time John Gilbert was playing the fiddle, she
 
 344 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 had him on her one hand, and George Raeburn on the 
 other. How were her thoughts employed ? What 
 were her feelings? She was thinking, " Oh, if John had 
 only George's money and position," and as she looked 
 at George his generally grave face .lighted up with a 
 smile of tenderness, and he said 
 
 " Are you tired, Effie ? You look a little flushed ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. I could sit here all night." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said George. 
 
 John on the other side said, " It must be on the 
 19th, Effie." 
 
 " I don't think I can do it, I feel so guilty. If only 
 he knew or suspected, I wouldn't feel so guilty." 
 
 " Tell him," said John, " and see what the effect 
 would be. Why should he know it? In fact, it is 
 better for him not to know. It saves his feelings up to 
 the last." 
 
 " Oh, John, if I only knew what to do ! " 
 
 " You know well enough. It's a sin to marry a man 
 you don't love." 
 
 " But I do love" him a little." 
 
 " And me a great deal. Your course is clear." 
 
 All this was whispered in the shelter of a speech on 
 Rational Relaxations, by a man from Ironburgh, a mem- 
 ber of the Society. He was a man whose hair seemed 
 to have made a complete somersault off his head on to 
 his chin, which it had colonized with great vigor. His 
 head was so bald that, had he lived in the country where 
 eagles were common, one would have dreaded the fate 
 of xEschylus for him, whose death was caused by an 
 eagle mistaking his head fora stone, and dropping a tor- 
 toise on it to break the shell. But his face was so over- 
 grown with hair that when he was speaking Miss Smith 
 declared to Peter Veitch that it was like a voice coming
 
 QUIXSTAR. 345 
 
 out of a bird's nest. He had the good sense to be 
 brief, which was the chief merit of his speech. 
 
 It was at this point that Mr. Miller had urged on 
 Mr. Sinclair the propriety of handing over the hall pub- 
 licly to the town authorities (whoever they might be) 
 assembled in full durbar, but as old Peter Veitch said, 
 "Mr. Sinclair fairly reisted at this." He was firm in 
 his determination to do it quietly in private. 
 
 Instead of this ceremony, therefore, Mr. Cranstoun 
 rose and said 
 
 " Our friend Dr. Buckram has told us that he can't 
 speak at a soiree. Now, I am in the position of the 
 man who was asked if he could play the fiddle. He 
 said he didn't know, for he had not tried. Great laugh- 
 ter.) This is my first soiree, and I am heartily glad to 
 be here. I only came by accident, but when you have 
 another, and are at a loss for speakers, if you'll give me 
 timely warning I'll try whether I can make a speech or 
 not, although from what we have seen to-night of native 
 talent I'll need to look to my laurels. Our eloquent 
 townsman says that he doubts none of us will ever 
 write an epic poem " (Here the youth who had spoken 
 interjected, " A first-class epic poem, I said.") " Oh," 
 said Mr. Cranstoun, " I stand corrected. He doubts 
 none of us will ever write a first-class epic poem. 
 Now I would not be too sure of that I would not be at 
 all too sure of that and who knows but the brain that is 
 to tame the balloon and make it a useful beast of burden 
 is lying hidden among us ? (Great applause.) I can't 
 sit down without proposing thanks for the music we 
 have had to-night, both vocal and instrumental. My 
 impression is that we have all been hiding our talents 
 under a bushel, and now that the Rational Relaxation 
 Society is going to give us candlesticks to set them on. I
 
 346 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 think we have all enjoyed the evening, and I am sure 
 you all agree with me that our best thanks are also due 
 to Mr. Sinclair for giving us this handsome, comfortable 
 hall." 
 
 A voice 
 
 " Wta wad hae thocht it, 
 That noses wad hae bocht it ? " 
 
 Which venerable piece of wit fell as new on the ears of 
 a young generation, and sent a great ripple of laughter 
 all over the hall. Miss Raeburn dived her face into 
 her handkerchief, and was vulgar enough to nudge Mr. 
 Doubleday, but his wits had not been sufficiently alive 
 to catch the joke, so that it served them over the sup- 
 per-tray afterwards, and Mr. Sinclair felt that 
 
 " Fame is but a wider charter, 
 
 To be mankind's distinguished martyr." 
 
 Mr. Cranstouu smiled faintly, waited for silence, and 
 went on as if there had been no interruption. " And I 
 hope we shall have many such happy meetings in it, and 
 that there'll be muckle luck about the house." (Deaf- 
 ing applause.) As he sat down he whispered to Dr. 
 Buckram, " That was a quid pro quo." The anecdote 
 was popped into Dr. Buckram's collections. All his 
 friends must have heard the story beginning, " When I 
 was at Quickstar on one occasion, my friend Sir George 
 Cranstoun he was Mr. Cranstoun then " etc., etc. 
 
 Every one went away pleased, and Mr. Miller re- 
 tired a worn-out but a deeply gratified man. He had 
 worked like a horse to bring this affair oif successfully, 
 and he had done it. No one but those who have tried 
 it know what a difficult, anxious, toilsome matter it is to 
 get a public meeting into right gearing, and when you
 
 QUIXSTAR. 347 
 
 think you have got that done you never can tell when 
 or where a belt may give way and cripple the whole 
 concern. It only remained for Mr. Miller to dispatch a 
 list of names to the Middleburgh and Quickstar Obser- 
 ver office whose own reporter had been present of 
 those to whom he wished copies of that paper sent. 
 He did not forget to pay Mr. Kennedy this attention, 
 and once more that gentleman did not feel in a meek, 
 brotherly frame of mind towards Mr. Sinclair, who was 
 both quite innocent and ignorant in the matter.
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 PETEK VEITCH called next forenoon at Old Battle 
 House. He had not as vet the right of entrance into 
 that august abode, for, Bell dreading her mother's op- 
 position, they had agreed to keep their secret for a little. 
 He asked for Mr. Sinclair, and was shown into his sit- 
 ting-room, where he found not Mr. Sinclair, but Bell. 
 
 She was free of her uncle's quarters at any time. He 
 had found out her value long ago, and she his, and al- 
 ways the more. There is great truth in that quiet Irish- 
 ism of Wordsworth's 
 
 " And you must lore him, ere to yon 
 He will seem worthy of your love," 
 
 although it reminds one of the problem, Did the hen 
 originate the egg, or the egg the hen ? But seeing both 
 are originated, it matters the less. 
 
 Peter was completely taken aback by the coolness 
 of her greeting, which she ended by saying, " Uncle 
 won't be in for a little yet." 
 
 She was at her old trade of millinery, and her uncle's 
 table was littered with her materials, a state of matters 
 that he did not dislike ; he would even, when desirable, 
 give his opinion on a point of taste. Changed times 
 truly ! 
 
 " I suppose," she said, " you think this work I am at 
 silly. Uncle used to think so ; I daresay he thinks so 
 yet."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 349 
 
 " What is it you are doing ? " 
 
 " I'm making a bonnet." 
 
 " Isn't that a thing you must have ? I don't see how 
 it can be silly to make it." 
 
 " Perhaps not silly to make it, but silly to enjoy 
 making it, which I do." 
 
 " I would not give much for the work that the work- 
 er had no enjoyment in." 
 
 " Oh, it may be suitable for me to enjoy this kind of 
 thing, but it's immensely below masculine notice." 
 
 " I don't think my hands would do it it's too fine ; 
 but I used to make my own clothes the coarser kind 
 of them and I enjoy doing 'that. I like both to look 
 at and to wear a jacket of my own making." 
 
 " You mean to say that you learned to be a tailor ? " 
 said Bell, laying down her hands and looking at him. 
 
 " In a rough way. I don't suppose I'm an ornament 
 to the profession." 
 
 " I would like to see you at it ; I would remarkably 
 like to see you at it," and she laughed. 
 
 '' Well, if you'll fix your day and hour to call for me, 
 I'll fish out my materials and let you have that pleasure." 
 
 " Well, I wouldn\ like to see you at it." 
 
 " What am I to make of that ? You are unreason- 
 able." 
 
 " Unreasonable ridiculous ! You enjoyed yourself 
 last evening, I saw ? " 
 
 " I did that," said he simply. " It did one's heart 
 good to see so many happy faces." 
 
 " Yes, that is always a pleasant sight. How do you 
 like Miss Smith ? " 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " She is a most delightful creature so much of the 
 gushing about her."
 
 350 QUIXSTAB. 
 
 " The gushing ! what's that ? That's a phrase that 
 must have come up in my absence. One falls behind, 
 being so much at sea." 
 
 " Oh, she laid herself out to entertain you, although 
 she hardly knew you, and she succeeded." 
 
 " And that's the ' gushing.' Then I like the gushing 
 remarkably well." 
 
 " I don't ; I hate it ! If there's anything I hate it is 
 the gushing." 
 
 " A woman without a temper wouldn't be worth her 
 salt ! " exclaimed the sailor, half to himself, with a note 
 of admiration at the end of his sentence. 
 
 " You are miraculously impudent," said Bell, with 
 emphasis on the adjective, although she could hardly 
 help laughing, as she rose from her seat and swept 
 all her affairs together, and moved towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Don't go," he said; " don't go. Tell me how I have 
 offended. I must leave to-day, and I'll not see you again 
 for" 
 
 At this point the door opened, and Mr. Sinclair en- 
 tered, with many apologies for being so long of coming. 
 Bell resumed her seat and her work, on which she grew 
 amazingly intent, hardly lifting her eyes ; while her uncle 
 and Peter talked. Mr. Sinclair was in good spirits, and 
 inclined to talk. Peter of set purpose tried to let the 
 conversation drag once or twice ; he even pulled out his 
 watch and remarked that it was about time for Mr. Sin- 
 clair's walk he hoped he was not detaining him ; all 
 to no end. Mr. Sinclair determined to forego his usual 
 walk in deference to his visitor. You see, he very in- 
 nocently thought he was of more value to Peter than 
 many nieces. At length Peter had to take his depart- 
 ure As he shook hands with Bell he looked keenly into
 
 QUIXSTAK. 351 
 
 her eyes, but they said nothing; so, hurt, vexed, and 
 mystified, he went away. 
 
 He was not gone when Bell began to repent. Surely 
 he would come back. He was to leave for Eastburgh 
 early in the evening, but he would have plenty of time, 
 and he would come back. She waited and watched for 
 him all the afternoon, but he did not come. She waited 
 till she could wait no longer; if she did, he would 
 be gone; so, as pride and folly go before a fall, Bell 
 caved in so thoroughly that she resolved to go and see 
 him, if only for a second. There was not much more 
 time now. When she knocked at the cottage door it 
 was opened by Mrs. Veitch. 
 
 " Is your son in ? " asked Bell. 
 
 " Yes ; he's just packing up." 
 
 " Could I see him for a minute ? " 
 
 " Surely ; come your ways in," and she opened the 
 door at the ben end of the small dwelling. " Here, Pe- 
 ter," she said, " is Miss Sinclair wanting to see you." 
 
 He was stooping fastening the straps of a portman- 
 teau. She had entered softly and shut the door. 
 
 " Bell ! " he said. 
 
 " I couldn't rest, Peter, till I asked you to forget 
 my silliness. Will you ? " 
 
 "I don't understand in the least," he said; " but I'll 
 never forget your kindness in coming to me never. I 
 have no time to get out my needles and thimbles not a 
 moment. It is hard to go." He kissed her " Till next 
 time," he said ; " that won't be long. Don't be anxious. 
 I must go. I'll write the moment I get on board. Stay 
 a little and speak to my mother, will you ? " Hurrying 
 into the kitchen, he bade his father and mother good- 
 bye, and was off. 
 
 " I'm sure it's very kind o' ye, Miss Sinclair," said
 
 352 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Mrs. Veitch, " to come yoursel' wi 1 a message frae your 
 uncle." She had jumped to this conclusion in her own 
 mind. " Sirs, there's naething but meetings and part- 
 ings in this world. Weel, he's aye come back safe yet ; 
 but folk can be drowned but ance." 
 
 " Weel, weel," said her husband, " it was his ain 
 choice ; an 1 he's gotten weel on, an' behaved himsel'. 
 Let us be thankfu'." 
 
 " And- a body grows accustomed to things. The 
 first 'way-gaun was the sairest. But be thankfu', Miss 
 Sinclair, that ye're no' conneckit wi' a sailor." 
 
 Bell shook hands very tenderly with this pair, all 
 unconscious of the bond between them, or of the depth 
 of her sympathy with them. 
 
 At this same time there came to Mr. Doubleday an 
 important missive, no less than his appointment as clas- 
 sical Professor in an Australian college. This, the 
 grand object of his ambition, came with an alloy: he 
 must leave Miss Kaeburn and Bell Sinclair, the one, the 
 best and kindest friend he had ever had, and the other 
 it would be difficult to say what she had been to his 
 bare, meagre, loveless life. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Doubleday," said Miss Raeburn, " I see 
 you are thinking that you must leave all your old friends 
 for life. Not. at all, people think nothing now of running 
 between this country and Australia ; there's Peter Veitch 
 goes and comes every little while, and when you want 
 a change you have only to step into his ship, and he'll 
 bring you to my door, and I know no one I'll be gladder 
 to see enter it." 
 
 " I must try to see it in that light; don't think I am 
 ungrateful, Miss Raeburn. I am profoundly thankful to 
 have got such an opening." 
 
 " And the book the magnum opus you're not to
 
 QTJIXSTAR. 353 
 
 forget it^ it will be good work for you at sea. I doubt 
 we'll scarcely be able to carry out our projected novel 
 meantime." 
 
 " Oh, write your parts of it, and send them to me, and 
 I'll read them with intense interest, and help you if I 
 can." 
 
 " That's very encouraging ; well, we'll see. What 
 time are you expected to enter on the duties of your 
 professoriate ? " 
 
 " By the beginning of January, this letter says." 
 
 " And this is September. Then my advice to you is 
 to go with Peter Veitch ; he sails on the 20th. I don't 
 wish to hurry you, but it would be a great comfort to me 
 if you were with Peter, and I think a comfort to your- 
 self, and you'll be into the warm region and escape the 
 cold here in the beginning of winter." 
 
 " The 20th ? that's about a fortnight." 
 
 " Yes, about a fortnight, and you'll have to miss Ef- 
 fie's wedding, but " 
 
 " I wish her all joy, but I don't want to be at her 
 wedding ; I would rather not." 
 
 Quietly but actively Miss Raeburn went about prep- 
 arations for her guest's departure it was a rapid turn- 
 up of affairs after things had lain so long dormant. 
 
 Peter Veitch, meeting Mr. Doubleday in Miss Rae- 
 burn's garden, said, " So .1 hear, sir, ye're gaun to tak' a 
 voyage wi' my son ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am glad to say that is arranged." 
 
 " Weel, he has a fine ship, and he's a cautious laddie, 
 and he's aye had gude voyages yet; so I hope ye'll get 
 safe to your journey's end." 
 
 " I don't doubt it, if care and skill will do." 
 
 " Ay, there's no mony better sailors than Peter. 
 I've often thought I would like to gang the voyage,
 
 354 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 just to see into things a wee ; they tell me it's whiles 
 like a pleasure- trip a' the road ; but it wad tak' ower 
 muckle time and siller." 
 
 " Is it very expensive ? " asked Mr. Doubleday, sud- 
 denly struck by the idea. 
 
 . " Gey, of course it depends on how ye gang ; the 
 steerage is no' a very comfortable bit to folk that's been 
 accustomed to peace and quietness." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday pondered the subject, and broached 
 it to Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " You've nothing to do with that, Mr. Doubleday," 
 said she. " All you have to do is to step on board, and 
 step out again at the other side." 
 
 " It is too much. How shall I ever get out of your 
 debt?" 
 
 " My dear sir, it is I who am in your debt ; one way 
 and another you have given me more real enjoyment 
 than any money could do. How am I to pay you for 
 that ? " 
 
 " I believe it," he said. " I believe it is a keen en- 
 joyment to help the poor and the needy, but I hope 
 to be able some day to refund at least the money you 
 have given me." 
 
 " I'll take it in nuggets then. I've a great desire to 
 clutch gold in the rough, lumps of gold to have and to 
 hold ; civilized little sovereigns give one no sense of bar- 
 baric riches at all."
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THE relation between a mother and a grown-up son 
 should be a very tender one ; on the part of the mother 
 it generally is so, blended with pride, if the man fulfils 
 the premise of the boy, with what is it blended if he 
 does not ? Mrs. Gilbert had been terribly disappointed 
 in her son, not her pride merely that would have been 
 comparatively a small matter nor her heart, but her 
 very soul was wrung. There was no getting at him ; 
 time after time she tried it, but he knew everything and 
 agreed with everything. " Why, mother," he said, " you 
 surely don't think I am a profligate, do you ? I'm not a 
 bad character ; quite the contrary. I can tell you if I 
 had plenty of money I would be very highly esteemed 
 among the children of men, but somehow money has not 
 caught the trick yet of rolling towards me ; probably it 
 will some day." 
 
 On the morning of the 17th, white they were at 
 breakfast, he said in an off hand way, " I think I'll cross 
 with Peter." 
 
 " Cross where too ? " asked his mother. 
 
 " Oh, to Melbourne, en route to Hongatonga ; it is a 
 good season of the year. He sails on the 20th ; I have 
 three days yet." 
 
 There was a blank silence ; this was the first intima- 
 tion of his intended departure. Mrs. Gilbert was the 
 first to speak.
 
 356 QUIXSTAE. 
 
 " Oh, John," she said, " could you not find something 
 to do, and settle down at home ? " 
 
 " What kind of thing, mother ? Would Tom Sinclair 
 take me into his bank, think you ? I doubt it," and he 
 laughed. 
 
 " What will you do in Australia ? " asked his father. 
 
 " Well, in the first place, I'm going to test the quali- 
 ties of a plant that grows in great abundance in some 
 places there. I have a strong idea that it is the very 
 thing to make paper of, in which case I shall clear a for- 
 tune by it ; and secondly, to have two strings to my 
 bow, I'll buy a pair of sheep and begin flock-master." 
 
 "Well," said his father, rising, " I'll have to go, my 
 flock will be waiting for its master. I don't suppose 
 you are in earnest, John, .about going on the 20th?" 
 
 " Quite in earnest. Fve lost enough of time." 
 
 " You might have given us longer warning. But 
 what must be, must be, I suppose. Oh, man, if you 
 could but content yourself at home." And Mr. Gilbert 
 went away to his toil Avith a heavy heart, and trying to 
 make himself believe that his disappointment in his son 
 was less bitter than it was, and trying to put faith in a 
 castle whose foundations were the paper-making plant. 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert bethought herself that the reason for 
 John's sudden determination was EfnVs marriage ; 
 when it came so near, he found he could not stand it 
 after all, and she respected him for that ; that he should 
 feel it so keenly argued well, and she spoke softly and 
 soothingly to him, and hopefully of his future. She and 
 Mary had enough to do getting everything ready for 
 him, having to compress into two days the work that 
 might have been easily accomplished had he given them 
 timely warning; but that was of small consequence, 
 small consequence indeed, compared with the strangled
 
 QUIXSTAE. 357 
 
 hope, the deadly sinking of the heart at the thought of 
 her first-born, her much-loved and only son, going forth 
 a wanderer on the face of the earth once more. The 
 paper-making plant did not give her the comfort it did 
 to his father; but something might come out of it. 
 
 Miss Raeburn meant to see her friend on board the 
 Golden Hind as Peter's ship was called herself; but 
 when she heard that John Gilbert was going, she natur- 
 ally supposed he would take Mr. Doubleday in charge, 
 and that she might spare herself the journey. When she 
 proposed this to John, however, it seemed he was not 
 going direct, or there was some impediment which made 
 him decline being Mr. Doubleday's escort; so Miss 
 Raeburn held to her original intention, and was really 
 glad to accompany her guest, even at the cost of being 
 absent from her nephew's wedding. She kept Mr. Dou- 
 bleday employed one way and another up to the last, 
 avoiding all afflicting leave-takings; and on the 19th 
 they left Quixstar on the first stage of his journey towards 
 the antipodes. 
 
 This day, the 19th of September, was a day of sur- 
 passing loveliness; but no one at Old Battle House had 
 time to remark it particularly, except perhaps Mr. Sin- 
 clair, who might be supposed to possess his soul within 
 him in unruffled tranquillity, notwithstanding the notes 
 of preparation for the event to-morrow that sounded on 
 every side, not obtrusively, it is true, but with a kind of 
 muffled hum. In the first place, Effie left the breakfast- 
 table dissolved in sudden tears, and Bell followed hur- 
 riedly to comfort her. 
 
 " She was always very sensitive," said Mrs. Sinclair 
 to her brother-in-law. 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said he ; "I daresay she feels leaving 
 us all."
 
 358 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Oh, feels it most acutely ; you have no idea. I re- 
 member when I was in similar circumstances," etc. etc. 
 
 " But, Erne," said Bell, " it's not as if you were going 
 to Australia " here Erne sobbed more deeply than ever 
 " like poor Mr. Doubleday. I was sorry for him last 
 night when he said good-bye, although I envy him the 
 voyage, but it will come to an end, and then he will be 
 among strangers, and he is not good at making friends ; 
 nobody can see his worth at a glance." 
 
 " I daresay he'll do well enough," said Effie ; and he 
 had no choice. What a thing it is to be distracted be- 
 tween two courses and not know what to do, and have 
 nobody to speak to ! " 
 
 "Yes, he has that advantage; his course is clear 
 enough, and it is the best thing he could do, but it is a 
 kind of exile. Now you'll be within two hours of us at 
 any time, and you'll be often here, and we'll be with 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, Bell, Bell ! don't speak ; just let me alone. 
 What's the use of speaking ? " 
 
 " Very well ; if it distresses you, I won't speak. 
 What will you do the time mamma and I are in East- 
 burgh ? If you like I won't go. Mamma could do all 
 that's to be done herself." 
 
 " No, no," said Erne eagerly ; " go, by all means go. 
 I'll find plenty to do." 
 
 " But you are not to tire yourself out. Mind, you 
 are to look as fresh as a daisy to-morrow." 
 
 It was commonly thought that Bell ruled the roast 
 at home, the truth being that her strong delicate nature 
 was a kind of slave unconsciously to the weaker natures 
 of her mother and sister not by any means an uncom- 
 mon case. 
 
 Immediately after Mrs. Sinclair and her eldest daug
 
 QUIXSTAR. 359 
 
 ter had set off for Eastburgh, and Mr. Sinclair had gone 
 for his daily walk, a cab drove up to the door of Old 
 Battle House, and Effie descended the stairs in walking 
 dress, entered it and went off to Eastburgh, where she 
 was met by a friend, and jointly they transacted a very 
 important piece of business ; then she drove back, leav- 
 ing the cab about a mile from Quixstar, and meeting her 
 mother and sister at the gate at home. 
 
 " Now," said Bell when she saw Effie, " I told you 
 not to tire yourself, and you have done it." 
 
 " Have you walked far, my dear ? " asked her mother. 
 
 " Only about a mile. I shouldn't look tired." 
 
 " It's not exactly tired you look," said Bell. " You 
 look a mixture of things, as if you had something on 
 your mind." 
 
 " So she has," said Mrs. Sinclair ; " she never was 
 married before." 
 
 " Now, Bell," said Effie, " for any sake let me alone. 
 I can't stand much just now. Oh, be good to me." 
 
 " Am I ever anything else, I wonder ? Why, what 
 is the matter? Something is wrong, surely. Havo 
 George and you quarrelled, or what is it?" 
 
 Here Effie broke forth into tears again. 
 
 " You are worn out," Bell said tenderly. " Lie down 
 and I'll read you to sleep. That's the best thing for 
 you." 
 
 " I'm not sleepy. I can't sleep, It's no use trying. 
 Bell, if I were to do anything you or other people 
 disapproved of, would you run me down or stand up for 
 me ? " 
 
 " It would depend on the kind of thing. What 
 wicked thing do you propose doing ? " 
 
 " Ah, not wicked ; but people are apt to judge so 
 harshly."
 
 360 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Nobody would judge you harshly, Effiekins. 
 Come, what little sin are you looking at through a 
 magnify ing-glass ? Get it off your mind, and you'll be 
 easier." 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing, nothing at all; but you'll always 
 love me although we are. separated ? " 
 
 " What earthly difference will separation make ? 
 Whatever happens, Effiekins, we'll never surely forget 
 the days of our youth, nor this Old Battle House, where 
 we have been so happy." 
 
 Bell's eyes filled with tears ; her sister was very dear 
 to her, and to-morrow the joint volume of their lives 
 would close, never likely to be opened again in this 
 world. 
 
 " It is strange," she went on, " how many things are 
 to happen to-morrow : your marriage, and Mr. Double- 
 day and John Gilbert sailing in the Golden Hind, with 
 Peter Veitch for Captain. Why, it looks like yesterday 
 when we were all at school together." 
 
 " I wish we were all at school together yet," said 
 Effie. 
 
 " Oh, we had our troubles then too. Do you remem- 
 ber how John Gilbert delighted to tease, how he got 
 hold of your compositions and read them aloud so clev- 
 erly ? " 
 
 " I remember I remember. I believe he liked me 
 even then." 
 
 " Very likely, but I am thankful that it is George 
 Raeburn you are going to marry, not John Gilbert." 
 
 Effie turned her face down on the sofa cushion and 
 said no more.
 
 CHAPTER LIH. 
 
 THE 20th of September dawned as magnificent a day 
 in point of weather as the preceding, and it is likely it 
 would have done so had a murder been about to be 
 committed in Quixstar instead of a marriage, for the 
 weather does not go out of its way to sympathize with 
 our moods. You maybe in an agony of grief or sus- 
 pense, and the sun will shine as brightly, and the moon 
 sail as calmly through a clear sky as if you had neither 
 feeling nor existence. Great as the age is, the weather 
 does not take much notice of it, and keenly as the age 
 has set itself to watch and note the weather, it has not 
 penetrated very far into its secrets yet. Be that as it 
 may, before the human population of the world was stir- 
 ring, the sun, having thrown aside a white veil of mist, 
 was smiling on everything great and small. 
 
 The marriage hour was fixed for one o'clock, and the 
 Raeburns father, mother, and four sons, besides the 
 bridegroom were to arrive shortly before that hour. 
 Mrs. Raeburn was specially pleased with the prospect 
 of this event, the first of its kind in her family, and Effie 
 was a daughter-in-law after her own heart. Mr. Rae- 
 burn, with clearer vision than when the case was his 
 own, thought his son had made a poorish choice, but he 
 made no such remark, and he was kind and fatherly to 
 Effie. 
 
 Before leaving Ironburgh that day George Raeburn 
 16
 
 362 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 went over the house he had prepared for his wife and 
 himself, to see that nothing was left undone, and he came 
 to the conclusion that it would be difficult to find fault 
 with it. Effie's taste had been consulted on every point, 
 and he thought she might well be pleased with the re- 
 sult. He loved her tenderly, but he never for a mo- 
 ment forgot that he was doing her an honor in marry- 
 ing her. He did not consider her his equal, and he had 
 no desire that she should be ; but she was very lovable, 
 pretty, and soft and feminine, without the too much 
 stamina which he reckoned her sister had, and would 
 have no will but his, and become in time a reflection of 
 himself moonlight to his sunlight; while he felt cer- 
 tain that she was sufficiently intelligent and educated to 
 understand and appreciate him. 
 
 They sped towards Quixstar. Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. 
 Raeburn thought of that journey long ago when they 
 had taken home their dead the boy whose life had 
 been laid down on the very threshold ; or they thought 
 of their own marriage day, a modest festival that was, 
 compared with what this would be, and a start in the 
 world on a totally different scale. They sped on to- 
 wards Quixstar. When they got to the station a car- 
 riage and Mr. Sinclair's dog-cart were in waiting, but 
 George preferred to walk, he had plenty of time. " He 
 wants to think of the solemn responsibilities he is un- 
 dertaking," said one of his brothers, laughing, as they 
 drove off. 
 
 Now, while they were on this journey, a very strange 
 thing had happened at Old Battle House. The bride 
 had disappeared ! She had gone to the room occupied 
 by her sister and herself immediately after breakfast, 
 and both her mother and sister were with her for some 
 time, then she and Bell went round the garden. When
 
 QUIXSTAR. 363 
 
 they came in Effie said, "I'm going up-stairs. Don't 
 come to me till it is time to dress. I would like to be 
 alone. Meantime, good-bye," and she laid her arm round 
 Bell's neck, and kissed her. 
 
 "You don't want to be alone the whole forenoon 
 surely ? " said Bell. 
 
 " It won't be long, and I want to collect my 
 thoughts." 
 
 " You'll perhaps collect mine too," said Bell. " They 
 are lying all about the room." 
 
 " And tie them up with my own ? I'll try. I would 
 like to do that. Good-bye." 
 
 That was her last word, and no one saw her after. 
 
 It was past twelve when Bell went up to her room. 
 The wedding-gown was conspicuous lying flung over 
 the bed, but Effie was nowhere to be seen. Bell went 
 in search of her, for there was no time to lose. She went 
 through the house and grounds without the slightest 
 misgiving, expecting to find her every minute. Then 
 asked the servants if any of them had seen her. No one 
 had seen her. She next went to her mother, who was 
 exceedingly annoyed at Erne's thoughtlessness and ac- 
 tual want of sense in going anywhere at such a time. 
 " And she'll be too late, and have to dress in a hurry, 
 and be out of looks of course," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 Ten minutes passed, and Bell went to her uncle. " Do 
 you know," she said, " I can't find Effie ? " 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was reading composedly. You see he 
 was not going to be married. He looked up, and echoed, 
 "Not find her?" 
 
 " No ; and I'm getting very anxious, and I don't like 
 to distress mamma. What should we do ? " 
 
 " Nothing. She'll turn up in good time. I don't 
 know whether a bride can forget her bridegroom, but
 
 364 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 we have it on good authority that she can't forget her 
 ornaments." 
 
 " Oh, uncle, I'm afraid something must have happen- 
 ed, or she never would stay away at such a time as this." 
 
 "Nonsense! There is no old chest here for her to 
 get into. Wait till a quarter to one, and if she does not 
 appear by that time we'll see what can be done." 
 
 Bell made the round of the premises once more to 
 no purpose, then went up stairs, and listened intently 
 for the footfall of her sister. She sat without moving, 
 staring at the dressing-table, then she rose, and, lifting 
 some little article on it, she saw a letter lying. Hastily 
 she looked at it ; it was addressed to herself in Effie's 
 writing. Her very heart seemed to forget to beat as 
 she ivad it. This was what Effie had written: 
 
 " MY DEAREST BELL, I am just going. I can't mar- 
 ry George Raeburn, because John Gilbert and I went 
 before a magistrate yesterday, antl declared and signed 
 ourselves married persons. I am his wife. I hope 
 George won't take it very much to heart. I couldn't, 
 help ..t. We are going with the Golden Hind to Mel- 
 bourne, then to Hongatonga. I am glad \ve are to be 
 with Peter Veitch and Mr. Doubleday too. I shall keep 
 a jou.-nal and send it to mamma the moment we land. 
 I hope she will not be very angry. You know John was 
 my first love. If all goes well we will not be long of 
 being back on a jisit. I am looking forward to that al- 
 ready before I am gone. Oh, Bell, don't blame me, I 
 could not help it. If you knew how distracted I have 
 felt, you would pity me. Stand up for me with mamma 
 and uncle, will you ? I am ever your loving sister 
 
 " EFFIE." 
 
 Bell was stupefied. If any one but her sister had
 
 QUIXSTAR. 365 
 
 done this thing she would have known how to charac- 
 terize it, but the pity of it the pity : the delicately nur- 
 tured Effie, on whom the wind had hardly been allowed 
 to blow, thrown on a life of hardship, with a careless, 
 selfish man, without aim or occupation whereby even to 
 maintain her. 
 
 " Oh, Effie, Effie, Effie ! " burst from Bell's lips in a 
 long cry of tenderness. She stood for a few minutes 
 considering. Could anything be done ? could nothing ? 
 
 She ran down stairs to her uncle. As she passed 
 the dining-room, the door of it was wide open, and she 
 saw the long tables glittering with the wedding feast. 
 Shortly the guests would be arriving. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was walking about his room, proving 
 that he was not quite a Stoic. 
 
 " She is gone ! " Bell said, with a tone and feeling as 
 if she herself were the guilty person. 
 
 " Gone ! " said her uncle. 
 
 " Read this ! she was married yesterday to John Gil- 
 bert. Can she be married in that way ? Can nothing 
 be done to bring her back?" Bell said all in a 
 breath. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair read the note ; then looked up and said, 
 " Jilted ! How do you mean to tell George Raeburn ? " 
 and his face reddened as he spoke. 
 
 "I don't know," she said in a dry, hollow voice. 
 " Could no one go after her and bring her back ? If I 
 were to start at once I might be in time." 
 
 " You, child ! No, we could hardly let you run off 
 next. It would do no good; she is married and of 
 age, and the law thinks her able to judge for herself, 
 although I don't." 
 
 " Oh, uncle, if you knew how much I love her." 
 
 Mr. Sinclair turned hastily away not from displeas-
 
 366 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ure, as Bell for a moment thought, but because he did 
 not care to show how much he was moved. 
 
 " And John Gilbert," Bell went on, " is far more' to 
 blame than she is." 
 
 "Well, Bell," her uncle said sadly, (; the thing is 
 done, and cannot be undone, and I confess my sympa- 
 thies are with George Raeburn rather than with her, 
 although she is my own niece, and I have loved her, and 
 love her still, I hope." 
 
 " Oh, uncle, I am glad to hear you say that." 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair refused to believe such a thing. " Ef- 
 fie eloped with John Gilbert ! It is simply impossi- 
 ble." 
 
 Then when she read the fact in Effie's own writing 
 she grew very angry, though still not really crediting it. 
 " Her first love hopes I'll not be angry. Why, she 
 must have had it planned for weeks ! Where in the 
 world did she learn such a mixture of impudence and 
 cunning? Not from me; all my doings have been 
 above-board since I left the cradle as open as day- 
 light. Married by a magistrate ! was ever the like ? 
 The Gilberts must have known it; I should not wonder 
 if Tom's wife did not aid and abet ; she was always 
 cunning, and would think it a good stroke for her 
 brother " 
 
 " Oh, mother, I don't believe any of the Gilberts 
 knew more of it than we did. Think of the hard lot 
 Effie has chosen for herself! " 
 
 " She deserves it, affronting us all in this way ! A 
 highly respectable man of wealth" and position like 
 George Raeburn ! How are we to look ? what are we 
 to say ? or what are we to do ? I never heard of any- 
 thing like it ! never ! " 
 
 " I would send at once for Tom, mamma ; he and
 
 QUIXSTAK. 367 
 
 Jane could break it to George. How grieved I am for 
 George ! " 
 
 Up to this moment Mrs. Sinclair had spoken as if 
 Erne might come in at any moment she had not real- 
 ized the fact. When she did begin to take it in, her 
 anger melted in tears, and Bell had to apply herself to 
 comforting her mother, who refused to be comforted. 
 
 By this time the Raeburns had arrived, all but 
 George, and were in their respective rooms dressing for 
 the occasion. Jane and T^om and Mary were in the 
 drawing-room, having come all ready in bridal array. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert had been asked, but excused them- 
 selves: it would have been too painful for Mrs. Gilbert, 
 and Mr. Gilbert had discovered some flaw or shortcom- 
 ing in the respect that had been shown him in the cir- 
 cumstances. Miss Raeburn was of course absent; but 
 several of the Smiths and other people of the neighbor- 
 hood were coming, and would soon arrive. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair walked up and down his sitting-room. 
 Bell was his favorite, but he had never thought Effie 
 capable of an act like this. Pity for her sister swal- 
 lowed up other considerations with Bell ; and Mrs. Sin- 
 clair's grief was mixed up with the question that always 
 bulked largely with her, What will people say ? where- 
 as it was the grievous moral obliquity of the thing that 
 Mr. Sinclair felt. Why, it looked to him as if Eflie had 
 neither conscience nor heart. You see Mr. Sinclair's 
 opinions and habits of thinking had been pretty well 
 fixed before the tender period came in. He was apt to 
 think a spade a spade. Eftie's youth, inexperience, and 
 impulsive nature, worked on by John Gilbert's fluent 
 tongue and good looks, did not plead for her with him. 
 He was sure she had committed a great sin ; but he did 
 not expect she would feel the consequences of her act;
 
 3G8 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 if John had worldly success, as very likely he might 
 have, she would never feel them at all. The people 
 who do reckless, foolish, sinful things are not the people 
 who feel the consequences - most deeply ; those who 
 would feel the consequences most don't do such things. 
 So thought Mr. Sinclair ; and as for what people would 
 say, he did not concern himself. Unquestionably they 
 would say plenty, and not of the pleasantest ; but com- 
 paratively few persons come and make excessively disa- 
 greeable remarks right to your face, although no doubt 
 there is here and there a person with a diabolical taste 
 of that kind. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair went to speak to her son. When she 
 was at the foot of the stairs the house-door opened and 
 George Raebm-n entered. Seeing her, he went forward 
 to speak. Involuntarily she put up both hands and 
 waived him off, then turned and ran up the stairs. For 
 once in her life heart and utterance had failed Mrs. Sin- 
 clair. She sank on a chair in her daughter's room, and 
 sobbed 
 
 " He'll think I'm mad, and I am not far from it ; but 
 I could not face him I could not do it ! " 
 
 Her feelings were effectually reached and stirred and 
 wounded. Erne had been her. darling, her sensitive dar- 
 ling, since infancy, and behold ! 
 
 George stood in surprise at the foot of the stairs. 
 He looked up and met Bell's eyes. Uncertain what to 
 do, she had come out of her room, and was looking 
 over the balusters. 
 
 " What's the matter with your mother ? " he asked. 
 
 Bell beckoned him to come up. 
 
 " Where's Erne ? " he asked. " I can see her for a 
 minute ? What ailed your mother just now ? " 
 
 " Oh, George"
 
 QUIXSTAR. 369 
 
 " Is Effie ill ? or what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Mamma couldn't tell you, and I don't know how I 
 can. Read that," and she put Effie's note into his hand. 
 
 His face had grown very white, but as he read, a scowl 
 gathered on it which made it actually black. Bell had 
 read of faces being so transfoi'med, but she had not be- 
 lieved in it till she saw George Raeburn's at that mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He looked up" Is that true ? " 
 
 " If I could have spared you in any way " she began. 
 
 He flung the paper on the carpet, turned and went 
 down the stairs without uttering a word. By accident 
 possibly he opened the drawing-room door, where Jane, 
 Mary, and Tom were. Tom had seen his uncle, and 
 was just telling the extraordinary news. There was a 
 sudden hush when George went in. Tears were stand- 
 ing in Mary's eyes. 
 
 " You have heard the news ? " he said with bitter lev- 
 ity. " But why shouldn't we have a wedding, Mary ? " 
 and he seized her hand almost roughly. " You'll 
 be the bride. One man is as good as another, it seems, 
 and one woman will be as good as another, I fancy," 
 and he laughed such a laugh as was not good to hear. 
 
 " Oh, George," said Mary, " I my sympathy " 
 
 " Confound your sympathy ! " he said sternly, fling- 
 ing away her hand as roughly as he had taken it, and he 
 immediately left the room and the house, nor did he 
 return. If Mary had not been of a gentle nature, she 
 would have resented this as an insult and unmanly, 
 which it was ; but she excused him out of pity, and 
 that it should have been her brother that had robbed 
 him- made her all the more lenient, for she had a feeling 
 of guilt in the matter, which she would not have had in 
 any other case. 
 16*
 
 370 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 Tom took on him the disagreeable but necessary 
 duty of dispersing the wedding guests, and they retired 
 making all the different comments on the affair, which 
 will be easily imagined. 
 
 When the Sinclairs and the Raeburns sat down alone 
 to dinner on this day for whatever may pass from our 
 lives that event must go on so long as we have mouths, 
 and food to put in them it seemed more as if a funeral 
 had gone out of the house than anything else, indeed a 
 party after a funeral has often been a much more lively 
 affair. To use the word " awkwardness " in connection 
 with it, is feeble in the extreme it was awkward cer- 
 tainly, with the addition that every person present was 
 feeling hurt and mortified to a degree ; it was a party 
 that did not linger over the good things of this life ; it 
 broke up at the earliest possible moment every one 
 glad to go.
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 ABOUT the very time that this strange dinner-party 
 at Old Battle House was breaking up, to the relief of 
 all the company, suffering under such a variety of 
 grieved, angry, mortified feeling, Miss Raeburn and Mr. 
 Doubleday went on board the Golden Hind, and were 
 received by Captain Veitch, who had been on the look- 
 out for them. They stayed on deck watching the scene 
 men, women, and children, and every kind of thing 
 coming on board. 
 
 " I suppose this bustle is not confusion to you," Miss 
 Raeburn said to Captain Veitch ; " there is method in 
 it, is there not ? " 
 
 " It does not look very methodical," he said, " but 
 by the time we are at sea for a day or two everything 
 will go like clockwork." 
 
 " I wish I could go the voyage with you," she said: 
 
 " Why not ? you might." 
 
 " Hardly this time, but when Mr. Doubleday gets 
 well settled I may be tempted to pay him a visit." 
 
 " By the by," said the captain, " who has John Gil- 
 bert married V It must have been a sudden thing ; 
 there was no word of it when I left Quixstar." 
 
 ' Married ! nonsense; I never heard of it," said Miss 
 Raeburn. 
 
 " That is curious, and it has not been mentioned 
 in any letter I have had from Quixstar, nevertheless 
 I have it on excellent authority; I had a letter from
 
 372 QTJIXSTAK. 
 
 him yesterday asking me to secure accommodation in 
 this ship for himself and his wife see, there it is," and 
 he handed it to Miss Raeburn. 
 
 " That is most extraordinary," said she ; " his own 
 mother did not know till the 17th that he was going 
 with you at all." 
 
 " Well, that's all I know about it," said Peter. 
 
 " Probably," said Mr. Doubleday, " it is a joke ; he is 
 a young man who is fond of jokes." 
 
 "I believe that must be the explanation," said Miss 
 Raeburn ; " how smart of you to think of it, Mr. Dou- 
 bleday ! " 
 
 " If it's a joke, it's a "poor one," said Peter ; " but 
 we'll not have long to wait for full enlightenment." 
 
 " I don't understand it," said Miss Raeburn, " but I 
 am curious to see the ocean bride, if she's not a phan- 
 tom," and she thought to herself, " It can't be Effie, that 
 at least is an impossibility." 
 
 She had hardly thought this when looking up. be- 
 hold ! there advanced towards her John Gilbert with a 
 little cloaked figure clinging to his arm, seen at a glance 
 to be Effie. 
 
 " Miss Raeburn," he said gayly, " I am glad to see 
 you here. Allow me to present my wife. She's ower 
 the border and awa' wi' Jock o' Hongatonga, you see." 
 
 Mr. Doubleday and Peter Veitch were struck dumb 
 with surprise. 
 
 Miss Raeburn did not speak, she only looked at 
 them. Suddenly Effie put her arm round her neck and 
 said, " Oh, Miss Raeburn, I am glad you are here ! 
 What a time it has been ! " 
 
 Miss Raeburn disengaged herself coolly. " Really," 
 she said, " you can hardly expect me to congratulate 
 you."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 373 
 
 " Why not ? " said John, " we are not conscious of 
 having done anything wrong." 
 
 " Then I pity you." 
 
 " I appeal to your sense of justice," said he ; " she 
 was mine first, and she's mine last, and it's all right." 
 
 " Oh take me somewhere, Miss Raeburn," besought 
 Effie, and they went below, where Effie sank on a sofa. 
 " Oh, Miss Raeburn, it looks wrong to other people, I 
 know, but I could not help it," she said, " and don't, 
 please, be hard on us." 
 
 " How would you have liked if George had married 
 another woman at the last moment and left you to 
 make the best of it ? and George is a very proud man ; 
 he'll feel it horribly." 
 
 " I hope not. Oh, I hope not," sobbed Effie. 
 
 " You may hope as you like, but that does not alter 
 the thing. What kind of day do you suppose they'll 
 have had at Old Battle House ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I can't believe it was only this 
 morning I left it ; it seems like an age." 
 
 " Poor thing," thought Miss Raeburn, " it will be a 
 longer age before you get back to it again, which is 
 likely to be your ultimate fate." 
 
 Miss Raeburn knew that Effie had done a wicked 
 and a very foolish thing, yet in the bottom of heart she 
 had some sympathy with her. No doubt John was very 
 fascinating, and Miss Raeburn liked to see a girl marry 
 for love rather than for comfort, if only Effie had not 
 played such a wretchedly double part that was the 
 black feature of it which she could not get over, but of 
 course John was by far the wickeder of the two, for he 
 knew what he was doing, which Effie hardly did. Miss 
 Raeburn stayed with her as long as she could, and still 
 Effie cried, " Oh stay ! don't go."
 
 374 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " My child, I must go. I can't go to Australia with 
 you." 
 
 " Oh if you could ! but I suppose not," she said sadly. 
 
 " Then what message have you to send home ? " 
 
 " Just that I love them nothing more ; and tell 
 Mrs. Gilbert that I'll be as good a wife to her son as I 
 can." 
 
 " Poor child," said Miss Raeburn, kissing her, " if I 
 could make your path smooth I would do it." 
 
 Effie hid her face in the sofa pillow as Miss Raeburn 
 left the cabin. 
 
 It was a harder trial for Miss Raeburn to take leave 
 of Mr. Doubleday. However Effie had acted, she had 
 youth and health and hope, and the husband of her 
 choice (such as he was) by her side, but Mr. Doubleday 
 was lonely and desolate, with uncertain health, and to 
 such her heart went out naturally. She always felt that 
 the prosperous have plenty of friends, which cannot be 
 said of those in adversity, and, as old Peter Veitch 
 sometimes said, " It's no' easy for folk when the wind 
 aye blaws in their face," which hitherto had been Mr. 
 Doubleday's lot. But first she spoke to John Gil- 
 bert. 
 
 " Be good to that child, John," she said, " now that 
 you have got her ; she has given up much for you, and 
 you must learn to settle down into dull respectability 
 for her sake." 
 
 " No fear," said he ; "I have always been respecta- 
 ble, though not dull, and I'll love my wife as I love my- 
 self, and better rather; you can tell George Raeburn 
 that if you like." 
 
 " I think it would become you not to speak of 
 George Raeburn after the wrong you have done him." 
 
 " I have done him no wrong. She was mine before
 
 QUIXSTAE. 375 
 
 she was his. She never was his never. He thought 
 it, though." 
 
 " On what seemed to be very sufficient grounds, but 
 it is no use speaking of it now." 
 
 " None whatever. Well, I'll take what care I can 
 of Mr. Doubleday. I declare, when I caught sight of 
 you and him standing together on the deck so couth- 
 ily, I thought you had just got the start of Effie and 
 me." 
 
 "I don't doubt you did, John Gilbert," said she 
 laughing. " You have impudence enough for any one 
 thing under the sun, but I shall feel personally obliged 
 by any attention you show Mr. Doubleday. I hope his 
 health will go on improving, and that he'll be able to 
 look after himself." 
 
 She bade Mr. Doubleday good-bye in a short time, 
 and in a few airy, cheerful words, the last of which were, 
 " No idleness, Mr. Doubleday. Mind the magnum opus. 
 I and the world are waiting for it." 
 
 It was on leaving him she found how much his good- 
 ness and simple trust had gained on her. As she drove 
 away she shed tears. If Mr. Doubleday could have known 
 this he would have wondered. He himself reminded 
 you of a dumb animal in suffering. You saw the evi- 
 dence of it, but there were no tears, and no voice. Of 
 course, one knew quite well that Mr. Doubleday had 
 eternity to be happy in, but this present life is all we 
 have meantime, and oh, there are so many people to 
 whom one could wish a little happiness here and now ! 
 
 When the pilot went ashore he carried a tremendous 
 array of letters with him. The Golden Hind was a 
 floating village in herself, in which every class and in- 
 terest was represented, except indeed the clergy there 
 was no clergyman on board and these were sending
 
 376 QUIXSTAK. 
 
 their last words to the big world from which they were 
 shut off for a time. 
 
 Letters were scattered all over Britain that week 
 dated from on board the Golden Hind, many of them 
 no doubt to be read through a mist of tears. Quixstar 
 was not neglected. There was a thick budget addressed 
 to Miss Sinclair, and another to Peter Veitch and his 
 wife, by Captain Veitch. How he found time to write 
 so much, and what he wrote, is a mystery. Mr. Dou- 
 bleday wrote to Miss Raeburn, his single correspondent. 
 He seemed to find it difficult to express himself; he 
 sighed occasionally. John Gilbert was writing at a ta- 
 
 O v 
 
 ble near him, and he cried, ; ' I say, Doubleday, what are 
 you pechin' at ? Are you writing to yonr sweetheart ? " 
 
 " No," stammered Mr. Doubleday ; " I am writing to 
 Miss Raeburn." 
 
 " One would think you might write to her without 
 groaning like an engine in want of oil." 
 
 " You are blessed with a lively imagination, Mr. Gil- 
 bert." 
 
 " I don't know if that's 'a blessing." 
 
 Here Effie came to them, and said, " I'm done. I've 
 written two long letters one to mamma, and one to Bell. 
 I have given Bell your love, Mr. Doubleday, without 
 consulting you was I right ? " She did not wait for an 
 answer to this question, which tugged at the poor man's 
 very heart-strings, but went on : " And here is a little 
 note, John, to put in your letter to your mother." 
 
 " Ah, that's right," said John. " I did not think of 
 that." 
 
 The consolation these letters could give to Mrs. Gil- 
 bert was not great, for, though John was her son, she 
 took the same view of him as Mr. Sinclair did with re- 
 gard to his niece. He had done a base, dishonorable
 
 QUIXSTAR. 377 
 
 thing, and Effie's note, kind and gushing as it was, what 
 weight did it carry in the face of the deliberate decep- 
 tion she had practised towards George Raebnrn to the 
 very last moment ? a treachery for which there was not 
 the shadow of an excuse. If the thing had been delib- 
 erately planned (which, to do the pair justice, it was 
 not) so as most deeply to wound every one concerned, 
 it could not have been done more effectually. But in 
 time Mrs. Gilbert read and re-read these letters, and 
 with the ingenuity of love set herself to make the best 
 of them. After all, they were young, and there was a 
 new element of hope in the fact that John was not at 
 least a solitary wanderer on the face of the earth, but 
 they did not speak much of him in the schoolmaster's 
 house. Somehow the follies and sins of those who are 
 dear to us as our own souls are not things to be talked 
 about. And Effie's marriage, which in the form first 
 proposed would have drawn the Ironburgh and Quix- 
 star connections closer together, as it turned out made 
 a greater dryness among them. The Raeburns, the Gil- 
 berts, and the Sinclairs did not see much more of each 
 other than was necessary. George Raeburn lived in his 
 fine house alone. He never referred to his memorable 
 wedding-day, and no one dared ever to speak of it to 
 him, not even his mother. He buried himself in his 
 business, his very soul bidding fair to harden and wither 
 in the process of making money. 
 
 Miss Raebura kept Mr. Doubleday's letter, the third 
 she had had from him since she had known him. Not 
 that it was brilliant by any means. There Avas no glit- 
 ter about him, and no conscious fun, and he did not set 
 himself to write a letter; he merely tumbled out his 
 feelings on paper, and that was better than style, or 
 sparkle, or little tricks of manufacture. It was natural-
 
 378 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 ness and honesty and simplicity that were their charm, 
 qualities which Miss Raeburn hoped to see in the mag- 
 num opus in large measure. She shared the pleasure of 
 reading it with Bell Sinclair, though Bell did not recip- 
 rocate by sharing her packet from the Golden Hind, 
 which indeed you could hardly expect her to do. But 
 Miss Raeburn was good-natured, and gave Bell every 
 pai'ticular concerning that interesting ship, its appear- 
 ance, accommodation, passengers, confusion, cargo, etc., 
 etc., which a quick-witted person could gather during 
 the short time she had been on board told her of Erne 
 and John, and Mr. Doubleday and Sir Francis (so she 
 called the captain : the ship being the Golden Hind, the 
 commander must needs be Sir Francis Drake, which 
 you will allow is a name that looks a vast deal more ele- 
 gant in a novel, or even in real life, than Peter) how 
 they looked, and what they said up to the moment she 
 left them, winding up with, " And, my dear Tibby, I re- 
 ally can't speak too highly of Sir Francis. I think with 
 him and her two other knights Erne is pretty safe, and 
 much better off than she deserves."
 
 CHAPTER LY. 
 
 EFFIE was not very well off at that moment. She 
 was lying prostrate with sea-sickness, as were most of 
 the passengers on board the Golden Hind. That gal- 
 lant ship had had something to do holding her own 
 against the Atlantic billows. During the first part of 
 her voyage it blew a perfect hurricane from the south-east, 
 threatening to drive her back on the coast of Spain. 
 
 Poor little Effie ! If she could have realized this state 
 of matters beforehand it is to be feared John Gilbert 
 would hardly have carried the day. Her heroism was 
 not of a high-pitched tone. Her thoughts would wander 
 to that pretty drawing-room in Ironburgh, every article 
 in which she had chosen with own eyes, and she could 
 have wished herself sitting quietly there instead of toss- 
 ing madly on the Atlantic. John, who was proof against 
 sea-sickness, devoted himself to her service, only leaving 
 her occasionally to pay some little attention to Mr. 
 Doubleday, who was lying groaning, and dead sick in 
 his berth. He shared his cabin with a gentleman who 
 recognized him and asked when he had left Quixstar. 
 " Eight or nine years ago," said this gentleman, " I was 
 three weeks in Quixstar, and I thought it the dreariest 
 little hole in Christendom. If you are partial to it, 
 excuse me." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Doubleday. " I have no re- 
 membrance of you."
 
 380 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " No, you can't. I saw you, but likely you never saw 
 me. You were tutor at Old Battle House ? So a man 
 called Peter Veitch told me. I painted Peter's house 
 and cow, and got fifteen guineas for the picture. It is 
 in New Zealand now, in Otago a souvenir of the old 
 country. Well, it's queer where people meet." 
 
 " That would be interesting to our captain ; he is the 
 son of Peter Veitch." 
 
 " Ay, indeed ! He was a shrewd canny Scot, Peter. 
 Heigh-ho ! nine years is a great dig out of a man's life. 
 What's taking you to the other side of the globe ? " 
 
 " I have got an appointment as classical teacher in a 
 college." 
 
 " And I have got an appointment on the staff of a 
 newspaper; and I'm to be ' own correspondent ' to a 
 London paper. You and I may do each other good, 
 who knows ? " 
 
 The Golden Hind stood nobly the heavy strain on 
 her timbers caused by the tremendous dash of waves on 
 her weather bows, as she was kept closely hauled to the 
 wind. As soon as Mr. Doubleday was able he made his 
 way to the deck, although he often found it a difficult 
 matter to keep his feet there, feeling like a small helpless 
 feather amid the roar of winds and waves. But he liked 
 to see the operation of putting about the ship when she 
 was to go on another tack; and he was lost in admiration 
 at the coolness and presence of mind the captain showed 
 while giving the necessary orders. For many days the 
 ship ran on a taut bowline, till at last she got under the 
 influence of the north-east trade winds, which bore her 
 quietly into the region of the tropics. 
 
 If all the people in a village know each other well, it 
 may be supposed that two hundred and ninety-seven shut 
 into a ship with no imperative occupation, no letters, no
 
 QUIXSTAR. 381 
 
 newspapers, no rides, no drives, nor even walks, except 
 within very circumscribed limits, will prey pretty fully 
 upon the history, events and circumstances of each 
 other's lives. Of old, ordinary people rarely thought of 
 going a voyage of fifteen thousand miles at least it was 
 the exception, not the rule. In these latter days ordi- 
 nary commonplace people contribute their full quota to 
 every ship's company, and there was plenty such on board 
 the Golden Hind. But there were some outstanding in- 
 dividuals. Erne and John, for instance, were objects of 
 great interest, because of their romantic marriage. 
 Youth, good looks, and a runaway match will be inter- 
 esting in all time ; and they sat so well on this pair that 
 they " took place when Virtue's steely bones looked 
 bleak in the cold wind," which in a wicked world Virtue's 
 bone's have a trick of doing. Neither was Mr. Double- 
 day what could be called commonplace. What was he 
 about? In lack of .-external resources (on which, how- 
 ever, happily for himself, he had never been very 
 dependent) was the magnum opus progressing ? Was 
 he drinking in inspiration from the mighty forces of 
 nature round him ? There were an accomplished actor 
 and actress, Fortescue by name, on their way to reap a 
 golden harvest in Kangaroo-land ; there were two young 
 xctrttns sent out by some society to undertake an explor- 
 ing expedition ; there was the " own correspondent," 
 Mr. Spenser; there was also a plain man of quiet man- 
 ners and very colonial look ; he would have passed 
 muster at once among the ordinary people, but such a 
 but ! It was told, and told with truth, that he had gone 
 out from Ayrshire a raw lad, and had now an income of 
 30,000 per annum ! Think of it and say if the Golden 
 Hind did not deserve her name this voyage at least. 
 " Thirty thousand per an. ! " said John Gilbert to his
 
 382 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 wife, as they were sitting on the deck with Mr. Double- 
 day ; " I wonder the man is not ashamed of having so 
 much money ! Does he not see the injustice of it ? 
 Now, if he would give us just one year's income I 
 wouldn't ask more we'd go back to Quixstar and set 
 up as gentlefolks for life." 
 
 " It would be remarkably nice," said Effie, " but I 
 doubt he won't think of it. Why, life must be like 
 a fairy tale to him ; he has only to wish for a thing and 
 get it." 
 
 " I don't envy him," said Mr. Doubleday ; " it would 
 be a burden to me." 
 
 " Ah, but you like to live the life of a mole," said 
 Effie. " I could spend 2500 a month quite well." 
 
 "You could spend it: whether you could do it 
 well or not is a different thing." 
 
 But this modern instance of success was mightily 
 encouraging to all those on their way to push their 
 fortunes. They buoyantly overlooked the fact that for 
 one great prize Fortune carries in her bag, she has 
 innumerable blanks. And it was well they did so : 
 hope will carry people through much, and melancholy 
 never yet made a man fitter for his work. It was a 
 curious pause this voyage to most of these voyagers. 
 They had let go the business and toil of life on the one 
 shore, and had not got hold of them on the other. 
 Some could make good use of this parenthesis; but 
 most began to weary of what they thought monotony 
 and want of excitement. Want of excitement ! if they 
 had only known it, excitement was slowly and surely 
 preparing for them terror and awful excitement.
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 OF all dangers fire is what a sailor dreads most; and 
 when early one morning it ran through the ship that 
 there was fire in the hold, every pulse stood for a mo- 
 ment, and every cheek grew white, and men looked in 
 each other's faces in silent horror. Some blindly re- 
 fused to credit it how could it be ? the utmost vigilance 
 had been used to guard against this danger. In the hold 
 how could it originate .there? It was no mistake, 
 however; the captain and the crew had been hard at 
 work most of the night doing all that could be done to 
 conquer the tremendous enemy. 
 
 Every one had rushed to the deck, and as they were 
 standing discussing the startling news with all the eager- 
 ness and earnestness of a matter of life and death, 
 Captain Veitch waved his hand for attention, and said 
 
 " I depend on every man in the ship to support my 
 authority and keep perfect order that's the first thing 
 towards our safety. It is possible, and most likely, that 
 we may get the fire under, and there is no immediate 
 danger. We shall make for the coast of America, and 
 we may be pretty near it before in case of the worst, 
 which I see no reason to dread yet it is absolutely 
 necessary to take to the boats. The boats will carry us 
 all, and I'll see every one out of the ship before I leave 
 her. We have another chance ; a vessel may cross our 
 path. We shall be inconvenienced, and have some
 
 384 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 anxiety for a time ; but I hope we can all submit cheer- 
 fully to that," and with a smile the captain ceased speak- 
 ing, and went about his duties as if there were nothing 
 unusual in the circumstances. 
 
 He had the soul of a leader, and never flinched, al- 
 though he could not take the comfort to himself he had 
 given to others. He felt the fire would conquer; or if 
 they conquered it, it would not be till the ship was dam- 
 aged beyond remedy. It was possible they might meet 
 another vessel, but only possible on the ground that noth- 
 ing is impossible ; he knew they were out of the track of 
 any vessel, for a sailor knows who and what he is likely 
 to meet with on the ocean, as well as a traveller does 
 who is accustomed to journey over an extended soli- 
 tary heath. 
 
 Every heart was wonder-fully lightened of its first 
 alarm, but as the day wore on, hope and despair came up 
 by turns. Where had the ordinary commonplace peo- 
 ple disappeared to ? Creatures at bay have the com- 
 monplace suddenly lashed out of them. The quickening 
 of tremendous emotion had transformed the dullest face 
 there. It seems like a prophecy and a proof of what 
 may be in another state of existence, of the possibilities 
 that lie dormant, to be roused and intensified in a 
 higher life. If Mr. and Mrs. Fortescue wanted any 
 hints in their art, and were able at such a moment to take 
 them in, they had a' wonderful opportunity. Mr. Spenser 
 was e'qual to the occasion, and took brief notes to fill in 
 when he should reach terra firma the scenes were not 
 likely to be forgotten. There was a steerage passenger, 
 a tall woman of thirty, whom from her appearance John 
 Gilbert had called Juno, draped in a black gown that 
 swept the deck in folds, and having a scarlet shawl flung 
 round her shoulders ; she had great black eyes, and black
 
 QUIXSTAK. 385 
 
 hair with a ripple and the sheen of a raven's wing on it ; 
 it was swept behind her ears, and hung down her back. 
 She stood on the deck with her hands raised and clasped 
 like some prophetess of doom, and she lifted up her voice 
 and wept. Long and loud she lifted up her voice, and 
 it was deep and powerful, though soft. " O my husband ! 
 my husband ! my husband ! I'll never see him more ! " 
 was the burden of her lamentation. Women gathered 
 round her, and lost sight for a minute of their own mis- 
 ery endeavoring to comfort her ; but she refused to be 
 comforted ; her cry rang on the air again the waves 
 could not drown it. 
 
 John Gilbert was working among the men trying 
 to save the ship, when Captain Veitch said to him, " Go 
 to your wife, will you, and ask her to speak to that poor 
 woman, and soothe her down if she can ? It will do 
 herself good-" 
 
 * John had left his wife in charge of Mr. Doubleday. 
 Effie was in terror. How often had she wished herself 
 safe at home, and here was she hemmed in between fire 
 and the deep cruel sea ! When John appeared, dirty and 
 begrimed, she took hold of him " You are not to leave 
 me again," she said ; " it is too horrible. We'll sink any 
 moment ; and what am I to do ? " 
 
 " No, Effie ; things are not so bad as that yet. The 
 captain says, Would you go to yon woman in the red 
 shawl, and try to calm her ? She is doing a world of 
 mischief, exciting the rest of the people." 
 
 " What can I do ? Oh, if I were only at home with 
 mamma ! " 
 
 " Come," said Mr. Doubleday, " you'll go and speak 
 to her. I'll go with you." 
 
 Effie was hardly the person to pick out for this mis- 
 sion. Very likely the captain was thinking of what Bell 
 17
 
 386 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 could have done in such circumstances when he pro- 
 posed it. 
 
 Effie pulled the woman's shawl to get her attention. 
 " Don't make such a noise, 1 ' she said ; it does no good. 
 Your husband is at least safe I would be glad if my 
 husband were ashore." 
 
 " Would you ? " said the woman, with a kind of glare 
 at Effie. " Then you don't love; you don't know what 
 love is. Oh, if I had my husband here I would be con- 
 tent to sink with him in hell ! " 
 
 " My good woman," said Mr. Doubleday, " you don't 
 know what you are saying, or you would not say it." 
 
 " She is mad," said Effie, shrinking away. 
 
 Poof Effie ! with her flimsy affection, that could be 
 blown now this way, and now that what understanding 
 could she have of the wild abandonment of a love like 
 this? 
 
 This woman was alone she had no children. But 
 there were women who had gathered their children round 
 them, and crouched in abject despair, weeping silently, 
 while their husbands tried to speak words of hope and 
 safety to them. There was one man who had taken home 
 his family a year before, and was returning to wind up 
 his affairs and go home finally with a fortune. He kept 
 muttering, " And this is to be the end ! drowned or 
 suffocated like rats in a hole like rats in a hole ! " 
 There were passengers who had toiled and waited all 
 their lives for a gleam of prosperity, till at last Fortune 
 had fairly kicked them out of their native land. Home- 
 less, friendless, moneyless, they had gathered together a 
 meagre bundle of hopes, to try a start once more in a new 
 country. This seemed a fitting climax to their fate ; it 
 was not difficult to crush hope out of these. 
 
 But in what better plight was the man with 30,000
 
 QUIXSTAR. 387 
 
 per annum? He could not throw a bridge of gold 
 across the waters ; Fortune had played into his hands all 
 his life only to turn round now and laugh in his face. But 
 he seemed a man who could meet even such an emer- 
 gency as this with a brave spirit. 
 
 When night came, whether it might have been safe 
 or not, no one thought of leaving the deck. A tar- 
 paulin roof was erected, and under it the little multitude 
 spent the time till morning dawned again ; and upon 
 what an array of haggard faces ! Features that yester- 
 day were lighted with hope or alive with despair had 
 dulled down into a dreary resignation. A few hours of 
 emotion at such high pressure had done what might 
 have been the work of months in ordinary circum- 
 stances. 
 
 It was wearing to afternoon of the second day, and 
 it became evident that another night could not be passed 
 in the ship. The captain ordered the boats to be launched 
 and provisioned. It was seen that by the time the whole 
 living freight was embarked they would be sunk nearly 
 to the gunwales, consequently the stock of provisions 
 they could carry could not be great; but what they 
 could take was stowed. Then the last meal that was 
 ever to be eaten on board the Golden Hind was served. 
 The captain stood at the head of his company and said 
 " O God, save us, we perish ! In life or in death make 
 us feel that underneath us are the everlasting arms. 
 Look on us sinners; bless this food for the saving of 
 our lives ; and grant us mercy, O God, grant us mercy, 
 for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen." 
 
 To not one there was that utterance an empty form. 
 The meal was swallowed, and then they all stood, men, 
 women, and children, waiting till the last moment be- 
 fore they should take to these frail boats. There was
 
 388 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 no confusion and little noise, for even the children, gath- 
 ered round the women, had sobbed themselves out. 
 Mrs. Fortescue gazed at these family groups she had 
 left five little children of her own behind, and this was 
 the bitterness of death to her. That day she had writ- 
 ten to them, and made six copies of her letter, which 
 she gave to six different persons, thinking that one would 
 surely reach the hearth she had so lately quitted, if she 
 herself should never reach it more. No stage eifect in 
 this only the great yearning of a mother's love. 
 
 " It's of no use," Effie Gilbert said to her husband 
 and Mr. Doubleday, who were standing one on each 
 side of her. " I would rather perish here at once than 
 go to die of cold and hunger in an open boat. I can't 
 stand it. It's too horrible." 
 
 " But you must," said John. " It's the only chance, 
 and we can't leave you here." 
 
 " Then stay. It was you who brought me here, and 
 you have no right to leave me." 
 
 " I'll not leave you, Effie," he said soothingly. 
 
 " If my life would save you," said Mr. Doubleday, 
 " how willingly I would give it ! " 
 
 " But it won't," she wailed. " Oh what a horrible 
 fate ! and they'll be all sitting at tea in Quixstar at this 
 moment as if nothing were happening." 
 
 " Come, Mrs. Gilbert," said the captain, who passed 
 at that moment, " I know you'll be brave, and set an 
 example to these poor women in the steerage." 
 
 But Effie could not be brave in such circumstances. 
 It was not her nature. 
 
 Suddenly a great cry was heard of " A sail on the 
 weather quarter ! " 
 
 Every eye was instantly turned in the direction in- 
 dicated, but only seafaring organs could make out the
 
 QUIXSTAR. 389 
 
 distant object. On it came, however; there was no 
 mistake. It could not fail to sight them on that broad 
 ocean, and soon it was seen bearing up to the rescue. 
 
 The awful strain was relaxed. Many shouted wild- 
 ly; many fell to the deck in thanksgiving; mothers 
 clasped their children and were able to sob once more. 
 But the danger was not over. The cabins were filled 
 with dense smoke, and to try to save any property 
 would have been madness. The tongues of flame were 
 darting out, and licking treacherously round and along. 
 The ship was heeling over, and the waves washing into 
 her stern. At any moment she might go down, or the 
 flames might burst along the deck. 
 
 Captain Veitch had some difficulty in restoring order 
 after the first ebullition of feeling was over, and he im- 
 mediately began to tell off the parties as they were to 
 go in the boats when the coming ship should be near 
 enough. 
 
 The strange ship proved to be the gunboat Vulcan 
 of the African squadron, bound for Rio Janeiro to get 
 a surgeon, her surgeon having died suddenly died ap- 
 parently that the lives of all those on board the Golden 
 Hind might be saved, as but for this event no sail would 
 have crossed the path of the doomed ship. 
 
 The women were -to go first; but Effie, who clung to 
 her husband, declared she would not go without him. 
 She would not be reasoned with, but Mrs. Fortescue 
 came up with the woman in the red shawl. " Come, 
 Mrs. Gilbert," she said, " we are to have the privilege 
 of going first, and we must do as we are ordered, and 
 set a good example. Come, I am leaving my husband 
 too." 
 
 " And I am going to mine," said Juno, whose spirits 
 from the depths of despair had gone up like quicksilver
 
 390 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 plunged in boiling water. These three headed the first 
 company. Effie nearly lost her senses looking down 
 the ship's side into the abyss where the boat was swing- 
 ing and swaying, but Juno descended with sure and 
 agile steps, and, receiving Effie in her arms from the 
 sailors, set her in her place, as she did every woman 
 and child as they were handed down. She was strong 
 in body and spirit, and did a man's work that day. The 
 short voyage was accomplished without accident, but 
 every woman, except Mrs. Fortescue and Juno, fainted 
 as she was lifted on board the Vulcan, whose captain 
 and crew lavished every attention they could think of 
 on their unfortunate guests. 
 
 There was of course less difficulty in transferring the 
 men, but there was an accident. When midway be- 
 tween the ship and the boat Mr. Doubleday, always 
 short-sighted, missed his footing, and went right down 
 into the trough of the wave. He fell on his back and 
 never uttered a sound. John Gilbert said the expres- 
 sion of his upturned face, off which the spectacles had 
 floated, reminded him of nothing so much as of the look 
 of some cattle he had seen pushed overboard in a High- 
 land loch to find their way to the nearest shore^dumb, 
 meek, astonished resignation was what gleamed from 
 the eyes of the man and of the animals. A sailor stand- 
 ing by with a rope in his hand leaped overboard in- 
 stantly, and caught Mr. Doubleday as he came to the 
 surface, and they were hauled into the boat apparently 
 not much the worse of the bath. 
 
 Captain Veitch was, as he had said he would be, the 
 last man to leave the ship. For two days, and nearly 
 two nights, he had never relaxed his vigilance, nor for a 
 moment lost his self-possession, yet worn out as he was 
 no one would have guessed it either from his speech or
 
 QUIXSTAB. 391 
 
 bearing, only his face looked stony as he watched, with 
 feelings almost as if she had been a living thing, the 
 Golden Hind became a mass of flame and smoke from 
 stem to stern, and then floated away a mere helpless 
 charred wreck on the waters.
 
 CHAPTER LVIL . 
 
 THE Vulcan carried the shipwrecked company to 
 the Cape of Good Hope, and landed them there. Cap- 
 tain Veitch immediately dispatched a letter to his own- 
 ers, giving full details of the catastrophe. He wrote 
 also to his father and mother, and to Bell Sinclair. To 
 her he said : 
 
 " MY DEAE BELL, I'll be home rather sooner than I 
 expected. We have had an accident on our voyage. The 
 Golden Hind took fire owing to friction in the cargo 
 during the tossing in some gales we had ; but we all got 
 comfortably on board another vessel, and we are here in 
 perfect safety. I hope you'll get this before you see the 
 newspapers. They are sure to give an exaggerated ac- 
 count. We had an ' own correspondent ' on board, 
 whose business it is to make the most of everything. I 
 daresay if I saw his account of the affair I would "not 
 know it. He is a Mr. Spenser, and was once at Quix- 
 star, which made him a relation at once. Most of our 
 passengers are going on to Melbourne with a ship which 
 sails from this port almost immediately. Tell Miss Rae- 
 burn I have given Mr. Spenser the charge of Mr. Double- 
 day for the rest of the voyage, so that she may keep her 
 mind easy. Your sister and her husband are looking 
 well. /.They are writing too, as every one is. Remem- 
 ber a man is not burned out of his ship twice in the
 
 QUIXSTAK. 393 
 
 course of his life. I have had no time of late for tailor- 
 ing. I am, ever yours, PETER VEITCH. 
 
 "P. S. I'll have to wait some time for a vessel 
 home." 
 
 This was all Capt. Veitch ever said of his own cour- 
 age and endurance. He had now arranged for all his 
 passengers being sent on to their destinations, he had 
 dispatched his letters, and at last he fairly gave way, 
 bent his head in his hands, and sobbed like a child. 
 
 Effie Gilbert positively refused to go to sea again im- 
 mediately, and John was quite willing to spend a few 
 weeks at the Cape. He was in no hurry. Certainly there 
 was nothing going wrong at Hongatonga for want of 
 him. However, they and Capt. Veitch accompanied their 
 late fellow-voyagers to the ship in which they hoped to 
 finish their voyage, A few weeks ago they had not known 
 of each other's existence, now they parted as intimate 
 and endeared friends. John issued particular invitations 
 to every one in general to visit him at Hongatonga, and 
 most people seemed to think that at some time or other 
 that embryo city would lie directly in their path. Mr. 
 Doubleday was in good spirits. Perhaps he had got 
 some pages of the magnum opus laid out in his mind to 
 his own satisfaction, and the pearl plaster was beginning 
 te take effect. 
 
 " Well," he said to Effie, " good-bye. I'll be all pre- 
 pared to welcome you when you come. You won't be 
 long?" 
 
 " I don't know. If I could persuade John, I would 
 rather go home to Quixstar." 
 
 ' Quixstar ! " said Mr. Spenser, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders, " better fifty years of the fifth quarter of the globe 
 than a cycle of Quixstar. Your husband has more 
 Bense." 
 
 17*
 
 394 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 " Mr. Spenser does not know what Quixstar has been 
 to you and me, Mrs. Gilbert," said Mr. Doubleday. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Spenser, " whether you come or not, 
 Mrs. Gilbert, you'll hear of Mr. Doubleday and me yet. 
 I mean to blow his trumpet furiously in my paper, and 
 he's going to look out fresh and apt classical quotations 
 for me ; between us we mean to mould young Australia." 
 
 " It will take all your energies," said Peter. " It is a 
 grand work ; I wish you well." 
 
 " Au rcvoir" cried John Gilbert. Mr. Doubleday 
 stood on the deck and watched them till they were out 
 of sight. 
 
 " Now," said Effie, " now, John, you have asked every 
 creature, including Juno, to Hongatonga; I hope I'll 
 never see it. Oh take me home ! If I once had my 
 foot on English ground, no power would tempt me into 
 a ship again," and she shuddered. " I suppose, Peter," 
 she added, " you'll go to sea again just as if nothing had 
 happened ! " 
 
 " Just," he said. " I like danger; it's the most -whole- 
 some and legitimate excitement one can have, and it 
 pushes a man closer to his fellow-creatures and his Cre- 
 ator than any one thing I know." 
 
 " It certainly pushes one close enough to one's fellow- 
 creatures," said John " a shade too close for my taste." 
 
 " And," said Peter, " it's purifying ; how little self- 
 ishness, for instance, we saw in the scene we have passed 
 through." 
 
 " Did we ? I saw quite enough and to spare," said 
 John. 
 
 Now there are two reasons for this difference of 
 opinion. People generally see best what they have eyes 
 to see none are so quick at detecting selfishness as the 
 selfish and again, though Peter made no pretensions to
 
 QUIXSTAR. 395 
 
 extra goodness, and did not pride himself on continually 
 influencing his fellow-creatures, there was that about 
 him which somehow or other made vice, whether big or 
 little, fall back and hide itself in his presence. He had 
 this kind of greatness, and was not conscious of it ; if he 
 had been conscious of it, it would have been smallness. 
 
 " I would like to see the meeting between Juno and 
 her husband," said Peter. 
 
 " Very likely Jupiter will be more surprised than 
 pleased," said John ; " the chances are he's little and hen- 
 pecked, and set off to Australia to be out of her reach 
 one may have too much of a good thing." 
 
 " I would think," said Peter, " that a man who could 
 inspire love like hers " 
 
 "Stuff!" said John; "it's not inspiration, it's outspir- 
 ation the woman's nature ; Jupiter may be a tall fel- 
 low who can hold his own, but, according to the doctrine 
 of probabilities, he's little and henpecked." 
 
 "Is it according to the doctrine of probabilities," said 
 Eflie, " or is it my fancy, that you are walking as if you 
 were lame ? " 
 
 " I'm hardly lame," John said ; " it's a mere trifle. I 
 ran my foot against a nail coming out of the Vulcan, 
 and I feel it a little." 
 
 " That's not a good thing," said Peter. " Have you 
 attended to it ? " 
 
 " Oh, it was a mere nothing, and it is almost healed 
 now." 
 
 " I say, Peter," Effie said, " help me to persuade John 
 either to take me home or to stay here. He would be 
 quite as well here as at Hongatonga. I shrink from the 
 sea. I shudder at such horrors. I could risk it only if 
 he would take me home, but to go away to an outland- 
 ish place like Hongatonga, I can't do it don't ask me."
 
 396 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 "Do not think of it at all no\v," said John, "you'll 
 get over the fright and get up your spirits in a week or 
 two, and then you'll be better able to see what's what 
 there's no hurry, you know." 
 
 " If it is only the voyage that frightens you," said 
 Peter, " the likelihood is you would have an uncommon- 
 ly pleasant voyage." ' 
 
 "Nothing in the shape of a voyage can be pleasant 
 to me," she said. 
 
 But she was. to have a voyage, and a voyage home 
 too. 
 
 It is to be feared that Mrs. John Gilbert's love for 
 her husband was of the fair-weather kind, it was for 
 better, not for worse ; not that she was very selfish, she 
 could not be called that, but her nature was weak ; she 
 could not encounter hardship, nor brave danger, nor sac- 
 rifice herself; she had no love deep enough for that, and 
 yet in her own measure she loved. Poor thing, it seem- 
 ed as if all that befell her at this time was like breaking 
 a butterfly on the wheel. The rest and rational relaxa- 
 tion they took in seeing what was to be seen, and mak- 
 ing themselves acquainted with the manners and cus- 
 toms of the place, told most beneficially on Efh'e and 
 Captain Veitch, but John Gilbert was not in his usual 
 high health and spirits. He complained of lassitude, and 
 one evening when they returned from a ride in the 
 country he spoke of having pain about his throat and a 
 stiffness, and seemed depressed and restless. 
 
 " You are tired," said his wife. 
 
 " Tired ! what should I be tired with ? it's not that.' 7 
 
 " Then what is it ? a sore throat ? Put something 
 round it and go to bed, that's the best thing, or would 
 you like us to send for a doctor ? " 
 
 " Yes t " he said, " send for a doctor."
 
 QUIXSTAR. 397 
 
 Peter was struck with his tones, and when Effie went 
 out of the room he looked at him closely and asked, 
 " John, what is it ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; time will tell. I'll go to bed ; help 
 me." 
 
 It was evident he was struck down with serious ill- 
 ness of some kind, and Peter's first thought was, " I am 
 glad I am here to help them." 
 
 It was an hour or two before a doctor came, and 
 when he did come he had no difficulty in recognizing 
 tetanus, but not a hopeless case at all not hopeless." 
 
 It was well for Effie that she had such a friend as 
 Peter to think and act for her through this terrible time. 
 At his suggestion the landlady of the house kept Mrs. 
 Gilbert with herself, and she only saw her husband oc- 
 casionally between the paroxysms of suifering. Her 
 love, you see, was of the kind that could be satisfied in 
 knowing he was in the best hands. Oh, if his mother 
 had been there, how she would have encompassed him 
 with her love ! Yet after all, what could either of them 
 have done ? They could not have lessened his agony, 
 they could only have increased their own. 
 
 The doctor might or might not be a skilful man, but 
 he went through the cours.e of remedies with a confidence 
 in himself that knew no abatement, and he and Peter 
 never left the patient. The suffering which in three 
 days will lay a man low who has been in the flush of 
 "youth and strength is not small, yet through it all John's 
 mind was as clear and firm as possible. On the second 
 day he could not speak, but he made signs for a pen, and 
 wrote on a scrap of paper these words, " Don't tell my 
 mother yet." Ah, that was the cry of a full heart. No 
 one could read it surely without strong sympathy for 
 mother and son. " Don't tell her yet? When was she
 
 398 QUIXSTAB. 
 
 to be told? When? He wrote again, "Take Effie 
 home." That was all. What the multitude of his 
 thoughts within him were who can tell ? He was fully 
 able to think till nearly the very last, when probably the 
 influence of narcotics overpowered him, and on the even- 
 ing of the third day of his illness he passed away. 
 
 Effie's grief was altogether violent and overmaster- 
 ing. Its very violence exhausted it only to come on 
 again after a time with renewed force. She had never 
 encountered either illness or death before, and it seemed 
 an impossibility an impossibility, and yet there was the 
 awful stillness, and the awful whiteness. 
 
 Ten days later, Mrs. Gilbert and Captain Veitch 
 were on their homeward voyage, and John Gilbert was 
 left to sleep the long sleep at the Cape of Good Hope 
 far from country or kindred. All who had known 
 John, and heard of his strange sudden death, felt as if 
 the world were a chillier place than it had been before, 
 and that they could more easily have spared a better 
 man. There had been so much about him that was 
 lovable, and if only he had lived But he had not, 
 and his lost possibilities were shut into eternity.
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 the late passengers of the Golden Hind were 
 afloat once more, and had time to recall all that had 
 passed, it struck one and another of them that but for 
 the coolness and resource of Captain Veitch none of 
 them might have been alive to tell the tale, and it was 
 proposed simultaneously by Mr. Fortescue and Mr. 
 Spenser that an address should be sent to him acknowl- 
 edging their gratitude, and testifying to his brave, good 
 qualities, signed by all his passengers. This was eagerly 
 entered into from the highest to the lowest. Mr. Spen- 
 ser then suggested that, as a sort of substance to the 
 shadow, they should subscribe, however little, and send 
 him a sum of money along with the address. This was 
 heartily entered into also ; but many of them were poor, 
 and all of them had lost, if not money, their personal 
 effects in the burning of the Golden Hind, so that 
 much could not be expected. There was Mr. Walker, 
 the 30,000 a year man, it is true, and he approved also ; 
 but he told Mr. Spenser to get his list of subscriptions, 
 and come to him last, and he would give as other people 
 gave. Mr. Spenser shrugged his shoulders, and said to 
 himself that it was a queer world a conclusion he had 
 not unfrequently arrived at in the course of his life. 
 
 Mr. Spenser was wonderfully successful, gratitude 
 not being such a rare growth as cynics would have us 
 believe.
 
 400 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 When he applied to Mr. Doubleday who, poor 
 man, was lying in his berth far from well he said sim- 
 ply, and without reserve, " I can give you nothing. I 
 am living on charity myself at present, but if I ever 
 have it in my power I'll not forget to acknowledge my 
 debt to Captain Veitch." Mr. Spencer felt small, if 
 he had had money, he would have given it, whether it 
 belonged to himself or not ; if he had not had it, he 
 would have given some other reason for not giving it. 
 He held that to seem poor is worse than to be poor. To 
 feel poor, however, is a great deal worse than either. 
 That, and that only, is poverty, a poverty that Mr. 
 Doubleday had never experienced. 
 
 Mr. Walker looked over the list of subscriptions, and 
 said, " They have done well. I'll give you mine before 
 we land." When they made the harbor he came to Mr. 
 Spenser as he was standing on the deck -with Mr. 
 Doubleday, and said, " There is an order on Liverpool 
 for 1000. Send that with the address to Captain 
 Veitch, let the other people keep their money, and here is 
 1000 to divide among the steerage passengers. Per- 
 haps you, gentlemen, will take the trouble to see it dis- 
 tributed somewhat equally. I'll be glad to see you at 
 my place any time. That's all. I'm off," and he shook 
 hands, and went ashore immediately. 
 
 Mr. Doubleday's face softened, and beamed in the 
 presence of a good action. " That is generous," he said. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Spenser, " I fully expected he 
 would give me the slip. Yes, it is good ; but he'll never 
 miss it. Two thousand farthings from either you or 
 me would have been a far bigger gift in proportion, and 
 we would have both missed it. It would have been 
 self-denial, Avhich is true generosity." 
 
 " His looks a fabulous income to us," said Mr. Dou-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 401 
 
 bleday ; "but people who have much have just as much 
 to do with it. Perhaps he is denying himself something, 
 who knows ?" 
 
 " Well, well, we'll give him the benefit of the doubt, 
 and not knock the bottom out of a good action. Come, 
 you'll have to help me to apportion it." 
 
 Any one who does not believe in gratitude ought 
 to have seen the faces of these steerage passengers, as 
 one by one they got the sum that was to stand between 
 them and starvation in a strange country. Mr. Double- 
 day had never done anything in his life that gave him 
 more pleasure than acting in this instance as a medium. 
 
 When Captain Veitch and Mrs. Gilbert arrived at 
 Liverpool they went first to a hotel, where Efiie re- 
 mained to rest while the captain went to call on the 
 owners of the unfortunate Golden Hind, by which, it 
 may be observed, they had lost nothing, the ship being 
 fully insured. They gave him a very hearty reception, 
 and handed to him the address and enclosure from the 
 passengers of the wrecked ship. His face flushed as he 
 read. "Most extraordinary ! " said he, " I did nothing 
 more than my duty what any man would have done in 
 my place." 
 
 " Well, you know, Captain Veitch," said one of the 
 partners of the ship-owning firm, "there are always two 
 ways of doing a duty, and you seem not to have taken 
 the worst. We have another ship building, and nearly 
 ready to launch, which is also to be the Golden Hind. 
 It is a very fine ship; if you like to take the command 
 of her, we'll be only too glad to secure your services." 
 
 As a matter of course Captain Veitch accepted the 
 ofler. 
 
 There was a private note from Spenser, giving the 
 particulars of the presentation, and ending with " So
 
 402 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 you need have no qualms about the money, for thereby 
 you are not grinding the faces of the poor. Your friend 
 Mr. Doubleday has not been well; I doubt he is a man 
 of a delicate constitution. He is better, however, than 
 he has been, and I hope a few days will set him up 
 again. He and I lodge together, and he is in excellent 
 spirits, looking forward to beginning his work shortly ; 
 and I expect before you get this we'll be cheered by the 
 arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert." 
 
 By noon next day Effie and Peter were at the gate 
 of Old Battle House. Mrs. Sinclair and Bell were sit- 
 ting quietly at work when Effie burst into the familiar 
 room, and flung her arms round her mother's neck, 
 laughing. Actually she had forgotten her widowhood 
 and everything hi the one feeling that she was at home 
 and safe once more ; but when she saw their grave faces 
 she sank on a sofa and burst into hysterical tears. Her 
 mother and sister set themselves to soothe and comfort 
 her; poor thing, she needed.it. 
 
 Peter had not followed her. He was as eager to 
 see Bell as she could be ; but he could not intrude on 
 such a meeting, so he made his way to Mr. Sinclair's 
 room, where that gentleman was sitting reading. He 
 rose and welcomed Peter with enthusiasm, and put him 
 in his own peculiar chair that chair which Peter had 
 thought a resting-place of unimaginable luxury, when 
 after cleaning the gravel he had vaulted in at one of the 
 windows, and sank in it by way of a boyish experi- 
 ment. 
 
 " You are quite a hero now a Peter," said Mr. Sin- 
 clair. 
 
 " It must be in a small way, surely," Peter said. 
 
 " One likes modesty, of course, Peter ; but I have 
 the idea that it would be an easier thing to go into bat-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 403 
 
 tie than to command a ship on fire and control all the 
 people." 
 
 " I don't know about that ; it was not my duty to 
 kill men. But it was a strain, I acknowledge. I had 
 not my clothes off for two days and nights ; I must have 
 slept, but when I don't know. I would not like to go 
 through the same thing again." 
 
 " I can believe that. And poor John Gilbert has 
 gone the way of all the earth ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And where is Erne ? how is she ? " asked Mr. Sin- 
 clair. 
 
 "She is here; I brought her with me. She has 
 stood it wonderfully. I thought at first she would 
 break down altogether, her grief was so violent and so 
 keen." 
 
 " Poor thing ! poor thing ! " said Mr. Sinclair. 
 
 " Ay, she has a hard time of it since she left this 
 house," said Peter ; " and it was all very new to her." 
 
 " And yet," said Mr. Sinclair, " I understand you 
 want to subject another young woman to the same style 
 of hardship ? " 
 
 "She has told you?" 
 
 " Yes, she has told me." 
 
 " And you approve ? " 
 
 " I approve of you, and I approve of you sticking to 
 your business, and I approve of her approving of you ; 
 but if a sort of steady-going happiness is her object " 
 
 " It's not her object. She has considered the thing ; 
 she can do without happiness, and she'll be very happy 
 I'm sure of it." 
 
 " Well, if she does not want happiness, and can do 
 without it, and is sure to have it, I have nothing more 
 to say. She must make the best of It, and she'll do
 
 404 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 that. I admire both your taste and your wisdom. But 
 I must go and see Effie ; just sit still for a little, will 
 you?" 
 
 In spite of the events of the last three months, and 
 in spite of his philosophical estimate of the place happi- 
 ness should hold in the theory of a man's life, Peter was 
 at this moment exceedingly happy. Of course there 
 are people who think less of themselves when others 
 think more, who, the more they are praised, know them- 
 selves the more unworthy, and have no feeling but that 
 of a whipped cur. Peter was not of that stamp ; he 
 was honestly happy without thinking particularly about 
 himself at all his merits or demerits. 
 
 In a minute or two Bell swept in, as majestic as ever; 
 on her face the oxymel expression of joy and grief oc- 
 casioned by her sister's arrival. Peter was standing in 
 the window farthest away, and was not in view from 
 the door. 
 
 " I wonder what uncle sent me here for ? " she said 
 to herself. 
 
 She did not wonder long. Imagine that meeting. 
 Observe also that Mr. Sinclair was not wholly lost to 
 sympathy with humanity in its more tender phases, and 
 that he could even execute a manoeuvre in its behalf 
 not complicated, it is true, but equivalent perhaps to 
 what in drill is called the goose-step. 
 
 " Bell," said Peter, after the first outburst of feeling 
 was fairly over, " a rich man has given me a thousand 
 pounds. He must have known that I wanted money 
 to begin housekeeping with." 
 
 " But you didn't ; I have plenty." 
 
 " Yes, but" 
 
 She laid her hand on his mouth " Now don't be 
 small ; don't take my hero down a few pegs in my esti-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 405 
 
 mation. There is to be no question of money or any- 
 thing else between you and me; we are one and indi- 
 visible." 
 
 " I was not going to be small ; but we'll let the sub- 
 ject rest in the mean time." 
 
 " If you would only give up the sea, your thousand 
 pounds would set you agoing as a tailor very well." 
 
 " Yes, it would, very well. Do you regret your prom- 
 ise, Bell, to marry, a sailor ? " 
 
 " Not an atom," said she ; " but oh, Peter, if you had 
 perished in the Golden Hind! " 
 
 " Let us be grateful that no one perished." 
 
 "And \\hen I thought of that silly quarrel we had 
 the day you went away it will be a lesson never to 
 quarrel again ? " 
 
 " What quarrel ? " 
 
 " Don't you remember ? the day after the hall was 
 opened." 
 
 " I remember you calling when I had barely time to 
 speak to you ; it was an intense pleasure to me, but it 
 takes two people to quarrel, doesn't it ? Now I never 
 quarrelled, and to this hour I have no't a notion of what 
 offended you." 
 
 " Then I won't tell you." 
 
 " Not if it is disagreeable to you ; but I might mark 
 the rock on my chart and avoid it in future if you were 
 to tell me." 
 
 " I'll risk you bumping on it." 
 
 " Have you seen the Gilberts lately ? " 
 
 " I have seen them every day since the sad news 
 came." 
 
 " And how are they? how is Mrs. Gilbert?" 
 
 " They are well. You know old Mrs. Gilbert, John's 
 aunt, died just before the news came, and was spared
 
 406 QUIXSTAB. 
 
 that pang he used to be a kind of idol of hers. She 
 has left all she had to Mr. Gilbert. I like to see money 
 go straight to the right place." 
 
 " I am just going to see Mrs. Gilbert ; I can give her 
 every particular, and save Effie the pain of doing it. 
 See, I have this to give her," and he showed Bell John's 
 last writing " Don't tell my mother yet." 
 
 " Poor John ! that is very touching." 
 
 " It is that. I must go, though. I have not been 
 home yet, but I'll go to Mrs. Gilbert first." 
 
 " You'll find her very calm. Mrs. Gilbert has the se- 
 cret of being calm in any circumstances ; take her all in 
 all, she is the most perfect woman I know. One thing 
 more how is Mr. Doubleday ? " 
 
 " He was looking very well when I saw him last, but 
 he has not been well since ; he fell into the sea in going 
 to the Vulcan, and he was too long in getting his clothes 
 changed ; in the circumstances, that could not be helped, 
 and it may have told on him, but we'll hope he's all right 
 by this time." 
 
 Peter, as he expected, found Mrs. Gilbert very calm. 
 He gave her a detailed account of John's illness, soften- 
 ing it as much as possible. She listened intently, but 
 asked few questions ; when he gave her John's last writ- 
 ing she did not look at it. She asked most tenderly for 
 Effie, went to the gate with him, and thanked him for 
 his kindness, his great kindness, to her son. When she 
 went in she read the words on the paper ; a great cry 
 of anguish escaped her; her feeling was that of the Jew- 
 ish king, " Would God I had died for thee, my son ! 
 my son ! " But Mr. Gilbert was coming in ; she put the 
 paper away : instinctively even at that moment she felt 
 that if he saw it he would brood over the fact that John 
 had written of her and not of him; neither could she
 
 QUIXSTAB. 407 
 
 share this sad memento with Mary, for she could not 
 tell her that she was not to speak of it to her father, but 
 Mrs. Gilbert kept it how carefully she kept it ! 
 
 Then Peter went home. His father received him 
 with hearty pride, his mother with tearful joy. Shrewd 
 and thrifty, they had a keen enjoyment in hearing of the 
 money that had come to him so unexpectedly. The 
 sum seemed to them a fortune, and comparatively few 
 people have souls sufficiently elevated to be wholly un- 
 moved by a golden shower, expected or unexpected. 
 
 " Thirty thousand a year, did ye say, Peter ? " his 
 father remarked, " and originally a man frae our ain rank 
 o'life 'od he'll be fair clatty" (tarred and feathered) 
 " wi' siller." 
 
 It was graphic think of it, O ye impecunious hosts, 
 what kind of sensation must it be to be "clatty wi' 
 siller ! "
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 A MONTH passed, and the Australian mail came in 
 again. Miss Raeburn had been watching for it. so, in 
 spite of the fulness of her own life, had Bell Sinclair. 
 Miss Raeburn got a letter addressed in an unknown 
 hand ; she opened it with a sickening feeling of dread as 
 to what its contents might be. It was written by Mr. 
 Spenser, and said 
 
 " DEAR MADAM, Although I am a stranger to you, 
 you are not altogether a stranger to me. When Mr. 
 Doubleday spoke of you I had no difficulty in recalling 
 the fact that I had frequently seen you when I chanced 
 to be in Quixstar, a good many years ago now. I think 
 Mr. Doubleday told me he wrote to you last mail, 
 though only a brief note. He was not given to make 
 himself his subject, but probably he mentioned he had 
 been ill, so that you may not be absolutely unprepared 
 for my sad news. He died yesterday, at a quarter to 
 four in the afternoon. He was never confined to bed, 
 and did not appear to suffer much, or to think himself 
 seriously ill always speaking spiritedly of his plans for 
 the future. He took great pleasure in the visits of a Mr. 
 Johnston, a native of Quixstar, who is over from New 
 Zealand just now, and whom I met accidentally; he 
 came very frequently to see him, and they had many 
 subjects in common. I discovered that Mr. Johnston is 
 in possession of a picture of mine, which he bought be-
 
 QUIXSTAR. 409 
 
 cause he recognized the scene, Peter Veitch's cottage in 
 Quixstar. Mr. Doubleday told me with a good deal of 
 enjoyment that John Gilbert and other boys used to call 
 Mr. Johnston's father Old Bloody Politeful as a nick- 
 name. He was reading a story, too, which he also en- 
 joyed ; it was in some numbers of a magazine lent him 
 by Mr. and Mrs. Fortescue, people with whom we 
 crossed from Liverpool. Mr. Fortescue said to me that 
 Mr. Doubleday had a great man in him, but wanted a 
 prompter. Yesterday at this time he was reading the 
 last number of the magazine I have mentioned. The 
 story was not finished. I said, ' The new number will 
 be here in a few days.' He was lying back in his chair, 
 and he said, ' I would like to see how it ends, but it 
 will end well stories all end well,' and he gave what 
 seemed a sigh. A few minutes after I looked at him, 
 and he was gone his story was finished well, we are 
 certain. Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert have not yet arrived ; he 
 looked eagerly forward to seeing them again. Dear 
 madam, with true sympathy, I am, yours sincerely, 
 
 " CHARLES SPENSER." 
 
 After reading this Miss Raeburn sat spell-bound for 
 a time ; she could not believe it, and yet he had been 
 dead almost two months. She liked sympathy ; and, with 
 the letter in her hand, she set off for Old Battle House. 
 As she passed Peter Veitch's cottage, looking as like a 
 picture as ever, she went in and told her news. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the gardener, " and Mr. Doubleday's 
 dead. Weel, he'll wun far'er forrit in the next world 
 than ever he did in this." 
 
 Captain Peter went with her to Old Battle House ; 
 and without doubt they were all saddened by the intelli- 
 gence. Miss Raeburn said 
 18
 
 410 QTTIXSTAR. 
 
 " He had _no fear of dying. He has told me that 
 many a time he had wished to die, and that if ever I 
 heard of his death I was not to be sorry." 
 
 " He was a most modest, unselfish being," said Bell, 
 her eyes filling with tears : " and I am afraid we did not 
 make him so happy here as we might have done." 
 
 "As to that," said Mrs. Sinclair, "I have no reflec- 
 tions. I did my duty by him ; few people would have 
 had the patience with him that I had. But I am very 
 sorry the poor man has not lived to profit by the situa- 
 tion after so many people taking so much trouble to get 
 it for him." 
 
 " It seemed," said Mr. Sinclair, " the post exactly 
 suited for him ; but man proposes." 
 
 Miss Raeburn went back to her house, feeling that 
 she was the chief mourner. It was fitting that Mr. 
 Doubleday should pass away as unnoticed as he had 
 lived. He had carried the magnum opus with him to 
 where he would have scope and verge enough ; his early 
 wish was accomplished he had burst into infinity, and 
 knew even as he was known. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair's love for her favorite daughter triumph- 
 ed over her anger even over the sting of the affront 
 which Eftie's conduct had subjected her to. She got 
 hot when she thought of it yet jilting a man in the 
 position of George Raeburn, and going off when the 
 very dinner was on the table and the guests arriving, 
 leaving her to make tho best and the worst of it. But 
 Effie had suffered for it ; and Mrs. Sinclair took her back 
 into her old place as if she never had left it. In her 
 own private mind Mrs. Sinclair thought it was possible, 
 nay, likely, that George Raeburu would renew his suit. 
 She did not know him. Effie was as clean swept out of 
 his heart as if she had never been there never. He
 
 QUIXSTAR. 411 
 
 even imagined that he had forgotten how fiercely his 
 pride had been stung, but he had not, nor ever would. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair had been disappointed in her son's 
 career and marriage; she had been more than disap- 
 pointed in Effie ; and it filled up her measure when Bell 
 had revealed her engagement with Peter Veitch. But 
 there was no help for it no help. Now that Effie was 
 home, she poured forth her feelings on the subject to 
 her, and got sympathy. Effie's judicious remarks on 
 Bell's folly were edifying. 
 
 '' It is not," she said, " that I don't like Peter Veitch. 
 I would be very ungrateful if I didn't. But what's the 
 captain of a merchant vessel ? I don't suppose many of 
 them get over twenty pounds a month ; and no position, 
 no social position whatever. And then the sea ! If 
 Bell had only seen what I have seen, it would be the last 
 thing she would do. But it's impossible to make her feel 
 it ; people must see with their own eyes to know its 
 horrors." 
 
 " Then the connection," said Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 " Oh, well," said Effie, " I don't suppose old Peter 
 and his wife will expect to come here very often." 
 
 " I have no idea what such people expect," said Mrs. 
 Sinclair ; " but Bell is infatuated enough for anything." 
 
 " It's extraordinary," said Effie ; " there's nothing so 
 very fascinating about Peter Veitch, I am sure." 
 
 " I should say not," said Mrs. Sinclair. " It's pure 
 infatuation ; and one may as well try to stop the Eden 
 as to stop it." 
 
 Quite as well; and again Mrs. Sinclair had to sub- 
 mit to the inevitable. But she and Effie, to their honor 
 be it said, suppressed their private opinions in consider- 
 ation of the love they bore to Bell. 
 
 Captain Veitch arranged that his marriage trip was
 
 412 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 to be the voyage to Australia in the new Golden Hind, 
 and the wedding took place exactly a week before the 
 sailing of that vessel. The marriage-party was small, 
 being confined to the immediate relatives on both sides ; 
 which was judicious, Mrs. Sinclair said, as the Veitches 
 were not too presentable. She had no other feeling 
 than that Bell was throwing herself away. 
 
 As the gardener and his wife walked home he said 
 " I think, Jess, ye'll allow that that's ae gude job 
 ower ? " 
 
 " Weel, Peter, I dinna ken. I'll just hae twa folk 
 on my mind every windy nicht instead o' ane."
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 THE elements sympathized with Captain Veitch and 
 his wife they had a glorious voyage. It was all new 
 to Bell, and with her keen intellect and capacity for en- 
 joyment, and her young life still beaded with the dew 
 of the morning, how could it be otherwise than ecstatic, 
 her lover by her side to explain as far as he could, and, 
 where he could not, to bend with her before the majesty 
 of the mystery ? 
 
 She kept an " abstract log," whatever that may be, 
 and sometimes rose almost to poetry in her descriptions 
 of sea and sky. 
 
 When they doubled the Cape of Good Hope they 
 thought with deep tenderness of him belonging to them 
 who was lying there. Then they got among the most 
 magnificent billows they had encountered the long 
 majestic roll of these seas, driven and hunted by what 
 sailors call " the brave west winds," and the beauty of 
 their coloring, was a pleasure given a keen edge to by a 
 sense of danger. But then the captain's wife had faith 
 strong and steady in her husband's skill, and an admira- 
 tion of it profound and enthusiastic. 
 
 On the homeward voyage she was quite a sailor, 
 knowing and nautical in the extreme, and had learned 
 to understand her husband's passion for the sea, and to 
 sympathize with it, to his infinite delight. The truth is, 
 it is probable that she was of Norse descent as well as
 
 414 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 he. In the fourteenth century a Sinclair married the 
 representative of one of the ancient Jarls of Orkney, 
 who, we know, were Scandinavians originally. That 
 Sinclair and that Miss Jarl must, to a certainty, have 
 been among Bell's ancestors ; so that there need be no 
 surprise that, under favorable circumstances, the old 
 tastes and tendencies should crop out. There was no 
 drop of the JaiTs blood in Effie or Tom ; apparently 
 Bell had got all that could be spared. 
 
 When Captain Veitch and his wife returned once 
 more to Quixstar they found Old Battle House prepared 
 and remodelled for their reception. Mrs. Sinclair and 
 Effie were there to greet and install them, but they had 
 taken a genteel house in a genteel quarter of Eastburgh, 
 wishing to mix more in the society of that city than 
 they could do living at the distance of Quixstar, and 
 they removed to it shortly after the arrival of the 
 Veitches. Mr. Sinclair had not frowned upon this plan. 
 There is no doubt he was guilty of favoritism, and to 
 have Bell for an inmate, especially as he would have her 
 so much to himself, was an arrangement that remarka- 
 bly met his feelings and tastes. Miss Raeburn rejoiced 
 at it too. Bell's marriage was not such a calamity after 
 all, since she was to be in Quixstar still, while her hus- 
 band would be absent a great part of the year. There 
 are different points of view, certainly. 
 
 It was a sharper trial than ever Bell had imagined it 
 would be, when Captain Veitch went away again, but 
 perhaps these partings were compensated for by the ap- 
 pearance every now and then of a new honeymoon in 
 the domestic heavens, and it is likely a sailor and a sail- 
 or's wife will be oftener at the foot of God's throne 
 than other people. 
 
 Effie enjoyed herself well in Eastburgh. She went
 
 QUIXSTAR. 415 
 
 into what John Gilbert would have called the pearl- 
 plaster business. She fell back for occupation on her 
 girlish taste for writing, and she wrote books that got 
 an audience. Some people mentioned the word '' ge- 
 nius " to her, and she believed, and was pleased ; and oth- 
 ers said she had " a turn " for writing, and she believed, 
 and was equally pleased. Possibly the two words had 
 the same meaning in all their mental vocabularies. 
 
 She had " a turn," that expression hit the mark. 
 The tone of her books was religious and genteel. Re- 
 ligion and gentility is a remarkable mixture, but per- 
 haps not more so than religion and worldliness, or any 
 other of its numerous debasing alloys, but surely more 
 grotesque : imagine the beatitude, " Blessed are the 
 genteel, for they " But the subject had better be 
 dropped, in case of saying something irreverently 
 strong. Erne had lived for weeks with immensity 
 stretching round her. She had been rescued from a 
 burning ship, she had seen her husband's strong young 
 life extinguished by three days of agony, and the out- 
 come was a mixture of the religious and the genteel ! 
 You never can make the stream rise higher than the 
 fountain. Probably her books did little harm. It is 
 even within the bounds of possibility that they did good 
 to the people whose tastes they suited, you never can 
 tell; but there was one good thing they did. Mary 
 Gilbert was visiting her Aunt Raeburn in Ironburgh, 
 and she was reading one day when George came in. 
 When she saw him she blushed vividly, and slipped the 
 book down into her pocket. He saw both the blush 
 and the movement, and wondered what it could mean. 
 Was Mary the good reading a book she was ashamed 
 of? It had a bright green cover, he noticed, and after 
 she was gone he had sufficient curiosity to glance over
 
 416 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 the books, and he found the green cover. He opened 
 it,-" and saw on the title-page, "Rosamond Fitz-Her- 
 bert; a Tale. By Effie St. Clair Gilbert." He red- 
 dened in spite of himself wfth angry pride. " I see 
 it," he thought, " Mary wanted to spai'e me. She need 
 not have put herself to the trouble, but her feeling was 
 genuine at least, her face showed that." He threw 
 down the book with contempt. This led him to think 
 of Mary, specially to think of her, and the result was 
 a marriage the most blessed event in his life. It was 
 just in time to save him from growing hard, very hard. 
 She influenced him as the sun does the hoar-frost, 
 smiling it away, and melting by the warmth of his at- 
 mosphere what he can't reach with his smile. 
 
 Effie Gilbert rejoiced to hear of this marriage, it 
 cleared away entirely any little remaining remorse she 
 had. 
 
 And Mrs. Gilbert still sat in the old familiar window- 
 seat. The garden and the flowers and the water were 
 all there as of old, but her children, the pretty girls and^ 
 the clever, handsome boy, yes, they were there too as 
 in a dream. The future had become the past, that 
 future into which she had so often peered with longing 
 anxiety. She still has Cowper on her table, and be- 
 tween the leaves of it are her son's last words. How 
 often she looks at them, how often ! 
 
 Bell admired her sister's books. It was her one 
 weakness or strength to see no fault in those she 
 loved. Her husband, she was aware, did not share her 
 admiration. Once when she was reading a contemptu- 
 ous notice of one of Effie's productions he watched her 
 face gather into an expression of grieved indignant feel- 
 ing, that, it must be allowed, amused him. 
 
 " I wish I had written this book," he said.
 
 QUIXSTAB. 417 
 
 "Do you? said she eagerly. "You think so much 
 of it. I was sure the newspaper had made a mistake. It 
 must have been some other book they were thinking of 
 when they wrote that." 
 
 Peter smiled. He said, " If I had seen about a book 
 of mine such an expression as was on your face a minute 
 ago, it would have made up to me for all the wicked re- 
 views in Christendom. How do you think ' Mary Wil- 
 son; a Tale. By Mrs. Peter Veitch,' would take? I 
 much doubt the young lady would eschew it, but, with- 
 out a joke, I think you should publish your log. I al- 
 ways grudge nobody having the enjoyment of it but a 
 trio like your uncle, Miss Raeburn and myself." 
 
 " Now," said she, " if you mean that, you are just in 
 as great a blunder about me as you think I am in about 
 Effie. Kobedy would care a pin-point for my log." 
 
 " I think differently," said he. 
 
 After all, what a thing love is ! Stung by the world, 
 we rush to its shelter as lunatics to their padded room, 
 and there we fall softly, and get healed of our hurts. 
 Pity the wretches who have no such retreat ! Not that 
 this remark has any bearing on Effie St. Clair Gilbert ; 
 she had lived in a padded room all her days, and con- 
 tinued to do so. 
 
 Bell could not get the flame of enthusiasm to kindle 
 up in her uncle either with regard to Effie's works. 
 When she introduced the subject, he had a trick of go- 
 ing off to something quite foreign to it, as when she 
 brought under his notice the mistaken review she had 
 seen, he said 
 
 " Ay ! By the way, when I was out I met that wo- 
 man who used to . be here, Maddy what's her name ? 
 Her child has been ill, it seems, and I could hardly get 
 away from her. She told me how ' it grat and pu'd up 
 18*
 
 418 QUIXSTAR. 
 
 its wee feetie,' always putting an emphasis on the wee, 
 as if the child had two pairs of feet, and drew up the 
 smaller ones. She talks tremendously, yon woman." 
 
 Bell laughed heartily at her uncle's logical rendering 
 of motherly endearments, and thought, " Maddy must 
 have grown weak as other women, and weaker than 
 some, or she would hardly have entertained uncle with 
 her bairn's ailments." 
 
 And time slipped on in Quixstar. The Rational Re- 
 laxation Society continued its labors with encouraging 
 success. The hall was found so generally useful that the 
 town wondered how it had ever got on without it. Mr. 
 Kennedy and Mr. Sinclair made some faint adumbration 
 towards cordiality. One wonders if people feel ashamed 
 of having quarrelled, after the heat of the occasion is 
 by ? But they cannot blot out what has been said, nor 
 undo what has been done ; they can't put their feelings 
 exactly where they were, nor call in the evil effect of 
 their deed. These men could not prevent people in 
 Quixstar saying, " Ay, ministers are nae better than oth- 
 er folk ; " or, " Presented a hall to the town ! he built it 
 to spite the minister.'' Religion and philanthropy don't 
 by any means look at their best under these circum- 
 stances. But the peculiar blindness of the two men be- 
 gan to wear off. and in time the restoration of sight may 
 be complete. 
 
 One day Miss Raeburn in passing went in to call on 
 old Peter Veitch and his wife, and found them engaged 
 in a way that made them look slightly caught. Peter 
 was at one end of the table and Mrs. Veitch at the oth- 
 er; standing on a chair at the side was the heir-appar- 
 ent, two and a half years old ; the gardener was sending 
 a hoop girr, the little Captain called it (he followed 
 his grandfather's nomenclature) along the table to his
 
 QUIXSTAR. 419 
 
 wife, and she sent it back, Peter the Third trying to 
 catch it as it passed. Which of the three faces looked 
 most delighted could hardly be said. The boy was in 
 extraordinary glee, crying, " Do it 'gain, g'an'pa ! g'an'- 
 ma, do it 'gain ! " his whole little person and face in a 
 glow of mirth and motion. 
 
 " Miss Raeburn, ye'll think there's nae fules like auld 
 fules," said Mrs. Veitch, by way of apology for being 
 detected in such high-jinks. 
 
 " Go on, said Miss Raeburn ; go on. I like to see 
 the play." 
 
 It was a study for an artist, and Miss Raeburn was a 
 bit of an artist. It touched her feelings, too, as a human 
 being and a woman. As the boy's mother came in, she 
 said 
 
 " Tibbie, you and I are not needed here. Come, we'll 
 take a little walk and come back." 
 
 Bell kissed her son, which he thought a most absurd 
 interruption of the business of life he was so intent on ; 
 and as Miss Raeburn and she went out at the door, they 
 heard the ringing music, " Do it 'gain, g'an'pa ! " 
 
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 4. NAVAL ARCHITECTURE SHIPBUILDING AND LAYING OFF. 
 
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 of Natural Philosophy, Edinburgh. 
 
 7. APPLIED MECHANICS. By Professor O. Reynolds, Owens 
 
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 S. ACOUSTICS, LIGHT AND HEAT. By W. S. Davis, LL.D., 
 
 Derby, 
 y. MAGNETISM AND ELECTRICITY. By F. Guthrie, B.A., 
 
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 2 Vols. 
 
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 No. 22 is now ready.
 
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