THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 Boupht at 
 BERTRAND SMITH
 
 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL
 
 THE 
 
 HOUSEHOLD OF McNeil 
 
 BY 
 
 AMELIA E. BARR 
 
 AUTHOR OF "JAN VEDDBR'S WIFE," "A. DAUGHTER OF FIFE,' 
 
 "THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON," "A BORDER 
 
 SHEPHEKDKSS," ETC, ETC. 
 
 r 
 
 HUNT & EATON, v 
 150 FIFTH AVENUE, 
 NEW YORK.
 
 Copyright, 1890, 
 BY ROBERT BONNER'S SONS.
 
 PS 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE FAMILY OF MCNEIL 9 
 
 II. A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST .... 26 
 
 III. A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES . . 49 
 
 IV. HER OWN WAY 72 
 
 V. GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE 90 
 
 VI. THE MCNEIL'S WORK in 
 
 VII. A NEW SORROW 129 
 
 VIII. BROKEN PLANS 145 
 
 IX. PARTING 165 
 
 X. GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND 182 
 
 XI. AGAINST HER LIFE 195 
 
 XII. GRIZELDA is LOST 219 
 
 XIII. MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN 235 
 
 XIV. COLIN AND GRIZELDA 253 
 
 XV. THE GIFT OF GLADNESS 273 
 
 XVI. RETRIBUTION 290 
 
 XVII. THE LAIRD is SATISFIED 310 
 
 2061868
 
 THE 
 
 HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FAMILY OF McNEIL. 
 
 Thou huge-heaving sea, 
 
 Thou art speaking to me. 
 
 Ever strong, ever free, 
 
 Is the breath of the sea ; 
 
 Ever rising with power 
 
 To the call of the hour 
 
 Is the swell of thy tides as they flow. 
 
 BLACKIE. 
 Strong are the ties of kindred and long converse. 
 
 AESCHYLUS. 
 
 Each man has some one object of pursuit, 
 And lavishes his thoughts delightedly 
 On the dear idol. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 r I ^HERE had been a glorious sunset, red 
 -*- and radiant, floating and flaming above 
 the pale gray sea, and the pale gray rocks, 
 and the dark islands low-lying amid the waste 
 of waters. But as it faded away, the eerie sense 
 of the northern night with all its mysteries came 
 over the lonely land, and touched the hearts of
 
 IO THE HOUSEHOLD OP MCNEIL. 
 
 the two men who were slowly crossing the 
 Soraba beach, a firm expanse of the billowy 
 sand, ribbed and water-lined, and which was 
 at this point the " thus far " boundary of the 
 stormy Sound of Jura. 
 
 They had been talking with much earnest 
 ness, but as the shadows grew darker they 
 spoke in lower tones and at longer intervals; 
 the pauses being fitly filled by the boom of the 
 muffled billows, or the cries of the watchful sea- 
 birds, shrill, unknown, secret cries, lending a 
 weirder meaning to the silence. 
 
 They were both noticeable men, and both 
 men of authority in their own sphere. One 
 wore the sombre dress of a Presbyterian minis 
 ter; the other, a handsome suit of dark brown 
 broadcloth, with a tartan plaid over his shoul 
 ders, and a bonnet tipped with an eagle's feather 
 on his head. The latter was Archibald McNeil, 
 Laird of Edderloch and Otterdale; and his 
 companion was Dugald Brodick, minister in 
 Edderloch, the terror of evil-doers, the friend 
 and helper of all who did well. 
 
 As they came nearer to the castle of McNeil, 
 they had to pass through a fishing hamlet. 
 The men in a staid, slow, noiseless manner
 
 THE FAMILY OF MCNEIL. II 
 
 were moving toward the boats; the women, 
 standing in the lone doors, watching them with 
 a long, serious gaze. 
 
 " The sea is a hard taskmaster, Laird. It 
 canna rest itself, and it gives no rest to those 
 who get their bread on it." 
 
 "Just so, Doctor; but the unrest and the 
 salt savour creep into the blood of all who live 
 near by it. And I 'm thinking, too, there is in 
 all men a natural yearning for the sea. Once 
 a year, at least, folk want to get a sight of it ; 
 ay, and them that never saw it have had very 
 clear notions anent it. I 'm thinking now of 
 Shakespeare." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well? Who knew it better? And yet, 
 unless it was in his dreams, when did he ever 
 see it? " 
 
 " Laird, I '11 answer you in the words of a 
 very wise man : 
 
 Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum 
 
 Of things forever speaking, 
 That nothing of 'itself 'will come, 
 
 But we must still be seeking ? * 
 
 Besides, man, God Almighty yet gives to some 
 of us the power of vision, the faculty divine that 
 
 1 Wordsworth.
 
 12 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 was doubtless lost for the main part in the abyss 
 of the Fall. In all ages, men have seen the sea 
 who never set mortal eyes on it. Where would 
 that auld Arabian Job get a sight of such 
 mountainous billows as come down Jura Sound ; 
 or David ; or the herdsman of Tekoa ; or 
 Jeremiah; or Habakkuk; or any of those 
 Hebrew prophets and poets and preachers? 
 They never saw the Atlantic come thundering 
 down these narrow water-ways; but they had 
 a wonderful clear vision as to how it does it." 
 
 " You have made out your case, Doctor, and 
 here we are at the door-stone; will you come 
 in?" 
 
 " No ; we have talked enough for one night." 
 
 He turned away with the words ; and McNeil 
 stood a moment watching him descend the little 
 acclivity on which the castle stood. It was not 
 an imposing building, though dignified with the 
 name of " castle ; " but its rude strength and 
 square, massive masonry redeemed it from all 
 suspicion of meanness. And it had also the air 
 of antiquity; it looked old, just as an old man 
 has the look of his fourscore years. 
 
 The door stood open, and almost involuntarily, 
 as McNeil entered, his eyes sought the quaint
 
 THE FAMILY OF McNEIL. 13 
 
 stone letters above it. They always did so ; it 
 was a habit which had become a kind of super 
 stition with him, though usually he attached no 
 importance to the declaration which his fore 
 father had put there : " A.D. 1449. I, man, have 
 the end of all wisdom. I trust in God." Hither 
 to the words had never roused a dissent in his 
 mind. They had seemed to him truthful as 
 words could be. For the first time he felt the 
 chill of some mental antagonism. It was un 
 doubtedly well to trust in God, but was there 
 not also some active and positive thing for him 
 to do? The stir and movement of his century 
 had found him out in the green desert where his 
 ancestors had lived and just let their days come 
 to them. 
 
 He had always been a careful and in many 
 ways a very prudent and fortunate man. He 
 had the auriferous touch. All his ventures had 
 ended in gold ; and Dr. Brodick had been telling 
 him that night that he was already rich enough, 
 and that the carrying out of certain new plans 
 which he had formed would be apt to bind him 
 to the constant service of Mammon. 
 
 He walked through the wide stone hall with 
 a questioning look. Though it was midsummer,
 
 14 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 there was a bright fire at the upper end, and a 
 large chair, soft with deer-skins, stood before it. 
 Every night in this cavernous entry the fire was 
 pleasant; this night the chill mist driven up 
 from the sea made it doubly so, but McNeil 
 did not accept the mute invitation of the com 
 fortable chair. He went into a little room di 
 verging from the hall, lighted the candles in a 
 silver sconce, and took from his locked desk a 
 book, which he began to read with profound 
 interest. 
 
 It was a stoutly bound book, secured by a 
 brass lock, and was in manuscript. In fact, it 
 was his private ledger. It kept the sum of his 
 gains and the total of his bank account. Its 
 contents seemed to give him much solid satis 
 faction ; and when at length he relockcd the vol 
 ume, and replaced it in his desk, it was with all 
 the careful respect which he considered due to 
 the representative of so many thousand pounds. 
 
 His mood was now placid and inclined to 
 retrospection. Thoughtfully fingering the key 
 which locked up the record of his wealth, he 
 walked to the window, drew apart the heavy 
 curtains, and looked keenly into the night. A 
 pale, watery moon was reflected in the sea be-
 
 THE FA MIL Y OF Me NEIL. I 5 
 
 neath it; and between lights the fishing-boats 
 moved restlessly to and fro. The mountains 
 and moors had now no beauty of colour, they 
 looked desolate and dreary; but the bare, 
 barren land, and the gray, mournful sea, were 
 fair in McNeil's sight. It was the country of 
 the McNeils. He had a fixed idea that it always 
 had been their country; and when he told him 
 self, as he did at that hour, that so many acres 
 of old Scotland were actually his own, he was 
 aggressively a Scotchman. 
 
 "It is a bonnie bit of land," he muttered; 
 " and I have done as my father, Laird Alexan 
 der, told me to do. If we should meet in an 
 other world, I '11 be able to give him a good 
 account of Edderloch and Otterdale. Thirty 
 years ago, this very night, he gave me the ring 
 off his finger, and said: 'Archibald, I am going 
 the way of all flesh. Be a good man, and grip 
 tight' I have done as he bid me. There are 
 80,000 in the Bank of Scotland, and every 
 mortgage is lifted. I am sure he would be 
 pleased with me this hour, and indeed I am 
 very well pleased with myself. There is none 
 can say but I have been a good holder of Ed 
 derloch and Otterdale. Not one ! "
 
 1 6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF A/c NEIL. 
 
 His self-complacent reflections were cut short 
 by the entrance of his eldest daughter, Helen ; 
 and he dropped the curtains together, and 
 turned his face toward her. In that moment 
 something finer came into it; the firm, square 
 lower part broke up into lines that almost sug 
 gested smiles, and the eyes glinted kindly at 
 her. 
 
 " Helen, my bird ! I almost missed you, 
 Helen. If I had not had a few very grave 
 thoughts for company, I should have been 
 seeking you ere this. What is that paper in 
 your hand? " 
 
 " It is a letter from Colin, I also have had 
 one." 
 
 " Whatever news has the lad to need two 
 letters at one post?" 
 
 " Only good news, father." 
 
 She laid her head against his shoulder with 
 a little caressing motion no other living creature 
 would have ventured upon with McNeil; but 
 to him his daughter Helen was a being apart 
 from common humanity. Not even his young 
 est child, the beautiful Grizelda, had half the 
 power over him ; for Grizelda touched only his 
 fatherly instincts, while Helen appealed also to
 
 THE FAMILY OF McNEIL. 17 
 
 everything that was noblest and. sweetest in his 
 nature. In Helen's presence he was his best 
 self. She generally managed to leave him on 
 good terms with his conscience, and nothing is 
 more certain than that the average man and 
 woman love those best who insensibly carry 
 them into the finest atmosphere their souls 
 can breathe. 
 
 " And what is it about Colin, my dearie? " 
 
 " He has written a very fine paper in one of 
 the great reviews, and every one is praising what 
 he says. I do not understand it, but then it 
 must be true, because he proves it all by such 
 clever calculations." 
 
 " And if a man can prove his words by 
 figures, Helen, he is apt to be right. There 
 are no flights and fancies about them. You 
 can always tell what you are doing, with figures, 
 Helen. I don't trust much else." 
 
 " You never do yourself justice, father. You 
 have something in your soul far above such 
 mechanical things as figures. At the exercise, 
 last night, I shall never forget how your face 
 glowed when you read that wonderful descrip 
 tion of the rainbow : ' It compasseth the heaven 
 about with a glorious circle ; and the hands of
 
 1 8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEJL. 
 
 the Most High have bended it.' Father, your 
 tone and action made it so real to me that I 
 was constrained to veil my eyes in adoration." 
 
 " My dear, I trust I did feel the sublimity of 
 that godlike act," and he looked tenderly down 
 at the fair face bright with that invisible light 
 which comes only from within. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then Helen 
 said softly, 
 
 " Colin is coming straight home. He will 
 be here by the afternoon packet to-morrow; 
 and he is bringing a stranger with him. Shall 
 I have the best guest-room made ready for 
 him?" 
 
 "Whom for?" 
 
 " He is an English gentleman from London, 
 a very good man, Colin says." 
 
 " Humph ! Would you put an Englishman 
 in the room where a Stuart has slept? I '11 not 
 hear tell of it. I am not the man to lift a 
 quarrel my fathers dropped, but I '11 not have 
 any English body in the Stuart's room. It 's 
 not likely, Helen. What is the man's- name? " 
 
 " Mr. George Selwyn." f 
 
 "Selwyn! There's no Scotch Selwyns that 
 ever I heard tell of. He will be Saxon alto-
 
 yf , /v/ r/r^ FAMILY OF MCNEIL. 19 
 
 JUT 
 
 gether, no doubt. Put him in the east room. 
 
 I wonder whatever makes our Colin take up 
 with strange men." 
 
 " From what Colin says, he is good and he 
 is a gentleman. The McNeil is not used to 
 ask his guest 'Whose son art thou?' 1 
 
 " Wait a wee, Helen. W T hen the McNeil has 
 two bonnie daughters, it is only right for him 
 to ask questions he would not ask if he had 
 not such a charge; and that minds me of Gri- 
 zelda. Where is she? I have not seen her 
 or heard her or heard tell of her since the noon 
 hour." 
 
 " She was practising all the morning." 
 
 " I know that right well. I have surely 
 bought a piano-forte to my own trouble and 
 confusion; for I could not make my counts up 
 for it." 
 
 "But, then, in the evening, father! What 
 sweet songs Zelda sings, and how you do 
 enjoy them." 
 
 " I am not denying it. Where was she since 
 the noon hour? " 
 
 " She went riding, and she met Lord Max 
 well, and they took the Bruff road, and got out 
 of the way. She came home a bit tired ; but
 
 2O THE HOUSEHOLD OF McKEIL. 
 
 she is well rested now, and supper will be ready 
 very soon, and you ought to be with us in the 
 parlour, father, it is lonely without you." 
 
 " Helen, there is no use in trying to stay the 
 words that be to come. Listen to them. You 
 are to keep better ward over your sister. I like 
 not Maxwell. He is but a stranger and an 
 interloper here. Let him bide in Galloway, 
 where he comes from." 
 
 " Father, have you heard anything wrong of 
 Lord Maxwell ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Have you seen anything wrong?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why, then, do you think wrong of him? " 
 
 " Helen, there are things we know that we 
 cannot comprehend, just as there are things 
 appointed for us that are not explained to us. 
 The first hour that I saw Maxwell, I judged 
 him rightly; and for that reason he dislikes 
 me. I also do not like him. Now, dearie, I 
 will go with you, and we will have a bit of 
 supper and a song." 
 
 They went silently through the chill stone 
 passages, and came suddenly into a parlour 
 filled with light and comfort. A bright fire
 
 THE FAMILY OF McXEIL. 21 
 
 was on the hearth, and before it, in a low 
 sewing-chair, sat Grizelda McNeil. Her fine 
 face was veiled in a maze of tender thought; 
 her eyes misty with the languorous melancholy 
 of hidden love. It was some moments before 
 she could summon her soul from its intensely 
 personal revery to the simple relative duties 
 and courtesies the hour demanded; but her 
 manner was naturally so reticent and dignified 
 that neither her father nor sister noticed the 
 effort. She had an exquisite face, and a tall 
 and very slender form, and an easy, stately 
 carriage that had in it something maidenly, 
 exclusive, impossible to be described. 
 
 Usually, at this hour, she unbent her whole 
 nature to her father and sister. She made it 
 pass to a little flurry of song and gay conver 
 sation. She told in it all the news she had 
 gathered in the fishing village, or up among 
 the shepherds on the mountains. She ex 
 hibited the sketches she had made, the bits 
 of wood and moor and sea, the solitary fisher 
 man, the groups of round-eyed, round-faced 
 children. She had a great genius for such 
 sketching, and McNeil was rather proud of 
 her ability. Being a woman, he thought she
 
 22 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 had a right to pass the hours in what he con 
 sidered, after all, a very useless kind of fashion ; 
 for pretty, purposeless work was, at that day, 
 the special vocation of wealthy women. 
 
 But this night, Grizelda seemed unable to 
 mix her personality with that of others. She 
 was singularly silent, and when asked to sing, 
 did so with an indifference which made McNeil 
 say fretfully, 
 
 " You are giving good music poor justice, 
 Grizelda. You must have been in ill company, 
 for it has taken the song out of your heart. 
 Helen, read me the letter Colin sent you; 
 maybe there will be a bit of kindness and 
 pleasantness in it." 
 
 Colin's letter, however, was no more satis 
 factory than Grizelda's music had been. It 
 was full of the Rev. George Selwyn; and Mc 
 Neil found himself anticipating annoyance and 
 disappointment from the visit. In the first 
 place, he had a new business plan to carry 
 out, and he had been waiting nearly a year 
 for the termination of Colin's law studies. He 
 needed his co-operation, and he was impatient 
 of any visitor who would probably prolong the 
 days of unprofitable inactivity.
 
 THE FAMILY OF Me NEIL, 23 
 
 In the second place, he was intensely jealous 
 of Helen ; and every young man, in his eyes, 
 was a probable suitor. For a few years, he 
 wished to retain her by his own side and at 
 his own hearth ; and when the question of her 
 marriage had to be faced, he had quite deter 
 mined to give her to his nephew and elected 
 heir, Colin McNeil. He had adopted the young 
 man at his brother's death; and though the 
 estate was not entailed, it was a tacitly under 
 stood thing that Colin would be the future 
 McNeil. And a decided part of this scheme, 
 in the laird's eyes, was the marriage of the 
 heir to his own eldest daughter. There seemed 
 such an element of justness and fitness in this 
 arrangement, it was so clear to his own mind, 
 that he never anticipated opposition or dissent 
 in the matter; so he could not think with pa 
 tience or pleasure of any element coming into 
 McNeil Castle which might be a disturbing one 
 to plans so well considered and satisfactory. 
 
 But with the morning light, he faced the 
 circumstances more hopefully. " There are 
 mostly two good sides to one bad one," he 
 thought. " It will be an ill man that is not 
 better than Maxwell. Grizelda thinks she is
 
 24 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 in love with him, because he has the ground 
 to himself in a manner; and if this stranger 
 can only make her waver, there will be time 
 gained : and with time on his side, a man may 
 hope for all things. And it is not likely Helen 
 will take a thought anent him. Her heart is 
 with her own people ; and if she knows any 
 thing well, she knows that Colin McNeil and 
 Helen McNeil are sorted out for each other. 
 She never has gone contrary to my wish ; it 's 
 no likely she will begin wrong-doing with an 
 English stranger." 
 
 So, confiding in his own wishes and opinions, 
 he went in high spirits to meet his nephew and 
 his guest. He had not seen Colin for three 
 years, and the young man was an object very 
 near to his heart, his nephew, his intended son- 
 in-law, and the inheritor of lands and honours 
 stretching backward into the mists of Ossianic 
 traditions, and forward into the hopes and am 
 bitions of an era whose possibilities were almost 
 too large to dream about. 
 
 As the packet approached the small pier, he 
 was sensible of some anxiety regarding the 
 young man's personal appearance. The Mc 
 Neil's were a handsoms race; he hoped that
 
 THE FAMIL Y OF McNEIL. 2 5 
 
 Colin would be physically worthy of his an 
 cestors. And he drew a long sigh of gratifica 
 tion as the young man, with outstretched hands, 
 leaped from the boat to meet him; for the 
 future McNeil was certainly a proper Highland 
 gentleman, tall and swarthy, with the glowing 
 eyes and rather melancholy air of the true 
 Celt. 
 
 His companion, the Rev. George Selwyn, 
 was singularly unlike him. The McNeil had 
 judged rightly; he was a pure Saxon, and he 
 showed it in his fresh complexion, his fearless, 
 wide-open, gray eyes, and his bright brown 
 hair. But as it was only physically that Mc 
 Neil looked at him, he was not at all conscious 
 that there was something in George Selwyn 
 which struck a deeper and wider sympathy 
 than the sympathy of race, a heart beating 
 for all humanity. 
 
 "There is no danger with the like of him," 
 was McNeil's mental comment as he glanced 
 with satisfaction at the young clergyman's short 
 spare figure and well-defined, educated face. 
 " I need not fear for Helen. Colin is six inches 
 taller, and every way a far prettier man."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 
 
 His doctrines from the streets he brings, 
 
 From ploughman's lowly cot, 
 From proud palatial halls of kings, 
 
 From dens where sinners rot 
 In darkness and disease. He hath 
 
 The wise man's art to borrow 
 From other's life ; he treads the path 
 
 Of each man's joy and sorrow. 
 
 Dr. BI.ACKIE. 
 
 Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall surely 
 be full of variety, old crotchets, and most sweet closes. 
 
 /I CNEIL had anticipated no interference of 
 any kind from a man of such insignifi 
 cant presence as George Selvvyn ; but in three 
 weeks his influence had become remarkably 
 dominant. When he first arrived, the laird, 
 out of respect for his office, had delegated to 
 him the conduct of the family worship. His 
 own " exercises " had often been slipped away 
 from, excuses had been frequent, absentees 
 usual ; but the whole household came to listen
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. ZJ 
 
 to Selwyn with an eagerness which was very 
 irritating to McNeil. 
 
 And both the laird and his servants heard 
 some startling truths ; for the Gospel of Christ, 
 interpreted as the gospel of humanity, bringing 
 forth free schools, free hospitals, food for the 
 hungry, clothes for the naked, homes for the 
 homeless, helps of all kinds, as part of every 
 church organization, was in that day strange 
 doctrine. It was struggling for a hold in the 
 great cities ; country parishes had never heard 
 of it. 
 
 McNeil listened with indignation. He thought 
 it very ungentlemanly of Selwyn to preach at 
 him in his own house, and he by no means 
 approved of the responsibilities which the young 
 preacher assigned to men of wealth and author 
 ity. A religion of intellectual faith, which had 
 certain well-recognized claims on his pocket, 
 he was willing to support, and if need were 
 to defend ; but one which made him on every 
 hand his brother's keeper, that was a different 
 thing; he considered it a dangerously democratic 
 theology. 
 
 " And I '11 have no socialism in my religion 
 any more than I '11 have it in my politics,
 
 28 THE HOUSEHOLD OP McNETL. 
 
 Colin," he said one morning angrily. "If this 
 friend of yours belongs to what they call the 
 Church of England, I am more set up than 
 ever with the Kirk of Scotland, God bless 
 her!" 
 
 " The same ideas are spreading in the Kirk 
 of Scotland, uncle. When I was in Edinburgh, 
 I went with Selwyn to some ragged schools 
 just founded by our own great Dr. Guthrie. 
 Selwyn was talking to me of what might be 
 done among these poor kinsmen of ours." 
 
 " No doubt; but I '11 no need Mr. Selwyn to 
 help me to order my affairs. He may have a 
 big parish in London, but the McNeils are not 
 in his congregation. You can tell him, Colin, 
 that I am a king and bishop within my own 
 bounds." 
 
 He reached down his bonnet as he spoke, 
 and without waiting for Colin's answer, walked 
 rapidly to the beach. The salt coolness of the 
 air, the fresh sea-weeds glistening with olive 
 fronds and black sea-grapes, the sand-snipes 
 piping to one another across the sands, the 
 peregrines screaming at and scolding him as 
 they rose from their rock, all these things 
 comforted him in their way. They were fa-
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 29 
 
 miliar ; there was no element of change about 
 them; they seemed to assure him that, in his 
 world at least, as things had been, so they would 
 continue to be. 
 
 But the morning was destined to be one of 
 annoyance to him. On his return homeward 
 he met Dr. Brodick. The minister had seen 
 him coming, and he stood waiting his approach 
 on the wet sands. He had lifted his hat to 
 catch the cool breeze, and his tall, sombre 
 figure imparted to the majesty of Nature the 
 nobler majesty of humanity. The wide ex 
 panse of beach looked grander for the man 
 standing on it. 
 
 " Well met, Doctor. Are you going to the 
 castle? " 
 
 " Even so. I am for an hour's talk with that 
 fine young English minister you have staying 
 at with you." 
 
 " Brodick, let me tell you that you have been 
 too much with him lately. His sermons on the 
 beach the two last Sabbath nights havena given 
 satisfaction. There is a kind of papistical sen 
 sation in preaching outside of the kirk." 
 
 " But, Laird, the kirk would not hold the con 
 gregation ; and as for preaching out of doors,
 
 30 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 the Great Preacher aye did it. You will surely 
 not be accusing Him of sensation and papacy." 
 
 " Things were fit for Him that are not to be 
 thought of with the life of George Schvyn. 
 The kirk is the place for men to preach. Why, 
 Doctor, he is an Episcopal and an Arminian of 
 the worst kind. I 'm more than astonished at 
 you listening to him at all." 
 
 " Tuts, Laird ! Arminiajiism isna a conta 
 gious disease. I '11 no more take Arminianism 
 from George Selwyn than I '11 take toryism and 
 Jacobitism from Laird Archibald McNeil. My 
 theology and my politics, both of them, are far 
 beyond inoculation." 
 
 " Have you gotten up an argument with him, 
 Brodick? I 'd like fine to hear you two at it." 
 
 " No, no ; Schvyn is not inclined to argue. 
 He makes downright assertions, and every one 
 of them hits my conscience like a sledge-ham 
 mer. He said that to me last night, as we 
 walked these sands together, that has not let 
 me sleep a blink." 
 
 " He is a very disagreeable young man. 
 What could he say to you? You have aye 
 done your duty." 
 
 " I thought so once, McNeil. I taught the
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 31 
 
 bairns their catechism ; I looked well after the 
 spiritual life of both old and young; I have hud 
 a word in season for all. But this I ought to 
 have done, and not left the other undone." 
 
 " You are talking foolishness, Brodick ; and 
 that is a thing not usual with you." 
 
 " Not oftener than with other folk. But, Laird, 
 I feel that there must be a change. I have 
 gotten my orders, and I am going to obey 
 them. You may be very certain of that." 
 
 " I never thought that I should live to see 
 Doctor Brodick taking orders from a disciple 
 of Arminius and an Englishman, forbye." 
 
 " I '11 take my orders, McNeil, from any mes 
 senger my Master chooses to send them by; 
 and I '11 do His messenger justice. He laid 
 down no law to me. He only spoke of the duty 
 laid on his conscience; but my conscience said 
 amen to his. That is all about it. There have 
 been great questioning and seeking lately among 
 the men at Oxford ; and though I don't agree 
 with them in all things, I can see that they have 
 gotten a kind of revelation." 
 
 " Humph ! It is aye the young men that 
 want to turn the world upside down. Nothing 
 as it is suits them."
 
 32 THE HOUSEHOLD 01- VcNEIL. 
 
 " Laird, it is like a new epiphany. The hun 
 gry are fed, the naked clothed, the prisoners 
 comforted, the poor wee bairns gathered into 
 homes and schools. It is the gospel with bread 
 and meat and shelter and schooling in its hands. 
 And while he was telling me about these things, 
 my ain heart burned. I bethought me of all 
 that could be done right here in Eddcrloch." 
 
 The laird had listened thus far in speechless 
 indignation. He now stood still, and said, " I '11 
 have you to understand, Doctor Brodick, that I 
 am laird of Edderloch and Otterdale, and that 
 I will have no new-fangled ways or doctrines 
 taught in either of my clachans." 
 
 " If you are a laird, I am a dominie. You 
 know me well enough, McNeil, to be sure if 
 this thing is a matter of conscience with me, no 
 laird can stop me. I would snap my fingers 
 in the face of any one who said to me, 'Stop,' 
 when my conscience said to me, ' Go on ; ' " and 
 the doctor accompanied the threat with that 
 sharp, resonant fillip of the fingers which is a 
 Scotchman's natural expression of intense ex 
 citement of any kind. 
 
 " Brodick, you are in a temper. You will be 
 sorry for it ere long. You have given way
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 33 
 
 more than I have. You ken how you feel 
 about it." 
 
 " I feel ashamed, Laird. You '11 no lay the 
 blame to my office, but to Dugald Brodick 
 himself. There is a deal of Dugald Brodick 
 in me yet; and whiles he is too much for 
 Dominie Brodick to manage." 
 
 They were at the door by this time, and the 
 laird said, " Come in, Doctor." 
 
 ' k No ; I '11 go home now, and give myself a 
 talking to ; forbye, I see Mr. Selwyn is in the 
 garden with Helen, and I '11 perhaps spoil a 
 better talk." 
 
 The words struck McNeil with a singular 
 force. His face flushed angrily as he turned it 
 toward the shady walk which traversed the gar 
 den, and then meandered through the little pine 
 wood bordering the sweet place, and into which, 
 indeed, the garden strayed. Acting upon the 
 impulse of the moment, he walked rapidly 
 toward them. 
 
 " Helen, you are needed in the house," he 
 said abruptly; and then, turning to Selwyn, 
 asked, " Will you walk a while with me in the 
 wood, Mr. Selwyn?" 
 
 The young man pleasantly complied. He 
 3
 
 34 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 was quite unconscious of anger in the tone of 
 McNeil's request. And for a few yards neither 
 spoke; then the laird, with an irritable glance 
 at his placid companion, said, 
 
 " Mr. Selwyn, fore-speaking sometimes saves 
 after-speaking. I may as well tell you that my 
 daughter Helen is intended for the wife of my 
 nephew Colin. If you are thinking of wiving 
 in my house " 
 
 "Laird, I thank you for your warning; but 
 I have no thought of marrying any one. Helen 
 McNeil is a pearl among women, but I should 
 not dare ask her to be my wife. Even if I de 
 sired such a great honour, she would not be 
 able to endure the labour and the surroundings 
 to which I am pledged heart and soul. When 
 I took a curacy in the East-end of London, I 
 counted all the cost; and not for the fairest of 
 the daughters of men could I desert the work 
 to which I have solemnly pledged myself." 
 
 McNeil was intensely mortified. He had 
 simply put it in the power of a poor preacher, 
 and an Englishman, to refuse his daughter, 
 his Helen, whom he secretly regarded as a being 
 too good for any man's love or care but his 
 own. It did not help to conciliate him that
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 35 
 
 Selwyn passed over the conversation as if it 
 had been the most unimportant of episodes. 
 And McNeil was one of those men who, while 
 they are capable of overlooking great wrongs, 
 are made implacable enemies by a slight insult. 
 For the dagger's thrust may be forgiven, but 
 the slap in the face, never! The pain of the 
 one is tolerable : the humiliation of the other 
 intolerable. And Selwyn's calm disclaimer had 
 been felt by McNeil to be an affront of the 
 most insufferable kind. 
 
 The great pride of his character saved him 
 from the petty retaliation of impertinence; he 
 listened with a semblance of perfect courtesy to 
 Selwyn as he proceeded to describe the abject 
 poverty and the degradation of the people 
 among whom he had elected to live. He was 
 even just enough to acknowledge to himself 
 that the young man was a sincere enthusiast, 
 an apostle filled with his own evangel. 
 
 Yet never in his whole life had he spent a 
 more humiliating and disagreeable half-hour, 
 and he was exceedingly grateful when Colin 
 pushed aside the tall brackens, and leaping the 
 stone wall of the plantation, joined them. And 
 the young man's dark, vivid beauty, his supple,
 
 36 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 graceful figure, his world-like words and manner 
 made him, in the laird's eyes, a delightful con 
 trast to the pale, spiritual visionary who had so 
 deeply mortified him. 
 
 He left Colin and Selwyn together, and re 
 turned home in a hurry of mingled annoyance 
 and irritability. The men in the garden took 
 offence because he passed them without a word ; 
 the men in the courtyard, because he spoke to 
 them in tones of most unaccustomed and un 
 deserved anger. He went to his own parlour, 
 and locked himself in. His coat and necktie 
 oppressed him ; he threw them off with a pas 
 sionate exclamation of chagrin. For a few 
 minutes he permitted himself a full and ade 
 quate expression of the storm raging within 
 him. 
 
 Ah ! the worst of all wounds are those which 
 our own hands inflict Though the sun was 
 shining brightly, the laird sat in his own shadow ; 
 and the future seemed to him full of those fear 
 some phantoms that haunt darkness of any kind. 
 He remembered now how much Helen and 
 Selwyn had been together, how often he had 
 seen them so eager in conversation that their 
 very walk was but a shadow of movement,
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 37 
 
 coming often to a positive standstill. Was it 
 credible they were only discussing the needs of 
 poverty and ignorance, and the best methods 
 of relieving them? He called himself the hard 
 est of all names for his credulity, for his care 
 lessness, for his wrong estimate of his daughter's 
 character. 
 
 " I might have known Helen better! I might 
 have been sure that Colin, with all his beauty 
 and his full height, would be nowhere beside 
 that little saint fighting the Devil and all his 
 works. Helen is n't like other women, and 
 I should have had more sense than even her 
 with them. But I '11 tell her what he said. If 
 she has any hopes of martyrdom with George 
 S^lwyn, I '11 let her ken that he does not need 
 her company. It 's a brutal thing to do ; but 
 there 's hurts for which the knife is the only 
 kindness." 
 
 Having partially allayed this annoyance by 
 deciding how it was to be conquered, he began 
 to trouble himself about Grizelda. His antipa 
 thy to Lord Maxwell was a sincere one, none 
 the less vigorous in its nature because there 
 was no apparent reason for it. And he felt 
 certain that Grizelda liked him ; equally certain
 
 38 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 that Grizelda's reputed wealth was the object 
 of Maxwell's desires. He would not permit 
 himself to suppose that Maxwell was under the 
 influence of a sincere affection. 
 
 " And Grizelda is as proud and self-willed as 
 her mother was," he muttered ; " what she 
 wants she '11 take and have, if it is within the 
 bound of mortal capacity to win at it. Preserve 
 me ! To be between two daughters is to be 
 between two fires. I do not feel as if it was 
 right for the Almighty to set a man more than 
 one woman at a time to guide. I have had 
 three," he added, mournfully; "my wife Griz 
 elda Heaven give her rest! and the two 
 girls she left in her place. Dear me ! I am 
 afraid they have been given for my heartache." 
 
 With two such worries on hand, a man may 
 torment himself indefinitely; and in suspicions 
 and suppositions, all alike full of disappoint 
 ment and sorrow, the laird let the whole after 
 noon pass away. Twice some one had gently 
 tried the door, and finding it locked, gone 
 away. He knew it was Helen. He knew that 
 she would be uneasy about his fasting and his 
 long seclusion; but it was not until the sun 
 began to wester that he felt any inclination, or
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 39 
 
 indeed any ability, to face the domestic duties 
 that belonged to him. 
 
 And after all it was the physical sensation 
 of hunger that first brought his rebellious soul 
 to listen to reason. The tinkling of the glass 
 and china was like a soothing voice to him. 
 " I '11 have to go to the dinner-table," he 
 thought; and the thought was not now unpleas 
 ant. He remembered the lordly salmon that 
 had been brought from the loch that morning, 
 and the saddle of mutton and the sweetmeats, 
 and his after-dinner tranquillizer, the hot glass 
 of fine Campbeltown, with the slow pipe of 
 Virginia tobacco. 
 
 These were real and tangible pleasures. He 
 was now prepared to let them banish the un 
 pleasant uncertainties which had been employ 
 ing him. And just at that moment the door 
 handle moved softly again, and he hastened to 
 turn the lock and give the delayed words of 
 permission, " Come in." 
 
 No sweeter form could have answered the 
 words. Strictly speaking, Helen was not as 
 beautiful as her sister Grizelda; but her face 
 was fair and pleasing, and luminous with a clear 
 and limpid soul such as God loves. Her dress
 
 4O THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 of rich silk was quite destitute of the usual 
 fla-fla of an evening toilet ; her manner full of 
 simplicity and a natural candour. Hope and 
 happiness came back to McNeil's heart as soon 
 as he looked at her; and in the first mo 
 ment he felt as if it would be simply impossi 
 ble and inexcusable to annoy her with his 
 own annoyance. 
 
 But self-seeking, and not self-sacrifice, is the 
 natural bent of man. When Helen's hand was 
 in his, when he heard her say, " The day has 
 been so dreary without you, father; and I 
 missed you so much at the lunch-table; and, 
 dear, you look as if you were in trouble ; " he 
 could not resist the craving for her sympathy. 
 
 " I made a big blunder, Helen; and because 
 it was about you, my bird, I have had a double 
 portion of shame anent it." 
 
 Then he repeated the conversation which had 
 taken place between Selwyn and himself; per 
 haps unconsciously softening his own warning 
 and strengthening the positiveness of Selvvyn's 
 declaration, 
 
 No mortal could know how bitterly Helen 
 felt the position in which she had been placed. 
 In that moment she realized, for the first time,
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 41 
 
 that Selvvyn had been something more to her 
 than a passing visitor. She had not certainly 
 admitted the thought of love in her heart, but 
 she had idealized the man ; and the conditions of 
 love were all present. A word, a sigh, a glance 
 might at any moment have kindled a flame, 
 holy and inextinguishable, in her pure heart. 
 It was as if the door into some grand temple 
 had been set open, and then, while her foot 
 was on the threshold, suddenly closed in her 
 face. Many words and incidents flashed across 
 her memory which, once so pleasant, now 
 made her cheeks burn, and her heart turned 
 sick with shame. 
 
 But to blame her father would do no good, 
 and she hastened to say the words which at the 
 moment seemed most likely to prevent any 
 suspicion of her own heart-trouble. 
 
 "Mr. Selwyn cares not for any woman, 
 father; and I think, besides, Colin will have told 
 him that that I am " 
 
 " To be Colin's wife, surely, Helen, in a few 
 years, my dear. There is no hurry. Colin 
 must travel a year or two first; see the world. 
 All young men ought to ; and he knows I want 
 no forwardness in this matter. There is no
 
 42. THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 sense in forcing life on. A man should take 
 things in their order, his education, then his 
 profession, syne, when he is wearied himself 
 with strange countries and strange people, his 
 ain folk, and his ain home. I am in no hurry 
 to give anybody a share of your love, Helen." 
 
 What could Helen do but clasp his hand 
 tightly, and with a kiss, give him once more the 
 assurance of her own faithfulness, and of her 
 contentment in his will. 
 
 But though the laird was partially restored to 
 himself, the evening was not by any means con 
 cordant. Every one was conscious of an under 
 tone that was not harmonious ; and Helen was 
 almost troubled by a tenderness and attention 
 in Colin's manner much more marked than 
 usual. She wondered if her father had also 
 spoken to Colin. She felt resentful of such 
 open discussion of herself, and the unexpressed 
 feeling imparted a certain dignity to her 
 manner. 
 
 But the change in Colin had not originated 
 with the laird. Mr. Selwyn was accountable 
 for it. While they were in the wood together, 
 he had thought it best to tell Colin of McNeil's 
 suspicion; and in the conversation growing out
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 43 
 
 of this confidence, Selwyn had spoken of Helen's 
 spiritual and personal beauty in words which 
 had aroused all the latent jealousy of Colin's 
 nature. He saw and felt, what was possibly not 
 clear to Selwyn, that the young preacher was 
 far more under the sweet influence of Helen 
 McNeil than he was aware of; and while he was 
 satisfied that Selwyn had no thought of being 
 unfaithful to his convictions or his friend, he 
 was secretly angry at the unconscious infidelity. 
 
 And so subtle and unconfirmed are the springs 
 that move us to action, that Selwyn felt in that 
 moment that his visit was over; that he had 
 got the call to go back to London and to work. 
 He did not hesitate a moment, and Colin was a 
 little ashamed of himself because he found it 
 impossible to urge his friend with any warmth 
 or sincerity to extend his visit. Still he made 
 the attempt. " Stay a week longer and I will 
 go as far as Glasgow with you," he said. 
 
 " No, Colin, I have done the work I was sent 
 to do. The ground is broken. I can trust the 
 seed-time and harvesting to that good Doctor 
 Brodick and to your cousin Helen." 
 
 " Then you think you came here on a special 
 mission, Selwyn?"
 
 44 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 " I trust that I go nowhere with aimless feet. 
 There was a word to be spoken here, and God 
 sent me to speak it. The word has fallen on 
 good ground ; you will see that. But to-morrow 
 morning I must go. I am sure it is right to 
 do so." 
 
 Colin no longer opposed. Perhaps he was 
 even a little glad. He had been impressed by 
 the spiritual heroism of this new band of evan 
 gelists ; but his enthusiasm lacked the strength 
 of continuity. A little good done now and then, 
 a holy Sabbath to savour the week: that was 
 salt enough for life, as Colin looked at life. A 
 conviction which drives like rain, to the very 
 roots, was too hard for him. 
 
 And then he had suddenly become jealous. 
 Selwyn spoke of Helen too familiarly, too ad 
 miringly. He felt sure of her sympathy. He 
 relied upon her to carry out the charities he 
 had planned ; made a claim, as it were, upon 
 her life and remembrance. Without consciously 
 analyzing these feelings, he was moved by them ; 
 and their first result was that access of atten 
 tion and tenderness which had half offended 
 Helen. 
 
 As for McNeil, he grandly put behind him
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 45 
 
 all considerations but the fact that Selwyn was 
 his guest. Every tradition, every inherited 
 feeling, led him to set this duty first of all; but 
 there was undoubtedly an effort in it, and the 
 entrance of Doctor Brodick was sincerely wel 
 comed. He speedily claimed Selwyn's attention, 
 and left to the laird and to Colin and to Helen 
 the less trying position of listeners. 
 
 Grizelda had never affected the slightest in 
 terest in Mr. Selwyn or his theories. She said 
 that his enthusiasm had even a chilling effect 
 upon her. So she sat at the piano, softly prac 
 tising with one hand a brilliant fantasia of Henri 
 Herz's; but its sweet crescendos did not seri 
 ously command her attention, the running 
 music was only an accompaniment to dreams 
 and hopes of a far more personal character. 
 
 Gradually the voices of Selwyn and Brodick 
 became softer and yet more earnest; and Helen 
 sat with her crochet in her hand, listening to 
 them, her fine, sensitive face expressing her 
 assent far more eloquently than words could 
 have done. The laird smoked, and thought 
 his own thoughts. Colin, standing by the open 
 window, put in a word now and then, and 
 watched Helen's face furtively, as his eyes wan-
 
 46 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 dercd between the speakers and the misty 
 mountains; and over all the evening shadows 
 gathered, gray and solemn, and the parlour 
 seemed strangely quiet, in spite of the serious 
 voices and the soft, tinkling music. 
 
 Suddenly the door was hastily opened, and 
 the footman said in a voice of suppressed 
 excitement, 
 
 " Hector Oe would speak with you, Laird." 
 
 McNeil rose in a moment, with a face full of 
 alarmed expectation. Hector Oe was his head 
 shepherd ; and any unusual visit from him gener 
 ally portended some calamity among the flocks. 
 Doctor Brodick understood this; he rose and 
 stood by the side of Colin. Selwyn bent forward 
 and spoke to Helen. Grizelda's soft, aimless 
 playing went on without a break. 
 
 In a few minutes McNeil re-entered the room. 
 He was trembling with passion; he could 
 scarcely command his voice as he said, 
 
 " Doctor, Colin, those dogs of Maxwell's 
 have worried to death more than two score of 
 my best ewes." 
 
 " It is an outrageous shame," answered the 
 minister. " They have already done great dam 
 age to the flocks on the Greenlees estate. I
 
 A DAY OF EARTH'S UNREST. 47 
 
 heard that Greenlees was suing him for the 
 price of two thousand sheep." 
 
 " I will not trouble the law. I will be my 
 own judge and jury in this matter. I have bid 
 Hector Oe shoot the brutes, and then hang 
 them on Maxwell's gate-posts." 
 
 Grizelda had stopped playing when McNeil 
 first spoke ; at these words she rose, and com 
 ing forward into the clearer light, said, 
 
 " You have given a most ungentlemanly and 
 unwise order, father. It is Hector Oe's fault. 
 What are shepherds for but to protect the 
 sheep? " 
 
 Her father heard her with amazement which 
 had no words, and Doctor Brodick answered 
 for him. 
 
 " You do not know what you are talking 
 about, Grizelda. Maxwell is quite aware of the 
 vice which these brutes practise. He has been 
 kindly remonstrated with, for I went myself to 
 him ; he has been asked to keep them, at least, 
 within his own bounds. He ought to destroy 
 them." 
 
 " A man has a right to keep the dogs he 
 prefers. He does not interfere with those which 
 you or my father keep."
 
 48 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 " He has no such right, Grizclda. In a com 
 munity of sheep-owners, a dog that worries 
 sheep " 
 
 " Doctor, Grizelda knows what is right. Out 
 of a wicked perversity she speaks. Go to your 
 own room, miss, till you can find a better cause 
 to espouse than that of two vicious dogs and 
 their hound of a master." 
 
 " Lord Maxwell is not a hound." 
 
 " He is the worst hound of the three. I will 
 not have another word from you, Grizelda;" and 
 McNeil himself set wide the door, and imperi 
 ously ordered the contumacious girl through it. 
 
 This event impressed every one with a sense 
 of finality: the life embodied in the past few 
 weeks was a finished scene ; the actors in it had 
 now new parts to fill. Mr. Selwyn went away 
 with less regret than he would have thought 
 possible twenty- four hours previously; for 
 McNeil, Colin, and even Doctor Brodick were 
 heartful of the malicious injury perpetrated 
 on the old lairds of the land by a stranger, a 
 borderer, almost an Englishman.
 
 CliAPTER III. 
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 
 
 Oh, what a tangled web we weave 
 When first we practise to deceive ! 
 
 A man with all the bad qualities his language has names for. 
 
 Look round the habitable world, how few 
 Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue ! 
 
 So blind we are, our wishes are so vain, 
 
 That what we most desire proves most our pain. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 REAT were the needs of the present time ; 
 they made their demands first, and in 
 their attack, so surprising and so blunt, men 
 forgot all about the future, its lofty ideals and 
 its beneficent plans. 
 
 Grizelda obeyed her father because the powers 
 present were too much for her to resist; but 
 she was intensely angry, and her anger did not 
 evaporate in a few indignant tears and -words. 
 Indeed, she never thought of weeping. Her 
 first act on reaching her room was to write a 
 4
 
 50 THE HOUSEHOLD OF 
 
 note which she sent by her maid to Lord Max 
 well. She was especially anxious to prevent any 
 positive quarrel between him and her father; 
 and she knew if the McNeil's orders were car 
 ried out no future reconciliation was possible. 
 
 Hitherto Maxwell's admiration for Grizelda 
 McNeil had been shown within legitimate and 
 honourable bounds. In the houses of the 
 neighbouring gentry, when he met her, he chose 
 to linger by her side, to walk with her in the 
 gardens, to make her conspicuously his partner 
 ia the dance. Grizelda was fond of riding, and 
 it happened, perhaps with some vague under 
 standing of its likelihood, that their paths were 
 often identical. And there had been at these 
 times such love-making as naturally comes to 
 pass when youth and beauty and inexperience 
 are at the mercy of a handsome man, skilled in 
 all the ways of selfish gratification. 
 
 For undoubtedly Maxwell was handsome. 
 He had an aristocratic bearing, a manner at 
 once suave and authoritative, and a face of per 
 fect regularity; but it was a face without a 
 heart, a face that might have been carved from 
 steel, so fine and yet so cold was it. The eyes 
 never laughed when the man laughed; and
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 51 
 
 their glance, unsteady, piercing, obtrusive, left 
 an unpleasant impression of something that 
 was almost insolence. 
 
 McNeil had disliked him on sight. At first 
 he tried to reason himself out of such an un 
 reasonable prejudice ; but the toleration granted 
 to the absent Maxwell was instantly withdrawn 
 when he met him face to face. Finally he be 
 came aware that the aversion was not to be 
 eradicated any more than it was to be under 
 stood. " Our souls are at enmity," he said to 
 Doctor Brodick; " they do not believe anything 
 our tongues say." 
 
 This was the state of feeling between McNeil 
 and Maxwell on that night when Grizelda took 
 her first wrong step. When her father sent her 
 from his presence, she opened her heart to 
 every evil power. Impulse is generally the 
 Devil's own whisper; and she followed her first 
 impulse, which was to write and tell Lord Max 
 well of the intention of " certain parties " re 
 specting his offending dogs. Had she waited 
 an hour, she would have written a far less effu 
 sive note ; had she waited until morning, she 
 would not have written at all. 
 
 Lord Maxwell was alone when he received it.
 
 52 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 He had been sipping wine, and turning the 
 leaves of one of Sue's novels for a couple of 
 hours, and was precisely in the mood to find in 
 Grizelda's note the very stimulus his nature 
 wanted. His first step was to secure his dogs. 
 To have them shot and hung at his gates would 
 be an intolerable insult, because it was one 
 which he could not avenge. The law would 
 give him no redress, he could not enter into a 
 quarrel with servants, and, as he admitted to 
 himself, servants of such gigantic stature and 
 strength that they had immense physical ad 
 vantage over him. Well, then, as he was unable 
 to strike, it was better not to lift his hand ; and 
 he said with a hateful little laugh as he tapped 
 the table with Grizelda's note, 
 
 " I thank you, miss, for keeping me out of 
 this trap, and for showing me the way to a far 
 sweeter revenge." 
 
 For Grizelda's interference said plainly that 
 he had won the girl's heart ; and though he felt 
 a slight scorn for his easy conquest, he per 
 ceived that it put the father's heart under his 
 feet. The possibilities of his plan, though as 
 yet complicated and confused, were certain 
 enough to give him, in anticipation, an intoxi-
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 53 
 
 eating draught of the sinful triumph he felt 
 certain of. 
 
 He had a shrewd idea as to where he would 
 be likely to meet Grizelda next day; and he 
 lingered near the spot for hours. But though 
 Grizelda had precisely the same thought, 
 though she was certain he was slowly riding 
 up and down that part of the moor which 
 touched the wall of the fir wood, and moment 
 arily expecting her to emerge from its green 
 depths, Grizelda did not keep this mental tryst. 
 She wished to do so, but some womanly instinct 
 made it impossible. She was naturally a very 
 proud girl, and at this hour her pride stood her 
 in the place of nobler sentiments. She felt 
 keenly that she had forfeited something that 
 belonged to the finest conception of woman 
 hood in writing to Maxwell, and she could not 
 delude herself with the idea that she had done 
 so to prevent quarrelling, perhaps bloodshed. 
 
 So, as a kind of peace-offering to her wounded 
 self-respect, she did not go to walk in the fir 
 wood. She even compelled herself to remain 
 in her own room, lest the exquisite weather 
 might tempt her into the garden, and her weak 
 heart tempt her into the wood.
 
 54 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 But Maxwell gave her no credit for this self- 
 denial. He understood women so well that he 
 had been over the whole ground of Grizelda's 
 feelings and reasonings before he left his own 
 house, and had even taken a bet with himself 
 that she would not come to meet him. Her 
 absence gratified his opinion of his own pene 
 tration, but still it did not please him. Having 
 taken one step aside from the narrow, conven 
 tional road, he would really have respected her 
 more if she had dared to do what he knew her 
 heart prompted her to do, and have thus given 
 to his wooing something piquant and unusual. 
 
 He smiled as he turned homeward. 
 
 " She will meet me to-morrow, perhaps ; but 
 if it be a week, a month hence, in the long 
 run it will be the same." 
 
 He was thinking such thoughts when he met 
 Doctor Brodick. He stopped his horse and spoke 
 to him with the utmost respect, carrying the 
 conversation from one topic to another with 
 great tact and volubility. But the doctor was 
 not deceived by his clever suavity, and he met 
 it by that blunt honesty which always confounds 
 speech used for deception. 
 
 " Lord Maxwell," he said, " I have been to
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 55 
 
 your place to seek a word with you. I may as 
 well say it here. There is a very ill will to you 
 in the country-side anent those vicious curs that 
 are worrying the flocks around Edderloch. I 
 have spoken to you before about it. Keep 
 those dogs up, my lord, and you will save 
 yourself a deal of trouble." 
 
 " Doctor Brodick, I am sorry you have inter 
 fered in this matter. I do not recognize your 
 right to do so." 
 
 " Edderloch is my parish, Maxwell. It is my 
 duty to reprove wrong in it, whether the wrong 
 doer be lord or shepherd. You are a stranger 
 in these parts, Lord ; but let me tell you that the 
 thing you are responsible for is an outrage not 
 to be tolerated in a community where sheep are 
 a man's main property." 
 
 " Doctor, you have done your duty then ; let 
 me say you are a trifle late about it. A much 
 more persuasive tongue than yours has already 
 counselled me. If it will give you any satisfac 
 tion, I will admit that I have listened to the 
 voice of the charmer, and confined the objec 
 tionable animals. Have you been at the castle 
 to-day? I hope the McNeils are all well. 
 Good evening, Doctor." And putting spurs to
 
 56 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 his horse, he rode off with the air of a man who 
 had not only cleared himself, but also adminis 
 tered a well-deserved rebuke in a very reasonable 
 manner. 
 
 For a moment the minister was in a blaze 
 of anger, and his first impulse was to lift the 
 stout thorn stick in his right hand; but in 
 stead he struck it firmly into the yielding turf. 
 " Keep yourself in hand, Dugald Brodick," he 
 said sharply; "keep yourself in hand! Are 
 you going to sin because an ill man tempts 
 you?" For a few minutes the spiritual strug 
 gle was as intense as it was silent and motion 
 less; then his lips began to move, his large, 
 gray eyes were uplifted, he whispered softly, 
 as he resumed his walk, " Thou wilt keep him 
 in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee ! 
 Perfect peace! Nothing half-way, nothing in 
 complete in that promise. Take hold cf it, 
 Dugald Brodick ! " 
 
 For a short time he walked rapidly, but it 
 was not long ere he regained that absolute 
 personal controul which his usual thoughtful 
 pace and calm countenance indicated. Then 
 he began to speak to himself in a remonstra- 
 tive tone : " Dugald, to be possessed of the Devil
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 57 
 
 is a bad thing, but I 'm doubting whether it is 
 as bad as to be possessed of yourself. Dugald 
 Brodick knows Dugald Brodick so well that 
 he has advantages even Satan has not. Dugald 
 Brodick possessed of Dugald Brodick would be 
 a sinner set upon a hill. Only Christ in him 
 could cast out that tyranny." 
 
 The imperative personal conflict over, he be 
 gan to reflect upon Maxwell's peculiar words. 
 Connecting them with Grizelda's intemperate 
 action of the previous night, he was at no loss 
 to divine the charmer whose voice had been 
 listened to. But the conviction gave him a 
 heartache. Grizclda, with all her faults, was 
 very dear and pleasant in his sight. She had 
 been born shortly after the death of his own 
 young wife, and he had taken to her, and found 
 comfort in her caresses, and had her much with 
 him all through her babyhood and girlhood. 
 He had felt a pride in her beauty and talents, 
 and been very tolerant to the high temper 
 and lofty will, in which he recognized a spirit 
 very kindred to his own natural disposition. 
 
 The next morning he made an opportunity 
 to speak to his favourite. She was by this time 
 in a mood to listen. A little shame for her own
 
 58 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 action, a little regret for her treachery to the 
 sacredness of home confidence, a dim knowl 
 edge in her own soul that she was in danger, 
 aided by the physical depression consequent 
 on intense emotion and sleeplessness, all com 
 bined, made Grizelda unusually gentle and 
 reasonable. 
 
 " He is the very worst sweetheart you could 
 pick out, my dear," said the minister, kindly; 
 " he can make you ' my lady ' surely, but he is 
 not as rich nor as good a man in any respect as 
 young Finlay, of Finlay Steppe, who would be 
 proud indeed if you but looked at him. Finlay 
 is a Highland gentleman, at home here before 
 ever an Englishman crossed the border. Max 
 well is nothing but a stranger; he only got 
 a footing in Knapdale by buying your far-off 
 cousin's property, when the poor laird was in 
 a trouble he could not sort." 
 
 "There was nothing wrong in that. Malcolm 
 McNeil wanted to sell." 
 
 " I am not saying it was wrong; but, Grizelda, 
 there is a great prejudice against Lord Maxwell, 
 and there are causes for it. A man that regards 
 not the rights of his fellow-men is not likely 
 to obey the commands of God ; and if a man
 
 A SECRET LET TEX AND ITS ISSUES. 59 
 
 has no fear of God before his eyes, how can a 
 woman trust her life with him?" 
 
 " I think Lord Maxwell loves me." 
 
 " A man that loves not God loves not either 
 man or woman rightly. He is not to be de 
 pended upon. He goes out with the tide, and 
 comes in with the tide, and never puts out an 
 anchor, or grips tight to any single principle of 
 justice or human kindness. I would not trust 
 my life with a godless man any more than I 
 would trust my life in a fisher's cobble without 
 sail or oar." 
 
 " You are correcting me in advance of my 
 fault, Doctor," answered Grizelda, fretfully. 
 " Lord Maxwell has not asked me to trust my 
 life to him ; and if he did, there are many things 
 to consider. I suppose, for instance, my father 
 would go into a passion about it, and Helen 
 would look heart-broken, and cousin Colin 
 would fume about the family honour as if he 
 was a son of the family." 
 
 " My lassie, take care of your words ! You 
 have no right to criticise your father, even in 
 your thoughts; and the fleck at your Cousin 
 Colin is not kind-like nor woman-like." 
 
 " I think a prejudice ought to give way be-
 
 60 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 fore a good reason; and when a girl's happiness 
 is at stake " 
 
 " Happiness ! happiness ! What is happi 
 ness, Grizelda? What is it? Gratified self- 
 love ! Take my advice : go and do your work 
 and play your piano, and don't sit idle plan 
 ning deceit and wrong. Evil thoughts are al 
 most evil beings. The minute you conceive 
 a wrong thought, you give it form; and it is 
 not in human nature to conceive evil without, 
 at the same time, rousing the desire to carry 
 that evil into reality. Don't say, as so many 
 young girls do: 'My thoughts are my own!' 
 They are not your own ! If they are not in 
 nocent thoughts they are the Devil's, and bound 
 to do him service." 
 
 "What have I done? You are reproving me 
 without cause." 
 
 " Without cause ! Did you not betray the 
 purpose of your father's house to his enemy? " 
 
 It was a question based upon Lord Maxwell's 
 words, and the minister asked it with a heart 
 fearful of her acknowledgment. 
 
 "I did so for a good reason, to prevent 
 hatred and quarrelling." 
 
 " You are not permitted to do evil that good
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 6 1 
 
 may come. It is a pernicious fallacy ! It is an in 
 sult to Almighty God to suppose that He must 
 borrow the Devil's tools to do his work with ! 
 All that concerns you, Grizelda, is to do right." 
 
 He had bent toward her and taken both her 
 hands in his. The majestic force of conviction 
 was in his face and words ; Grizelda could not 
 but be sorry for the wrong she had done, in the 
 presence of an accuser at once so faithful and 
 so kind. So he perceived in her face the re 
 solve he desired ; and he left her in the full hope 
 that she had seen the reasonableness of his 
 reproof, and would be true to her conscience 
 and her womanhood. 
 
 Grizelda intended to be so. She resolved 
 to keep out of temptation, and for three days 
 Maxwell rode to his self-appointed tryst and 
 found no one to meet him. Then his confi 
 dence began to waver ; his vanity was wounded ; 
 he perceived that there were influences at 
 work to prevent any meeting between him and 
 Grizelda; and the fiercest passion in man, the 
 passion of chase blended with the passion of 
 revenge, was fully roused in his heart. If 
 Grizelda had been without a single charm, he 
 felt now that he must marry her. But neither
 
 62 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 his nature nor his education led him to con 
 template anything like the vulgarity of an 
 elopement. It would be a far more perfect 
 satisfaction to mould Grizelda so completely 
 to his will that his influence should be the 
 dominant one in McNeil Castle ; that it should 
 fill all the rooms with a sullen sense of wrong 
 and dissatisfaction ; put enmity between the 
 child and the father; and make his marriage 
 at last a ceremony in which he would conde 
 scend to accept the girl whom he had made 
 unfit for any society but his own. Of course, 
 like all other schemers, he forgot to take into 
 account any counteracting influence, any un 
 foreseen contingent. He simply conceived a 
 plot, and demanded of destiny that it should 
 be carried out. 
 
 His first movement was to write to Grizelda ; 
 and as he had resolved to fully commit him 
 self, the letter was a passionate entreaty for 
 an interview. It was Grizelda's first love-letter. 
 It made her cheeks burn and her heart throb 
 with delight. There had been nothing under 
 hand or secret about its delivery. It came 
 with the regular mail, and the girl received it at 
 the breakfast table with several other letters.
 
 A SECRET LETTER A. YD ITS ISSUES. 63 
 
 Only Helen suspected its nature. The laird 
 never noticed his daughter's suppressed excite 
 ment. He was eating a plover's egg, and talk 
 ing in a pleasant, desultory way of the birds 
 breeding in the upland mosses. There was 
 something pitiful in his innocent unconscious 
 ness of the wrong before him; something 
 shocking in the readiness with which his child 
 ordered her smile to meet his, and assumed 
 that air of happy contentment which she 
 thought the best blind to the watchful love 
 surrounding her. 
 
 For in the moments in which she read Lord 
 Maxwell's letter, she resolved to take her own 
 way. The decision was instantaneous, but posi 
 tive. By a mental action she put behind her 
 instantly every consideration that could make 
 her waver. For 
 
 Alas ! men and women are all 
 
 The children of our first mother, Eve. 
 
 What is given is lightly valued ; 
 
 And the cunning serpent is ever near 
 
 To show them the mysterious untasted tree. 
 
 And heaven itself is not heaven 
 
 If the forbidden fruit be withheld. 
 
 Russian poem. 
 
 So when the breakfast was finished, she went 
 to her own room, and read over and over
 
 64 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 the few lines which had so powerfully influ 
 enced her: 
 
 BEAUTIFUL GRIZELDA, I have been watching 
 three weary days for a sight of your face. Your 
 wonderful favour surely gave me some reason to 
 hope for it. Let me see you, I entreat ! I know 
 not how I shall endure another day without you. 
 I live but to think of you, to hope for you, to watch 
 and wait for a glance from your eyes, a word from 
 your lips, and a touch of that hand whose touch 
 can make me the happiest lover in the world. Surely, 
 you will walk in the fir plantation this afternoon. 
 Another disappointment will drive to despair your 
 
 adorer, 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 It was a very ordinary letter. It had cost the 
 writer scarcely a thought ; but for it the foolish 
 girl was ready to cast away all the sweet love 
 which had cared for and guarded her and 
 blessed her throughout her life. The writer 
 was a comparative stranger who had put him 
 self outside the good-will of the community, and 
 who had been covertly guilty of a serious in 
 jury to her father's interests; but now she was 
 quite ready to find excuses for all his faults, 
 even though she had to slander those who loved 
 her to do so.
 
 A SECKET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 65 
 
 Nor was she infatuated beyond her reason. 
 In her truest consciousness she felt his un- 
 worthiness. It was not passion, not ignorance, 
 not folly, not ambition, not even wilfulness that 
 laid the foundation of her sin. It was what 
 many girls consider a fine thing: sentimentality, 
 the putting of imagination before principle 
 and duty. It seemed romantic to meet her 
 lover clandestinely; to compare herself with the 
 heroines of her fancy, of her reading; to " stand 
 by her choice though all the world was against 
 him ; " ignoring the fact that if her choice was 
 unworthy of such devotion, the motive was 
 deprived of every element of respect. Besides, 
 
 This was the way with her : to vaguely sigh, 
 Hating the weary sameness of each day, 
 
 The noiseless round of pleasant tasks that try 
 To sweeten life in many a quiet way ; 
 
 Hating the scented sunshine, the still air, 
 
 The plenteous gifts that came without a care. 
 
 She said, " I weary; if some change would come! 
 
 I want to see, feel, hear the stress of life. 
 I shall grow cold and blind and deaf and dumb ; 
 
 I want some active joy, though it bring strife. 
 My days are all alike ; a change would be 
 Like giving to a captive liberty." 
 
 So much she said in her unthankful mood, 
 never reflecting that change comes seldom with 
 
 5
 
 66 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 pleasure, often with pain, scarcely listening to 
 the sweet remonstrating voice of her better 
 angel, questioning, 
 
 Art thou so weary of thy sister's love? 
 
 So weary of thy father's brooding care ? 
 So tired of halcyon days that only move 
 
 To the sweet calls of duty and of prayer ? 
 Art weary of God's blessing ? Wouldst thou flee 
 Out of the fold where He has sheltered thee ? 
 
 Sing like a bird within thy happy nest, 
 Bloom like a flower beneath thy cloudless sky! 
 
 Rest like a child upon its mother's breast, 
 And pray that this change only come to thee, 
 
 A thankful heart ; then thy long, weary days 
 
 Would be too short for happiness and praise. 
 
 It was this sentimental dissatisfaction with 
 the blessings of her daily life, and this longing 
 for something romantic, forbidden, something 
 secret and personal, that made Grizelda turn 
 aside from the right path. She was the captive 
 of her own foolish imagination before she 
 became the captive of an unprincipled man. 
 
 Helen was not so unsuspicious of the state of 
 affairs as the laird had been. The minister had 
 given her a warning and advice, and her 
 womanly instincts had led her to a clear inter 
 pretation of Grizclda's face and manner. As 
 far as it was right, she was inclined to sympa-
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 6/ 
 
 thize with her sister. She did not think the 
 faults in Maxwell's character so grave as to 
 preclude the idea of marriage if there were 
 a true love between him and Grizelda. But 
 she regretted the circumstances which were 
 likely to prevent an open and honourable 
 courtship ; for she still hoped that a better 
 acquaintance with the young lord would reveal 
 many good qualities not as yet known. 
 
 She felt certain that the letter made an ap 
 pointment which Grizelda would keep ; and she 
 thought it best to speak to her on the subject, 
 and thus deprive the meeting of the silly senti 
 ment of secrecy and of a supposed opposition, 
 only to be met by a clever deceit. 
 
 In an hour Grizelda returned to the parlour. 
 Helen looked at her with admiration as she 
 bent silently over her embroidery frame. Her 
 countenance was so beaming that its rosy light 
 made remarkable the whiteness of her hands, 
 moving quickly among the brilliant colours of 
 her wools. The countenance has always a 
 luminousness that the other parts of the body 
 lack; and Grizelda's soul was in her face, 
 darting from her eyes, flushing her cheeks, 
 wreathing her lips with smiles, making her
 
 68 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 brow shine and her eyelids quiver. She was 
 happy, and she showed it in the undulations 
 of her figure, and the freedom of her wavy hair, 
 straying and curling as if it was laughing and 
 dancing to the girl's thoughts. 
 
 " How pretty you are this morning, Grizelda !" 
 
 " I feel so happy." 
 
 " You got a letter from Lord Maxwell, I 
 think; at least, I thought it was his seal. Is 
 he coming to see you?" 
 
 " How can he come here? Just imagine the 
 way in which our father would receive him ! " 
 
 " He might be coming to apologize and make 
 things pleasant." 
 
 "Why should he apologize? " 
 
 " Well, I think if father's dogs had done 
 damage to Lord Maxwell's flock, he would 
 apologize and make all the restitution in his 
 power." 
 
 Grizelda did not answer ; she appeared to be 
 busy counting her stitches. 
 
 " Grizelda, dear, will you tell me what Max 
 well wrote to you about? " 
 
 " Why should you interfere, Helen? " 
 
 " Because I love you so much, dear, and I 
 am afraid he wishes you to meet him secretly."
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. 69 
 
 " There is no harm in that." 
 
 " There is both harm and danger. If you 
 think there is no harm, why do you not tell 
 father?" 
 
 " Lord Maxwell loves me." 
 
 " Then he ought to say so in an honourable 
 manner." 
 
 " Helen, I do not think as you do. I will 
 not have my affairs discussed by the whole 
 household, and wrangled over by lawyers. If 
 I love a man well enough to marry him, I 
 am going to trust him absolutely." 
 
 " Grizelda, you remember our mother. If 
 she were alive to-day, you know what she 
 would say to you. Think that you are listen 
 ing to her. My dear sister, do not meet Max 
 well secretly. If he truly loves you, he will 
 conciliate father and come to you." 
 
 " This is my affair, Helen. I do not interfere 
 between you and Colin. I got out of Mr. 
 Selwyn's way, and let him have every 
 opportunity," 
 
 " Grizelda, Mr. Selwyn never thought of 
 love." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! He did not hide his thoughts 
 from me."
 
 70 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " I am speaking of your life, not Mr. 
 Selwyn's." 
 
 " I can manage my own life very well, Helen. 
 All I ask of you is to have eyes and see not, 
 and ears and hear not." 
 
 "I cannot do that, Grizelda." 
 " You intend to be a tell-tale, do you? " 
 " I intend to protest against your making 
 assignations with Lord Maxwell. It is wrong; 
 it is unwomanly and unladylike. You wrong 
 both yourself and your position by it. Dearest 
 Zelda, let me speak in my mother's place and 
 my father's place this morning." 
 " I will not listen to you. Now! " 
 "Then, if you are determined to meet 
 Maxwell, let me go with you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I can take care of myself, 
 and I wish you would believe it. I was so 
 happy, and you have made me miserable. I 
 think you are selfish beyond everything. Just 
 because Colin and you choose to do your 
 courting by rule and method, you want Max 
 well and me to do the same. There is some 
 thing very unjust and unsistcrly in it. Now, 
 I am not going to say another word on the 
 matter."
 
 A SECRET LETTER AND ITS ISSUES. Jl 
 
 She set her face so dourly, and bent her 
 head so determinedly to her work, that Helen 
 saw further conversation was impossible. She 
 knew not what step to take. Something must 
 be done ; but she had a dislike to speak to her 
 father, when he was already so angry at Max 
 well. Who could tell what wretched results 
 might ensue if the two men came in contact 
 with Grizelda between them? 
 
 " I will write to Doctor Brodick ! " 
 
 The thought seemed to her the best solution 
 of the difficulty ; and thus it happened that the 
 minister, as he sat at his solitary dinner, re 
 ceived a letter which made him push his plate 
 aside and seek the more composing and re 
 flective influence of his pipe. And the result 
 of this session with himself was exactly what 
 Helen had hoped and expected. 
 
 " I '11 see the young things together. I know 
 where I '11 be likely to find them. If there is 
 any sense of honour in Maxwell's heart, and any 
 sense of duty and home affection in Grizelda's 
 heart, I can surely make them listen to me. 
 Love ought to be lovely and of good report; 
 and I '11 take care there is no other kind in 
 my parish, if Dugald Brodick can help it."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HER OWN WAY. 
 
 Better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 By Love the young and tender wit is turned to folly. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 First, then, a woman will, or won't, depend on 't ; 
 If she will do 't, she will ; and there 's an end on 't. 
 
 HILL. 
 We must do good against evil. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 afternoon was a brilliant one; Nature 
 herself seemed to be dreaming idyls, and 
 Grizelda's heart, beating to sweet imaginations, 
 was responsive to it. She arrayed herself in 
 a dress of exquisitely fine muslin. Its pearly 
 white, tinted with a wandering vine, gave 
 ethereal beauty to her dazzling complexion. 
 A floating gauze scarf was across her shoulders; 
 a little straw bonnet on her head, trimmed with 
 corn-flowers and a few ears of wheat.
 
 HER OWN WAY. 73 
 
 Never had Helen seen her look more lovely, 
 more full of life, more certainly happy. She 
 went with her to the door leading into the 
 garden, and put her hand in Grizelda's. 
 
 " Are you quite sure you are doing right, 
 dear? " she asked. 
 
 " I am quite sure I am doing what will make 
 me happy." 
 
 " Zelda, bear with me a moment. If this love 
 is necessary to your happiness, then, dear, I will 
 speak to father; he is so good, so self-denying 
 where our welfare is concerned, that I am sure 
 he will be quite reasonable about Lord Maxwell. 
 Write to Lord Maxwell now, and ask him to call 
 here. I will send a servant with the note. Is 
 not our drawing-room better for an interview 
 than the public moor? Think of what people 
 will say." 
 
 "Very few people cross the moor at this hour. 
 If I see any one coming, I shall retreat among 
 the pines." 
 
 " You mean that you will hide yourself. Oh, 
 Zelda ! Does not that very necessity show you 
 that there is something wrong? " 
 
 " No. Many things are innocent that are not 
 to be talked about. And how is it possible for
 
 74 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 Lord Maxwell to come here? Father would get 
 into one of his passions, and order him out of 
 the house." 
 
 " Father is not unreasonable. Lord Maxwell 
 has only to offer an apology; any man would 
 do that under the circumstances. I will be on 
 your side, Zelda. Write a few lines, dear, and 
 let your maid take them to your lover. Let 
 him come to you. That is only maidenly and 
 modest." 
 
 " Helen, you are never on my side. Any 
 other sister would take some interest in such a 
 love-affair as mine; I do not want everything 
 straightforward and agreeable just yet. A se 
 cret tryst is the only romantic one, and I do 
 not thank you at all for interfering with mine. 
 Even this talk about it has robbed me of some 
 of its charm." 
 
 " If you mean to marry Lord Maxwell, it 
 can never be done in this way." 
 
 "I mean to marry him, and I know better 
 than you do how to succeed. If my father had 
 said yes, and the door was set open for him, he 
 might not want the yes or the open door. But 
 it is different where there is anger and opposi 
 tion; love is stronger for it, yes, and sweeter
 
 HER OWN WAY. 75 
 
 too ! I prefer a little romance. Let me go, 
 Helen. You are only making things worse." 
 
 She drew her hand away with the words, and 
 went swiftly down the garden. Helen watched 
 her until she passed into the pine wood. There 
 the girl slackened her pace, and stood still a 
 moment to regain her mental poise and serenity; 
 for her breath came quick, and she was in a 
 flurry of emotion. But how charmful was the 
 silence of the pines, silence, with a vague stir 
 in it. There were no deep shadows where she 
 stood ; she was in a beautiful gloom, surrounded 
 by light. 
 
 It was here that Lord Maxwell found her. 
 He had left his horse with his groom on the 
 moor and come to seek Grizelda. At this mo 
 ment he certainly believed himself to be deeply 
 in love, and no lover could have been more 
 tender, more eloquent, more irresistibly per 
 suasive. Maxwell was even astonished at his 
 own enthusiasm ; he had never expected to feel 
 again emotions so sweet and so enthralling. 
 
 And it was quite true that in the clandestine 
 nature of the meeting, in the belief that it was 
 in direct opposition to the wishes of McNeil, in 
 the probability that Grizelda's hand would be
 
 76 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 angrily refused him, in the delightful contin 
 gency of over-reaching the indignant father and 
 carrying off his daughter against his will, Lord 
 Maxwell had found a piquant element in a love 
 which was otherwise a delightful relief to the 
 tedium of his purposeless life. 
 
 It was a charmed hour to both, and Maxwell 
 became fascinating under its influence. For it 
 is unfortunately true that bad men have often 
 an irresistible power over women. Eve is not 
 the only one who has found the Devil a tempter 
 not to be denied. Maxwell's fine face caught 
 the love-light from Grizelda's ; his eyes looked 
 into hers with a bewitching sensibility. He had 
 the heart of the sentimental girl in the open 
 palm of his long, cruel-looking white hand. 
 
 She had assured him of her love, of her 
 willingness to do in all things as he directed 
 her. She had put her father, her sister, her 
 duty, the tender obligations of her whole life, 
 under his feet. He could not but feel his 
 triumph. 
 
 She had repeated to him, also, her conversa 
 tion with Helen. She had given to it the pre 
 cise tone of injury which she thought suited the 
 situation; and they were discussing with de-
 
 HER OWN WAY. 77 
 
 lightful gusto the probable consequences of her 
 determined resistance, when they heard a slow, 
 heavy footstep approaching them. Grizelda 
 thought it was her father's, and she trembled 
 upon her lover's arm. Maxwell was not averse 
 to the encounter; he felt that he had poisoned 
 weapons ready for it. 
 
 They did not turn. They continued their 
 saunter and their lover-like conversation, listen 
 ing all the time to the approaching steps. In a 
 few minutes a hand was laid upon Lord Max 
 well's shoulder, and he turned in a passion to 
 confront Doctor Brodick. 
 
 " Sir, your cloth gives you no warrant to be 
 impertinent! " 
 
 " It gives me a warrant to reprove wrong 
 doing and to save the foolish if I can. Grizelda 
 McNeil, you had better go home; and if Lord 
 Maxwell wants further speech with you, he can 
 seek you there." 
 
 " Grizelda, you have promised to be my wife ; 
 you will remain with me?" 
 
 " I am here in your father's place ; you must 
 go home now. My lord, release the girl. She 
 is yet under age, and subject to her father's 
 controul."
 
 78 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " Grizelda, in an hour we can be at Blair- 
 gowrie. The minister is my friend ; he will 
 marry us at once." 
 
 Grizelda was now thoroughly frightened. 
 
 A runaway marriage was the last thing she 
 desired. She had already arranged, in her own 
 mind, the ceremony as she proposed to have 
 it, the dresses and guests and wedding journey. 
 Besides, Doctor Brodick's authority was an indis 
 putable one ; never in all her life had the possi 
 bility of disobeying it occurred to her. 
 
 She dropped her lover's hand ; and in that 
 moment of hesitation, the minister gently turned 
 her face toward the castle, and stepping for 
 ward, placed himself between her and Lord 
 Maxwell. Instantly Maxwell made an attempt 
 to regain his position by Grizelda's side, but 
 Doctor Brodick's hand fell upon his shoulder 
 with a grip that could not be gainsaid. 
 
 " Doctor, remove your hand ! Confound it, 
 sir, you shall not presume on your coat much 
 longer." 
 
 " I will make you, Lord, respect both my 
 coat and the man in my coat ! " Then the 
 doctor, becoming angry, though still visibly 
 calm, fell naturally into his -mother tongue.
 
 HER OWN WAY. 79 
 
 " Keep a ceevil tongue i' your mouth, Lord, 
 and your ither hand by your side. Dinna daur 
 to lift it. There isna a fisherman on the coast 
 I couldna handle, nor a shepherd on the hills 
 I couldna throw; sae if you hae a grain o' 
 wisdom, you willna force your punishment 
 frae me." 
 
 Grizelda had stood quite still during this 
 dispute. Maxwell answered the minister by 
 addressing her: " Grizelda, this is no scene for 
 you, my dear one. Go home now and I will see 
 you to-morrow. My rights ace in your hands 
 now; I am sure you will not betray the least 
 of them." 
 
 She would have given him her hand with the 
 assurance, but Doctor Brodick stood like a sen 
 tinel between them. And Maxwell was in a grip 
 he could not evade, while Grizelda lacked the 
 moral courage to defy the prohibition which 
 she saw in the doctor's blazing eyes and watch 
 ful face. Until Grizelda was out of sight, the 
 position the minister had taken and compelled 
 Maxwell to take was preserved ; but as soon as 
 she had disappeared, Maxwell felt himself at 
 liberty. They had been moments of intense 
 feeling to both men. Doctor Brodick already
 
 80 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 showed the reaction from them. A gloomy 
 regret was on his countenance. His voice, 
 though authoritative, had regained its usual 
 modulations and propriety. He was the first 
 to speak. 
 
 " Believe me, Maxwell, I am sorry for this 
 occasion. My interference was for good. I 
 saw no other way to prevent evil." 
 
 " If by preventing evil you mean preventing 
 Grizelda McNeil marrying me, let me assure 
 you, sir, that you have failed already. I shall 
 certainly marry her." 
 
 " Then, my lord, do not teach the girl to be 
 disloyal to her father. You only prepare her to 
 be in the future disloyal to yourself. I have no 
 more to say to you at this time." 
 
 He turned on his heel, and left the young 
 man fuming and chafing with rage and humilia 
 tion. And he went straight to McNeil Castle 
 and talked the circumstance over with the laird. 
 His depression was so great that it had the ef 
 fect of dashing as with cold water the father's 
 not unjust anger. Both men had the presenti 
 ment of sorrow ; they felt the first chill shadows 
 of some long calamity. 
 
 But as an outcome of this conversation,
 
 fJER OWN WAY. 8 1 
 
 McNeil's carriage was at the door the following 
 morning very early, and Helen and Grizelda 
 were making hurried preparations for a journey 
 to Edinburgh. No reason for it had been given, 
 but both girls understood " the because " of 
 the laird's unexpected movement. McNeil had 
 called it a little pleasure trip ; but no one taking 
 the journey felt it to be so. Each was leaving 
 the person or the affairs which made the main 
 interest of their lives. It was in fact to 
 McNeil a journey of great self-denial. The 
 herring fishery was at its height, the gunning 
 season was at hand, and the moors were alive 
 with birds. And, aside from these disappoint 
 ments, he felt it to be a wrong and an outrage 
 that his own child should have given a strange 
 man, whom he despised and disliked, the power 
 to disarrange his household and compel him to 
 leave his home and his interests; for he was 
 no more aware of this injustice and indignity 
 than Grizelda was, and it gave him a heartache 
 to see that she willingly subjected him to it. 
 
 It was, moreover, soon evident that the journey 
 
 was to be in vain. Grizelda would take no part 
 
 in the life of the metropolis. Dinners, dances, 
 
 excursions had no temptations for her. She 
 
 6
 
 82 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McXEIL. 
 
 declared that she was ill ; she did not eat or 
 sleep ; she was cold, silent, apathetic, and treated 
 the old friends and kindred of the family with a 
 sullen indifference which gave great offence, 
 and which the laird, in some cases, found it 
 beyond his power to explain away. 
 
 One afternoon he desired to make a call upon 
 Lady McNeil, the widow of his second cousin. 
 Grizelda was her namesake ; it was a matter of 
 the gravest courtesy that she should accompany 
 her father and sister. But the wilful girl made 
 so many excuses, was so determined to be dis 
 agreeable and disappointing, that it was thought 
 best not to insist upon her company. 
 
 For such unkind and persistent ill-temper and 
 selfishness the Devil sometimes rewards his 
 slaves with their own desires. Scarcely had 
 McNeil and Helen left the door of their hotel, 
 when Lord Maxwell passed it; Grizelda, stand 
 ing listlessly at the window, lifted her eyes and 
 saw him. His gaze was fixed upon her, he was 
 trying to arrest her attention. In five minutes 
 she was by his side. They turned into a quiet 
 square, and were soon discussing, almost merrily, 
 the events most interesting to them. 
 
 Maxwell was delighted with the tactics pur-
 
 HER OWN WAY. 83 
 
 sued by Grizelda. He perceived that they 
 made him still master of the situation. And it 
 gave him an intense satisfaction to know that 
 he had really driven the laird from his home, 
 his fishing and his shooting, and all his familiar 
 interests and amusements ; to reflect, also that 
 the young laird, Colin McNeil, was deprived of 
 the society of Helen ; and that Helen was taken 
 from her lover and from all the duties in the 
 castle and village which interested her so much. 
 
 " I think we have had quite the best of it, 
 Zelda," he said, with a malicious triumph. 
 " Now, then, my love, meet me to-morrow morn 
 ing at ten o'clock, in Saint Andrew's Kirk, and 
 I will make you Lady Maxwell in spite of them 
 all." 
 
 " First, consider what I shall tell you, Walter. 
 My father says plainly that if I marry without 
 his consent, eighty thousand pounds in the Bank 
 of Scotland will every shilling of it ~o to Helen. 
 If he agrees to my marriage, Helen and Colin 
 are to have the estate and twenty thousand 
 pounds, I the residue." 
 
 " Sixty thousand pounds ! Whew ! " 
 
 " We ought not to throw that away." 
 
 " Indeed, we ought not,"
 
 84 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 11 It is worth a few words, Walter ; and I do 
 not like to come to you penniless and by stealth. 
 Father is really kind-hearted ; quickly in a rage, 
 but just as quick to forgive. A little concilia 
 tion will win him." 
 
 " I have already ordered my factor to see his 
 factor, and pay whatever they decide to be right 
 for those miserable sheep that were worried. 
 When you return home, I will call upon him 
 and ask for your hand. If he consents, he can 
 scarcely refuse your fortune; if he does not 
 consent " 
 
 " I shall make his life so wretched that he will 
 be thankful to change his mind. It is a very 
 hard thing if a girl cannot choose her own hus 
 band. Oh, my dear one, how happy you have 
 made me ! I can endure all things now till we 
 meet again." 
 
 There was nothing for Grizelda to endure but 
 the burdens she laid upon her own shoulders ; 
 but it pleased her to imagine herself an innocent 
 victim of parental oppression and unsisterly lack 
 of sympathy. 
 
 It was impossible for her to remain long with 
 her lover; but arrangements were made which 
 permitted her to meet him nearly every day,
 
 HER OWN WAY. 85 
 
 for a longer or a shorter time. And it gave her 
 no compunction to save all her smiles, all her 
 pleasant ways and words for her lover, and 
 darken all her father's and sister's days with an 
 affectation of suffering which had now no shadow 
 of existence. 
 
 In a week or two, Helen began to suspect this. 
 There were times when it was impossible for 
 Grizelda to quite subdue the light of expecta 
 tion in her eyes, or the dreamy smile of retro 
 spective pleasure around her mouth. Grizelda 
 was in the daily society of Maxwell, Helen was 
 satisfied of that; but there was something in 
 the girl's nature which forbade her to watch her 
 sister, no matter how excusable circumstances 
 might seem to make the act. Her eyes, indeed, 
 questioned her, and Grizelda was aware of the 
 suspicion. "Things are coming to a crisis," 
 she thought, " and I may as well direct them." 
 
 One afternoon, the laird, having been sorely 
 tried by her contradiction all the morning, re 
 fused to go out for his customary drive in the 
 afternoon. His heart failed him. He felt as if 
 it were useless to prolong the conflict. The 
 very chivalry of his nature led him to a trust 
 and consideration where his daughter was con-
 
 86 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 cerned that he would by no means have con 
 ceded to a disobedient son. He could not 
 watch Grizelda's movements and read her letters, 
 and be stern and imperative with her. The pale, 
 silent, weary-looking girl on the sofa appealed 
 to him, not only as his daughter, but as one of 
 a sex which demanded his courtesy and con 
 sideration. He felt this day, her injustice, her 
 want of appreciation for this courtesy, and his 
 heart was so sad that he could not make the 
 effort to face the world. 
 
 As the time approached for Grizelda to keep 
 her tryst, she threw off her indifference, rose 
 from her sofa, and went to her room. The 
 laird did not notice the movement, but Helen 
 followed her sister, She was taking out her 
 bonnet and mantle, and she made no secret pf 
 her action. 
 
 " Are you going out, Grizelda? How pleased 
 father will be ! It is not yet too late for a 
 drive." 
 
 " I am not going to drive, and I do not want 
 either father's company or yours. I do not 
 mean to be rude, Helen, only I must go alone." 
 
 "Are you going to meet Lord Maxwell? 
 Oh, Zelda, I have suspected this ! "
 
 HER OWN WAY. 8/ 
 
 " Then your suspicions are correct, Helen. 
 I am going to meet my Walter ! Goodness 
 knows, it is all I have to live for! " 
 
 " You should not say such wicked things. 
 You have all that truest love can give you. 
 But if you are meeting Maxwell here, father 
 ought to know. He is pining for the moors 
 and the sea and the comforts of his own home. 
 He has been denying himself for six weeks 
 everything he enjoys, simply in the hope that 
 he was keeping you outside the influence of 
 a bad man." 
 
 " Then tell him to go back to Edderloch. 
 He cannot keep Lord Maxwell from me unless 
 he locks me up in the castle strong-room ; and 
 he cannot keep me from Lord Maxwell if I 
 have the wit and strength to reach him. I 
 despise a girl who gives up her lover because 
 her friends don't approve of him. I would 
 die first ! " 
 
 " There is no necessity for heroics, Grizelda. 
 No one asks you to die. And don't you think 
 there may be something equally despicable in 
 deceiving a good father, and putting him to 
 daily anxiety and discomfort, because your 
 lover does not approve of him. Depend upon
 
 88 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 it, father has no intention of locking you up. 
 He thinks you have chosen an unworthy hus 
 band ; and he would suffer a great deal himself 
 to wean your heart from Lord Maxwell, or to 
 show you that there are plenty of better lovers 
 in the world, but he has no intention of forcing 
 you to give him up." 
 
 " Then tell him we may as well go home. 
 It will be more comfortable for every one." 
 
 This news was more easily broken to the laird 
 than Helen had dared to hope. Returning to 
 his presence, she found him mournfully watch 
 ing the gay throng which makes Princes Street 
 in the afternoon so fair a sight. 
 
 " I was thinking of Edderloch," he said, as 
 he turned away. " I would give something to 
 see the great billows tumbling wild and high 
 and sending clouds of spray against the castle 
 wall, or to be in the shadow of the hills and see 
 the little brown huts nestling there, and the 
 collie dogs, and flocks of sheep moving to and 
 fro ; or better still, to be after the cock grouse, 
 or watching the red deer going westward in a 
 swinging gallop." 
 
 " Dear father, we may as well go back to 
 morrow." Her face, troubled and pitiful, told
 
 HER OWN WAY. 89 
 
 him the rest. He let his head fall forward as he 
 asked in a low voice, " Is he here? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And she is meeting him? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Then his soul forgot all words but the mourn 
 ful Gaelic in which his fathers had cried out in 
 their sorrow for unknown centuries: " Oh! hon- 
 a-ree / Oh! hon-a-ree ! " And upon his clasped 
 hands the tears dropped down, and Helen knelt 
 at his side and kissed them away.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 We, ignorant of ourselves, 
 
 Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 
 Deny us for our good. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 'TPHE journey home was most unhappy. The 
 -* laird did not speak to his refractory 
 daughter, and she did not appear to regret 
 a circumstance which gave her the opportunity 
 of feeding her heart upon her own thoughts 
 and dreams. The weather was stormy, the 
 roads heavy and disagreeable, and no one, ex 
 cept Grizelda, had any equivalent for the al 
 together wretched and useless journey. To 
 her it had proved her lover's faithfulness. She 
 felt all the triumph of the pursuit; and she 
 found a sufficient pleasure in affecting sleep 
 and mentally reviewing the fond words he had 
 said, and the delightful plans for the future 
 which they had imagined.
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 91 
 
 But at length the wearisome trial was over. 
 McNeil crossed his door-stone again, and looked 
 up at the declaration above it with a heart full 
 of gratitude. The old rooms were glowing with 
 firelight, and bright with every kind of com 
 fort. Colin was at hand, full of joy and con 
 gratulation ; the servants were eager for a word 
 from him; the shepherds, the fishers, the vil 
 lage children, all tried to make him understand 
 how welcome to his own home and to his own 
 people he was. 
 
 And it was very pleasant to see Helen's de 
 light also ; to watch her going through the rooms, 
 and ordering the table, and re-arranging their 
 lives. Colin followed her up and down, and 
 was restless if the laird detained him. He had 
 discovered in her absence how lonely his heart, 
 how desolate his home was without her. He 
 felt that a passive admiration would no longer 
 suffice ; and he had met her with words that 
 sent a wave of colour over her cheeks and filled 
 her eyes with a new and sudden light. 
 
 The laird noticed very soon how constantly 
 Colin was at her side, how readily his voice 
 fell into softer tones when he spoke to her, 
 how frequently he found opportunities of bend-
 
 92 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 ing his dark, handsome head until he could 
 almost have kissed the paler glory of her 
 golden-brown hair. It pleased and it pained 
 him. He was willing to give Helen to Colin, 
 but not yet, " not just yet," he kept saying 
 to his heart. 
 
 In the evening Doctor Brodick called, and the 
 two men went together into the laird's parlour. 
 
 " Well, old friend," said the minister, " have 
 you brought good news with you ? " 
 
 " It has been a most unlucky journey, Doctor. 
 The man followed us. She has been meeting 
 him, secretly, every day." 
 
 " Why did you give her any opportunity?" 
 
 " She said she was ill. She lay upon the 
 sofa constantly, and it was not likely I could 
 shut Helen up night and day with her. There 
 are McNeils in Edinburgh, and other friends 
 and kin, and we had to see them or give 
 them an offence not to be pardoned in this 
 generation. If the girl was too ill to dine and 
 visit with her own people, how could I suspect 
 she would be walking about the streets with 
 her lover?" 
 
 " Man, you are na up to women-folk. I 'm 
 feared you did not take proper care of her."
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 93 
 
 " Did you ever try to guide a love-sick girl 
 yourself, Doctor? If you have not, you know 
 nothing about it. For perfect unreasonable 
 ness, for selfishness, and deception they can 
 beat the big Devil himself. What will I do 
 now? " 
 
 " I '11 tell you, Laird. Deal openly with her. 
 Don't give her a chance to deceive you. Take 
 away from her every excuse for indulging her 
 self in any romancing folly. Ask her if she 
 is determined to marry Maxwell. If she says 
 she is, let the man come here and see her. 
 The best half of such love-affairs as this is 
 contradiction. If Maxwell means all he has 
 said, give your permission to what will be 
 otherwise taken without your permission. Of 
 course, Maxwell would rather you refused him; 
 he would like you to order him from your 
 presence, but I advise you to disappoint him. 
 For Grizelda's sake, give him at least a bare 
 civility." 
 
 " I cannot do it, Doctor ! I cannot ! I cannot 
 do it ! " 
 
 "Think a bit, McNeil. Look at the very 
 worst side of the man. He isna a murderer 
 or a thief or an out-and-out blackguard that
 
 94 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 we know of; he is well born, he has an es 
 tate in Galloway besides Blairgowrie; he is 
 made welcome at many a grand house, and 
 rides and hunts with the best men in the neigh 
 bourhood; and he goes regularly to kirk, so 
 that if he be not good he is at least in the 
 way of getting good." 
 
 " If he be not good ! When Kilmory's shep 
 herd told him about his dogs tearing the sheep 
 on the mountains, he went off into a fit of 
 outrageous laughter. When Greenlees sent him 
 word, he cursed the messenger, and wished 
 the dogs had torn the men to pieces as well 
 as the sheep ! He never attempted to restrain 
 them until my false daughter betrayed my 
 threat to him. The man has a brute's nature 
 I 'm feared I am slandering the poor brutes. 
 He is naturally cruel; he has a stone instead 
 of a heart." 
 
 " But if Grizelda thinks differently, what 
 then?" 
 
 " If Grizelda be determined to make her bed 
 in hell, and will neither listen to advice nor 
 entreaties, she must even do so." 
 
 " Try, for her sake, to conquer your dislike 
 of Maxwell, Laird."
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 95 
 
 " The feeling is beyond me, Doctor. When 
 I can drink poison and it not harm me, I can 
 sit with Maxwell and not feel it to be an in 
 sult and an offence. The hatred of him is 
 back of here. My soul is acquainted with his 
 soul ; and when my soul says to me, ' The man 
 is a villain,' I know he is one. I don't mind 
 if he drank the holy cup every Sunday, I would 
 know it all the same. You think this is pure 
 prejudice, Doctor?" 
 
 " True, McNeil ; but what we call prejudice 
 is often only a veiled truth, subtly adapted to 
 the nature that holds it, too fine, too compli 
 cated, too delicate for argument and definition. 
 Have you told Grizelda of these impressions?" 
 
 " To be sure I have. She only smiled, and 
 said it was a pity I had so much of the mel 
 ancholy, superstitious nature of the Celt in me. 
 As if I could have too much of the Celt in me ! 
 She is set upon going her own bad way." 
 
 " Well, then, McNeil, you must trust God 
 to bring good out of bad. Neither of us can 
 do it, for the root of Grizelda's disobedience 
 and folly is selfishness ; and the sin of selfish 
 ness is ' the old serpent that deceiveth the 
 whole world.'"
 
 96 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCXEIL. 
 
 " Oh ! Doctor, I know now how David felt 
 when he cried out, ' It was thou, mine own 
 familiar friend ! ' It is my child ! Oh, Grizelda! 
 Grizelda!" 
 
 " Consider, Laird, if one heart has been faith 
 less to you, there are other hearts around you 
 full of valiant tendernesses, hearts that know 
 how to love. The earth might quake, the 
 heavens melt, you would still find them true. 
 And though Grizelda's affection has been alien 
 ated from you, I do not believe that any one 
 will have the power to destroy the grand prin 
 ciples of morality on which I have helped you 
 to build up her life. And mind this, Laird, 
 the one real, intolerable household ruin is not 
 that which separates but that which corrupts. 
 If vice has not withered the soul of the child, 
 the parents may still say ' Thank God ! ' But 
 I must away, now, Laird, for I have a night- 
 school to teach at eight o'clock; and the lads 
 and lasses would be sairly disappointed if I 
 were not on hand." 
 
 " A night-school ! Such perfect nonsense ! 
 Selwyn's order, is it?" 
 
 " Selwyn's order, if it pleases you to call 
 it so."
 
 CRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 97 
 
 " It docs not please me, Doctor; and I don't 
 think anybody will approve of the kirk being 
 used for the like of it It is a kind of dese 
 cration, that is my opinion." 
 
 " I remembered that feeling, Laird, and re 
 spected it. The school is in my ain house ; Kirsty 
 is tossing her head about it, but she will have to 
 thole the bairns until I get a schoolhouse built." 
 
 " And where will you get the siller for it? " 
 
 " I am not just destitute of siller myself; and 
 I am looking for help from divers, and for land 
 from you." 
 
 " I will not give you enough to set your feet 
 together on, Doctor, for such a purpose." 
 
 " Ay, well, I am not asking you to-night. 
 When you come to your best self, Laird, we 
 will speak about it. God be with you." 
 
 Then he wrapped his plaid round his breast 
 and left the castle. He was tossed and troubled 
 in mind with the fretful worries and perplexities 
 that he shared with JMcNeil, and they chilled 
 his enthusiasm and made all life's objects ap 
 pear small and irritating. But there is always 
 something very impressive in passing from light 
 and human society into the dim spaces of the 
 night and the solemn company of the stars, 
 7
 
 98 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 and ere he reached the manse and the duty 
 he had appointed there, he had quite recovered 
 that elevation of spirit which made it not only 
 possible, but welcome and pleasant. 
 
 In the morning, McNeil sent for Grizelda to 
 his room. She had thought such a summons 
 likely, and was prepared for it. Her resolution 
 was in her face, and her face was very hand 
 some. Her father had never been more struck 
 with her beauty. She had the air of a princess, 
 and her robe of dark cloth, falling in straight, 
 heavy folds to her feet, clothed her with grace 
 and dignity. 
 
 " Sit down, Grizelda. I want you to tell me 
 truly if you have resolved to take Lord Maxwell 
 in place of your father, your sister, and your 
 home." 
 
 "I have determined to marry Lord Maxwell." 
 
 " Then tell him to come here when he wishes 
 to see you. The drawing-room is at your dis 
 posal. Only farm servants trapse about the 
 moor and lean over gates and fences." 
 
 " Do you mean, father, that you give your 
 consent to our marriage?" 
 
 " I mean that I submit to the evil that you 
 force upon me."
 
 GRIZE IDA'S MARRIAGE. 99 
 
 " Father, I love Lord Maxwell." 
 
 " Once you loved me. Oh, Grizelda, mar 
 riage is such a solemn thing ! It is so easy to 
 marry; but to get unmarried! what suffering 
 must precede it! what shame must be associ 
 ated with it ! " 
 
 " I shall never wish to be unmarried. I know 
 Lord Maxwell as others do not." 
 
 She looked at him a little entreatingly and a 
 little defiantly; she looked so like her dead 
 mother that his heart melted. He had put out 
 his hand, took her hand, drew her to his side 
 and kissed her. " Will you wait one year, my 
 child, only one year? It is all I will ask 
 you." 
 
 " Maxwell wishes to be married at Christmas. 
 He is going to take me to London. Lady Mary 
 Maxwell will present me at court." 
 
 " You seem to have settled all without me. 
 That is not the way a gentleman seeks a wife, 
 Grizelda. I have a right to be consulted. My 
 right is older than any one's; stronger than 
 any one's." 
 
 " You are so prejudiced against Maxwell, 
 father. Of course, he will see you if you give 
 him permission."
 
 IOO THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 41 Tell him to call on me. There are business 
 considerations in your marriage that must be 
 attended to. I want to know what settlement 
 he proposes to make upon you. A daughter of 
 the McNeil cannot be married like a milking- 
 maid." He glanced into her face. Her eyes 
 were cast down, but a beautiful light stole from 
 under their dropped lids, and a soft smile lin 
 gered about her mouth. Her whole attitude 
 was that of a girl thinking of her lover with 
 trust and expectation. 
 
 But the father's heart was full of trouble that 
 he hardly understood, it was compacted of 
 elements so diverse. From twenty years of love, 
 memory seemed to instantly reproduce every 
 scene that was tenderest and sweetest ; and Lord 
 Maxwell intruded himself as their defacer and 
 destroyer. He had a sense, also, of being un 
 justly treated in the matter, which was almost 
 harder to bear than his slighted affection. For 
 the first time in her life, Grizelda saw his face 
 lose every particle of colour; and his hands 
 trembled so violently that the paper-knife he 
 had been holding fell from them. 
 
 " Are you sick, dear father? " She looked 
 anxiously at him as he shook his head in de-
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. IOI 
 
 nial. But he put his elbow on the table, and 
 for several minutes rested his head in his hand. 
 Grizelda stood motionless beside him. She felt 
 severely the pain she was giving. She had a 
 momentary intention of resigning her will to 
 his will ; but ere she could decide between her 
 father and her lover, McNeil rose and went to 
 his desk. Grizelda knew the book which he 
 took from it. 
 
 "Grizelda, a girl wants clothes, wedding 
 clothes ; I don 't know how much money. Here 
 is a check for six hundred pounds ; if it is not 
 enough, tell Helen to come to me for more. 
 Get all that is necessary to your position. You 
 have not much time before Christmas." 
 
 He spoke slowly, and with a depression that 
 weighted every word as with lead. And sud 
 denly it seemed to Grizelda as if a wall had 
 been built between him and her; she wished 
 to kiss and thank him for his consideration, 
 but the cold despair of his attitude was too 
 discouraging. 
 
 And the piece of paper in her hands re 
 proached her. Yet why? She asked herself 
 the question over and over, with an almost 
 angry defiance; she was only doing what other
 
 102 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 girls did. And of his own free will, perhaps 
 only for the satisfaction of his own family pride 
 and honour, had he given her the money at all. 
 She clung to this last idea, and carefully nursed 
 it; for when a girl is bent on a course of in 
 gratitude and selfishness, the first thing the 
 Devil teaches her is to debase all the past love 
 which she is violating, and to find for every for 
 bearance and every kindness a selfish motive. 
 
 The following day Lord Maxwell had an in 
 terview with the laird. They met with a deter 
 mination on both sides to think the best of each 
 other. McNeil, for his daughter's sake, wished 
 to do so ; and Maxwell was not inclined to in 
 dulge his temper at the price of the sixty thou 
 sand pounds which might otherwise be Grizelda's 
 fortune. Neither was he so much in love as to 
 be financially over-generous in the matter of 
 future provision for his wife. McNeil's question 
 as to the settlement which he intended to make 
 on her, was promptly met with one as to the 
 fortune he intended to give Grizelda. 
 
 " I am not prepared to say what I shall give 
 Grizelda," was the answer. " You are aware, 
 my lord, that my consent to her marriage has 
 been in a manner forced from me. When I am
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 1 03 
 
 satisfied that it is a good marriage and a happy 
 one, I will amply provide for your wife and her 
 possible heirs. Until then, I shall keep her 
 money where I can put my own hands 
 upon it." 
 
 " Then, McNeil, you can hardly expect me 
 to make any settlement of my property on 
 her." 
 
 " I cannot say that I did expect it. It would 
 have supposed a very unusual generosity, and 
 an affection quite beyond money considerations, 
 a thing not to be looked for." 
 
 " Suppose, then, we leave money considera 
 tions until you consider our affection thoroughly 
 tested. What lapse of time is your idea of a 
 trial?" 
 
 He spoke with a slow insolence which he 
 found it impossible to controul. But, though 
 McNeil's eyes flashed, he answered with a calm 
 precision, which left no doubt of his sincerity: 
 
 "If at the end of five years Grizelda is a 
 happy wife, willing to trust in your honour and 
 rely on your love, I will give her sixty thousand 
 pounds ; at my death there may be more." 
 
 Maxwell rose at the words. His first impulse 
 was to leave the castle and never see Grizelda
 
 104 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 again ; but a faint flicker of satisfaction on 
 McNeil's face roused a suspicion in his heart 
 which made him determine to marry Grizelda, 
 no matter what came after it. 
 
 " He intended to frighten me away, and then 
 preach to Grizelda about my unvvorthiness ; to 
 boast to every petty sheep-raising laird around 
 of the way in which he saved his child from me. 
 He shall not do it. I will marry the girl ! " 
 
 These thoughts flashed through his mind 
 even as he rose to his feet. They helped him 
 to keep his words and actions under controul, 
 and he asked, with a civility that astonished 
 himself: " I have now, then, your permission 
 to see Grizelda?" 
 
 " You have my permission, Maxwell." 
 
 And in giving this permission, McNeil was 
 chivalrous and honourable enough to give all 
 that appertained to it. It included the courtesy 
 of the whole household, and even a seeming 
 interest in the necessary preparations for the 
 marriage. Fortunately the strain was as great 
 upon Maxwell as upon the McNeil family. He 
 was anxious to shorten it as much as possi 
 ble, and Christmas eve was selected by him for 
 the ceremony. McNeil had objections to the
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 1 05 
 
 time, but he did not make them; the main 
 thing in his mind being to keep the strained 
 attitude of all parties at the point of courtesy 
 and politeness. 
 
 Colin wisely passed a great deal of the time 
 in a visit to Edinburgh. The Edinburgh 
 McNeils had to be told of the intended mar 
 riage, and they were quite pleased with it. 
 They looked fonvard with satisfaction to their 
 relationship with Lady Maxwell. Her house in 
 London would be a nice place to call at, and to 
 talk about. And Colin did not think it neces 
 sary to say anything against the young lord. 
 Indeed, he was rather Inclined to think that but 
 scant justice had been done him. He told 
 Helen that he could understand how a man 
 might passionately side with his dogs even 
 against his sense of what was right; and 
 otherwise he thought Maxwell a gentlemanly 
 fellow enough. He wished the laird could see 
 that Grizelda was doing very well ; and he pri 
 vately had little opinion of dislikes and impres 
 sions which had no tangible cause to rest upon. 
 Presentiments of any kind belonged to a by 
 gone age. 
 
 So the few intervening v/eeks went over with
 
 106 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 at least an apparent placidity. Helen was the 
 sweet spirit who kept peace on every hand. 
 She told the laird whatever could give him 
 pleasure or confidence; she hid from him all 
 likely to breed suspicion or dislike. She kept 
 |the men apart when there was an atmosphere 
 unfavourable to conciliation. She put Grizelda 
 in every light that was charming to both 
 her father and her lover; unconsciously she 
 was hourly practising those numberless inno 
 cent hypocrisies of love, which prevent many 
 a domestic quarrel, and make every one 
 satisfied with themselves and affectionate to 
 others. 
 
 They were happy weeks to Grizelda. The 
 very hurry that was necessary in order to pro 
 cure her wardrobe gave her a sense of de 
 lightful occupation. Beautiful garments were 
 constantly arriving; and as the wedding-day 
 approached, the castle began to fill with guests. 
 The McNeils were a great clan, and all the 
 heads of the different branches had to be 
 invited. 
 
 And the laird, in the presence of such a 
 gathering of his family, began to have some 
 Vmeasy feelings about Grizelda's fortune. He
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. IO/ 
 
 had no doubt that many of them would ask him 
 straight questions on the subject. It would be 
 very humiliating to confess that he had given 
 her nothing. The reason would be inquired 
 for, and how could he say that he had been led 
 to this extraordinary caution by Maxwell's un 
 feeling or ungentlemanly conduct about a few 
 sheep, or by his own fixed conviction of the 
 man's cruel and dishonourable character? 
 
 " Doctor, what will I do in the premises? " he 
 asked one day, when the subject pressed him 
 closely. 
 
 "You have done right, McNeil. What will 
 you want to undo it for?" 
 
 " Folk will ask questions." 
 
 " You have not such a small measure of 
 capacity as to fear a few old men and women 
 asking questions. You have done right. Then 
 do not undo it." 
 
 Still, at the last he was induced to give more 
 than he intended. Partly his action was a 
 spontaneous outgrowth of purest love, partly 
 it was the result of a foolish pride which could 
 not suffer itself to be put in a secondary place. 
 It happened very naturally that Lord Maxwell, 
 subjected constantly to Grizelda's many charms,
 
 108 THE HOUSEHOLD OF 
 
 became deeply in love with her; and to gratify 
 his passionate admiration of her beauty, he 
 presented her with many beautiful ornaments. 
 It gave him delight to clasp his shining brace 
 lets on her lovely arms, and kiss the brilliant 
 locket around her white throat, and gem her 
 fingers with rings, and pin up her hair with gold 
 and coral. And yet, as a secondary pleasure, 
 he was not unconscious that he enjoyed show 
 ing McNeil he could adorn Grizelda as she 
 had never been adorned before. McNeil was 
 aware of this feeling (it may be doubted if 
 Maxwell had ever a mean thought of which 
 McNeil was not aware); and he watched Gri- 
 zelda's pride and excitement over her lover's 
 gifts until a certain intention gradually took form 
 in his mind. He did not speak of it; he did not 
 put it into action until Grizelda came to him on 
 Christmas eve in all her bridal beauty. Full 
 of pride and joy, she tapped lightly at the 
 locked door, as she said, 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 He opened to her at once. He was already 
 dressed for the ceremony, and she was as much 
 struck with his noble appearance as he was 
 with her own surpassing loveliness. He held
 
 GRIZELDA'S MARRIAGE. 109 
 
 her hands, and looked with an inexpressible 
 affection at the white-robed girl. She glistened 
 in white satin and lace ; she carried orange 
 blossoms and mistletoe in her hand ; her eyes 
 shone with love and happiness; her face was 
 like a young rose with the summer sunshine 
 on it. 
 
 " My sweet Grizelda ! My dear child ! " 
 
 " Father, you will not cease to love me? " 
 
 " Never, while I live." 
 
 " Will you forgive me to-night all my dis 
 obedience to you? I am sorry for it." 
 
 " I will forgive you, freely." 
 
 "Will you try and love Walter? " 
 
 " I will try for your sake." 
 
 " For his own sake, dear father? " 
 
 " Yes, I will try, if he is good and kind to you " 
 
 " He is sure to be good to me, I do not fear." 
 
 " Grizelda, this is my bride present to you." 
 He opened some cases, and took from them 
 a necklace and pendant of diamonds and sap 
 phires, a bracelet, a ring for her finger, and a 
 comb for her hair of the same brilliant gems. 
 " Part of these I bought for your mother, Gri 
 zelda; part of them I have bought purposely 
 for you."
 
 HO THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " Oh, my father, how good you are to me ! 
 how kind ! " 
 
 " I mean to be so ; truly, I mean to be kind 
 to you in all things. God knows I do ! " 
 
 Then he kissed her, and put the jewels in her 
 hand. In his heart there was a great struggle 
 of feeling ; but amid all, he was pleased to see 
 Grizelda shining in gems that dwarfed all of 
 Maxwell's gifts. For, in spite of his promise to 
 try and love him for kis daughter's sake, he 
 did not like or trust him one bit better; and 
 though he heard him vow, in the presence of 
 God and the gathered clan of McNeil, to love 
 and cherish Grizelda, he did not believe in him, 
 he never for a moment believed in him.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 
 
 Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, 
 
 But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Find something to do. The power to find or make an object 
 
 is a great part of genius. 
 
 MALLOCK. 
 
 Life does not make us : we make life. 
 
 J. KAVANAGH. 
 
 THE best remedy for injuries is to forget 
 them. After Grizelda, with all her charms 
 and all her faults, had left her home, every one 
 made the effort not only to hope to the utmost 
 for her happiness, but also to forget every un 
 pleasant circumstance and suspicion connected 
 with Lord Maxwell. He had shown his most 
 plausible side to Colin, and Colin had an apol 
 ogy or a good word always ready for him. 
 And it was but natural that Helen should, in 
 a measure, echo Colin's thoughts, especially 
 when her own kind heart and her hopes for her
 
 112 THE HOUSEHOLD OF 
 
 sister's happiness made it wise and desirable 
 to do so. 
 
 The laird said nothing contrary to this tone, 
 and he appeared to enter into the pleasure and 
 triumph of Grizelda's London life with great 
 interest. He had, in fact, made a compact with 
 himself to give Maxwell perfect justice in all 
 repects. So in this amicable tone the castle 
 settled down to its new conditions. For half 
 a year, life in it had seemed like a restless 
 dream. Different elements had crept into each 
 new day, and nothing had gone on in that regu 
 lar manner which alone gives the feeling of 
 security and permanence. 
 
 But very soon a happy placid monotony be 
 came the rule of daily events. Peace and order 
 reigned undisputed ; the morning and the even 
 ing came, each with its own quiet meal and 
 happy conversation. The pleasant rooms shone 
 in the firelight or the sunlight, or gained a ten 
 fold comfort by the beating of the rain and the 
 howling of the stormy winds outside. 
 
 Or, when the weather was fine and clear, 
 McNeil and the young laird spent the day upon 
 the hills, and came home at night happily 
 weaned, with bags full of birds, with hunters'
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 113 
 
 hearty appetites, and scraps of country-side 
 gossip. And so for a few weeks the sweet 
 monotony of a happily ordered home went on, 
 and in it every one gathered strength. 
 
 Toward the end of February, McNeil began 
 to contemplate again the plans for a more ac 
 tive life which had occupied his thoughts at 
 intervals during the past five years; and one 
 morning, after a long storm, when the gray at 
 mosphere was still full of misty rain, and the 
 beach or the hills not to be thought of, he 
 called Colin into his room. 
 
 " Colin," he said, " I think we are both 
 ready for work ; if you are, I am." 
 
 " I shall be glad of it." 
 
 " It is the only thing of which a man does 
 not weary. I have already said something to 
 you anent my plans. They have been growing 
 to perfection without any care of mine, but they 
 are ripe for the working now; and if we do not 
 turn events into gold, others, and perhaps 
 strangers, will do so." 
 
 " Count on me to be your right hand, 
 uncle." 
 
 " I do that, Colin. Well, on the steep bluff 
 we call Britta, I propose to build a fine summer 
 8
 
 114 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 hot* 1. The travellers up the Crinan Canal will 
 fill it. For the past three years, thousands have 
 turned aside to visit the grand waterfalls and 
 lovely valleys in the vicinity. Artists have 
 camped there, bringing their own tents; and 
 sportsmen have sheltered themselves in the 
 shepherds' huts near by, for the salmon and 
 trout fishing in the small estuaries from Loch 
 Fine is wonderful. And I have encouraged all 
 these visitors, until the place is already well 
 known." 
 
 " But you cannot keep an hotel, uncle ; it is 
 a business by itself." 
 
 " I am not such a fool, Colin, as to think I 
 can. Forbye, the McNeil cannot do anything 
 so mechanical and tradesmanlike. It is an in 
 vestment to me. Others will do the labour. 
 It would be an insult to the living and the dead 
 if the McNeil was to put himself in the way of 
 serving strangers for money." 
 
 " Then, if you are the real proprietor, and 
 some other man the active one, are you not 
 afraid of being wronged?" 
 
 " No, I am not. They will be cleverer rogues 
 than have yet been born if they wrong me. 
 When I have money out, I mostly know what
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 11$ 
 
 every penny of it is doing. Admitting this, 
 what do you think of the scheme?" 
 
 " I think very well of it. McLean has built 
 such an hotel on Loch Scredon, and he is grow 
 ing rich on the revenue from it. MacLeod has 
 one in Harris, and Mackenzie in Lewis ; I do 
 not see why McNeil should not have one in 
 Knapdale. I shall be delighted to help you 
 in every way that I can." 
 
 " Thank you, Colin. I am a happy man to 
 have a helper like you. First, there will be an 
 architect to see." 
 
 "We can get a good one in Glasgow; and 
 in Glasgow I can always hire whatever men 
 are necessary." 
 
 " Diggers and delvers are the first necessity. 
 But as these men must have shelter, stone 
 masons are wanted. There is plenty of mate 
 rials for them. We might build about a dozen 
 cottages not far from the hotel site. They will 
 form the nucleus for the village, ay, the 
 town, which will be certain to spring up 
 there." | 
 
 " I will go about the work to-morrow if you 
 wish." 
 
 " I do. You are all I hoped for, Colin. One
 
 Il6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 hand washes the other ; and it is a sign of pros 
 perity when the men in a house can work out 
 one scheme together. And there are other 
 godsends at our door, Colin, such as the lobster 
 fishery, for which the market is just extraordi 
 nary; and I am going to have a small fleet of 
 boats to carry them to Glasgow. The catching 
 of them and the carrying of them to market will 
 make a grand winter industry for the men. I '11 
 give an invite to all honest idle men around 
 about, and I '11 be doing good to myself and to 
 others." 
 
 After this conversation there was no lack of 
 vivid enterprise in McNeil Castle. Colin was 
 going and coming continually, and the laird 
 appeared to have grown ten years younger. 
 His bold and yet cautious enterprise was splen 
 didly backed by Colin's enthusiasm and physical 
 endurance; and in a few weeks the work had 
 been well begun. 
 
 And time passes rapidly that is filled with 
 labour. The spring opened to the sound of the 
 pick and the hammer, and there was an air of 
 hope and prosperity, and a sense of business 
 that admitted of no lazy intervals, about the 
 little hamlet. It made the staid old fishers
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 1 1 / 
 
 shake their heads and wonder mournfully what 
 the world and the McNeil were coming to. 
 
 As the summer grew and the work went 
 busily on, the laird was like another person. 
 Nature had given him all the qualities neces 
 sary for a leader or director of large bodies of 
 men. His presence was felt everywhere. His 
 gigantic form stood like a tower among the 
 bowed workers. His clear, resonant voice, 
 commanding, directing, encouraging, was the 
 one distinct tone in the babel of tongues, the 
 chip, chip of the stone-masons, the ring of 
 the trowels, and the sounds of the hammers 
 and saws. 
 
 Colin was his lieutenant. He was nearly 
 always on the move. The change of workers, 
 the constant need for material, or directions not 
 remembered until the necessity demanded them, 
 the money transactions incident to the enter 
 prise were all dependent upon him ; so that the 
 drowsy old castle was now ever on the lookout 
 or the preparation, Colin was going away, or 
 Colin was coming home ; the architect from 
 Glasgow was making his regular inspection, or 
 Mr. Balfour, the writer from Edinburgh, who 
 had a share in the investment, was paying a
 
 1 1 8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 visit to the laird to consult or advise with him 
 as to the progress of the work. 
 
 And this change in the business life of Ed- 
 derloch was met by one equally great in its 
 social and domestic aspects. The minister, in 
 his way, was as full of fresh interests as the laird. 
 He had been brought suddenly into contact 
 with a new and perplexing kind of parishioners, 
 and put face to face with the very duties which 
 he had discussed theoretically with George 
 Selwyn. 
 
 Colin had made it a special condition in all 
 the workmen brought from Glasgow that they 
 should be Protestants. It was, indeed, a piece 
 of practical wisdom to insist on this point, for 
 the neighbouring lairds would have opposed the 
 introduction of a Roman Catholic element and 
 an adverse nationality into their quiet villages 
 and pastures ; and between it and the indigenous 
 race, fierce quarrels would certainly have sprung 
 up, not only retarding the work, but also bring 
 ing it into bad repute. 
 
 But, for all that, they were very different 
 Protestants from the grave, mystical Calvinists 
 who gathered in Brodick's kirk every Sabbath 
 day from the sheep-folds and the boats. Those
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 1 19 
 
 of them who really cared for their religion were 
 usually from Ayrshire and Galloway, and had 
 an old Covenanting rebelliousness about them. 
 And they carried the almost inevitable demo 
 cratic tendency of Calvinism to its extreme 
 outcome of radicalism. They disputed with 
 Doctor Brodick on church government, and 
 they sang Robert Burns's most democratic songs 
 in the McNeil's very presence. They were also 
 vulgar and quarrelsome. The poorest High 
 land gillie on the hills had a vein of poetry in 
 his nature ; but these men from the Glasgow 
 pavements were painfully matter-of-fact. They 
 could not even understand a courtesy unless it 
 took the form of a glass of whiskey. 
 
 The problem which they presented to Brodick 
 was one to which he bent his whole nature. He 
 understood now why George Selvvyn had been 
 sent to speak to him ; and he answered the call 
 he believed himself to have received, with a 
 cheerful alacrity, a glad " Here I am, Lord," 
 that had in it not only the wisdom of age, but 
 the enthusiasm of youth. 
 
 And what Colin was to the laird, Helen was 
 to the minister. They took sweet counsel to 
 gether ; they encouraged one another when diffi-
 
 I2O THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 culties sprang up; they worked hand in hand 
 for the tangible welfare of the people, whom 
 they accepted as God's special charge to them. 
 In many respects it was impossible to do much 
 without the laird's consent. He owned all the 
 land ; he was a master no one dared to disobey. 
 But he was not able to resist Helen ; sooner or 
 later she won from him whatever was desired. 
 
 Thus the summer passed rapidly away, and 
 in October six new lobster-boats, with all their 
 traps and tongs, etc., were launched. They 
 brought nearly twenty new families to Edder- 
 loch, and the utmost capacities of the village 
 were needed to shelter them. The new cottages 
 had been severely denounced by Brodick. He 
 pointed out to the laird how they disregarded 
 all the laws of health, and were, in fact, just as 
 barbarous as those which the McNeils had built 
 three or four centuries ago. But the men them 
 selves were with McNeil and against change, 
 and Brodick then understood what Selwyn had 
 often told him, 
 
 " You will have to teach men what is good 
 for their bodies as well as their souls ; and the 
 latter is far more dependent on the former than 
 most ministers like to admit."
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 121 
 
 As the first natural result of the increase of 
 population, the Change House was enlarged; 
 and before the winter was over, a rival one had 
 been opened. " The Devil is a busy bishop in 
 his parish," said Brodick to the laird, when the 
 subject was named; "but there is one good 
 offset against it, the men are mostly very well 
 pleased to learn something. It is wonderful how 
 many of them come at night for the schooling 
 they never had before." 
 
 " Humph ! " 
 
 " I have men forty years old, Laird, as eager 
 as bairns for knowledge ; and I tell you, McNeil, 
 it was a good thought to turn the manse barn 
 into a warm room for them. When the lessons 
 are over and the children gone home, I ask the 
 men to take out their pipes and gather about 
 the fire and talk with me. And they have a 
 wonderful natural capacity for argument." 
 
 " You need not tell me that, Doctor. I know 
 it to my sorrow, and I wish you would not en 
 courage it. They dispute over everything, 
 my own orders as well as the rest. I don't 
 approve of these night-schools, specially for 
 workingmen. They are a wrong to me; men 
 cannot work all day and study at night. Some
 
 122 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 one 's right is wronged, and 1 'm thinking it is 
 mine." 
 
 " If they werena in the school-room, they 
 would be in the Change House, Laird. Which 
 is the better? " 
 
 The laird thought in his heart that the whiskey 
 would be more to his interest than the books, 
 but he did not say so ; there was something in 
 Brodick's face which restrained him. Yet he 
 continued his complaint in that half-hectoring 
 way that always hides the white feather some 
 where beneath it, until the minister said 
 solemnly, 
 
 " McNeil, it seems to be your work to make 
 money. It is my work to save souls. Our 
 roads are so far apart that we need not run 
 against each other unless we try to." 
 
 " But I do not like the way you are doing your 
 work, that is all, Doctor. I don't like the way." 
 
 " Mammon never did like God's ways. There 
 is a very old disagreement between them." 
 
 " A man has a right to consider his own wel 
 fare, Brodick. I am justified in that." 
 
 " Just so, McNeil ; but a man's welfare should- 
 na be more to him than the two tables of the 
 law and the four gospels."
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 123 
 
 McNeil had determined at that very hour to 
 speak to Doctor Brodick about his workers, 
 but he was not able to make a stronger stand 
 than this; for there was something imperial 
 about the man when he took his stand by the 
 humblest altar of his duty. And besides, a dim 
 fear crept into the laird's heart that Brodick 
 might say something to him which would make 
 him feel uncomfortable. It was, upon the whole, 
 better that both the minister and his conscience 
 should be quiet at present. 
 
 And yet, perhaps, the sorest point in this 
 interference of Brodick's was Helen. He had 
 been too busy as yet to interfere with their 
 alliance, but he promised himself he would do 
 so very soon. Helen McNeil nursing sick child 
 ren, and sending broths and jellies to those who 
 could eat no coarser food, and making clothing 
 for the old and indigent, and interesting herself 
 in the troubles and sorrows of every cotter in 
 the clachan, was an imposition which he was 
 determined to put an end to. He said to him 
 self, indignantly, that if Brodick felt he must be 
 a kind of Providence to every idle or unfortu 
 nate family around, he had no right to impose 
 the rules of his own conscience on Helen.
 
 124 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 But the laird need not have troubled himself 
 about Helen. Never had she spent so happy a 
 year. Her days were brimful of duties. She 
 had now no need to resort to bits of embroi 
 dery or pencil sketches, or any of the ineffi 
 cient make believes of employment with which 
 naturally industrious women, without real work 
 to do, attempt to pass the long hours. Her 
 own domestic duties had been much enlarged. 
 Guests of some kind or other were constantly at 
 the castle. The laird's lunch must generally be 
 sent to the new building. He kept a messenger 
 running between it and his home, for he had 
 a score of wants, of uncertainties, which must be 
 settled by references Helen alone could send 
 him. 
 
 Colin also had his claims, and he was not 
 inclined to forego one of them. Helen must 
 leave everything sometimes and walk with him. 
 She must sit beside him while he took a hurried 
 meal before some hurried journey. She must 
 listen to all that had happened to him while he 
 was away. She was the dear house-angel to 
 whom he constantly looked for love and sym 
 pathy and assistance. 
 
 But amid all these claims upon her time,
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. 125 
 
 those that Doctor Brodick brought were never 
 neglected. They slipped in between, and bright 
 ened all the rest, they were the precious oint 
 ment upon the dusty feet of daily life. She 
 found herself often wondering how it was that 
 Doctor Brodick, as well as Helen McNeil, had 
 been blind and deaf to all this sweet service 
 before George Selwyn had opened their eyes 
 and ears to it. 
 
 If there had been any shadow in the sunshine 
 of this year, it had come from Grizelda. Her 
 letters during her stay in London had been full 
 of joy and triumph ; and even the laird had 
 then hours in which he doubted if he had not 
 been unjust to Grizelda's husband. After the 
 season closed, the young couple had betaken 
 themselves to Switzerland and Germany. It 
 was while they were travelling in these countries 
 Helen first began to notice a change in the tone 
 of her sister's letters. She made no complaint, 
 and they were brilliant with the atmosphere 
 of foreign travel, luxurious and leisurely; but 
 Helen missed something. 
 
 However, Grizelda was not in very good 
 health ; and probably, if there was a fault, it lay 
 in the lassitude of her spirits, and in her inabil-
 
 126 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 ity to take the same interest in what surrounded 
 her. Helen was delighted when, in the late fall, 
 they returned to Blairgowrie. And in spite of 
 all her own cares, she found time to go there 
 and superintend the adornment of the house 
 and the arrangement of the arches of evergreens 
 which the tenants desired to erect in honour of 
 their return. Considering the small resources 
 and the poverty of the people on Maxwell's 
 estate, they made a brave attempt at the cus 
 tomary public welcome. 
 
 But Maxwell was scornfully indignant at what 
 he called " the farce." His first step across his 
 own threshold was to a muttered imprecation 
 at the stupid folly. He made no speech, no 
 acknowledgment of it, and looked with a sneer 
 at Grizelda's poor, heart-failing attempt to make 
 up for her lord's churlishness by her own smiles 
 and courtesy. 
 
 There was an inexplicable change in her face. 
 Helen fancied in her deprecating tone there 
 was even a distinct element of fear. She was 
 still lovely, but a look of fragility about her was 
 in direct contrast to that royalty of exuberant 
 life and beauty which had characterized Griz- 
 elda at the time of her marriage.
 
 THE MCNEIL'S WORK. I2/ 
 
 And Helen soon perceived that Maxwell was 
 less suave. The laird's new enterprises were in 
 reality a great and constant irritation to him. 
 While he was away nothing had been said in 
 regard to them. The grand new building rising 
 on the Britta bluff was the greatest possible 
 surprise to him. So were the little lobster fleet 
 and the rapid growth of the clachan. He told 
 NcNeil that both these enterprises had been in 
 his own mind when he bought Blairgowrie, and 
 that he thought he might have been asked to 
 share in the speculation. 
 
 " It was all planned five years ago, Maxwell," 
 was the answer, " and my partner, Balfour, was 
 the man who put the thought into my head. 
 So, then, he had the first right to his own 
 idea." 
 
 But Maxwell deplored his loss in the matter, 
 and told his own lie so often that he soon heart 
 ily believed it; nor was it much later ere he 
 began, even in Grizelda's presence, to blame 
 his marriage for his business disappointment. 
 
 " I bought this place," he would say sav 
 agely, " that I might command a fine coast and 
 build a summer resort, and start a lobster fish 
 ery ; and I was such a fool as to let a pretty face
 
 128 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 and a contradictious old man hurry me into a 
 marriage. I wonder how McNeil got hold of 
 my idea! Did I tell you, Grizelda, that these 
 were my intentions? I am sure I must have 
 done so ; " and he looked at her in a way which 
 she understood to be an order to confirm his 
 insinuation. 
 
 But greatly to her own surprise, she dared 
 to disavow his assertion. " I never heard you 
 speak of such a thing. Some years ago my 
 father and Mr. Balfour used to discuss the 
 subject. I often heard them." 
 
 "Then why the Devil did you not tell me 
 about it?" He left the room in a rage, and 
 Grizelda buried her face in her hands and burst 
 into passionate weeping.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A NEW SORROW. 
 
 We are not driftwood on the wave ; 
 But, like the ships that tempests brave, 
 Our hearts upon their voyage stand. 
 We utter no unheeded cry : 
 " Where is my God ? " Lo, He is nigh, 
 
 And says, "Take, child, thy Father's hand." 
 
 LYNCH. 
 
 A FEW days before Christmas, Grizelda had 
 a daughter. The child lived only a few 
 hours, and the mother lay for many weeks 
 within the shadow of death. Indeed, on the 
 anniversary of her marriage, the laird and 
 Helen kept a sorrowful vigil at Blairgowrie. 
 The young husband, white and silent, sat mo 
 tionless by the fire. The laird walked slowly 
 up and down the room. A great love and pity 
 were struggling with a mysterious coldness an.d 
 anger in his heart; the one for his apparently 
 dying child, the other for the impassive husband 
 9
 
 I3O THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 whose grief appeared to be so easily borne. 
 Helen was by her sister's side. She had been 
 there for many awful hours, but she knew not 
 that her watch had lasted two long days and 
 nights, until Grizelda's soul came back, wan, 
 weary, from the strange solitude in which it 
 had been fighting for a return. 
 
 It was near nightfall of the grim winter day 
 when the father and the sister of the sick woman 
 dared to turn homeward with a flicker of hope 
 in their hearts. The laird was silent. Helen 
 could see that he was nursing a grief, made 
 bitter by suspicions of wrong. She knew his 
 heart by her own ; and yet she could not offer 
 comfort for a sorrow which neither of them 
 chose to voice. 
 
 They brought its shadow with them into the 
 castle. It followed McNeil to his new building ; 
 he could not lock it out of his room ; and, often 
 as he put it down, it climbed again into his top 
 most thought. Yet not even to God in his 
 most private prayer would he speak of the 
 trouble which he foresaw. He determined not 
 to anticipate, to hope for the best, to mistrust 
 his own judgment. But Helen confronted the 
 grief; and retiring with it into that solitude
 
 A NEW SORROW. 131 
 
 which is the presence of God, she sought there 
 counsel and comfort. 
 
 For it was evident that Grizelda was an 
 unhappy wife, perhaps, indeed, an unkindly 
 used one. The physicians had thought it well 
 to forbid Maxwell the sick-room. The servants' 
 piteous looks and eager service needed no 
 words to interpret them. My lady had become 
 an object of commiseration in her own home. 
 A year ago she had ruled there like a queen 
 of love and beauty. 
 
 As the spring came back to earth, Grizelda 
 came back to health. Yet, old or young, in 
 every great sickness we lose something that we 
 never regain. Grizelda stood one morning 
 looking mournfully in her mirror for a trace 
 of a charm gone forever. She had lost the dew 
 of her youth in that burning fight for life ; 
 lost that nameless, indescribable atmosphere of 
 young years untouched by sorrow and un- 
 dimmed by tears. 
 
 And her heart sank, for she knew that she 
 held Maxwell only by the lustre and brightness 
 of her physical beauty. Her mental qualities 
 he held in low estimation, he thought her a 
 fool, and did not scruple to tell her so ; while
 
 132 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 the very purity of her morals and her lofty 
 standard of right and wrong constantly irritated 
 him; for Grizelda had been so rigidly trained 
 that sin was always sin to her, her conscience 
 never consented to it; even in her great dis 
 obedience, the sting of it secretly wounded her 
 love and darkened her happiest hours. 
 
 Helen watched her with tender solicitude. 
 She went often to Blairgowrie, though she 
 could easily feel that Maxwell disliked her 
 visits ; and with every one he threw off some 
 particle of the restraint, due to her presence 
 only, until one day his evil temper passed be 
 yond his controul. He talked at Grizelda in 
 stead of to her; he sneered at her health; he 
 kicked her pet dog out of the room; he did 
 his best to drive her either into the mistake 
 of open revolt, or the equal mistake of tears 
 and complaints. 
 
 Helen was burning with anger, yet she 
 watched her sister's behaviour with pride and 
 approbation. Grizelda became calm as Max 
 well lost his self-controul. Though she felt 
 personally every blow given to her favourite 
 terrier, she knew that interference would be 
 useless, and she made no attempt to interfere.
 
 A NEW SORROW. 133 
 
 She ignored the hard speeches she could not 
 turn away with a polite question or remark.' 
 She did what so many hardly pressed women 
 do, affected to think the particular and pri 
 vate faults of Maxwell were the faults of all 
 his sex, and that she was only enduring the 
 usual fate of all married women. 
 
 Even when he left the room she did not 
 say a word against him. With a patience and 
 pathos Helen had never conceived of as part 
 of Grizelda's character, she turned the conver 
 sation upon her dress, her summer plans, the 
 visits she had to make. 
 
 " Let me show you the bonnet and mantle 
 Walter brought me from London last week," 
 she said. " He is so generous. I am sure the 
 lace on them cost a great deal of money. And 
 he is talking of taking me to Switzerland. He 
 thinks the mountain air will give me back my 
 roses. What do you think, Helen?" 
 
 And Helen, for very pity, admired the gar 
 ment, and affected to approve of the Swiss 
 mountains. But, oh ! at the last, when they 
 stood holding each other's hands, when they 
 kissed each other silently, with eyes full of 
 unshed tears, a complaint beyond all words
 
 134 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 was made, a sympathy beyond all words 
 given. 
 
 Still, until Grizelda spoke, Helen felt she 
 must be silent. She had no right to force 
 confidence, no right to make her sister's private 
 sorrow a subject of conversation. Indeed, she 
 respected Grizelda's reticence, and sympathized 
 with the womanly and wifely feeling which 
 shrank from any discussion of her husband's 
 conduct. Maxwell had, however, no concep 
 tion of so delicate a feeling. He believed the 
 sisters spent their interviews in discussing his 
 faults ; and he had no doubt that Helen faith 
 fully carried his wife's complaints to her father. 
 There were days in which the suspicion pleased 
 him, days in which he was rude to Grizelda 
 solely because he expected Helen to report his 
 indignities to the laird. 
 
 For the continual sight of prosperity in which 
 he had no share irritated him more and more. 
 He had really come to believe himself very 
 greatly wronged by McNeil's enterprise. The 
 busy clachan of Edderloch, with its happy, 
 prosperous-looking fishers ; the fine hotel, where 
 carpenters, painters, and finishers of all kinds 
 were now busy; the cheering sounds of human
 
 A NEW SORROW. 135 
 
 toil, well paid, and full of contentment; the 
 entire transformation of the lonely coast filled 
 him with envy. 
 
 He came home one day in a passion, and 
 ordered Grizelda to be ready to leave Blair- 
 govvrie in a week. 
 
 " But where are we going, Walter? " 
 
 " Anywhere out of sight of this miserable 
 wilderness. I wish I had never set foot in it. 
 But we shall visit London first ; so take all your 
 fineries with you. It is not unlikely, also, that 
 we shall never come back here. I am sick of 
 the place, and will sell it if I can." 
 
 She did not answer the threat, for she 
 scarcely believed it. Yet it made her sad and 
 anxious, for there were many times when she 
 felt grateful for the simple sense that her father 
 and sister were not far off, and the gray turrets 
 of her old home almost within sight. 
 
 As the day approached for her journey, she 
 became very unhappy. A depression she was 
 not able to account for weighed her down, a 
 sense of uncertainty and wrong made her fear 
 ful. She went to bid her father and Helen 
 good-by, with a heart heavy with unformed 
 forebodings, and her father's manner uncon-
 
 136 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 sciously intensified the feeling. Never had he 
 been so tender and so pitiful to her, and yet, 
 withal, so silent and preoccupied. She won 
 dered if he had heard anything of her trouble. 
 She hoped he would not ask her any questions ; 
 for how could she resist his sympathy? She 
 would weep upon his breast; she would tell 
 him all ; perhaps perhaps she might beg 
 never more to leave his loving care. 
 
 And as yet she could not bear to contemplate 
 such an alternative. Maxwell was still unrea 
 sonably dear to her. To be with him for the 
 chance of a smile or a kind word was some 
 thing. Besides, there was the social shame of 
 a separation ; and Grizelda was almost foolishly 
 sensitive to public opinion. She could suffer in 
 silence and solitude ; she could not bear to 
 think of strangers discussing her domestic life. 
 She shrank even from their sympathy. 
 
 When the hour of parting came, McNeil 
 roused himself. The mournful thoughtfulness 
 of his mood disappeared as a shadow might 
 pass away. He watched Grizelda weeping in 
 Helen's arms with a kind of angry pity, and 
 then, taking her hand, he led her to his own 
 room. She had not been in it since her bridal
 
 A NEW SORROW. 137 
 
 night. The thought of all that had passed since 
 made her shiver and sigh. She looked with a 
 piteous inquiry into her father's face when he 
 put her gently into a chair and sat down beside 
 her. 
 
 " I have been wondering, Grizelda, whether 
 to speak or to keep silence. Have you any 
 thing to say to me, dear?" 
 
 "No no I think not, dear father." 
 
 " Good girl ! Keep your own counsel as long 
 as it is possible. When you must speak, re 
 member my ears are always open to your 
 voice." 
 
 She clasped his hands tightly, but said not 
 a word. 
 
 " I will ask you no questions, Grizelda. I 
 will only tell you something. It happened a 
 week ago. I was walking home by the fir planta 
 tion ; Kinross and I were together. Just at the 
 north corner, before we turned it, we heard 
 some cries of distress. They were not human, 
 and yet singularly human-like." 
 
 Grizelda covered her face with her hands. 
 " I know what they were ! Oh, I know what 
 they were ! Morag ! Poor Morag ! " 
 
 "Just so. The beautiful, sensitive creature
 
 138 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 was tied to a tree, and Maxwell was lashing her. 
 Her nostrils were flecked with a bloody foam. 
 She was quivering and sobbing with a sense of 
 outrage and pain, and when she saw me, she 
 called me by a whinny as entreating and irre 
 sistible as a child's cry. I went up to your 
 husband, and said, ' What are you beating the 
 mare so cruelly for, Maxwell?' He was livid 
 with passion, and he answered, ' For my own 
 pleasure. It is none of your business.' Then 
 Kinross said some very strong words to him; 
 and while I soothed the poor trembling brute, 
 Maxwell, brought to reason by the passion of 
 Kinross, by his threats and reproaches, conde 
 scended to explain that Morag had attempted 
 to bite him, and been disobedient both to his 
 voice and his spur." 
 
 " Poor Morag ! I have not seen her lately. 
 She was my mare once." 
 
 " Kinross forced Maxwell to sell her to him 
 on the spot. He would have flogged Maxwell 
 with his own whip if he had not done so. And 
 Maxwell knows that Kinross cannot be trifled 
 with. It was a terrible scene, my child ; and 
 during it my thoughts were continually with 
 you. The man who could flog a gentle, proud,
 
 A NEW SORROW. 139 
 
 sensitive creature like Morag, could strike a 
 woman. Oh, Grizelda, when I think of this, my 
 blood boils ! " 
 
 She rose and looked at him with brave eyes, 
 though they were full of tears. " He dare not 
 strike me, father." 
 
 "If he did?" 
 
 " I should know how to right myself." 
 
 " Oh, Grizelda, be careful ! I am so in the 
 dark, child, I cannot advise you." 
 
 " And I cannot make things plainer yet, 
 father. I have not lost all hope. When he is 
 away from here he will be a better man. If I 
 should need a friend " 
 
 " If you should need a friend " he went to 
 his secretary, and took from it a small parcel. 
 " Money is a sure friend. Here are two thou 
 sand pounds in Bank of England notes. They 
 are easily negotiable. Tell no one that you 
 possess them. And you have always me and 
 Helen ; and never forget, my ain dear one, ' the 
 Friend above all others.' ' 
 
 His voice trembled, for Grizelda was sobbing 
 on his breast. He let her head rest there for a 
 few moments ; he stroked her fair hair, soothed 
 and caressed her as if she had been a little
 
 140 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 child, and then, with a kiss, bade her a long 
 farewell. 
 
 The season was at its height when the Max 
 wells reached London, and for a few weeks the 
 various society newspapers mentioned Grizelda 
 often enough to give her father and sister some 
 idea of the life she was leading. But a year's 
 interval of time makes many changes. Grizelda 
 herself lacked the fresh charm of the bride, the 
 glad joyousness which had attracted all to her, 
 and newer debutantes held her former high 
 social place. It made little matter that to the 
 thoughtful and the wisely observant she was a 
 really far lovelier woman. The mass of society 
 is neither wise nor thoughtful ; it does not stop 
 to investigate changes, it treats them at their 
 apparent value; and undoubtedly Lady Max 
 well was not the bright, brilliant, obviously 
 beautiful woman she had been during the pre 
 vious year. 
 
 Toward the close of the season there was to 
 be a ball at the Earl of Lauder's. Lord Max 
 well manifested a singular eagerness for an in 
 vitation, and an unusual regard for his wife's 
 appearance there. He delighted Grizelda by 
 critically examining her dress, and by his ap-
 
 A NEW SORROW. 141 
 
 proval of it. He even complimented her upon 
 her beauty, and drawing her to his side, kissed 
 her with a shadow of his former tenderness. 
 He could have taken no more effectual method 
 to add the last grace to it. The few kind words 
 brought a glory of colour into her cheeks ; the 
 kiss, a wonderful light into her dark blue eyes. 
 
 She took his arm with something of her old 
 confidence, and he did not chill it by sneers and 
 indifference. She wondered at her own happi 
 ness. She glanced with such shy pleasure into 
 his face that even his hard heart was smitten 
 with a moment's remorse for the unnecessary 
 suffering he had caused her. It was so easy 
 to make her beautiful and glad that he almost 
 thought it would be worth his while to do so. 
 
 After dancing some time she became sud 
 denly weary, and her partner took her to a 
 small couch a little aside from the moving 
 throng. For a few minutes she was left unat 
 tended, and a shadow of sadness came into her 
 face. It came from her heart, which was vaguely 
 reminding her that she was weaker, less buoyant 
 in step, less attractive altogether than she had 
 once been. Into this thought a name was 
 dropped, a name she had never before heard,
 
 142 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 and yet which gave her a shock, and affected 
 her as if some interior voice had said at the 
 same moment, " Beware ! " 
 
 " Miss Julia Casselis ! " 
 
 She said it over to herself; and when her 
 partner returned to her, she asked if Miss 
 Casselis was present. 
 
 " Have you not seen her? Stand a little this 
 side and you will have the pleasure. She is 
 more than usually fascinating to-night Ah ! 
 Lord Maxwell is dancing with her, I see. I 
 believe, indeed, they are very old friends." 
 
 He went on talking of Casselis Court, and 
 Maxwell's old friendship with the family, and a 
 score of other things in which the two names 
 were blended. Grizelda heard the words as a 
 wandering accompaniment to her own far more 
 vivid thoughts, for she knew the look upon 
 her husband's face. She had seen him bend to 
 her in the same winning manner when he had 
 wooed her from her duty and her home in the 
 Edderloch fir wood. 
 
 She had parted from him with a smile. When 
 they met again, his face was dark and his man 
 ner cold. He gave her his arm until they 
 reached their carriage ; then he withdrew him-
 
 A NEW SORROW. 143 
 
 self as completely from her sympathy as if they 
 were thousands of miles apart. Grizelda did 
 not dare to talk. She saw that he had shut 
 himself in a revery which he would not permit 
 her to enter; and when the weary drive was 
 over she went to her room, sick with the un 
 kind disappointment, and trembling with the 
 prescience of coming sorrow. 
 
 She had no heart left; her long silk garments 
 trailed up the broad stairway as if they felt the 
 weight of its despair. Her maid was not pres 
 ent, and she did not call her. She was glad to be 
 alone. She fastened the door of her room, and 
 stood still with her hands locked, and downcast, 
 to collect her shocked and scattered thoughts. 
 The gray dawn creeping into the room was not 
 more wan than her face ; and the moonlight 
 beauty of the pearls around her throat and 
 wrists added a strange pathos to her bewilder 
 ment of grief. She had forgotten them. At 
 that moment all the externals of life were 
 forgotten. 
 
 She was only conscious of the misery in her 
 heart; of the yearning for the love that was 
 lost ; of one sorrow answering to another sorrow, 
 until her whole nature longed and ached for
 
 144 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 some word of comfort. Then she remembered 
 the words of her father. But it was neither to him 
 nor to Helen she would go. Only the Friend 
 above all others could help her in this hour. 
 
 There was a beautiful little engraving of the 
 Man of Sorrows on the wall. It had been 
 George Selwyn's bridal gift to her, and more 
 than once it had been strangely blent with those 
 tokens of comfort which are among the secret 
 things not uncommon in the experience of the 
 loved children whom God chastens. A glimmer 
 of the dawn was on the pale uplifted face, and 
 on the crown of thorns ; and as she stood with 
 the sad question of her heart before it, she re 
 membered suddenly some lines Selwyn very 
 often repeated, 
 
 " The old and gray who travel wearily, 
 All who lack bread, all who strive and sigh, 
 Each motherless little one, 
 Mothers whose little ones are in the sky, 
 No pain is pain while Thou art nigh ! " 
 
 and with the words a sense of consolation and 
 strength came to her. She knew not how, for in 
 mystery each soul abides ; yet she surely felt that 
 with Him nigh, all sorrow might be borne, and 
 that 
 
 " The tasks in hours of insight willed, 
 Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 
 
 Thus deluges, descending on the plains, 
 Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains 
 Of lab'ring oxen and the peasant's gains. 
 The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far 
 The wasteful ravage of the wat'ry war 
 Bear down the dams with unresisted sway, 
 
 And sweep the cattle and the cots away. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 Death cried, " Thou canst not walk, but I can carry." 
 
 ONE evening early in the following August, 
 the laird and the minister were walking 
 together from the new hotel. It was nearly 
 ready for the furnishing and plenishing, and the 
 laird was very proud of the excellent way in 
 which all had been wrought. 
 
 "No half-and-half work there," he said, look 
 ing backward to the building. " I examined 
 every stone and every plank with my own eyes. 
 I like all my work to be done at the first time, 
 no patching up afterward."
 
 146 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 " If you do not watch yourself better, Laird, 
 you will fall and sink altogether to the level of 
 your age, to keeping an hotel and making a 
 trifle of money, and the like o' that." 
 
 "You have your own schemes too, Brodick, 
 and you are just as proud of them as I am of 
 mine. While we are in this world we must fash 
 with this world ; and until you yourself are more 
 than a man, dinna throw stones at me." 
 
 " It matters something, Laird, as to the 
 things we fash about. I trust I am busy for 
 the good of others. I would n't think much 
 of my work if it was just for myself." 
 
 " You have a habit of talking of my work as 
 if it was a kind of new-fangled idea for money- 
 making which my forefathers would have thought 
 scorn of. Now, I hope I know the McNeils 
 better than you do, and I am particularly well 
 satisfied that all of them were for money-getting 
 in the way possible to their day and generation. 
 They lifted cattle and harried their neighbours 
 because there were no English stravaging up 
 the Highlands them days. I shall take my toll, 
 of course, from men coming through my coun 
 try, but I shall give them good food and lodging 
 for it. And it is not you that ought to object
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 147 
 
 to new ways ; you have more of them than 
 the college that licensed you would Hke, 
 minister." 
 
 " Colleges don't know everything, Laird. 
 They make divines ; they don't make ministers. 
 It is the poor and the sick and the sorrowful 
 that make ministers." 
 
 " We should have miserable theologians from 
 poor folk and sick folk, Brodick." 
 
 " Ay, Laird ; but if men are to be good theo 
 logians before they are good Christians, our 
 blessed heaven will be empty." 
 
 " I dislike new ideas in religion ; religion is 
 not a progressive science like " 
 
 " Like money-making? You are wrong, 
 McNeil. Religion is progressive. The faith of 
 Christ is meant to fit every age. Its ways of 
 working must therefore conform to every age. 
 The McNeils are not surely the sole inheritors 
 of that freedom." 
 
 " I know well what you are after, minister. 
 You have got a new kirk on your brain now; 
 I heard of it from Helen." 
 
 " The old one will not seat half the village, 
 and when the hotel is opened next year, 
 where are the people in it to worship? For
 
 148 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 the week days you offer them shooting and 
 fishing and sport of all kinds ; what about the 
 Sabbath?" 
 
 " It is not likely many of them will want to 
 come to an established church. If you take ten 
 Scotchmen from anywhere, you will find nine 
 of them smitten with dissent of some kind ; and 
 as for Englishmen, they dinna think a church is 
 a church unless it be the unadulterated Church 
 of England. Why, Brodick, you have not been 
 able to get your own parishioners to worship 
 together yet ! " 
 
 " They are drawing nearer to it, Laird." 
 
 " Not they ! You could as easy move Ben 
 Cruachan across to Ben More as you could get 
 Gael and Lowlander to call each other brother." 
 
 " We are told, McNeil, that mountains can be 
 moved by faith. Why not, then, by love? I 
 am a servant of God. I do not think it any 
 presumption to expect impossibilities." 
 
 " Well, Brodick, a new kirk is just an impossi 
 bility but thanks be! the castle is in sight, 
 and I 'm glad, for your conversation has not 
 been as pleasant as usual. Don't turn your own 
 way, Brodick. Come in, man, and let us have 
 a bite of sup together."
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 
 
 " There is going to be a storm soon, Laird ; 
 there 's no mistaking that old, mysterious, 
 hungering sound in the waves." 
 
 McNeil turned and looked over them. " You 
 are right, Brodick. The black clouds are gather 
 ing in the west, and it is growing dark much 
 quicker than it should do." 
 
 " ' I made the cloud the garment thereof, and 
 thick darkness a swaddling band for it,' that 
 is what God said to his servant Job anent such 
 a sea as we are now looking at. Oh, McNeil, 
 how miserably small are our grandest works 
 when we see the Almighty with our ain eyes 
 clothing the sea in clouds, and binding it in 
 the thick darkness, and setting bars and doors 
 before it, so that if a storm comes we know that 
 here its proud waves will be stayed ! " 
 
 "We are not God Almighty, Brodick; and 
 we are not called upon to measure our works 
 with His works. You are wonderful sombre 
 to-night. Come in, and Colin and Helen will 
 maybe suit you better than myself." 
 
 Colin and Helen stood together at the win 
 dow watching the gathering clouds. His arm 
 was around her. Her fair head was against his 
 shoulder, and his dark, handsome face was bent
 
 150 THE HOUSEHOLD Of McNEIL. 
 
 toward it. They had been talking of Grizelda, 
 and Helen's eyes had a troubled look. The 
 laird noticed it at once, and felt an unpleasant 
 chill when Colin answered thus his query as to 
 what they had been worrying about : 
 
 " There is no letter again from Grizelda, and 
 Helen fears she is ill." 
 
 " Where was the last from? " 
 
 " From Venice. She said they were going to 
 Rome to spend the winter." 
 
 " Very well; letters do not come from Rome 
 as the crow flies. There will be delays at both 
 ends, and all the way too. Colin, you are a poor 
 lover to let your betrothed weep for anything ; 
 you should smile away her fears, my lad." 
 
 " He does far better, father ; he shares them 
 with me." 
 
 " Uncle, I was saying to Helen that if you 
 were willing we might be married next month, 
 and take our wedding trip to Rome ; we should 
 see Grizelda then." 
 
 " It is a very good idea," answered the 
 minister. 
 
 " You are none of you thinking of me. What 
 shall I do here by myself through the long 
 months? "
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 151 
 
 "Why, Laird, you have the new hotel. It 
 has been your life for the last two years or 
 more. You had better get the wedding past, 
 and throw the doors open. When all the world 
 is coming to Edderloch you '11 have no time to 
 fash your head with such a small matter as two 
 young things loving each other." 
 
 " You are in a most uncomfortable temper 
 to-night, Brodick ; but, good-will or ill-will, your 
 words have a grain of wisdom in them." 
 
 Then, supper being ready, they drew around 
 the table, and finished the discussion over it 
 But such opposition as the laird made was 
 feeble. He was himself uneasy about Grizelda. 
 He had long seen that Colin's importunity 
 for an early marriage would have to be sub 
 mitted to, and he had become so fond of Colin 
 that the surrender of Helen to him was not in 
 his imagination so painful as it had once been. 
 
 For as to any actual surrender of the comfort 
 of her continual presence, there was no question 
 of that. There would be no change in his 
 home, in its beautiful order and ordering. And 
 Helen had never neglected his lightest wish or 
 put her lover one moment before him. He 
 had no fear that to a husband he would have
 
 I$2 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 to resign the smallest tittle of his rights as a 
 father. 
 
 So after a hesitation which was mostly as 
 sumed, he agreed to Colin's proposal. The 
 marriage was to take place some time in Octo 
 ber, and after it, Colin and Helen were to go 
 directly to Rome. And when the decision was 
 really made, McNeil felt a positive satisfaction 
 in it. He had not understood until now what 
 an ever-present fear and care Grizclda was in 
 his heart. But he had never been able to rid 
 himself of the scene between Maxwell and the 
 mare Morag, and with the shameful memory 
 there always came a torturing terror lest his 
 child, his daughter, was in the physical power 
 of a natural human brute. He tried to deny 
 the possibility of such a terror; to oppose to 
 it reason and the social conditions of society; 
 but it laughed at his limping logic, and the 
 struggle only gave it added energy. For 
 whether a man resists a fear or succumbs to it, 
 the very fact of measuring himself against it 
 insures its hold upon him. 
 
 And while this conversation was going on, 
 the threatened storm broke. The terror-stricken 
 rain flung itself wildly against the windows ; the
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 153 
 
 wind went howling around the castle, clamouring 
 at every ancient door for admission. The great 
 sea's eternal roar filled the old rooms with an 
 echo that it soon became impossible to inter 
 rupt. The laird and Brodick crept close to the 
 fire and smoked their pipes to monosyllables. 
 Colin and Helen sat together in the background. 
 The tie between them had been drawn closer 
 that night, but a strange depression prevented 
 them from discussing it further. Both noticed 
 the melancholy, and both tried to explain it. 
 
 "It is not in my heart, Helen," said Colin; 
 " for I am the happiest man alive." 
 
 " It is I who am to blame, dear Colin. The 
 moaning and roaring of the waves always make 
 me sad. When I was a girl I fancied they told 
 me ghastly tales of what was happening in the 
 storm, and I used to steal away to sleep with a 
 pain in my heart." 
 
 The storm continued for a week. It flooded 
 the harvest fields and made the bogs and moors 
 impassable. The wretched old turf-and-stone 
 cottages in the village were very inefficient 
 shelters. The people were constantly wet; 
 and even in the new cottages there was great 
 discomfort and suffering. They had been built
 
 154 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 without any drainage, though natural facilities 
 for drainage were in sight. 
 
 The laird found it impossible to reach his 
 work and workers, and was cross and appre 
 hensive of all sorts of wrong and misfortune. 
 The minister found it impossible to relieve 
 one-half of the suffering and necessity brought 
 to him, and he was irritated by his inabilities. 
 Only Colin and Helen found some vital interest 
 which the storm had not interfered with. 
 
 But no storms last forever. In ten days all 
 was going on again as if sunshine was the 
 perpetual right of earth. The laird had found 
 all well at the building. The deep foundation, 
 the excellent materials and fine workmanship 
 had stood the test of the elements. McNeil's 
 heart was settled now. He had often feared 
 that the lofty situation chosen might be a dan 
 gerous one ; but his building had been tried 
 by an unusually long and furious storm, and 
 had not lost a roof-slate. So that now, when 
 the sun was shining again over the dark day- 
 shine of the sea and the pillared rocks and the 
 heathery hills, he could not help feeling a kind 
 of satisfaction in the tempest which had brought 
 him so comfortable an assurance.
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 155 
 
 Besides, a new thought had come into his 
 mind. For the next generation of the McNeils 
 he would build a grander home. The old 
 castle was very dear to him, but it could be 
 made much larger, and more stately in form, 
 and much more magnificent in the interior. 
 In fact, the passion of dabbling in stone and 
 mortar had taken possession of the laird, and 
 he felt as if life would lack something important 
 when he had no building on hand and no work 
 men to look after. 
 
 As it happened, his architect paid him a visit 
 while the thought was simmering in his mind. 
 The possibilities of the castle were thoroughly 
 examined, the additions and alterations decided 
 on, and McNeil's heart was uplifted with the 
 idea of the house he would leave to those who 
 would come after him. He thought of himself 
 as the second McNeil, the founder of the 
 family upon circumstances suited to the aims 
 and genius of the nineteenth century. He felt 
 as if in the land of shadows the McNeil who had 
 first built their home would greet him with a 
 . peculiar approbation and affection. He stepped 
 proudly about the old rooms to his ambitious 
 thoughts; and Colin and Helen, happily busy
 
 156 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 about their bridal arrangements, were glad of the 
 new interest that he had called into his life. 
 
 So the pleasant weeks went by, and there was 
 no sorrow in them, nor yet any shadow or pre 
 sentiment of sorrow. A letter from Grizelda, 
 dated Rome, had lulled such fears regarding 
 her as were spoken of; those which lay at the 
 bottom of each heart did not interfere with the 
 visible happy routine of daily life. 
 
 The laird had determined to make his daugh 
 ter Helen's marriage a notable event. The 
 festivities at Grizelda's had been in a manner 
 forced and formal ones, in which the bride had 
 taken little interest and which had simply been 
 got through with by himself because the family 
 name and family feeling demanded them. 
 
 But Helen's marriage would be the realization 
 of his pet plans and hopes. He loved Colin, 
 and thought him as worthy of Helen as any 
 mere mortal could be. Their union was in 
 every way a fit one ; and he was resolved to 
 show the McNeils, who had not thought much 
 of Grizelda's wedding-feast, that when the oc 
 casion was worthy of it, he knew how to rejoice 
 royally with his kindred. And he also had a 
 very decided feeling of pleasure in the prospect
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 157 
 
 of astonishing them with the improvements he 
 had made on the estate. 
 
 The castle was in a manner renovated for the 
 event. Rooms that had not been used for a 
 generation were thrown open and refurnished ; 
 the uneven black oak floors were covered with 
 rich carpets ; the ill-fitting windows shielded 
 with draperies of heavy velvet; antique chairs 
 and sofas were recovered ; polishers, paperers 
 and gilders were brought from Glasgow to 
 make the ancient rooms a fit residence for a 
 young and lovely bride. 
 
 Helen and Colin found in all these changes 
 hourly cause for delightful hopes and confi 
 dences. Helen had all a woman's delight in 
 a delightful home. Every fresh ornament 
 pleased her. The disposition of every piece 
 of furniture, the hanging of every picture, 
 was an event to the lovers. Two chaffinches 
 building their spring nests among the apple 
 blossoms were never happier than those two 
 loving mortals, arranging together their future 
 home. 
 
 In the matter, also, of Helen's wardrobe, the 
 laird had been singularly thoughtful and gen 
 erous. Boxes bearing wedding garments of
 
 158 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 all kinds were continually arriving, and Colin 
 knew that whenever he should go to Glasgow 
 to purchase his bride jewels, he would carry 
 with him an order from the laird for diamonds 
 of great worth. So, although September was 
 an unusually rainy month, there was a perpetual 
 sunshine of love and hope in the castle. 
 
 At the end of September, Colin went to 
 Glasgow to make the last purchases and ar 
 rangements. It seemed to Helen as if he took 
 with him all the rare, sweet atmosphere in 
 which she had been living for a little while. 
 A sudden sense of suspended duties gave her 
 a feeling of remorse. She remembered how 
 seldom Doctor Brodick had been to speak to 
 her, and how little interest she had taken in 
 her usual village work. 
 
 The thought was a premonition, for ere it 
 had passed away, she saw the minister coming. 
 Not at his usual thoughtful pace, but with the 
 rapid steps of a man urged by some powerful 
 reason, and full of a determined purpose. She 
 glanced at her father, who was sitting by the 
 hearth, taking his after-dinner pipe and glass 
 of toddy. He had received that morning the 
 first draught of the plans for the enlargement
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 159 
 
 of the castle, and he was musing with pride and 
 contentment on their anticipated splendour. 
 
 He greeted Brodick with a peculiar kindness, 
 and held his hand with a hearty grip ; for he 
 loved the man, and was not happy in any pur 
 pose till he had discussed it with him, and if 
 possible secured his active sympathy. 
 
 " Sit down beside me, Brodick. There is not 
 a man in the world I would rather see at this 
 hour. Helen, my bird, call for the minister's 
 pipe and glass." 
 
 He was so full of his own plans he did not 
 notice that Brodick's cheeks had on them the 
 red spot which always indicated his anger ; nor 
 yet that his manner was full of stern preoccu 
 pation. The laird at that moment could see 
 nothing but the magnificent turrets of his pro 
 jected home, with the ensign of the McNeils 
 floating loftily from it; and as the specifica 
 tions lay beside him, he opened them proudly, 
 and began to explain their purport to his old 
 friend. 
 
 Brodick looked at them a moment with gath 
 ering anger ; then he pushed them passionately 
 away and cried out, 
 
 " I dare not look at them, Laird ! I dare not
 
 160 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 look at them ! Do you know that there are 
 fourteen cases of typhus in those cottages you 
 built? Do you remember what George Sclwyn 
 said about the right of the labourer to pure air 
 and pure water? I knew he was right then, 
 and yet oh God, forgive me ! I let you take 
 your own way. Six little bits of bairns and 
 their two mothers, and six of your best fisher 
 men. You must away instanter for doctors and 
 medicine, and such things as are needful. 
 There is not a minute to lose, Laird ! " 
 
 Helen had risen while the minister was 
 speaking, and there was a calm determination 
 about her manner which frightened her father. 
 He did not answer Brodick ; he turned to his 
 daughter. 
 
 " Helen McNeil, where are you going? " 
 
 " To the village. I know something of nurs 
 ing the sick. I can give a little help until 
 better help is got." 
 
 " Sit down ! sit down ! Bide where you are ; 
 I will do whatever Brodick tells me to do." 
 
 Then he turned angrily to the minister. 
 
 " You are aye bringing me bad news. Am I 
 to blame if fever comes? Is life and death in 
 my hand?"
 
 BROKEN PLANS. lO'l 
 
 " You are to blame, McNeil ; very much to 
 blame." 
 
 " Brodick, keep to your own text. I say the 
 cottages are good ones. If men and women 
 are lazy and dirty, and give fever an invite into 
 their homes, can I help it? " 
 
 " ' Am I my brother's keeper?' It is an old 
 question, an old excuse, Laird. The first mur 
 derer asked it and pleaded it. I am bound to 
 say that you are to blame. When you did not 
 give the cottages good drainage and plenty of 
 pure water, you asked fever into them ; and 
 I will not hear you lay it to the Almighty. 
 You should have built as George Selwyn ad 
 vised you to build." 
 
 " Name not that man to me ! I hate him ! 
 What did he come here for? He has brought 
 me nothing but trouble. And I will not be 
 hectored by you either, Doctor, as if I was a 
 bad bairn. Say what I must do, and I '11 do it, 
 if it is anything in reason: only, Helen shall 
 not leave the castle ; that is sure as death ! Sit 
 down, Helen. Send all the wine and dainties 
 you like to ; but I forbid you to put a foot over 
 the threshold of the castle." 
 
 " I am not asking for Helen. There is
 
 162 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 nothing she could do now that some old crone 
 in the village cannot do better." 
 
 " Do or not do, Helen will bide just where 
 she is. I will count you my enemy for ever 
 more if you set any other duty but my word 
 before her." 
 
 The laird's anger was in its way quite as 
 authoritative as the minister's, and Helen sig 
 nified her assent to his order by a kiss which 
 somehow sent a pang into his heart and a sob 
 into his throat. He put on his hat and went 
 out with Brodick. It was a bitterly annoying 
 interruption to all his pleasant dreaming. And 
 Brodick's self-reproaches were his own self- 
 reproaches, though he resented them, even while 
 he acknowledged their justice. 
 
 " I wish now that I had built differently. 
 You should have urged me more, Brodick. If 
 you had put it to me as a matter of right 
 and wrong, you know I would have minded 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, Laird, my own conscience is enough 
 this day." 
 
 " You should have made me do right. You 
 should have been more determined with me." 
 
 It was not at all likely that McNeil would
 
 BROKEN PLANS. 163 
 
 have listened to any advice on the subject; it 
 was even probable that urging would have only 
 made him more stubbornly against such slight 
 improvements as had been made, but it relieved 
 McNeil to think he would have listened to rea 
 son, and besides, he had a sort of angry satisfac 
 tion in augmenting the trouble of the minister's 
 conscience. 
 
 This was the beginning of evil days. It soon 
 became evident that the wedding would have to 
 be postponed. Guests could hardly be invited 
 to a village plague-stricken in every household ; 
 and the suffering and mourning were so great 
 and so general that the very idea of festivity 
 amid it was unnatural and revolting. 
 
 Colin alone had a moment's contemplation of 
 it. He thought it would be well to have a very 
 quiet and private ceremony, and take Helen 
 away from the infected locality ; but Helen 
 would not permit the suggestion to be made. 
 
 " I should be selfish indeed," she said, " to 
 leave my father alone in his trouble ; and I 
 should be haunted by the constant fear of his 
 death. Besides, Colin dear, our marriage was 
 to be such a great pleasure to him. We may 
 not care for the company and the stir of the
 
 1 64 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 wedding-feast, but he thinks so much of it. If 
 we are married quietly for our own pleasure or 
 safety, I should always feel as if we had de 
 frauded him of a joy he could never have again. 
 An old man's disappointment counts double, I 
 think, Colin." 
 
 And Colin kissed her fondly. He had no 
 wish but her wish; for she had continually 
 taught him by her sweet unselfishness that 
 neither men nor women can live for themselves 
 a life worth living, that all the flowers of love 
 and happiness blow double.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PARTING. 
 
 She bought with price of purest breath a grave among the 
 
 eternal. 
 
 They parted, yet they love ; 
 And shall these spirits in an air serene, 
 Where nought can shadow, nought can come between, 
 Meet once again, and to the other grow 
 More close and sure than could have been below? 
 
 DURING the following six weeks, Brodick's 
 efforts were almost superhuman. He was 
 doctor and nurse and cook. He carried the 
 wailing babies and held the raving men in his 
 strong arms. He watched over the sick till 
 the last hope had fled; he buried them ten 
 derly when life was over. The splendour of 
 the man's humanity had never shown itself until 
 it stood erect, and feared not though the pes 
 tilence that walked in darkness and the de 
 struction that wasted at noon-day were around 
 him on every side. 
 
 McNeil also In this extremity rose nobly 
 to the topmost level of what he conceived to
 
 1 66 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 be his duty. Plenty of people are willing to 
 play the Good Samaritan without the oil and 
 twopence; but that was not the laird's way. 
 Brodick's outspoken blame had really made 
 him tremble at his new responsibilities. He 
 put his hand in his pocket and liberally helped 
 the sufferers. Nor, unless all our own motives 
 ring clear throughout, must we blame him too 
 much if, at the foundation of all his efforts at 
 atonement, lay one haunting thought, Helen ! 
 If he did what he could for others, Helen would 
 be safer. He never audibly admitted that 
 Helen was in danger ; but but, if there should 
 be danger, he was, he hoped, paying a ransom 
 for her safety. 
 
 Toward the end of October the epidemic 
 appeared to have spent itself. Men began to 
 creep into the sunshine, and to handle their 
 nets with wasted and trembling hands. White- 
 faced women counted their children, and wept 
 because of those that were not. Boys and 
 girls, with a strange stillness about them, played 
 their games softly in the twilight, and then sat 
 down to whisper together of the dread things 
 that had been seen and heard in the fever- 
 time.
 
 PARTING. 167 
 
 The laird tried, as far as possible, to resume 
 ,his usual life ; but there was still a shadow on 
 the minister's face, and he knew himself that 
 there was a shadow on his heart. Was it from 
 the still solemnity of death in which he had 
 rately lived so much, or was it the shadow of 
 a coming instead of a departing sorrow? 
 
 One afternoon Brodick thought he would go 
 and sit with Helen a little while. During his 
 close intimacy with the cotters he had learned 
 many things about their daily life which would 
 materially alter his methods of working for 
 their welfare ; and of these changes he wished 
 to talk with Helen. The preparations for her 
 marriage were being slowly renewed, and if she 
 went, as previously determined upon, to Rome 
 for the winter, there would be few other oppor 
 tunities for consultation until her return. She 
 was just going to take a walk on the moor, and 
 he joined her. 
 
 " Colin has gone to Glasgow," she said. " My 
 father had some business he desired him to at 
 tend to before we go away." 
 
 "Yes, dear. Is your wedding-day fixed, 
 Helen?" 
 
 " On the eleventh of November, if God will."
 
 1 68 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " You are sad, my child." 
 
 "Am I? I thought, indeed, how sad your 
 face was." 
 
 The day was itself mournful and gray, even 
 for a November day. The purple glory of the 
 heather was all gone. The wood was a sombre, 
 silent realm of leafless trees ; and a chill breath 
 of wind shivered through it and made Helen 
 draw her wrap closer around her throat. The 
 rocky shore, the black seaboard, the scaly fish- 
 boats, the jetties thick with kelp and tangle 
 made a dreary picture. 
 
 And in spite of the doctor's intention to talk 
 to Helen of work to be done in the future, he 
 could not say a word of it though it was a sub 
 ject that filled his heart. A pathetic silence 
 fell between them, and he was not able to 
 break it. As for Helen, she walked on with 
 a step a little dragging, and with eyes mourn 
 fully fixed on the tossing waves. 
 
 "They never rest! Neither in sunshine nor 
 in moonshine do they know the blessedness of 
 perfect sleep." 
 
 Her voice had a wistful weariness in it. The 
 doctor looked sharply at her " Helen, my 
 dear, are you quite well?"
 
 PARTING. 169 
 
 "I have not been quite well for two weeks. 
 I had a strange dream last night. Doctor, if 
 I should die, comfort my father and Colin." 
 
 Her words fell on his ear like words that 
 he had been expecting. He realized in a 
 moment they were the words ' he had been 
 fearful of hearing. A terror he could not put 
 down made him speechless, but he took her 
 hands and felt that they were burning with 
 fever. 
 
 " Let us go home, Doctor." 
 
 She turned with the words and gave one 
 long, mournful look at the mountains and the 
 ssa and the lonely brown stretch of moorland. 
 She was bidding farewell to them: the soul 
 has marvellous intuitions, and Brodick was aware 
 of it. Yet he had not a word to say to her; 
 there are spiritual moods beyond all human 
 intermeddling. 
 
 The silence was broken by Helen. 
 
 " Doctor, when your heart sinks, and is full 
 of doubts, and when the road is dark before 
 you, what do you do?" 
 
 " He that carried our sins can surely carry 
 our doubts ; nay, but, my dear girl, as He car 
 ries lambs like you in His ^rms, is there any
 
 I/O THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 need to trouble yourself what kind of road is 
 before you? You cannot get tired in His 
 arms, you cannot miss your way, you cannot 
 be frightened by anything, not even by death, 
 for He is Eternal Life." 
 
 She looked into his face with the grave glad 
 ness of one that has grasped the hand of a 
 friend. 
 
 " You said you had a strange dream, Helen? " 
 
 " Yes, a dream a vision I know not how 
 to speak of it. Could a mortal being see one 
 that is immortal? If I said that I had seen an 
 angel, would you believe me?" 
 
 " Yes ; for the angels of the Lord encamp 
 round about them that fear Him; and those 
 who come into the reception of heavenly things, 
 Helen, come also into the companionship with 
 heavenly beings. Infusions of light and com 
 fort, inward helps that bless us when we 
 are not looking for them, intimations, holy 
 thoughts, suggestions of purity and beauty, 
 desires after God, motions of that hidden fire 
 we call prayer, how come they, Helen? I 
 will tell you. Good minds are joined to holier 
 minds, and the angels of God still ascend and 
 descend, ministering to those who love Him."
 
 PARTING. I/I 
 
 " I would tell you what I saw and what I 
 heard, but I cannot find the words." 
 
 " To you only was the message, Helen. 
 They who have to hear understand; they who 
 have not to hear cannot understand." 
 
 They were by this time in the castle garden. 
 Helen stooped and touched gently the few last 
 flowers blooming there, a cluster of golden 
 chrysanthemums ; and the laird, who had seen 
 them coming, opened the door wide to welcome 
 them. Alas ! alas ! though he saw him not, 
 Death entered with them. 
 
 At midnight there was the old, old cry of 
 despair and anguish, the hurrying for help 
 where no help could avail, the desolation of a 
 terror creeping hour by hour closer to the 
 hearthstone ; for Helen lay in a stupour while 
 the fever burned her young life away, and the 
 laird was stricken with a stony grief, deaf to 
 all consolation. He wandered up and down, 
 wringing his hands, and crying out at intervals 
 like a man in mortal agony. 
 
 Brodick had felt from the first that there 
 was no hope. Something in the girl's face 
 that last afternoon they walked together had 
 impressed him more than her words and man-
 
 1/2 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 ner. Her soul was looking out from it, a little 
 sad, a little wistful and wondering ; silent, and yet 
 restless, as the birds are silent and restless just 
 before they leave their summer nests and de 
 part for a land that is very far off. They dream 
 of its sunshine and beauty, they are ready to go ; 
 but, oh ! the long flight over the cruel sea, where 
 there will be no rest for their weary wings. 
 
 And during that last mournful walk the 
 minister had seen, also, that she had dropped 
 from her care and thought all relating to her 
 marriage and her future. The subject interested 
 her no more than the toy which a child has 
 outgrown interests it. Life, with its joys and 
 sorrows, was already over; she knew that she 
 was going the way of all the earth ; and though 
 heaven had opened to her, and she had un 
 doubtedly had some vision of its beauty, that 
 unknown thing, the passage between the two 
 lands, frightened her. 
 
 Toward the close of her life she became 
 almost radiantly conscious, and radiantly happy. 
 Holding Colin's hand, she had not one regretful 
 thought for the earthly life they were to have 
 shared together. Loving him with the sweetest 
 tenderness, she felt it no wrong to desire for
 
 PARTING. 173 
 
 that love rather the tryst of eternity than the 
 fruition of time. 
 
 She went away very early in the morning, 
 just when the horizon was beginning to redden 
 and the earliest robins to twitter in the wood. 
 Colin, with sorrow-haunted, tearless eyes, stood 
 watching her. The laird, bravely struggling 
 with his grief, knelt silently at her side. Brodick 
 also was there, and a few of the oldest servants ; 
 but not a word or a movement broke the divine 
 stillness of the death-room. 
 
 It was at this moment Helen said quite 
 clearly, 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 " I am here, Helen." 
 
 " There is a paper in my jewel-box on the 
 table." 
 
 He went and got it. It was only a small strip, 
 folded crosswise. 
 
 " Read it when I am beyond all pain. I 
 shall trust you, father ! Colin, dear ! Doctor 
 Brodick ! " 
 
 Colin could not speak. The minister stooped, 
 and said softly, 
 
 "Is it well, Helen? Do you feel the bonds 
 of death, my child ? "
 
 174 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " I trust in those pierced hands that have 
 broken the bonds of death. Oh, breadth ! Oh, 
 depth ! Oh, boundless length ! Oh, inaccessi 
 ble height ! Oh, Christ's love ! " 
 
 The mystical gray shadow stole over her face 
 at these last words. Brodick stood praying 
 with lifted hands. It was soon all past, 
 
 " She had outsoared the shadow of our night, 
 And that unrest which men miscall delight " 
 
 They dressed her in her bridal gown, and, 
 three days afterward, laid her among the genera 
 tions of her people, the fighting thanes of the 
 olden years, the brides and widows and children 
 of the McNeils for many a century. Her kin 
 dred on the other side were far greater, far more 
 numerous than those in the earthly home she 
 had left. 
 
 And the poor, heart-broken father thought 
 of this, and derived a strange comfort from the 
 thought. 
 
 " They were good men, according to their 
 lights," he said to Colin ; " rough men, doubt 
 less, but aye ready to stand up for the faith and 
 the right. And their women would have the 
 sorrows of women, and their consolations.
 
 PARTING. 175 
 
 \ 
 
 Thank God ! Helen will not be without her 
 ain folk ; and even there they '11 be nearer than 
 other folk. Eh, Colin?" 
 
 The young man answered only with passion 
 ate tears and sobs. The words had broken 
 down the flood gates of his sorrow. The laird 
 looked at him almost with envy. The eyes 
 grow dry as we grow old, tears are further away; 
 and oh ! how we miss the soft rain that soothes 
 the bitterness of woe, and makes it possible for 
 the desert places of the heart to grow green and 
 beautiful again. 
 
 McNeil had not wept at her grave. He could 
 not weep for his child, and he could not forget 
 her. For who can say to the heart, Thou shalt 
 not remember? And would he have said it? 
 Did the thought of a prolonged sorrow have a 
 certain vague terror for him? Was there in his 
 secret soul a determination to make the best of 
 what had happened, to say, what is finished is 
 finished, and the dead are dead? 
 
 No; McNeil had far too loyal and tender a 
 heart to accept the comfort of this practical 
 stoicism, this secret defiance of God's will. 
 He cherished the memory of his child by night 
 and day. Cherished it though it always came
 
 176 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 with a charge which lay like a stone upon his 
 heart, a heavy trust which he dare not destroy, 
 and which he was determined not to accept. 
 
 It was in the strip of paper he had taken from 
 Helen's dying fingers. It was only a few words, 
 but the request in them was so stupendous it 
 haunted him constantly for an answer. 
 
 DEAR FATHER, Whatever you intended to give me 
 personally, give it, I entreat you, to God's poor. 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 To give to the poor all the thousands which 
 he had intended to give to Helen ! He could 
 not do it! He could not do it! Helen had 
 not known what she was asking. It was a dying 
 sentiment in her to wish it; and it would be 
 a foolish superstition in him to regard it. But, 
 oh, how that slip of paper tortured him ! He 
 put it away in the most secret drawer of his 
 secretary, but he could not hide it. His spirit 
 ual eyes saw it clearly and continually, saw it 
 in the broad noontide, saw it in the dark mid 
 night, saw it when he sat talking with Colin by 
 his fireside, saw it when he lay on his bed in 
 the loneliness of his own room. 
 
 And as it happened, he had not the distrac-
 
 PARTING, 177 
 
 tion which the oversight of a number of men 
 had given him for nearly two years. When the 
 fever became epidemic, the craftsmen on the 
 new hotel had been dismissed, and work on 
 the building stopped until the spring. Little 
 was to be done now but the last finishing and 
 the furnishing, and for these things there would 
 be ample time before the season for opening 
 it arrived. 
 
 So that he had no special employment for 
 his hours. He wandered about the castle, and 
 on fine days persuaded Colin to go to the 
 moors with him. But neither of the men shot 
 anything. They walked mournfully about an 
 hour or two, and came home chilled and 
 thoroughly depressed with the bleak hopeless 
 ness of their tramp. For neither the laird nor 
 Colin was inclined to talk of Helen. Both 
 jealously guarded their own memories of the 
 dead girl. Their sorrow was yet too selfish to 
 share. 
 
 But toward Christmas these solitary reminis 
 cences had to give place in some measure to 
 a real, active, living anxiety, in which both par 
 ticipated. Grizelda had been informed of her 
 sister's death, and had written a long, heart-
 
 178 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL, 
 
 broken and heart-breaking letter to her father, 
 in which she bitterly complained of her inability 
 to come to him in his loneliness and sorrow. 
 " He won't let me ! He won't let me ! I can 
 not leave without his permission ! He would 
 bring me back, if I were at the gate of the 
 castle." The whole letter was the cry of a soul 
 almost in an extremity of anguish, and Colin 
 had roused himself to say some very decided 
 words about his cousin's position. 
 
 True, she was drinking the cup her own 
 hands had mingled ; but that was the last of 
 Colin's meditations on the subject. He thought 
 of her as Helen's sister, as his own cousin, as 
 the young girl who had been his companion 
 and friend ; he recalled her beauty, her good 
 nature, her gay temper and pretty accomplish 
 ments; and then he thought of Maxwell. He 
 was angry at himself that he had ever said a 
 word in his favour; he remembered now many 
 doubts and suspicions against him to which it 
 would have been well had he given heed and 
 speech. It made him burn with indignation to 
 know that Grizelda was in the power of such 
 a man. 
 
 On Christmas day the laird and he, after
 
 PARTING. 1/9 
 
 their dinner, sat down together. The laird was 
 on one side of the hearth; Colin was on tn2 
 other. They were quite silent for a long time, 
 then Colin, who had been thinking of Grizelda in 
 the manner indicated, suddenly rose, and walk 
 ing impatiently about the half-lit room said : 
 
 " I want to go to Rome, uncle. I have been 
 thinking of Grizelda until I am scarcely master 
 of myself. I am sure she is in great trouble." 
 
 " Poor Grizelda ! It is just two years since 
 she was married. A sad thing ! a sad thing ! " 
 
 " And a year ago she lay at the point of 
 death! Where is she now? In what circum 
 stances? We have not heard a word from her 
 since that pitiful letter after " 
 
 " I know ! I remember it ! I thought that day 
 a living sorrow was maybe worse than a dead 
 one." 
 
 " Shall I go and see her? I am ready at any 
 hour." 
 
 " I wish you would, Colin, I wish you would ; 
 still, we had better ask what Brodick thinks. It 
 is n't a light thing to come ever so little be 
 tween a man and his wife unless there are 
 reasons overt, and not to be denied; then 
 who would go for my child quicker than I
 
 180 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 would? And who would meet that cowardly, 
 cruel wretch as gladly?" 
 
 "And he seemed to me, when I first knew 
 him, so handsome and agreeable, I thought him 
 a very fair man." 
 
 " I wonder at it, Colin. Handsome as he 
 was, I saw the imbruted serpent of selfishness 
 in him. I saw the cruelty of the wolf in him. 
 I saw, also, that he was full of vulpine cunning. 
 Even the gentle Christ called such a one 
 a fox." 
 
 " Patience, Laird, patience ! Who are you 
 calling ill names at the Christmas-tide?" 
 
 It was the minister who spoke. He had 
 entered unobserved by the excited father, and, 
 in spite of his protestations, had listened with 
 sympathy to his opinion of Maxwell. 
 
 " I was speaking of my fine son-in-law. Colin 
 thought him a very fair man once." 
 
 " We have to take men as they seem to be, 
 uncle; and, after all, what is a man?" 
 
 " I '11 tell you what God calls a man : ' One 
 that executeth judgment, and seeketh the 
 truth.' " 
 
 "What think you, Brodick, of Colin going 
 his ain self to see after Grizelda? "
 
 PARTING. l8l 
 
 " It is what be ought to do, and the sooner 
 the better. It will be good for Colin, too." 
 
 "I am ready to go for Grizelda's sake, for 
 I believe her to be in trouble. My own trouble 
 can never be healed." 
 
 " My dear lad, the hand of Time, which is 
 always the hand of God, will bring you resigna 
 tion yea, even happiness. ' For He will swal 
 low up death in victory ; and the Lord God will 
 wipe away tears from off all faces.' "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 
 
 My life 
 
 Has been a golden dream of love ; 
 But now I wake, I 'in like a merchant roused 
 From soft repose to see his vessel sinking, 
 
 And all his wealth cast o'er. 
 
 DHYDEN. 
 
 r T~ > WO things were known about Grizelda. 
 * She was in Rome, and she was unhappy. 
 But no one in Edderloch suspected the true 
 cause of her unhappincss. The circumstances 
 which had made her so miserable at the Earl of 
 Lauder's ball, the very existence of Miss Julia 
 Casselis, she had kept in her own heart ; though 
 often in the lonely misery of the months that 
 followed, she longed to write to Helen, and ask 
 her for comfort and counsel. 
 
 But such a longing was always powerfully 
 combated, and finally conquered, by the pride 
 and reticence of her nature. She did not wish 
 even Helen to know how miserably she had
 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 183 
 
 been deceived, how quickly the punishment of 
 her disobedience had found her out, how truly 
 she was repenting at her leisure the marriage so 
 hastily and wilfully contracted. If she had only 
 granted her father's final request, and waited 
 one year, she had told herself over and over, 
 it would have saved her a lifetime of sorrow. 
 
 And it was not only in this negative way she 
 looked at it. She felt that she might also have 
 been very, very happy under other circum 
 stances. Maxwell not only gave her shame 
 and sorrow; he prevented her enjoying the 
 days of her youth and beauty. He chilled all 
 her little triumphs. He deprived her of all the 
 reasonable falat and pleasure which are the 
 natural results of her position. And the pre 
 venters of happiness are the cruellest of all 
 tyrants. Afflictions from the hand of God, 
 troubles that are independent of will, and be 
 yond controul, may be endured with resigna 
 tion; but, oh, how resentful the heart feels to 
 those who wilfully and maliciously destroy the 
 daily happiness which has been lovingly trusted 
 to them ! 
 
 It was in this direction Grizelda's bitterest 
 feelings lay. She was young; she was beauti-
 
 1 84 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 ful ; she was well-born ; she had all the natural 
 and accidental requirements necessary to make 
 her a happy woman. Every day and every 
 hour Maxwell trampled upon them. After he 
 renewed his acquaintance with Miss Casselis, 
 Grizelda soon abandoned all hope of regaining 
 her influence over him. A distant relationship 
 and an old intimacy gave him numberless op 
 portunities and favours; and he pressed these 
 with such tact and zeal that he soon became 
 an invaluable aid and confidant, not only to 
 Miss Casselis, but also to the Countess of 
 Lauder. 
 
 They consulted with him on all occasions. 
 If they had an appointment at their modiste's 
 or a necessity to shop, ne was their patient 
 cavalier on all such tiresome excursions. If 
 there was a dinner or a ball at Lauder House, 
 Maxwell assisted them to arrange its details. If 
 they went visiting, they looked to him for those 
 little attentions which give a certain dignity 
 and respect to visiting ladies. If they rode, he 
 was generally their escort. 
 
 The countess did not even think it necessary 
 to call on Grizelda. A country girl, the 
 daughter of a Scotch laird, without a penny of
 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 185 
 
 fortune ! How she pitied poor Maxwell to her 
 friends ! Such a drawback on a promising 
 young man. It was too bad. How did it hap 
 pen? Oh, a summer in some Scotch wilder 
 ness, where Maxwell had bought an estate; a 
 pretty face, contiguity, and nothing else to do. 
 Half the miserable and unsuitable marriages 
 there are come from such elements, she sighed. 
 Was Lady Maxwell in London? Yes. A fret 
 ful, nervous invalid ; made a very good appear 
 ance in her first season, but could not stand the 
 demands of fashionable life. These poor coun 
 try gentry never could. A person must be born 
 in the purple to endure the weight and strain 
 of it. 
 
 Nor was the Countess Lauder at all ill-natured 
 in her remarks. Her scornful pity was not for 
 Grizelda personally ; it was for the weakness of 
 all the men and women who promoted such a 
 set of uncomfortable and unsuitable circum 
 stances. Julia indorsed her aunt's opinions 
 with the generality of Maxwell's discussers; 
 to himself she gave the much more seductive 
 sympathy of sighs and smiles, and a comforting 
 familiarity, which was easily excused on the 
 ground of their distant cousinship, old acquain-
 
 1 86 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 tance, and pity for the matrimonial blunder 
 which he had made. 
 
 Such a course of treatment would have 
 shaken the loyalty of an affectionate husband, 
 but when the husband was at heart disloyal i's 
 effect was completely destructive. And per 
 haps the saddest part of all such wrongs to a 
 wife is that they do not go steadily, rapidly, 
 and unrelentingly on to their legitimate end. 
 
 Maxwell's shadowy remorses, his moments of 
 pity, his passing fits of what he chose to call 
 love, gave the poor wife attacks of baseless 
 hope, which were worse than attacks of fever. 
 If he smiled at her, if he spoke with anything 
 like courtesy, if he spoke at all, if he asked her 
 to accompany him to any public place or enter 
 tainment, all Grizelda's anger vanished; she 
 forgave him at once, though she only provoked 
 his contempt by suffering him to see how happy 
 he made her. 
 
 And in these torturing alternations and sus 
 penses she had no human friend or confidant. 
 Some sad wives, in a situation so lonely and 
 trying, have found a silent or expressed com 
 fort in the sympathy of the servant in their im 
 mediate attendance. But it was a part of Lord
 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 187 
 
 Maxwell's domestic tyranny to be continually 
 changing Grizelda's maid. He had no mind to 
 be talked over by two women. Besides, no one 
 knew into what house a lady's maid might go ; 
 he was determined none of them should stay 
 long enough in his establishment to tell tales 
 out of it. 
 
 This was a little wrong; but a few of such 
 little wrongs insure a far greater and more 
 bitter hatred than it is possible for a single 
 outrage, however unjust and cruel, to produce. 
 Grizelda shed tears of mortification over this 
 small tyranny; and her proud heart resented 
 the weakness it implied, that she would make 
 a friend and companion of her servant. 
 
 " I ! who have not even told my sister how 
 wretched you make me," she said to him, in 
 dignantly, one day. 
 
 " Then do so at once. Remember that I 
 order you to tell your sister and your father." 
 
 He was quite sincere in his command. He 
 hated both of them. And it was part of Griz 
 elda's punishment to know in her heart that she 
 was to blame in a great measure for this hatred. 
 In the beginning of Maxwell's courtship she 
 had found a sentimental pleasure in augmenting
 
 1 88 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 the opposition to their love. She had repeated 
 words not intended to be repeated; she had 
 given to other words an animus more hateful 
 than was their right. And now, when she 
 would fain have had the comfort and support 
 of her own kindred, she found that she had 
 built a wall between her husband and them 
 which no love nor patience could break down. 
 
 Things were in this wretched position when 
 the London season closed. In every respect it 
 had been unfavourable for Grizelda. Her health 
 had failed continually. She was suffering phy 
 sically as well as mentally. She began to have 
 strong homesicknesses, to long for a breath of 
 the wild Atlantic, to feel the breeze come down 
 the Jura mountains with the scent of the gorse 
 and the bog myrtle on it; to have haunting 
 dreams of the balsam odours in the fir wood, 
 and the green shadows where she had lain 
 among the ferns and brackens. If Maxwell 
 would only go back to Blairgowrie, she felt as 
 if all suffering would be possible. 
 
 One evening, when their future movements 
 were still undecided, Maxwell dined at home. 
 She hoped something from his presence, hoped 
 that he would tell her that they were going to
 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 189 
 
 Scotland ; anywhere would be better than Lon 
 don. Lauder Castle was in Fife; that was far 
 enough from Jura to rid her of the influence of 
 Miss Casselis ; and, oh, if she could only take 
 her life out of that shadow ! 
 
 After the servants left the room she waited 
 anxiously for some word of hope. She had 
 indeed come to a point when any change would 
 be welcome. But Maxwell moodily sipped his 
 wine in silence. If he turned his eyes from the 
 portion of the wall he appeared to be studying, 
 it was only to glance with satisfaction at the 
 ruby colour in a freshly filled glass. 
 
 When nearly an hour had thus passed Gri- 
 zelda asked, 
 
 " Have you any engagement this evening, 
 Walter? If you have not, will you take me for 
 a drive? I feel stronger than usual, I think." 
 
 He did not answer her for a minute; then 
 he turned to the window at which she sat, looked 
 her steadily and silently in the face, and left 
 the room. 
 
 No words could have so deeply and hopelessly 
 wounded her. Hard words may be borne, but 
 if a husband never raises his eyes when he 
 hears his wife's voice, if he makes his cheek like
 
 THE If O USE/ f OLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 a stone when she kisses it, if he thinks her ques 
 tions not worth answering, her wishes not worth 
 a refusal, if his step to her is like lead, and his 
 step from her like light, what language can be 
 so forcible and cruel? 
 
 Grizelda was not a weeping woman, yet her 
 eyes filled, and her soul looked sadly through 
 them, as a lovely landscape looks blurred and 
 mournful through a heavy mist. She checked 
 the weakness at once ; it had been better per 
 haps if she had washed the wrong away in 
 tears. 
 
 For the first time she deliberately indulged 
 the thought of leaving him. Hitherto, if it had 
 suggested itself, she had put it positively away. 
 But hope was nearly dead. The question to be 
 decided in her mind was whether to return to 
 her father, or go to some place where she was 
 quite unknown. There were little Highland 
 hamlets where she could live a long life not 
 uncomfortably on two thousand pounds. Her 
 father and Helen would lament her, but it was 
 better they should lament her as dead than 
 trouble their hearts with her living misery. 
 And Colin and Helen would marry, and fill the 
 old castle with new life; and her father would
 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 19! 
 
 be comforted. She had given them nothing 
 but trouble for two years ; they would forgive 
 and forget her faults when she could grieve 
 them no more. 
 
 To these thoughts she wandered restlessly 
 about. The butler came to close the dining- 
 room, and she had not spirit enough to delay 
 him ; she trailed her heavy feet and long satin 
 garment slowly up stairs, and after standing 
 awhile at a window looking into the square, she 
 turned to the drawing-room. It was a large 
 room, or rather series of rooms, covering nearly 
 the whole floor, and the thought of its space 
 and dimness was a grateful one. The door 
 opened noiselessly; the deep soft chairs made 
 her suddenly feel how tired she was. She sat 
 down in one of them, and lulled by the weari 
 ness of repressed emotion, by the gray twilight 
 and the deep stillness, she fell asleep. 
 
 No one looked for her, or felt any uneasiness 
 as to where she was. All the servants under 
 stood my lady's very small importance ; her 
 maid, a new one, quite familiar with the utmost 
 privileges of her class, thought her duty fully 
 done when she answered the calls made upon 
 her. There was a little social meeting in the
 
 192 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 housekeeper's room ; at that hour Lord and 
 Lady Maxwell were the most unimportant per 
 sons in their home. 
 
 It was long after midnight when Grizelda's 
 soul came back to her. It had been at Ed- 
 derloch, had wandered through all the pleasant 
 places of the castle, kissed the laird and Helen 
 as they lay sleeping, and then in a fisherman's 
 boat on the Jura Sound been soothed with the 
 cradling motion of the waves and the chant of 
 the men at the fishing, 
 
 '"Briskly blows the evening gale, 
 
 Fresh and free it blows ; 
 Blessings on the fishing-boat 
 
 How merrily she goes ! 
 Christ He loved the fishermen 
 
 Walking by the sea, 
 How he blessed the fishing-boats, 
 
 Down in Galilee ! " 
 
 The familiar melody was in her ears and 
 almost on her lips when she awoke; she was 
 stronger, and her heart was calm and rested. 
 She stood up and remembered all in an instant. 
 But she had lit no light, and there was a dim 
 one in the farthest room. She did not think of 
 walking softly, or of avoiding the ottomans and 
 stands which encumbered the floor. But
 
 GRIZELDA'S HUSBAND. 193 
 
 did avoid them ; and still as a spirit, she reached 
 the point which commanded the lighted room. 
 
 Lord Maxwell was there. He sat at a table 
 with his elbow on it, and his head in his hand, 
 lost in thought. She watched his face as his 
 angel might have watched it, looking anxiously 
 for the good there, sorrowful over the evil. He 
 was in evening dress, and looked exceedingly 
 handsome. Her heart grew tender toward him. 
 She was uncertain whether to go silently away 
 or to speak. 
 
 As she hesitated, he touched a case lying on 
 the table beneath his eyes. She had not noticed 
 it before, but surely she knew it. Was it not 
 the case of the likeness which had been taken 
 of her during those happy weeks of her first 
 season when she was a bride, beautiful and be 
 loved? What was he going to do with it? She 
 moved into the shadow; she was determined 
 now to see his inmost thought of her. 
 
 She watched with her soul in her eyes, and 
 her heart beating at her lips. " It is a righteous 
 curiosity," she thought, " for if he looks kindly 
 at that pretty remembrance of me, I will still 
 hope; I will still remain by his side; I will 
 bear everything. I will make no complaint 
 13
 
 194 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 even to God. I will only ask Him to give me 
 the power to win back the love I have lost" 
 
 While she was thus musing, Maxwell also had 
 his own thoughts. For some minutes he sat 
 with the case in his hand, unopened. Then he 
 slowly pressed the spring, and Grizelda said, 
 
 " My face is before him ! " 
 
 She was so eager to read his feelings that she 
 stood on tiptoe, slightly bending forward with 
 outstretched hands. For a moment the tension 
 was all she could bear. Then she saw him 
 stoop to the pictured face and kiss it, kiss it as 
 he had kissed her in the sunlight and the moon 
 light when first they loved each other. 
 
 She was able to delay no longer. With a 
 cry of delight, she sprang forward. Then Max 
 well leaped to his feet, and the instantaneous 
 change in his face froze her where she stood as 
 completely as the summer streamlet is chained 
 by the winter ice.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 
 
 If marriage is not an entire union, it is the most complete 
 isolation. 
 
 The graves of the heart for which there is no resurrection. 
 
 My untouched honor ! I but wish in vain. 
 
 The fleece, once by the dyer stained, 
 
 Never again its whiteness gained. 
 
 MAXWELL sprang to Grizelda with an in 
 credible passion. He grasped her hands 
 with a strength that made her moan with pain. 
 "How dare you watch me?" he cried; and 
 his voice was thick and low with the fury in his 
 heart 
 
 " You hurt me, Walter ! You make me sick 
 I shall faint ! " 
 
 " I wish you would die ! Why don't you? " 
 
 " I will go to my father." 
 
 " You will go with me to Paris ; this day at 
 noon we shall start You have ten hours to 
 prepare. Go! "
 
 196 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 He flung her hands from him and turned 
 away. She stopped him with a gesture so im 
 perative that for a moment he was compelled to 
 obey it. 
 
 " Tell me one thing. I will ask no other 
 explanation. Why did you kiss my picture as 
 you did a moment ago, and then turn on me 
 myself like a wild beast?" 
 
 The comparison came from her lips involun 
 tarily, suggested by her soul in the moment's 
 pause. He gnashed his teeth at it, and then 
 burst into a low paroxysm of chuckling, mock 
 ing laughter. She stood watching him with 
 terror and hatred. At length he turned the 
 laughter into speech. 
 
 " Your picture ! You thought I was kissing 
 your picture ! " He seized her wrist and 
 dragged her to the table. " Your picture ! 
 Look at it, my lady ! " And he forced it under 
 her frightened face. 
 
 Oh, how lovely were the red, pouting lips ! 
 and the love-darting eyes ! and the slim form, 
 straight and stately as a young fir-tree ! But it 
 was the face and the form of Julia Casselis. 
 
 She closed her eyes and turned away her 
 head.
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 197 
 
 " Look at it ! " 
 
 " I will not I cannot." 
 
 " Then go to your room. And keep your 
 eyes and your ears shut forever about my 
 affairs." 
 
 " Oh, Walter, can I never more hope to 
 please you? " 
 
 " Can a burnt-out fire be rekindled?" 
 
 Then she lifted her head and looked with 
 proud reproach at him. " I have no more love 
 left for you. You are not worthy of it." 
 
 She went away with the words. She was ut 
 terly miserable ; for she had obtained the thing 
 she had been determined to have, and she had 
 found it false and worthless. 
 
 Misery travels free through all the earth. 
 From Paris to Switzerland, up the Rhine and 
 down the Rhine, wherever Grizelda journeyed, 
 wherever she tarried, misery was her com 
 panion. She was in ill health ; she was averse 
 to movement, and suffered during it; but she 
 was in the power of a tyrant who never con 
 sidered the rights or feelings of any one when 
 they crossed his own inclinations. 
 
 And her wan face and gradual emaciation 
 were annoying to him; for he hated the sight
 
 198 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 of sickness, and resented its claims upon his 
 consideration. 
 
 But, as yet, he sinned with a kind of decorum. 
 Before the servants of the household he affected 
 the attention and sympathy due to his wife's 
 ^position; yet, if left alone with Grizelda, he 
 would permit a sentence to remain unfinished, 
 or finish it with a sneer, rather than suffer her 
 to imagine that there was any sincerity in his 
 solicitude for her comfort. 
 
 If she had been one of those naturally vulgar 
 women who are determined to have their say, 
 whose tongues and tears would have blamed her 
 husband, and defended herself before all and 
 sundry who came in contact with their lives, she 
 might, perhaps, have kept his determined and 
 cunning cruelties somewhat in controul. For it 
 is a fact that some wrongs are so mean, so un 
 fair, so sinister and ignoble, that they cannot be 
 met with any weapons but such as are as abject 
 as themselves; and as Grizelda could not de 
 grade her womanhood by scolding retaliations, 
 by angry complainings, by contemptible little 
 plans to secure a false sympathy from servants, 
 as she could not defend herself with ignoble 
 weapons, she was at the mercy of the ignoble.
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 199 
 
 The attitude she had taken on that last night 
 in her London home she maintained. She had 
 no more tears or love left for her husband ; he 
 was unworthy of them; and she accepted the 
 lot she had chosen for herself with a despairing 
 calmness which put his every word and look on 
 the same level. A kindness from him was now 
 as repulsive as cruelty. She had passed the 
 line where even self-deception was possible. 
 
 She knew quite well that their various move 
 ments during the summer, their forced journeys, 
 their tiresome delays, had all been somehow or 
 other for the purpose of crossing the Lauder 
 party, and obtaining a shorter or longer meet 
 ing with Miss Casselis. She knew when these 
 meetings took place ; a score of small incidents 
 advised her. For sin, blinded by passion, is 
 foolish as an ostrich, and Maxwell invariably 
 betrayed himself by the restlessness or the ex 
 pectation of his manner ; by his unusual care in 
 dress ; yes, even by a passing anxiety about his 
 wife's condition. 
 
 He would say to his courier, 
 
 " It is very inconvenient to wait here, but 
 Lady Maxwell looks so ill I think it necessary 
 to give her a few days' rest."
 
 20O THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL 
 
 Usually he deceived his attendants; they 
 spoke together of his thoughtfulness and care. 
 But he never deceived Grizelda, and very soon 
 the courier was able to add circumstances 
 together, and to predicate positively that when 
 ever Lord Maxwell made one of these un 
 expected delays, the Earl of Lauder and his 
 family were somewhere in the vicinity. 
 
 Often when a girl, Grizelda had sat with her 
 eyes fixed on her atlas, dreaming of the days 
 when these old storied cities should be a happy 
 pleasure-ground for her. She could hardly 
 keep back tears when she remembered her 
 school-room, and the gay hours she had spent 
 there planning with her companions planning 
 without destiny the good times they were to 
 have in them. 
 
 Ah, she had reckoned up her happiness then 
 without asking, "Who is to be my companion?" 
 Here were the cities she had made little ro 
 mances about, the stately palaces, the ancient 
 market-places, the grand cathedrals, the irresis 
 tible bazaars, and her heart and her feet were 
 too weary to tread them. 
 
 They rested finally in Rome. The Lauders 
 had determined to winter there, and Maxwell
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 2OI 
 
 was in the same mind. The earl was an enthu 
 siast on the subject of numismatics, and he 
 anticipated completing in Rome his collection 
 of medals. The countess and Miss Cassclis 
 had interests quite as absorbing. The one 
 expected a kind of leadership among the Eng 
 lish residents; the other expected not only 
 many new lovers, but also the dangerous ado 
 ration of an old lover who had the charm of 
 forbidden pleasure to her. 
 
 Grizelda understood the circumstances in 
 which she was placed. She knew that she 
 could not alter or controul them. She had no 
 desire left to oppose them. Her last appeal 
 had been made, unless, indeed, a child, his 
 own child, might speak for her. 
 
 Maxwell rented an old palace, a forsaken 
 home of decayed nobles, chill and comfortless 
 in spite of its fine marbles and antique tapestries, 
 and so large that they could occupy only a 
 portion of one wing. But the strange old 
 crumbling rooms were a great delight to Gri 
 zelda. They filled her not only with a soft 
 melancholy, but also with a kind of resignation. 
 What did it matter? At the last the noblest 
 and the happiest lives come to an end. The
 
 202 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 thing is to live worthy of the end. Among 
 the fair-pictured faces on the walls she selected 
 one who she was sure had seen, as she had, 
 sorrow crumble her youth to pieces before her 
 eyes. She sat down with it; she bade her soul 
 talk with it ; she asked it after its destiny ; she 
 grew so familiar with it that she could scarcely 
 have feared if its angel had suddenly appeared 
 to her. She never thought of anything incon 
 gruous in this shadowy friendship; for as 
 suredly, whether we recognize the fact or not, 
 there are souls to whom we are spiritually 
 related. 
 
 And this mystical companionship comforted 
 her wonderfully. She grew strong and almost 
 happy. In a month she was so changed that 
 Maxwell, meeting her one day upon the main 
 stair, was struck with her beauty. If it had 
 not been his own wife, he would have felt a 
 strong admiration for her. As it was, he stood 
 still as if to detain her. She coloured vividly, 
 then turned pale as death, and passed onward. 
 They had not spoken for a month ; he had not 
 seen her for nearly as long. So he had a few 
 unpleasant moments, for conscience dies hard in 
 the most wicked of men.
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 2O3 
 
 But whatever the better feeling was, it changed 
 very rapidly to one of anger at her appearance. 
 She looked happy ! The thought was disagree 
 able to him. " I shall have her watched." 
 
 Wronging her every hour of the day, he was 
 yet so flagrantly unjust as to stamp with indig 
 nation when his own wicked heart suggested 
 that she might be wronging him. He did her the 
 further injustice of measuring her integrity by 
 that of women not to be named with her name. 
 
 " They are all alike ! " he muttered. " Julia 
 loves me, and does not mind wronging Gri- 
 zelda. Grizelda evidently loves some one else, 
 and does not mind wronging me. Fool that I 
 was to trust her ; did she not wrong her father 
 before she married me? " 
 
 It is so easy for a wicked heart to think evil, 
 so almost impossible for it to conceive good, 
 that Maxwell's suspicions were as natural to him 
 as breathing. " Besides," he argued, " what 
 has renewed her beauty? Love, of course. 
 Love for me ? No, she hates me ! What fol 
 lows? I shall see. And she was going out 
 also! Going out what for? That, also, I 
 shall find out!" 
 
 It was a new interest to him, and one which
 
 204 ThE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 he entered into with a wicked avidity. Dis 
 guise was easy to him; he assumed one so 
 perfect that Grizelda might have spoken to him 
 and yet left him undetected. Then he began 
 to follow her. But the path in which her feet 
 trod was so pure that it soon hurt him. 
 
 She led him first to an old church, where she 
 sat for an hour motionless before a picture of 
 the crucifixion. As the light faded, she went 
 and stood by the lifted cross, as if to get closer 
 to the Christ hanging there forsaken in the 
 dark. He watched her until she re-entered the 
 carriage she had come in. Then he followed 
 her, not only straight to her own residence, but 
 also to her own room. 
 
 It was necessary that he should find a cause 
 for anger, and he found it in the supposition 
 that she had been praying in a Roman Catholic 
 church. And when conscience is used as a 
 weapon for wounding, it is amazing how tender 
 it becomes. Maxwell grew suddenly jealous 
 for the Protestant religion. His people had 
 always been on the side of John Knox, and he 
 would not have his forefathers insulted by his 
 wife praying before pictures in a popish place 
 of worship. It was simple idolatry.
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 
 
 He made a special visit to her apartments the 
 next day to tell her so. She lifted her eyes 
 once to his face, and then let them fall on the 
 figure she was painting. It happened to be a 
 copy of a famous Madonna. The glance con 
 fused him. He thought he had some scathing 
 words ready for her, and he forgot his argu 
 ments. He began to bluster, but the calm of 
 the pictured face spoke to Grizelda's heart. 
 The Mother of Sorrows had found the conso 
 lation of God. For her also it was surely suffi 
 cient. She hardly heeded the storm of words 
 about her, until it closed with an order. 
 
 Then she answered, " It is incredible that a 
 Scotchwoman, born in mother kirk, should pray 
 to a picture. You know it ! I have need of 
 stronger help. I seek it constantly, even the 
 help of the God of my fathers. You think it 
 gives me pleasure to look at the paintings, so 
 you refuse me the pleasure. I will not go to 
 that church any more." 
 
 " You will not go to any Roman church for 
 any purpose." 
 
 " There is the English church. I can go 
 there." 
 
 "What are you painting? One of those
 
 2O6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 Virgin Marys? Just what I expected. I will 
 have no such work in my house. It is a point 
 of conscience with me." 
 
 " I will put it aside. I have other studies." 
 She took it into an inner room and did not 
 return. In a minute or two, he felt as if he had 
 been dismissed, and that was an indignity he 
 could not submit to. With impetuous anger he 
 followed. Grizelda was on a low bed. Her 
 face was as white as its draperies. Her eyes 
 were closed. She looked so like death .that the 
 words on his lips were frozen. Without being 
 conscious of the deference, he went away, softly 
 closing the door as doors are closed upon 
 death. 
 
 He only followed her once more. She went 
 to the studio of Signor Donata, an aged painter 
 honoured and beloved throughout Rome. He 
 also entered the studio, looked at the pictures, 
 and perceived that Grizelda was taking a lesson 
 from Donata. She sat in a corner of the large 
 room, shielded by her easel and by the drapery 
 of an alcove. But Donata directed her at inter 
 vals ; and Grizelda's face was so calm, so happy, 
 and so interested that she seemed to have grown 
 ten years younger.
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 2O/ 
 
 He reflected much on this circumstance. 
 Donata did not teach her for nothing. Where 
 did she get the money? Was she in communi 
 cation with her father? He felt that in this 
 suspicion he had a real grievance. And Gri- 
 zelda's heart failed her for a moment when 
 Maxwell came to her for an explanation. 
 
 " I hear you are taking lessons from Donata. 
 Does he teach you without money?" 
 
 " No. I pay him two guineas a lesson." 
 
 "Where do you get the money? " 
 
 " When I left home I had money which my 
 father gave me." 
 
 " You have no right to money that I am not 
 aware of. Pretty confidence that is 1 From 
 your marriage day, then, you have deceived 
 me. How much have you?" 
 
 She went to a drawer for her purse and laid 
 it before him. 
 
 " That is all I have left out of fifty pounds. 
 You can take it if you think it is yours." 
 
 He lifted the slight trifle of silk and beads 
 and counted the change in it. Twenty-two 
 pounds and six shillings. He threw the purse 
 upon her toilet-table and put the money in his 
 pocket.
 
 2O8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL, 
 
 " I have paid Donata for ten lessons. I have 
 taken three. Can I finish the lessons paid 
 for?" 
 
 " Of course you will finish them. Painting 
 is about the only thing you can do ; and I am 
 not going to let any Italian mountebank make 
 fourteen pounds out of me." 
 
 After this, without any distinct effort to do 
 so, Grizelda was aware that she timed all her 
 simple duties and pleasures so as best to avoid 
 her husband. In the household the Italian 
 servants were aware of some matrimonial cold 
 ness, but their ideas on the subject were much 
 more indefinite than those of English men and 
 women. In society it was understood that 
 Lady Maxwell was not in a condition of health 
 that warranted her taking any part in public 
 festivities. And if people are bent upon retiring 
 from the world, the world has not the time nor 
 the disposition to urge them from their retire 
 ment. Lady Maxwell soon became a mere 
 name, a name less and less spoken as people 
 got used to seeing her lord always alone, or else 
 in attendance upon Miss Casselis. 
 
 Toward the end of October an event oc 
 curred which was destined to be a very impor-
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 209 
 
 tant one to Grizelda. One morning, early, 
 there was an unusual outcry in the kitchen 
 offices of the palace, and while Grizelda was 
 wondering what might be the meaning of it, her 
 maid, a Roman woman, came to seek her help. 
 
 Poor Caterina was ill, was dying. Had milady 
 any medicine good for her? 
 
 Grizelda went to look at Caterina. She was 
 a pretty young girl who had attended for some 
 weeks to Grizelda's fine laces and lawns, and 
 occasionally, when there was one of those sud 
 den changes which Maxwell insisted upon, 
 served also as a temporary lady's maid. 
 
 The girl was very ill. She lay on a stone 
 bench in the great comfortless kitchen, drawing 
 every breath in an agony. Among the fishers 
 in Edderloch, Grizelda had seen similar cases. 
 She knew at once that it was an acute inflamma 
 tion of the lungs, brought on by some long 
 fatigue and exposure, and that the illness was 
 likely to be severe and tedious. 
 
 At the very moment her maid appealed to 
 her, she had been feeling how aimless, how 
 empty of all opportunities for good, was her 
 life ; and lo ! here at her hand was a very work 
 of love and mercy. 
 
 M
 
 2IO THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 ' Without a moment's hesitation she ordered 
 Caterina to be taken to a comfortable room. 
 She sent for her own physician, and entered 
 with all her heart into the duty of saving the 
 girl's life. It was a hard battle; there were 
 days when it seemed a hopeless battle. 
 
 But after many week's faithful and affection 
 ate care, Caterina was again among her com 
 panions. Her gratitude was not only deep and 
 sincere, it was demonstrative. She had not 
 been schooled to put the pedal down on all 
 feeling, and reduce emotion to one placid tone. 
 Caterina's love and hate, her anger and her 
 gratitude, were very real things, and she was 
 continually looking for some way of expressing 
 them. 
 
 Her lover shared all her thoughts. He was a 
 handsome young Roman, loving a country life, 
 but drawn to the city because the only place 
 where it was possible for him to get money, a 
 want Peppo felt to be the supreme one of exis 
 tence. Maxwell had noticed him frequently 
 hanging about the palace, and there was some 
 thing in the man's face which attracted him. 
 Souls understand each other. Maxwell's soul 
 said to him : If ever you need a tool for a deed
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 211 
 
 of darkness, you can buy that one; he has a 
 price for any crime against a foreigner. For 
 Peppo quieted his conscience with this broad 
 distinction, only against foreigners and here 
 tics would he use his stiletto. 
 
 When Caterina recovered, she talked much to 
 her lover of Grizelda and Grizelda's husband. 
 Peppo had his own thoughts on the matter. 
 Maxwell read them on the man's face. Long 
 before they said a word together they under 
 stood each other. * And whenever Maxwell 
 went out of the house, and whenever he re 
 turned to it, Peppo was lounging somewhere 
 near the portal. Sometimes he doffed his gay 
 tasselled cap, sometimes he only sent the Eng 
 lish lord a glance of intelligence. Yet no num 
 ber of words could have made Maxwell better 
 understand that Peppo knew the secret wish of 
 his heart, and was ready to grant it for 
 money. 
 
 But nothing good or bad happens at once; 
 there must be preparations. The flower is 
 long budding, but in some secret hour, when no 
 mortal sees, it becomes a rose. A man has a 
 noble thought, he muses over it for years, then, 
 in some diviner moment, he writes his name to
 
 212 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 a piece of paper, the gold answers it, and the 
 hospital or the college grows to its perfect 
 intent. 
 
 So it is with evil. Judas had long pondered 
 the possibility of betraying his master. But 
 with the eating of that sop, the Devil took 
 possession of him, and he went out and did the 
 deed of hell. 
 
 Six months after his marriage, Maxwell had 
 begun to regret it, to wish he had never seen 
 Grizelda. Dissatisfaction quickly grew to hate. 
 Hate is the mother of murder; and before he 
 saw Peppo, the desire to murder Grizelda was 
 hot and living in his soul. It was only waiting 
 its full hour. Both men were aware of that fact. 
 
 Near the end of November, Grizelda heard 
 of her sister's death. Maxwell was out when 
 the letter came, but she was determined to see 
 him that night. And while waiting his return 
 she helped her maid to pack a few necessary 
 garments for a journey; for she felt that she 
 must go to her father and comfort him. Un 
 fortunately, in her sorrow she forgot her own 
 appearance. Her eyes, red and swollen with 
 weeping, her undressed hair, the loose white 
 at that late hour she had assumed,
 
 A GAINST HER LIFE. 2 1 3 
 
 though all in absolute fitting with the time 
 and circumstances, filled Maxwell with angry 
 repulsion. 
 
 He had just left Julia Casselis. She had been 
 clothed in lustrous silk and sparkling jewels. 
 Amid the pertume and beauty of flowers, to the 
 intoxicating strains of Chopin's waltzes, he had 
 spoken softly to her of what might have been 
 but for his unfortunate marriage ; and she had 
 looked the sympathy she still hesitated to ex 
 press in words. 
 
 His heart was on fire with his unholy love, 
 when Grizelda, white, and full of sorrow, came 
 to him. Nothing is so annoying and irritating 
 to a man as tears. If any woman has been 
 taught differently, let her adjure the fallacy as 
 soon as possible. If Grizelda had put on her 
 richest robe and assumed the stately manner so 
 becoming to her, she might have won the favour 
 she asked ; but her beauty was under a cloud, 
 and her distracted air put him at once on the 
 defensive. When she said, " Helen is dead ! 
 My sister is dead ! " and then burst again into 
 passionate weeping, he resented the intrusion of 
 death and disagreeable thoughts into his own 
 ecstatic dreams of Julia and love.
 
 214 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " I am sorry it is Helen," he said bitterly. 
 " If it had only been you ! " 
 
 " Oh, I wish it had ! I wish it had ! " 
 
 " For once we perfectly agree." 
 
 " Walter, let me go ! Let me go to father ! 
 He is heart-broken." 
 
 " You would only make him worse ; you are 
 such a miserable, wretched creature. If a man 
 was in the seventh heaven of delight, you would 
 drag him down to where you lie grovelling all 
 day. Go to your own apartments ! I am weary 
 of you ! " 
 
 " Then let me go to father ! For God's sake 
 let me go ! " 
 
 " Go to your own apartments ! " 
 
 The sight of her tears, her anguish, her de 
 spair, was to Maxwell what the sop was to the 
 great murderer. The Devil entered into him. 
 He rang violently for Grizelda's maid, and put 
 ting on his hat, left the palace. 
 
 He had seen Peppo as he entered. When he 
 passed again through the grim old portal, 
 through which so much sin and sorrow had 
 passed, the man was smoking in the moonlight 
 Maxwell spoke to him, and Peppo rose, flung 
 his cigarette away, and stood attentive.
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 21$ 
 
 " What is your name? " 
 
 " Peppo, Milord." 
 
 " I have not seen you for two days." 
 
 " I have been about my business." 
 
 " Ah ! what is your business? " 
 
 Peppo shrugged his shoulders expressively. 
 
 "Secret?" 
 
 " As the grave, Milord," emphasizing the 
 word " grave." 
 
 "Why do you stay around my house so 
 much?" 
 
 " I am waiting, perhaps Milord might want 
 me ; besides, there is a pretty girl whom " 
 
 " Don't marry her. To marry is to put your 
 self in hell ! " 
 
 Peppo shrugged his shoulders again. 
 
 " Perhaps ; but there is a way out of that 
 hell." 
 
 " If you can show me such a way, then I 
 will " 
 
 "Shall we talk inside, Milord? It is safer." 
 
 They went in together. They went into 
 Maxwell's private room, and they talked the 
 night away; that is, Maxwell talked. He 
 was drinking brandy, and he soon felt its im- 
 bruting influence. He wanted Grizelda "put
 
 2l6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 where he would never see her or hear of her 
 again." 
 
 " There is one sure place" answered Peppo, 
 casting his eyes expressively downward. 
 
 Maxwell was too cowardly to say the fatal 
 words. He wanted her "put away safely." 
 Peppo more bluntly explained the phrase. 
 Maxwell still ignored the explanation; but the 
 brandy having told upon his excited state, he 
 began to excuse himself, to cry a little over his 
 cruel disappointment, to crave Peppo's sympathy 
 for his unfortunate condition. 
 
 Peppo listened with scarcely repressed mock 
 ery. Maxwell's explanation about McNeil was 
 perfectly unintelligible to him; as to Grizelda, 
 he had formed, through Caterina, his own opin 
 ion of her. He bore the rambling story with 
 a sort of patience, because he hoped to make 
 the better terms for his patience. But as soon 
 as money was named, Maxwell arrested himself, 
 and stared with stupid incredulity at the man. 
 
 " Five hundred pounds ! It is ridiculous ! " 
 he answered. " Fifty pounds are enough." 
 
 " Milord has his choice. I can go to others 
 with my tale. By Bacchus ! to save may be 
 better than to kill."
 
 AGAINST HER LIFE. 2 1/ 
 
 The words in a measure sobered Maxwell. 
 Already, then, he was in the power of the villain 
 he had called to himself. He said sulkily, 
 
 "Very well; I will give you five hundred 
 pounds when it is done." 
 
 " Six hundred, now, Milord. A gentleman's 
 word is not to be doubted for nothing. The 
 money is also to be paid at the present; and I 
 shall be at your order when you call me." 
 
 Peppo was master now. He had stood up 
 and dictated his terms in a manner which Max 
 well found it impossible to resist or resent 
 The money was paid. 
 
 " I will have a receipt, Peppo." 
 
 "For what use? Would you dare to show 
 it? When you want me, I shall be waiting. 
 Have I not been waiting for six weeks?" 
 
 He put the money in a dirty bag, and went 
 out with a bow which made Maxwell burn with 
 anger. It was the greeting of a familiar, a com 
 rade; and it made him understand, as nothing 
 else could have done, how low he had fallen. 
 
 But he did not blame himself at all. It was 
 Grizelda ! Her ! Curse her ! Curse her ! Oh ! 
 how he cursed her, and cursed the miserable 
 letter of sympathy she had sent him about his
 
 2 1 8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEII~ 
 
 dogs, " the beginning of all ! the beginning of 
 all ! " he exclaimed passionately. But he 
 might have looked further back, and seen him 
 self chuckling with wicked delight over the vice 
 of his dogs, and privately turning them loose 
 at night to work his malicious pleasure on his 
 unoffending neighbours.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 
 
 It becomes a man, if he have received aught grateful to his 
 mind, to bear it in remembrance ; it is kindness that gives birth 
 to kindness. SOPHOCLES. 
 
 For the sower of the seed is assuredly the author of the 
 whole harvest of mischief. 
 
 Thou, who dost dwell alone ; 
 Thou, who dost know thine own ; 
 Thou, to whom all are known, 
 From the cradle to the grave, 
 
 Save ! oh, save 1 
 
 ARNOLD. 
 
 TT was near Christmas when Maxwell spoke 
 * again to Peppo. Peppo had lounged as usual 
 about the palace, but had avoided any intelli 
 gence with its master. Maxwell perceived, 
 therefore, that he would be compelled to make 
 the first decided step. The interval between 
 the infamous bargain and its completion was a 
 last season of grace to him ; but no influence 
 was strong enough to combat the feeling of hate 
 daily growing to murder in his heart. Even the
 
 22O THE HOUSEHOLD OF AfcNE/L. 
 
 death of Helen, suggesting a double portion to 
 Grizelda, was too weak. His love for Julia 
 Casselis and his hate of his wife were more 
 powerful motives than his love of money. Upon 
 Christmas eve there was to be a grand fete at an 
 English gentleman's residence, four miles from 
 Rome. Lord and Lady Maxwell had invita 
 tions to it. This was the opportunity Maxwell 
 had been looking for. Among the crush of 
 vehicles going there, one more or less would 
 never be particularly noticed 
 
 He called Peppo with a glance, and again 
 took him to his room. There was no civility 
 between the men. They already understood 
 each other. 
 
 " You have heard of the fite at the Gigha 
 villa?" 
 
 " I was thinking about it. The opportunity 
 is good." 
 
 " How will you manage the affair? " 
 
 " Will milady be with you? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It is known that she wears jewels. Magni 
 ficent. I will stop your carriage. I will put 
 her into my carriage. It will be supposed she 
 has been taken for her jewels. Eh?"
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 221 
 
 Maxwell cast a black look at his confederate 
 villain. He understood that Peppo expected 
 the jewels as a perquisite, and that the negotia 
 tion would be closed if he opposed the plan. 
 He therefore affected to acquiesce. 
 
 "The rest?" 
 
 " The next day I may be looked for, and I 
 shall be smoking in my usual place." 
 
 "And she ?" 
 
 " She will be safe. She will trouble you no 
 more." 
 
 " The jewels ! they are family jewels." 
 
 " They will be safe also." 
 
 " You dare not sell them in Rome." 
 
 " Per Baccho ! I know that. I shall sell them 
 to Milord in time." 
 
 " You are to be relied on? " 
 
 " As the hour. Both it and I are certain." 
 
 " That is all." 
 
 " At present." 
 
 There was in Peppo's expression and attitude 
 a veiled insolence and defiance which might 
 have warned Maxwell if the Devil had not both 
 blinded and deafened him. Nay, but he was 
 conscious of it; and in despite of the conscious 
 ness, persisted all the more fiercely in his deter-
 
 222 THE HOUSEHOLD OF 
 
 mination. For in all deliberate sin there comes 
 a moment when the man, instead of possessing 
 the idea of crime, is possessed by it; and the 
 Devil surely makes mad those whom he intends 
 to destroy. 
 
 There were four days between the purpose 
 and the fulfilment of the crime. It seems in 
 credible that in them Maxwell never once con 
 templated the gain on the side of repentance; 
 the peace of mind, the safety; the certainty 
 that if he fled from temptation with his wife, she 
 would forgive all her wrongs and love him freely 
 again; the security of his Highland home; the 
 ties there, which would blind and reconcile him 
 to his self-denial ; the money which would cer 
 tainly be his if he fulfilled even now his promise 
 to be a good husband to Grizelda. 
 
 None of these things could obtain from him a 
 moment's attention. To be rid of Grizelda that 
 he might marry Julia, this one idea pushed 
 everything else from his mind. He lived in 
 the false exaltation of unbridled passion, in a 
 world of unholy emotion, beyond the sympa 
 thy and comprehension of the world, which 
 regarded right and wrong from the same point 
 of justice.
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 22$ 
 
 The night preceding the fete, Grizelda was 
 examining the dress prepared for it. Maxwell 
 had, with rather more courtesy than usual, ex 
 plained the necessity of her presence. The 
 reasons given were political, and she did not at 
 all understand them; but she did note, with a 
 sickly flicker of hope and wonder, his kinder 
 tone and manner. She plucked up heart, and 
 determined to look her best. 
 
 Her wedding-dress, so rich and lovely and 
 full of happy memories, lay in its scented case ; 
 a few alterations, a few flowers would give it 
 a fresh air. She had occupied herself the whole 
 day in directing the required changes. She 
 tried it on with a flutter of pleasant satisfaction ; 
 it was still very becoming to her. As she stood 
 in it, a servant entered. 
 
 " Caterina's husband, Milady; he begs from 
 your Goodness one five minutes." 
 
 " Bring him here. 
 
 " Is Caterina sick, Peppo, that you come so 
 late?" 
 
 " True, Milady." Then he glanced at Gri- 
 zelda's maid and stood speechless, twirling his 
 gaudily striped cap. 
 
 "What do you wish, Peppo? "
 
 224 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 " If Milady would give me one five minutes 
 alone." 
 
 " Tessa, you may go." 
 
 Tessa, gladly enough, ran down the bare 
 marble stairway to the cheerful, noisy kitchen. 
 Peppo watched her out of sight; returning, he 
 locked the door, and flinging himself at Gri- 
 zelda's feet, he showed her the six hundred 
 pounds. 
 
 "Milady! Milady! it is the price of your 
 life. But if you will trust Peppo, he will save 
 you as you saved my Caterina." 
 
 She looked at him in horror, white to the lips, 
 white as the robe she wore. But this was no 
 moment for a faint heart. She put her hand on 
 the kneeling man's shoulder, and said in a 
 whisper, 
 
 "Who gave you the money? Lord Maxwell? " 
 
 Peppo nodded. There were tears in his eyes, 
 and an angry flush on his cheek. 
 
 " If Milady will only trust Caterina and 
 Peppo." 
 
 She put her hand in his. 
 
 " I will trust you. Listen ! My lord gives 
 you six hundred pounds to murder me ; I will 
 give you a thousand to save me."
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 22$ 
 
 "For your goodness I will take you to Cat- 
 erina until you can tell your own good friends." 
 
 Then he explained to her the plot, and she 
 agreed to make no opposition to it. She would 
 permit him to carry her away. There was more 
 hope in his mercy than in her husband's. She 
 would trust entirely to him and Caterina. And 
 Peppo kissed her satin-sandaled feet and vowed 
 to lose his own life rather than touch hers. 
 
 The whole interview had lasted less than ten 
 minutes. Peppo went to the kitchen with an 
 order for soup and jelly for his poor Caterina; 
 and Grizelda stood almost stupidly where he left 
 her. It was hardly possible for her to conceive 
 of a hatred so deadly and cruel. She had done 
 nothing to deserve it. That fact, to her, ap 
 peared to make the other so incredible. She 
 had not considered that it is the injurer, and not 
 the injured, that hates ; for it is sin that hardens 
 the heart, and not loss or sorrow. 
 
 In a few minutes she lifted her eyes, and with 
 an irresolute movement went to the door and 
 fastened it. As she returned she saw herself in 
 the mirror. She looked steadily at the sorrow 
 ful woman it reflected and then began, with 
 hasty, trembling fingers, to remove the white 
 15
 
 226 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 bravery of her bridal dress. " It was woven 
 by disobedience and made by selfishness; a 
 sorrowful dress it has been to me ! Oh, Helen ! 
 Helen ! Oh, my darling sister ! " she sobbed. 
 " The white garments are for you ! For me 
 there are none too black." 
 
 She was in a great confusion. She could 
 form no plan. Her suffering was terrible ; her 
 terror equal to it. She had come to her soul's 
 Gethsemane, and found no angel waiting there 
 to strengthen her. Love is precious, and life 
 may be given for love, given even with joy 
 and triumph ; but to have love turn to hatred, 
 and to surrender life to force and cruelty, that is 
 indeed a bitter cup. Grizelda could not lift it. 
 " Let it pass from me ! Let it pass from me ! " 
 her soul cried out; for, ah ! love's treacheries are 
 a plough that breaks the human heart to pieces, 
 unless in the midst of the hard experience it 
 can reach that splendid vehemence of aspiration 
 and submission, which, praying and enduring, still 
 
 says, 
 
 Yea, break my heart, but break it as a field 
 
 Is by the plough upbroken for the corn ; 
 Oh, break it as the buds, by green leaf sealed, 
 
 Are to unloose the golden blossom torn ! 
 Love would I offer unto Love's great Master; 
 
 Set free the odour, break the alabaster 1
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 22J 
 
 But there was no sensible cry of any kind as 
 yet in Grizelda's heart; all her energies were 
 bent toward the concentration of her strength 
 for the ordeal before her. She would not take 
 into consideration whether Peppo was true to 
 her or not. She had simply no hope but in 
 him, and she could not throw that solitary hope 
 away. For a few moments she thought of 
 appealing to the British consul; but Lord 
 Maxwell was on familiar terms with him. He 
 would accuse her of sickness, perhaps of insanity, 
 and her secluded life placed her at the mercy 
 of any charge hatred and cunning chose to 
 make. Besides, if she had thought of this possi 
 bility, had not Maxwell probably done the same, 
 and prepared for it? If Peppo had been once 
 bought, he could be bought again. The ser 
 vants were all new ones; none of them had a 
 special interest in her. Only Peppo and Cate- 
 rina were bound to her by any kindly tie. She 
 felt that she must trust entirely to them. 
 
 As the hour for leaving her home drew near, 
 she dressed herself again in the fatal wedding- 
 dress. Around her throat and arms were the 
 sapphires and diamonds which had been her 
 father's bridal gift. Maxwell cast an envious
 
 228 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL, 
 
 look at them. Reset, how suitable they would 
 be to Julia's beauty ! He touched them lightly, 
 and said, 
 
 " Grizelda, I would leave those gems at home. 
 The roads outside the city are haunted by des 
 perate robbers, especially on such an occasion 
 as this. You look very lovely without them." 
 
 She did look lovely, the words were true 
 enough, for repressed excitement had given a 
 luminous colouring to her skin and an intense 
 brilliancy to her eyes; but the compliment at 
 that moment was such a mockery that she could 
 not avoid a look of inquiry which was very dis 
 concerting. If shame or remorse had been 
 possible to him, he would have felt its sting at 
 that moment. 
 
 But she made no objection to his proposal. 
 
 " I will remove them. Will they be safe in 
 my jewel-case if both of us are absent?" 
 
 " Give the key of your case to me. They will 
 be safe enough until to-morrow." 
 
 She went upstairs, secreted the precious 
 stones about her person, and brought the key 
 of her jewel-case to Maxwell ; with some osten 
 tation he put it in his pocket-book. Then the 
 carriage was announced, and they left the room
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 
 
 together. Maxwell had that day dismissed his 
 coachman and replaced him with a man sent by 
 Peppo. He saw the fellow holding the reins, and 
 was satisfied the scheme would be carried out 
 
 He made one or two attempts to speak, but 
 Grizelda could not continue them. Her whole 
 soul was on the watch. Maxwell thought she 
 was sulky about the jewels, and he rather 
 prided himself upon his clever scheme for their 
 preservation. And when Peppo came for their 
 price, he would have him at an advantage; 
 he would demand the jewels ere he paid the 
 money. The more he thought of his little plan 
 the better pleased he was with it. 
 
 As they approached the skirting of the wood 
 where the attack was to be made, he became 
 silent. He had purposely left the city half an 
 hour later than the fete demanded; he was 
 glad to see that the road was comparatively 
 deserted. One belated carriage dashed past 
 them at a rapid rate, but midway along the 
 dangerous strip they were alone. 
 
 Two figures came suddenly from the wood. 
 In a disguised voice they ordered the coach 
 man to descend and hold the horses; and the 
 man, in a paroxysm of pretended fear, obeyed.
 
 23O THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 Peppo and his confederate tied Lord Maxwell's 
 hands and feet, performing the operation with 
 such unnecessary cruelty that their victim was 
 forced to relieve his agony with oaths and cries 
 of sincere distress. 
 
 Grizelda was speechless. She had seen 
 Peppo glance at her throat and arms, but she 
 did not know that in the tightening of Max 
 well's cords he was taking an advance payment 
 of the revenge he intended. It had been Max 
 well's own suggestion that he should be bound. 
 It was a sufficient reason for his not giving the 
 alarm until circumstances forced it from him, 
 but he had no idea of the suffering that he was 
 to endure in consequence of it. 
 
 The operation did not take three minutes; 
 then Grizelda was carried into the wood, the 
 horses were securely tied, Peppo and the 
 coachman disappeared, and Maxwell was left 
 bound on the roadside. Though in great 
 agony, he noticed Grizelda's ominous silence, 
 and supposed that she had fainted. Ten min 
 utes later he had himself lost consciousness, 
 though the cutting cold soon restored him to 
 a conception of the possibilities of human na 
 ture in physical suffering.
 
 GRIZELDA IS LOST. 
 
 Some of the poor hangers-on at such fes 
 tivals, stray musicians, servants out of place, 
 etc., passed the standing vehicle and the tied 
 man; but they hurried away as if they had 
 seen Death. Not one of them cared to risk the 
 office of giving information. Suspicions, im 
 prisonment, worse even might come from it. 
 
 " The poor are always guilty," said one. 
 " Let the man wait for his equals. It is not 
 our fault if we dare not be charitable." 
 
 So Maxwell actually lay in his miserable 
 bonds until the first guests began to return to 
 the city. Then his condition raised a tumult 
 and an outcry of inquiries and indignation. He 
 was taken back to Rome in Prince Camparas's 
 carriage, and all the paraphernalia of the police 
 set as quickly as possible on the track of the 
 robbers. 
 
 But some hours had been lost, and Maxwell 
 did not help to put investigation on the right 
 road; indeed, he was becoming every moment 
 more terrified at the result of his wicked deed. 
 This was natural, and supernatural also. The 
 Devil does not mind how much care, how much 
 terror and remorse, haunt the sinner when the 
 deed is done. The betrayal accomplished, he
 
 232 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 was quite willing that Judas should hang him 
 self; he always is willing that suicide should 
 follow murder. 
 
 But Maxwell had ample time for reflection. 
 His wrists and ankles were frightfully cut and 
 swollen, and the painful inflammation superven 
 ing was accompanied by a severe attack of 
 acute rheumatic fever. His sufferings were ter 
 rible, but amid them all he had a constant fear 
 still more terrible, if he should become de 
 lirious and confess the truth ! There was no 
 relief for this fear but in the demand for 
 Peppo's services as his attendant. The physi 
 cian knew how Grizelda had nursed Peppo's 
 wife back to life ; he thought it a very natural 
 thing that Peppo should repay the kindness. 
 
 Peppo was not a kind nurse. Peppo made 
 him suffer a great deal that was beyond even 
 the plenitude of suffering natural to rheumatic 
 fever. He compelled him to confess the jewel 
 trick, and he gave him in return such a lesson 
 on the tenet of honour among thieves, as made 
 Maxwell remember it with fear and trembling. 
 Yes, it must be confessed that Peppo was neither 
 kind-hearted nor truthful. He relieved the te 
 dium of his attentions to his noble patient with
 
 GR1ZELDA IS LOST. 233 
 
 such details of Grizelda's death as he thought 
 likely to make him miserable. While consoling 
 himself with the assurance that Grizelda had 
 forgiven him, nay, even thanked him for ridding 
 her of a life made horrible by the tie which 
 bound her to her husband, he gave Maxwell no 
 comfort of any kind. 
 
 In certain moods he described Grizelda's an 
 gelic resignation, her prayers and blessings, 
 until he wept at his own eloquence. In other 
 moods he preferred that Maxwell should think 
 she had suffered every outrage and brutality. 
 Both stories were told with an equal air of 
 truthfulness. Maxwell writhed between the two 
 versions in an agony of suspense and uncer 
 tainty, made terrific by the phantasmal horrors 
 of semi-delirium. 
 
 He was in this condition when Colin reached 
 Rome. The news of Grizelda's fate, dreadful as 
 it was, was scarcely a surprise to him. The 
 vague anxiety which had suddenly taken pos 
 session of him at Edderloch had grown with 
 every mile he had travelled, until it had become 
 a fever of apprehension. When he heard the 
 worst, he was quite prepared for it. Had he 
 arrived two weeks earlier, he would certainly
 
 234 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 have discovered the whole plot and reclaimed 
 his cousin. But his untiring energy, his lavish 
 use of money, his sleuth-hound hatred of Max 
 well, were baffled by incompetence, supersti 
 tions, delays, false clews, lapse of time, a score 
 of other obstacles which it was impossible for 
 him to obviate. 
 
 He would not see Maxwell. He said boldly 
 that it was not his interest to find his wife. In 
 spite of the general sympathy for his loss and 
 suffering, Colin had an unquenchable fire of 
 hatred and suspicion in his heart against him. 
 No one in Rome would listen to the faintest 
 whisper, not even the police ; but Colin was not 
 influenced by this blindness of public judg 
 ment. He made every arrangement for the 
 continuance of the search that love and hatred 
 could devise. 
 
 Then he hastened back to Edderloch; for 
 McNeil had been advised of his daughter's 
 loss and probable death, and Colin thought 
 with pity and dismay on the old man's grief; 
 for the fondest love, if put between the living 
 and the dead, turns, however reluctantly, to the 
 living. There are hopes in the living, but the 
 dead leave us none.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN. 
 
 They to the verge have followed what they love, 
 And on the insuperable threshold stand. 
 
 Why perplex the soul with visions of to-morrow, 
 When to-day its councils and its cares has brought ? 
 
 Walk boldly and wisely in the light thou hast ; 
 There is a Hand above will help thee on. 
 
 AFTER Helen's death, Colin had found a 
 small comfort in visiting her grave every 
 day and leaving there a sprig of box or a cluster 
 of rowan berries, or even a trailing spray of 
 some of the pale, cold flowers of the sea. How 
 ever simple the offering, it was a token of his 
 remembrance. Those who have made such 
 offerings will understand. The laird did not 
 speak of these visits, but he was aware of them ; 
 and when Colin went to Rome, he frequently 
 carried the token in his place. And as the 
 mistery that surrounds posthumous humanity 
 is so great, surely it is the part of love to live
 
 236 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 with regard to the dead as if they were obser 
 vant of our memory of them. 
 
 One afternoon, about two weeks after Colin 
 had left him, the laird went to the kirk-yard on 
 this errand. He had been singularly miserable 
 and restless all day; perhaps he hoped in this 
 solitary communion to find comfort. But if 
 comfort come not from within, Nature is usually 
 hostile to grief; and this afternoon the solemn 
 mountains, the misty moorlands, the melancholy 
 waves, had no token of hope in them. In the 
 mournful light which brooded above the fallen 
 sun, his tall, massive figure, standing solitary on 
 the cliff, was the very image of desolation. 
 There was a cry in the sea, also, that the cry in 
 his heart answered. He knew that there was 
 trouble in the air. 
 
 Fortunately, Doctor Brodick was sitting with 
 him when the news of Grizelda's death came. 
 He took it with a terrible calmness. His face 
 seemed to turn to granite. He was angry at 
 the tears in Brodick's eyes. 
 
 " I will have no tears," he cried ; " this is no 
 time for them. I will have revenge ! " 
 
 The terrible vacillation of his suspicions would 
 give him no rest. At one moment he was
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN. 237 
 
 certain his child had been murdered; again, 
 he was certain she was alive and calling to him 
 for help. He thought of lonely convents, of 
 the horrors of insane asylums and forgotten 
 prison rooms, and felt as if impossibilities would 
 be easy for her relief. 
 
 But, oh, how quickly love is made to feel 
 the limitations of its physical conditions ! 
 
 " Go to Rome ! " said Brodick, pitifully. 
 " Man, what will you do in Rome? Get your 
 self into trouble likewise. Colin will have left 
 ere you get there. No one but priests and 
 papists and singing men and women to ask a 
 question of; and they won't understand you, 
 nor you them. Think of this, McNeil; if Gri- 
 zelda is above the ground, she has wit enough 
 and strength enough to find her way back, 
 either to her home or to her husband. If 
 it is still to her husband, what is there for 
 you to do or to say? If she comes to you, 
 then the way for interference will be made 
 plain." 
 
 " She has money, thank God ! When I saw 
 her last, I gave her money, two thousand 
 pounds. Money can work wonders." 
 
 " If she happened to have it with her. But
 
 238 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 money in a desk or drawer I am feared there 
 would be little help in that." 
 
 And McNeil spoke not. He was thinking of, 
 he was really seeing, a slip of paper in the secret 
 drawer of his own desk. It represented thou 
 sands of pounds, and it was doing no more good 
 than if it were blank. But at this hour the 
 thought angered him. The poor ! What in 
 his great sorrow were they to him? Could they 
 give him help, or bring him word of his child ? 
 No. The trouble in his own house was suffi 
 cient for him to bear. 
 
 " My two dear girls," he cried out, " both 
 taken from me in three months ! Oh, Brodick, 
 it is more than any mortal can bear." 
 
 " Laird, gird up yourself like a man. There 
 are fathers outside your gates who have lost 
 three children in three days. There is one 
 father, Alexander Muir, who lost his whole 
 household in a week, wife and five bairns. 
 He is handling his nets again. The others are 
 about their daily work. The Lord gave, and 
 the Lord took away." 
 
 " Don't finish, Brodick ! When God gives a 
 blessing, is it god-like to be taking it back 
 again? If I was to take back the land I gave
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN. 239 
 
 to the vilhge, what would you be saying of 
 me?" 
 
 "You cannot foresee the future, Laird; God 
 can. Man, whiles, turns gifts into losses, and 
 blessings into curses. The gift may be best for 
 us this year, on earth ; next year it may be 
 better for us to have it in heaven. Shall not 
 the Judge of the whole earth do right?" 
 
 But McNeil was not to be reasoned with. He 
 agreed, indeed, to wait for Colin's return, but 
 the weeks intervening were weeks of great 
 anxiety. As they passed, one by one, and no 
 word came from Grizelda, Brodick was certain 
 of her death. If alive, she would have contrived 
 to send her father word ; if a ransom had 
 been asked, she would have appealed to him. 
 And whenever this conclusion was reached, the 
 men looked at each other with a dreadful in 
 telligence: "If Grizelda were dead, Maxwell 
 had compassed her death." 
 
 Colin did not return until March was nearly 
 over. But fortunately for McNeil, he had been 
 compelled ere that time to resume work on the 
 hotel. The men at their dismissal in the fever 
 time had been told to be ready on the first of 
 March, and McNeil found them waiting his
 
 240 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 orders. It was a relief to his perpetual thoughts 
 of wrong and plans of vengeance. For such 
 corroding sorrow, work is the oldest evangel 
 preached. 
 
 Carrying care for others, he forgot himself. 
 His wearied body compelled him to sleep, and 
 sleep insensibly brought him something like 
 patience. He gives His beloved in their sleep, 
 gives them consolation by angelic influences 
 and hopeful dreams ; sends some messenger to 
 put right what they have put wrong; to influ 
 ence the hearts of those who have them in their 
 power in any way. He reproves their enemies ; 
 He strengthens their friends. He gives them 
 in their sleep the blessing they need ; for per 
 haps when we are waking, we hinder the gift 
 by the fearful complaining influences we call 
 around us. 
 
 And McNeil, though chafing at Colin's fail 
 ure, was compelled, at least for a while, to defer 
 his own efforts. The detectives and other 
 parties employed must have a reasonable time 
 given them for investigations, as the future 
 efforts of Grizelda's friends must depend upon 
 what they accomplished or failed to accomplish. 
 
 For some weeks their reports were hopeful.
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN'. 24! 
 
 They were finding new clews ; they were on the 
 line of success ; they had seen some one who 
 had seen Grizelda in some distant village. Thus 
 beguiled, McNeil and Colin saw the summer 
 slip away. The hotel had been opened in June, 
 and realized even more than the laird's hopes. 
 Never had there been such prosperity in Edder- 
 loch. The fishermen had a market at their 
 hands ; their toil was well repaid ; their wives 
 made knitted goods and sold them ; their chil 
 dren were gillies to the gentlemen on the hills, 
 or maids to the ladies in the hotel. Ready 
 money was plentiful with those who had thought 
 a shilling a large sum ; and contentment and an 
 air of happy employment were on every face. 
 
 The laird felt his own anxious, fearful grief 
 all the more bitterly. This was the very state 
 of things he had dreamed about and planned 
 and worked for; and though it had come, he 
 was not able to enjoy the fruition of his hopes. 
 His private griefs were in every success a dark 
 and drifting shadow. 
 
 But when the hotel closed for the summer, 
 
 he was determined to go himself to Rome. 
 
 Then even Doctor Brodick thought it would be 
 
 best to sanction this personal gratification. 
 
 16
 
 242 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 The journey might divert his mind into new 
 channels, and end a suspense which had lost all 
 elements of hope, and become worse than the 
 certainty of death. 
 
 But the journey was as fruitless of comfort 
 as Colin's worst fears. They found Grizelda's 
 disappearance nearly forgotten. Half a dozen 
 later tragedies had pushed it outside the sym 
 pathies and memories of men. Besides, sym 
 pathy is for the living, forgetfulness for the 
 dead. Whatever interest there was in an affair 
 that was nearly a year old went naturally to 
 Lord Maxwell. Such a polite, generous, hand 
 some young lord ! And how he had suffered ! 
 He had been carried to the seaside for the 
 summer, and had just returned to Rome. A 
 few people had seen him, so white, so weak, 
 so broken down with suffering ! And as for 
 the lady, was she not very peculiar? Mrs. 
 Pelham had a maid who had served Lady Max 
 well for a month, and she was sure Lady Max 
 well hated her husband. The next suggestion 
 followed easily, perhaps, indeed, she had an 
 other lover! This suspicion was natural and 
 not unreasonable to the Italian mind. It seemed 
 the most likely solution of the mystery. The
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN. 243 
 
 pretended robber was a lover; she had been 
 willingly abducted, and if found, would probably 
 refuse to return. 
 
 This view of the case was finally taken by 
 the police. If there had been a robbery, it 
 was impossible for the robbers to have escaped 
 their extraordinary vigilance. If there had 
 been a robbery, it was for the jewels, and these 
 had never been offered for sale. Jewellers in 
 all the great European cities had been advised 
 of their loss, the setting described, and the size 
 and colour of the stones. 
 
 The lady had her jewels yet, there was no 
 doubt. She was in hiding somewhere with her 
 lover. 
 
 And then Maxwell admitted with affected re 
 luctance that he had been jealous of her frequent 
 absences from her home. He said he had fol 
 lowed her to a certain church, and to the studio 
 of Signer Donata. 
 
 Italian husbands and wives shook their heads 
 at these admissions. To look at an altar pic 
 ture ! To take lessons from an aged painter ! 
 Was it conceivable that the wife of an English 
 noble, a young and pretty woman, could have 
 only such motives for conduct so unusual?
 
 244 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 All these suspicions came bluntly enough 
 from the emissaries employed by Colin. They 
 saw their occupation was at an end. They felt 
 a kind of anger at the lady who had not an 
 swered their trifling efforts. To save their own 
 reputation at the cost of hers was a satisfaction. 
 The McNeil heard them with doubt and anger. 
 He was resolved to see Maxwell, and he called 
 upon him without warning or ceremony. 
 
 But Maxwell had heard of his presence in 
 Rome. He was prepared for the visit. He met 
 his father-in-law with a burst of tears and a 
 clever imitation of extreme physical weakness 
 and suffering. He deplored, he protested, he 
 was on the point of fainting twice ; he acknowl 
 edged that he had sometimes pained Grizelda, 
 and entreated Grizelda's father to forgive him 
 for her. 
 
 He did not convince McNeil, but he disarmed 
 him for the time, and even compelled, at part 
 ing, a kind of conventional courtesy; and thus 
 from the injured father there was unwittingly 
 forced the only thing necessary for Maxwell's 
 triumphant social acquittal. He could now talk 
 of the McNeil's kind visit to him, of McNeil's 
 sympathy for his sufferings. He could sigh, and
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN. 24$ 
 
 intimate so much by his sighs and by his very 
 silences, that every one was sure that he had 
 been a grievously wronged husband, and that 
 Grizelda's father knew it. 
 
 But never for one moment did so shameful 
 a suspicion find a home in the laird's heart. 
 And Colin did not resent it with more impetu 
 ous anger than did Doctor Brodick. Wilful 
 and selfish Grizelda might have been, but wicked 
 and unwomanly never ! No one of the three 
 men would tolerate the thought. 
 
 " A year of change, and five years of rest to 
 follow." The old proverb found in McNeil 
 Castle a kind of verification. As time went on, 
 Grizelda's name was less and less spoken; but 
 none that had loved forgot her. There were 
 still days in which her father could not put 
 down the conviction that she was alive, and that 
 he should not die until he had seen her face 
 again ; for the soul believes as the body breathes. 
 It has no need to discuss its faith, or to exam 
 ine its proofs; it has the evidence of things 
 not seen. 
 
 He and Colin lived a very calm and methodi 
 cal life. The success of the hotel had, as fore 
 seen, necessitated more building. A pretty
 
 246 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 town was growing around it. The ancient fishing 
 village was all astir with the changes constantly 
 going on ; the sheep farms were enlarged, the 
 game strictly preserved. The two men were 
 growing rich in money, and still richer in 
 houses and lands. 
 
 In the spring there were always alterations 
 and additions to be made, planting to be done, 
 fishing-boats and nets to be looked over, the 
 hotel to be put in order, etc. In summer and 
 autumn the old silence of the hills and moors 
 was broken by troops of visitors, by wandering 
 artists, by sportsmen and pilgrims of all kinds. 
 In winter the laird and Colin went to Edinburgh, 
 and enjoyed a mild kind of social dissipation 
 among their friends and relatives, and in pursuit 
 of their particular hobbies. 
 
 Toward the close of the fifth year they began 
 to talk together in a calm, fitful way of Colin's 
 marriage. An heir to the great property they 
 were amassing was an important thing. And 
 the laird had noticed with satisfaction that Colin 
 had been more attentive than was his custom 
 to pretty Rosa McNeil, the daughter of one of 
 his own cousins. He permitted him to under 
 stand his satisfaction, but nothing definite was
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN: 247 
 
 said on the subject. Indeed, it was not one 
 which interested Colin much. He was a loyal 
 lad, and the loss of Helen and Grizelda had 
 given his heart a shock. The two fair girls who 
 had been so sweet a part of his life and love 
 how could he forget them? As a matter of 
 duty, he felt that he must marry soon ; but the 
 bridegrooms of duty are not impatient ones. 
 
 Early in the spring of the sixth year the two 
 men returned from Edinburgh to Edderloch, 
 after a very pleasant winter. They were talking 
 over the usual routine of spring business as they 
 were approaching their journey's end. The 
 gray turrets of the castle were in view; a smile 
 of content was on each face. Suddenly a car 
 riage, drawn by two high-mettled horses, passed 
 them with an impetuosity that compelled Mc 
 Neil's driver to make way for it. In the haste 
 the laird's older-fashioned and more cumbrous 
 vehicle was nearly over-thrown. 
 
 But, quick as the passing was, both McNeil 
 and Colin saw the handsome, insolent face of 
 Maxwell bending slightly forward as if the 
 contretemps highly amused him. McNeil was 
 furious. In the first outburst of his rage he 
 dismissed the trembling old coachman, who
 
 248 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 could offer no apology but the very pertinent 
 one, that he was feared of an accident and of 
 some danger to the McNeil. 
 
 " So you made the McNeil give the mid 
 dle of the road to the like of him ! My own 
 road, too ! David, I '11 never forgive you the 
 insult!" 
 
 But when Brodick came to the castle, they 
 heard news which put all other things out of 
 their minds. Maxwell was married again. He 
 had just brought his wife and child to Blair- 
 go wrie, He must, then, have some certain 
 knowledge of Grizelda's death, and how cruel 
 it was in him to have withheld it! 
 
 The laird was for Blairgowrie at once. Colin 
 was on his feet to accompany him. But Brod 
 ick opposed the hasty movement. 
 
 " Hurry is the Devil's servant," he cried ; 
 "sit down, both of you. Ere you win Blair 
 gowrie to-night, it will be ten o'clock. I 'm not 
 going with two passionate men this night, and 
 you are na to go without me ; you '11 be better 
 to have a witness to all that is said and done. 
 And you '11 get your thoughts together, and 
 your tempers together, and be more able to 
 speak like men with gentle blood in them, when
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN. 249 
 
 you have put twelve hours between Maxwell 
 and your first passion." 
 
 In the morning it was decided that only the 
 laird and his friend Brodick should call on Max 
 well. Colin had not the right of question ; he 
 was very hot-tempered ; he was particularly 
 hateful to Maxwell. If he voluntarily entered 
 his house, he put it in Maxwell's power to offer 
 him insults that would be intolerable, and per 
 haps demand such an instant satisfaction as 
 might put Colin in the power of the law. 
 
 Maxwell's treatment of McNeil was very dif 
 ferent from what it had been in Rome. He 
 kept the laird and the minister waiting until he 
 had finished his breakfast, and he took care to 
 prolong the meal to his utmost desire. As the 
 two angry men sat waiting, they could hear his 
 shrill, mocking voice and laughter keeping a kind 
 of accompaniment to a woman's variable tones. 
 
 When he came to them finally, he was lei 
 surely picking his teeth. His air was that of 
 insolent happiness and satisfied physical wants, 
 demanding of some intruder, " What the Devil 
 do you come here for?" McNeil and Brodick 
 looked almost god-like as they stood up with 
 sternly solemn faces to meet him.
 
 250 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 " I want to hear about my child, Lord Max 
 well. I presume you have some certain knowl 
 edge of her death." 
 
 " I must say, sir, that I think it very imperti 
 nent in you to bring such an offensive memory 
 into my happy home. Of course she is dead. 
 If you had paid as much attention to her fate 
 as to your hotel, you would not have had any 
 occasion to trouble me." 
 
 " I care nothing for your insults, Lord. Tell 
 me plainly of my daughter." 
 
 " Anatalja, a famous robber, suffered for his 
 crimes two years ago. In his last confession, 
 among a hundred other atrocities, he described 
 the carrying off of Lady Maxwell. The jewels 
 you gave her were the temptation. A thrust 
 or two from a stiletto made them Anatalja's 
 property. He was so good as to inform the 
 police where the remains might be found. If 
 you care about the information, your nephew 
 is well acquainted with the Roman detectives; 
 they will doubtless oblige him with the neces 
 sary instructions." 
 
 " Wretch ! Double-dyed wretch ! To leave 
 your wife without Christian burial ! Give me 
 now the directions ! "
 
 MAXWELL MARRIES AGAIN: 2$ I 
 
 " I really did not trouble myself with them." 
 
 " McNeil! McNeil! " and Brodick strode be 
 tween the outraged father and his tormentor. 
 Then turning to Maxwell he cried out, " Lord 
 Maxwell, you are a hound, and you shall die 
 like a hound, and none that love you shall be 
 near you ! Come, Laird ! Come, my ain dear 
 friend ! You have suffered a great wrong, but 
 this very wrong is the beginning of the righting. 
 I am speaking beyond myself now, McNeil, but 
 I know I am speaking the truth ! and God is 
 aboon the De'il." And so, with short, emphatic 
 sentences, he strengthened the distracted father 
 until he had led him beyond the sight of 
 Blairgowrie. 
 
 Then he encouraged him to weep and lament. 
 Then he joined in his anger and indorsed his 
 suspicions, and thus together they returned to 
 the castle. Nothing of all that had been said 
 was kept from Colin, and within an hour the 
 young man was on the road to Rome. At 
 least a burial among her kindred could be given 
 to the unfortunate child of McNeil. Colin's 
 dark face was on fire with anger and hatred. 
 
 " I will find him out, dear uncle, if I go to 
 the gates of hell for the information ! "
 
 252 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 " Go to the gates of heaven, my lad ; com 
 mit your way to God and His angels, and they 
 will direct your steps." 
 
 They were the minister's last words as he 
 held Colin's hand in adieu. A tight grip an 
 swered them, but he looked beyond the minister 
 to where the outraged and bereaved father stood 
 trembling with rage and sorrow ; and the look 
 was one the two men understood, a life for 
 a life.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 
 
 The heart is its own fate. 
 
 There are points from which we can command our life : 
 when the soul sweeps the future like a glass, and coming 
 things, full-freighted with our fate, jut out dark on the offing 
 of the mind. 
 
 Her soul dilated at the sound of doors 
 
 That opened to the future. 
 
 T TPON the whole, the interview had been a 
 U pleasant one to Lord Maxwell. He re 
 hearsed it, with sundry additions, to his wife 
 as they sat in the spring sunshine laughing over 
 it. For the statements made to McNeil were 
 substantially true, and had been so accepted 
 by every one in Rome; but beyond this con 
 fession of Anatalja's there was a circumstance 
 known only to Maxwell. The confession was 
 in fact dictated by Maxwell. He had found 
 that Julia's family had positively objected to 
 a marriage between them until there was a cer 
 tainty of Grizelda's death ; and though he had
 
 254 TIIE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 no doubt of it himself, he could not bring Pcppo 
 to confirm his convictions. 
 
 One day he heard casually of the capture of 
 Anatalja and his condemnation. " Now that 
 hope is over he will make a confession," said 
 a Roman gentleman present; "they all do." 
 These words set everything clear to Lord Max 
 well. He easily procured an interview with the 
 criminal. He found that it was still easier to 
 induce him to add Grizelda's abduction and 
 murder to the list of crimes in his confession. 
 The man had the miserable vanity of his class, 
 he desired his list to be a long one, the long 
 est of his time ; and besides, he was to get fifty 
 pounds for his complaisance. Fifty pounds 
 would buy a gold necklace for his mistress, and 
 say some masses for his own soul. He looked 
 on Maxwell's offer as a special favour of his 
 patron saint. 
 
 This printed confession embodied the state 
 ment Maxwell made to McNeil. It was consid 
 ered by every one satisfactory as to the fate of 
 Lady Maxwell; and after it the preparations 
 for Lord Maxwell's second marriage, with Miss 
 Casselis, went forward with the approbation of 
 all concerned.
 
 COLIN AND CRIZELDA. 255 
 
 But plausible as the explanation of the mys 
 tery seemed, it was a lie from the beginning. 
 Grizelda was living. Grizelda was in Rome; 
 and she read with a mournful smile the assur 
 ance of her murder. It cut her still further off 
 from the dead past, and she was glad to think 
 that so long a time had gone by ere her father 
 and Colin would have the certainty of her death. 
 The sting of it was over. Who would weep 
 again for what they must believe was now a 
 handful of dust? 
 
 Yet as she sat with the rudely printed confes 
 sion in her hand she was a woman of splendid 
 beauty. Between her and the cold, sorrowful 
 wife whom Peppo had taken without a shadow 
 of resistance from her husband's care, there was 
 the difference of the pallid dawn and the glori 
 ous noonday. 
 
 She did not faint that night in Peppo's arms 
 as Maxwell supposed. On the contrary, she 
 gathered strength with every step he carried 
 her; and within a hundred yards from the 
 road she was met by Caterina, who took her 
 into charge with pitying words and tears. 
 
 Grizelda wrapped her fur mantle around her, 
 for there was no time for a change of costume,
 
 256 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 and the two women silently and swiftly rode 
 southward until after the day had broken. 
 Then, in a lonely wood, Grizelda threw off the 
 white robe stained with such sad memories; it 
 was dropped into a hollow tree, and Caterina 
 dressed her in a peasant's costume. She would 
 have given her money and jewels to Caterina, 
 but the woman would not touch them. 
 
 "Your life for my life," she answered; "all 
 else is too little payment." 
 
 It was the evening of the second day when 
 they stopped at the door of a cottage. They 
 were in a secluded valley, and the cottage was 
 surrounded by a vineyard. 
 
 " It is your own, my lady," said Caterina. 
 " Peppo was born here. He knows every one 
 within fifty miles. You are as safe as if you 
 were in England." 
 
 The assurance was very welcome. Grizelda 
 was greatly fatigued ; the fear of being retaken 
 had alone kept her in the saddle during the 
 last twelve hours. She ate and slept, and for 
 three days heeded not her troubles. In sleep 
 she sank below their tide; awake, she was 
 yet too mentally exhausted to consider her 
 situation.
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 257 
 
 But in this interregnum of reason she really 
 seemed to develop some new mental quality. 
 Clearness of vision, intensity of will were the 
 dominant qualities of the Grizelda who awoke 
 to her new life. She was alone with Caterina. 
 All was infinite peace and beauty around her. 
 She had a sense of freedom and sympathy; 
 that, for a short time, sufficed for happiness. 
 
 Consideration came with the ability to con 
 sider. " What must I do? " She asked herself 
 this question perpetually. The first answer was 
 naturally, " Go home to my father." But no 
 sooner was the answer given than her whole 
 nature denied and opposed it. To be robbed 
 and murdered was a calamity, but it was not a 
 crime; but if she went back to her father, he 
 would be compelled to defend her good name 
 by prosecuting Lord Maxwell, or she must keep 
 silence regarding her great wrong, and suffer 
 the blame and scorn usually given to slighted 
 wives. 
 
 She imagined the shame and trouble she 
 would bring upon all the family of the McNeils ; 
 their inquiries, their advices, possibly their 
 reproaches. She was only a woman out of 
 favour with fortune; who would believe her 
 17
 
 258 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 story? And she never doubted, also, that Max 
 well's cunning and wealth would find plenty of 
 contrary evidence. They might even doubt 
 her honour and purity. But they could not 
 slander a spirit. Always she came to the same 
 conclusion : " I cannot go home to trouble all 
 who love me. It is better they mourn me as 
 dead than that they should come to regard me 
 as a trial and a shame." 
 
 There was also a very important event to be 
 considered in all Grizelda's plans. When the 
 spring came, she would, if God had so much 
 mercy upon her, have a child. Here she could 
 rest in peace with Caterina until its birth. If 
 Helen had been alive, she would certainly have 
 gone to her ; but she dreaded the lonely castle, 
 into which of necessity she must take with her 
 an instant discussion of her wrongs. 
 
 "Till my baby comes; till I am strong to feel 
 and to labour, I will be quiet. I will trust to 
 Caterina." This resolution was the only one 
 she found herself able to accept. It precisely 
 fitted her physical and mental temper. She 
 had the consciousness within herself that she 
 was doing right. 
 
 The time passed like a peaceful dream. She
 
 COLIN AND GR1ZELDA. 259 
 
 let the new hope fill her life. Caterina went 
 into the nearest towns and bought her all she 
 needed, and she sat sewing prayers and hopes 
 into the little garments she was preparing. She 
 put the past, with all its loves and sorrows, 
 resolutely behind her. 
 
 The child was born at the close of April. It 
 was a fine boy, with all the physical traits of 
 the McNeils; a rosy, healthy, laughing baby, 
 that never by any trick of feature or contradic 
 tion of temper reminded her of its father. A 
 wonderful baby it was to the two women ; and 
 somehow the time slipped on until the hot 
 season was upon them, and it was unsafe to 
 move into the city. 
 
 For back to Rome Grizelda had determined 
 to go. That was the one place that no mortal 
 would seek her in. And she had her own plan 
 for living there. " Indeed," she said to Caterina, 
 " it is the brave who are not discovered. If I 
 remain here, some passing traveller will stop and 
 recognize me." 
 
 It was the beginning of winter when she en 
 tered Rome again. The shadows of the night 
 were darkening the streets; every one was 
 weary with the day, and hastening to his home.
 
 26b THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 Grizelda was slightly veiled, and her figure 
 somewhat disguised in a loose cloak. Caterina 
 carried the babe and walked by her side. 
 People jostled them on the Corso, but no one 
 was attracted by their appearance. 
 
 Grizelda led the way to the lofty old palace 
 in which Signor Donata resided. She knew 
 that his living-rooms were above his studio, and 
 she went directly to them. The porter at the 
 door gave her some anxiety; but fortunately 
 he had been changed, and the new one looked 
 carelessly at her. 
 
 She knocked sharply at the door of the Sig- 
 nor's apartments, and Signora Donata herself 
 answered the summons. She thought it had 
 been her husband's signal, and was amazed to 
 see the two women and the babe. But it only 
 needed a whispered sentence from Grizelda 
 to make the white-haired old lady exclaim 
 pitifully, 
 
 " Holy Mother ! Come in, my poor little 
 one! And is this thy dear babe? And thy 
 friend?" 
 
 That night Grizelda opened her heart to the 
 Donatas. They thought it their duty, first, to 
 urge on her a return to her people ; but finding
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 26 1 
 
 Grizelda immovable on that subject, they en 
 tered with all their kindly hearts into her plans 
 for her future. These were simple enough with 
 the Donatas' help. 
 
 Above their own floor there was another, a 
 great bare garret with a flat roof, whose height 
 overtopped all the surrounding buildings. Gri 
 zelda resolved to furnish this with some degree 
 of luxury, and there, with Caterina and Peppo, 
 make her home. The roof would give her air 
 and exercise. Caterina would attend to her 
 wants and her baby; Peppo would prevent 
 impertinent curiosity; and with the signer's 
 help, Grizelda purposed to pursue art, so that 
 when her money was gone she would have a 
 trustworthy resource. 
 
 In time this arrangement was carried out 
 very perfectly. Unknown to all the world below 
 her, Grizelda made there a beautiful home. 
 Her child and her painting absorbed her; and 
 within three years, her pretty pictures had a 
 reputation, and a very satisfactory value. In 
 the main, she was at least content. Life was 
 too strong and vivid within her for happiness 
 under such curtailments; but contentment is a 
 measure sufficient for the majority of our days.
 
 262 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 The little household went on with a placid 
 monotony. Caterina served an early breakfast, 
 and then dressed the child and took him with 
 her to make such purchases as were needed; 
 between her kitchen and his mother's studio, 
 he passed the rest of the day, or he went upon 
 the roof with his picture-book and dreamed far 
 finer stories than any he read. It was fortunate 
 for him that he constantly grew more into the 
 resemblance of his mother's family. If he had 
 been like his father! Grizelda often shivered 
 at the thought ; and when it came, she answered 
 it with a prayer of gratitude that from such a 
 strait of her mother-love she had been spared. 
 
 All day Grizelda painted. Her ability was 
 not of the highest order, but she worked with 
 that patience which is almost genius. Her 
 touch was so light, and her colouring so deli 
 cate, that her pictures attracted that very large 
 class who are always more satisfied with pains 
 taking work than with the crude efforts of the 
 most original genius. 
 
 Still, there were days which even Roman 
 sunshine and fortunate work could not brighten; 
 days in which her life seemed altogether wrong 
 and out of joint. Little domestic troubles not
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 263 
 
 to be avoided in any home found her out. Cate- 
 rina was not always up to her highest level. 
 Peppo wounded her, or kept her in anxiety, 
 and then Caterina felt that Grizelda's limitations 
 also limited her. 
 
 Peppo was, indeed, the black sheep of the 
 small home. He was always treading upon 
 that dangerously narrow line dividing impru 
 dence from crime. For Peppo liked money, 
 and yet hated any prosaic way of getting money. 
 He would gamble or steal, he would run any 
 risk short of life and death for it ; and therefore 
 if he were longer away than usual, Caterina was 
 a restless and unhappy woman to live with. 
 
 When these small trials came, they always 
 set Grizelda thinking. She had then hours of 
 eager dissatisfaction which made her throw 
 down her brushes and walk rapidly the long 
 stretch of her softly carpeted room. Never had 
 she been so beautiful ; and she knew the fact. 
 A longing for the active joys and sorrows of 
 life came over her like a passion. 
 
 To her soul she complained: "This colour 
 less, tranquil existence whose very name is 
 ' forgetfulness ' gives me only the constant 
 anguish of patience." And though her soul
 
 264 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNElL. 
 
 whispered back that she had far more than she 
 had asked for when she cast herself alone upon 
 God's care, that she was secure and peaceful 
 in the present life, and had the hopes of the 
 future in reserve, she almost angrily denied the 
 consolation. 
 
 " I may, indeed, be comforted of God when 
 I am dead, but now now? I am hungry for 
 the joys He has forbidden me." 
 
 Your own fault, alas ! your own fault, 
 Grizelda. 
 
 These dissatisfactions naturally grew with 
 time ; they became stronger and more frequent. 
 For if Grizelda were dreaming of a wider life, 
 Caterina also had longings for a cottage of her 
 own, where she would be absolute mistress of 
 her time and work, and into which the neigh 
 bours would come and go with the village 
 gossip. 
 
 Never had these human cravings been so 
 decided in each heart as during that very 
 springtime when Lord Maxwell brought his 
 second bride to Blairgowrie. While Colin was 
 hastening to Rome to secure, if still possible, 
 the remains of his cousin, and carry them back 
 to share the resting-place of her sister, Grizelda
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 265 
 
 was herself unable to sleep by night or work 
 by day for the passionate longing to see her 
 home which possessed her. 
 
 One plan after another was formed and aban 
 doned. She blamed herself for evading at the 
 first the struggle which she must now enter with 
 all the disadvantages which lapse of time entails 
 on the complainant in any case. 
 
 When she had been mourned and forgotten, 
 it would be twice as hard for her friends to 
 espouse her cause. Perhaps they might even 
 feel the righting of Lady Maxwell to be a great 
 wrong to the McNeils. Colin had possibly 
 made other ties. There might be children in 
 McNeil Castle, and her child might not be wel 
 come among them. If she returned home, and 
 said, " I am here," would her friends be de 
 lighted or embarrassed? Would there be any 
 place for her? 
 
 Such thoughts occupied her one morning so 
 exclusively that she was obliged to give her 
 mind up to them. There was an air of irrita 
 bility in the home that fitted them. Little 
 Archibald felt the influence. He did not ven 
 ture from his mother's room, but lay curled up 
 on a sofa. His childish face, with its wistful,
 
 266 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 pathetic look, wounded her like a sword. She 
 could bear the shadow on her own life; but 
 when it darkened the boy's, she felt that she 
 must carry him into the sunshine. 
 
 There was a knock at the door. She knew 
 that it was Signor Donata's knock, and she was 
 annoyed at the intrusion, just then the sale of 
 pictures did not interest her. But as soon as 
 he entered she saw that his face had not its 
 usual expression. She sent the child to the 
 roof, and asked, 
 
 " Is there anything strange, Signor? " 
 
 " I will tell you, Milady. This morning that 
 beautiful Miss Ferrars was to come to my studio 
 at eleven o'clock. She had promised me a sit 
 ting for her likeness. But it is at ten she comes, 
 and says, ' Pray, Signor, excuse me to-day. 
 There is to be a great service at the English 
 church over the remains of that poor Lady 
 Maxwell who was murdered nearly six years 
 ago, and every one will be there.' " 
 
 "What said you to her? " 
 
 " I said, ' It is late for Lord Maxwell to per 
 form the rite which he ought to have observed 
 immediately after Anatalja's confession ; ' and she 
 answered, ' Oh, indeed, the wretch has nothing
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 267 
 
 to do with the service. It is the lady's cousin 
 from Scotland, the handsomest of men, I assure 
 you. We saw him yesterday walking bare 
 headed before the coffin, as it was carried into 
 the church.' Milady, pardon me, but indeed 
 this seclusion of yours goes too far." 
 
 " Signer, the same thought is in my own 
 heart. Will you take a letter to my cousin 
 Colin for me? " 
 
 " I will go as soon as you have written it." 
 She sat down at her desk, and on a sheet of 
 paper drew rapidly in one corner a view of Mc 
 Neil Castle. Below it she wrote in her own 
 free, flowing hand, 
 
 The bearer of this will bring Mr. Colin McNeil to 
 one who will give him all information regarding his 
 cousin Grizelda. 
 
 Colin opened the letter with a haughty in 
 difference ; but his dark, ruddy face was an in 
 teresting study to the artist, and he watched 
 keenly for the transformation he expected. It 
 came instantaneously. Wonder, amazement, 
 hope, impatience passed like thoughts across it. 
 
 " Sir," he said, " I was less than civil to you. 
 I have had so many useless and curious intru-
 
 268 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNElL. 
 
 sions. Pardon me. This moment I am at your 
 service." 
 
 Donata frankly took the hand offered, and 
 the two men, without delay, went out together. 
 Ten minutes' walk brought them to Donata's 
 residence. At his own door he stopped and 
 said, 
 
 " Such help as I could give is now ended. 
 You will find the writer of the letter on the next 
 floor." 
 
 Perhaps Donata was a little offended at Colin's 
 reticence and undemonstrative manner. But he 
 quickly began to make excuses. 
 
 " The man is proud as Lucifer ; he would 
 die rather than show he had a feeling. I dare 
 say he will walk up to his cousin as if he had 
 seen her yesterday, and say, ' Good morning, 
 Grizelda ; I hope you are quite well.' " 
 
 Colin's knock was expected by Grizelda ; her 
 ears had ached for it. She stood up, flushed 
 and trembling, to meet the fate she had called 
 to her. Caterina opened the door. No gentle 
 man but Donata had ever called there, and a 
 sudden presentiment, a recognition, almost 
 spoke for her. She pointed to Grizelda's 
 apartment.
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 269 
 
 " My mistress is present." 
 
 He made no answer and no delay. In a mo 
 ment he stood in Grizelda's presence. She 
 gave a sharp cry; he opened his arms, and 
 instantaneously he held her safely within them. 
 The long tension snapped with tears, Grizelda 
 felt them dropping upon her face as he kissed 
 her, and tears with Colin meant the very ex 
 tremity of emotion. Only for Helen's death and 
 Grizelda's recovery had he ever shed them. 
 
 His coming into the house changed every 
 thing in it. Caterina felt the influence imme 
 diately. She knew that the end was near, and 
 she met it with congratulations and smiles. 
 She gave the household an air of festival. She 
 sympathized with all her heart in the joy of the 
 woman who had been lost and was found 
 again. 
 
 Not until this day had Grizelda heard of Lord 
 Maxwell's second marriage. Whatever was 
 undecided in her plans, it decided; no one 
 should wrong her child. To delay her own 
 vindication was now to cloud his birth and im 
 peril his inheritance. Colin's clear mind took 
 in at once all that was to be done, and Grizelda 
 put herself entirely in his hands.
 
 2/O THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 Secrecy was still the first necessity, and there 
 fore it was thought best to allow the funeral 
 rites to proceed. 
 
 " Though we know not whom we honour, 
 blessed is the man who is merciful to the dead," 
 said Colin, quoting the pious proverb of his 
 race. But he could not help recalling the poor 
 handful of shrouded dust, and comparing it 
 with Grizelda sitting at his side, instinct with 
 life and crowned with beauty. 
 
 The Donatas and Caterina were speedily 
 taken into the plan for retribution. They were 
 indeed an important part of it. On their testi 
 mony all depended, if Maxwell was disposed to 
 make any effort to fight the Nemesis unrelent 
 ingly advancing. 
 
 Peppo was the one uncertain factor. Colin 
 feared that his support would be given to the 
 highest bidder ; but while this fear was on his 
 tongue, Peppo unexpectedly came home. His 
 dark, handsome face gleamed with a wicked 
 intelligence as soon as he saw the direction in 
 which events were tending. His hatred of Max 
 well flamed up with all the intensity of a sub 
 dued force. 
 
 Would he go to Scotland to confound him?
 
 COLIN AND GRIZELDA. 271 
 
 He would go to the end of the earth for such a 
 delightful object. How soon could he go? If 
 Milord McNeil could settle the terms, he could 
 be ready in an hour. 
 
 He pointed out with considerable pride that 
 he had been faithful to Grizelda for six years, 
 he and Caterina; that her famous jewels had 
 been at his fingers' ends during the whole time, 
 and his honour had been invincible to the 
 temptation. 
 
 And Colin, though a prudent man in money 
 matters, forgot prudence in this case. He made 
 Peppo and Caterina such a stupendously gener 
 ous offer that they were almost beside them 
 selves with joy. The farm and vineyard, the 
 fine stone houses with porticos, which had 
 been Peppo's most extravagant dream, were a 
 certainty ; for the money was to be deposited 
 for him in a Roman bank ere he left for Scot 
 land, and three months after date he could 
 draw it. 
 
 " How excellent a thing it is to be kind to 
 the unfortunate," he said to Caterina, as they 
 discussed their prospects by the kitchen hearth. 
 " If I had not had a great soul, Caterina, reflect 
 how much we should have lost ! But I had pity
 
 2/2 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 upon milady; I was the soul of honour about 
 those jewels ; consequently, I could make a good 
 bargain. And when I think of that sneering 
 wolf in man's clothing I am happy, Caterina. I 
 am going to have a little pleasure. The brute 
 tried to steal the jewels, ah, I have not for 
 given him." 
 
 Caterina heard all this self-applause with that 
 sublime patience and restraint good wives learn. 
 She never reminded him of her own entreaties 
 on Grizelda's behalf, never alluded to the fact 
 that she had often felt compelled to put the 
 jewels where they could not be at his fingers' 
 ends ; she permitted him to claim with com 
 plaisance all the good qualities he had no right 
 to, unless, indeed, a husband may rightfully 
 claim a wife's virtues as well as her services. 
 
 In three days they were on the road to Scot 
 land. Colin had Grizelda and her child in his 
 loving care ; Peppo, in all the splendour of a new 
 travelling-suit, protected Caterina. The Dona- 
 tas were to follow if their testimony was re 
 quired, but Colin had come to regard Peppo's 
 opinion of Maxwell as a definitely true one. 
 
 " He will go to the feet, Milord McNeil, he 
 will go to the feet, and you will kick him away."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 
 
 Are thy dearest still 
 
 With thee on earth ? do their sweet voices fill 
 The house with singing? Let the fairest room 
 Be for the Master's use, and from His shrine 
 Blessing and peace shall rest on thee and thine. 
 
 COLIN'S departure for Rome left the laird 
 lonely indeed. Brodick's work was now 
 all that his hands and heart could manage, and 
 it was so methodically arranged that almost 
 every hour had its own claim. Generally, how 
 ever, at evening, he might be seen going toward 
 the castle to talk awhile with his life-long friend. 
 But McNeil had come to a point at which anger 
 and grief had passed silence. If Colin brought 
 back any remains of his poor Grizelda, he was 
 determined to call all the neighbourhood to 
 gether to her burial, and tell the gathered lairds 
 at her grave-side the story of her wretched 
 married life and her tragic death. He had 
 other plans of vengeance, all alike foolish, ancj 
 18
 
 2/4 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 out of touch with the changed feelings which 
 his own improvements had mainly induced ; 
 for he forgot that in bringing the vivid life of 
 the nineteenth century into the quiet hills, he 
 had brought with it the selfish, time-serving, 
 politic spirit which is part and parcel of it. 
 
 He said to himself: " When my grandfather 
 fell out with Black McAllister, every laird, far 
 and near, stood shoulder to shoulder with Mc 
 Neil. They would have drawn their dirks in 
 his quarrel as if it was their own; and they 
 made McAllister's life that miserable that he 
 was glad enough to get out of their ken. His 
 wrongs were only money wrongs, but mine ! 
 Every father's heart must beat with mine ! " 
 
 McNeil was a few years too late to make such 
 a prediction. Even ten years previously he 
 might have justifiably trusted in it, and found 
 his trust not in vain ; but he had himself called 
 unto him a new era. Men insensibly change 
 with the circumstances around them; the stir 
 or stillness of the atmosphere they breathe even 
 has its effect. Some of the neighbouring gentry 
 felt, in a large measure, all the jealousy Max 
 well had expressed. They wondered they had 
 not thought of the laird's plans ; they came in
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 2/5 
 
 time to wonder if they had not been really the 
 first to think of them, and to regard McNeil as 
 a man who had taken advantage, because he 
 had aye the ready money laying for any scheme. 
 Greenlees " remembered speaking of a lobster 
 fishery;" Tallisker had often thought of an 
 hotel, and he had no doubt he had spoken the 
 thought " when the whiskey was aboon the wit." 
 Other families had been seriously offended 
 by Colin's indifference to their pretty daughters. 
 " No one but a McNeil is good enough for the 
 proud lad," was said with a jocularity which had 
 much real bitterness in it. A large number, 
 in any open quarrel between Maxwell and Mc 
 Neil, would side with Maxwell from the simple 
 consideration that McNeil lived a selfishly lonely 
 life in his old castle, intent only on amassing 
 money and advancing his many new schemes ; 
 while Lord Maxwell had just brought home a 
 stylish young bride, who had already given 
 promises of balls and hunts and gayeties of 
 all kinds. What did this large class care that 
 McNeil's lobster fleet had given bread to 
 many otherwise starving people? Maxwell had 
 brought with him a lovely yacht, and pleasure 
 sails to lona and Oban were looked forward to.
 
 2/6 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 Though McNeil never took these facts into 
 consideration, Brodick did. He foresaw that 
 any public appeal for sympathy would be coldly 
 and silently received. He begged the laird to 
 abandon an idea which had outlived the age in 
 which it would have raised a passionate parti 
 sanship. So perhaps these weeks of Colin's 
 last absence were the hardest that McNeil had 
 ever known. Maxwell troubled him wherever 
 he turned. If he went to the hotel, Maxwell's 
 fine carriage was standing before the door ; and 
 Maxwell was lounging about the bar, giving 
 orders with the air of a proprietor. 
 
 He found him talking familiarly with his 
 fishers and stone-masons. In spite of all that 
 McNeil could say, the landlord of the McNeil 
 hotel was on the most obsequiously familiar 
 terms with him. Everywhere he turned, Max 
 well's face or words, his carriage, his horses, or 
 his yacht troubled him, troubled him mainly 
 because they were a direct pleasure to nearly 
 every one but himself. 
 
 Outwardly, the laird made little sign. Only 
 once did he suffer his private feelings to in 
 fluence his sense of justice. Two of his fishers 
 were seen by him in a state of pleased excite-
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 2// 
 
 ment over Maxwell's chat with them. He 
 could hear their laughter, and he suspected 
 that Maxwell had been making ridicule of him, 
 and that they were rehearsing the fun. He 
 strode impetuously to them. 
 
 " Sandy Locke and James Begg, you can 
 drop your nets and leave my boats instanter. 
 I '11 pay you your wage, and then you '11 be 
 free to serve the man you like best." 
 
 He knew he had made a mistake the moment 
 he had spoken; but for nothing would he re 
 tract the words, and the men were sure of it. 
 They took their money sullenly, and went to 
 Maxwell, who turned their heads and set their 
 tongues loose at both ends by his munificent 
 reparation of McNeil's wrong. 
 
 " You should not have put a weapon in Max 
 well's hand, McNeil," said Brodick. 
 
 " I would rather do that, Brodick, and know 
 by the act that I have some natural feeling left; 
 and I am not going to settle my feelings by 
 square and rule, so you need not advise it. If 
 I am pleased, I '11 say so ; if I am hurt, I '11 
 show it." 
 
 But in days so haunted and vexed by petty 
 personal worries, it was impossible for McNeil
 
 2/8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 to gather any mental strength. The fret and 
 jar made his life's wheels move heavily. He 
 was unhappy ; and when he tried to analyze the 
 sources of his discomfort, his temper suffered, 
 and his magnanimity failed him from the very 
 insignificance of his grievances. 
 
 One night, in a pitiful effort to make Brodick 
 understand his trouble, and his shame at it, he 
 fairly broke down, and covered his eyes with 
 his large hands to hide the tears that amazed 
 himself as much as if they had been a relief 
 unknown before. 
 
 Brodick let him weep. He took no notice of 
 an occurrence so sudden and surprising. These 
 ancient tears, whose source lay so far back, 
 would soften and harmonize and temper the 
 angry man, would give relief to more thoughts 
 than he knew of; for the small cares that con 
 tract our brows and drive away our smiles are 
 precisely those which find no expression in 
 tears, yet for which tears are often the best 
 remedy. 
 
 But even in McNeil's most confidential talks 
 with his friend, there was one subject he never 
 named; the little slip of paper that Helen had 
 given him. There it lay, a dead hope, a dead
 
 THE GIFT OF CLADA T ESS. 2/9 
 
 trust, in the innermost room of his soul, in the 
 innermost drawer of his desk. One night as 
 he sat by the few sticks blazing on his lonely 
 hearth, he was startled by a remembrance of 
 it, so sudden and imperative that he trembled 
 through all the depths of his spiritual nature. 
 
 Was it for this that God was striving with 
 him, that he had lost Grizelda, that his enemy 
 was permitted to triumph over him in every 
 way? Was it this silent money in its hiding- 
 place which was calling sorrow and humiliation 
 unto him? He went to his bed full of such 
 thoughts. 
 
 Oh, mystery of life ! From what depths pro 
 ceed thy comforts and thy lessons ! At early 
 dawn he awoke from a deep sleep in an inde 
 scribable awe. In a vision of the night he had 
 visited that piteous home which Memory builds, 
 and where only in sleep we can walk. Whom 
 had he seen there ? What message had he re 
 ceived? These things he never told. 
 
 But directly after breakfast he walked down 
 to the manse. There had been a good brush 
 of rain in the night, and everything had that 
 damp freshness which is so delightful when 
 there is sunshine and wind with it. The sea
 
 280 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 was frilled and capped and a little rough. The 
 rocks echoed with bouncing water as wave 
 rolled after wave in torrent rapture. 
 
 He stood still a moment to watch them, or 
 rather to watch the sea-pyots in their dainty 
 black and white plumage breasting themselves 
 as quietly on the tossing water as a hen sits on 
 her nest. 
 
 The sight calmed him, and uplifted him also. 
 He went into Brodick's presence ready to ask 
 his counsel, but also ready to defend his own 
 opinions. He told the minister of Helen's be 
 quest; he went over the arguments which had 
 hitherto quieted his conscience. He anxiously 
 watched their effect on Brodick's face. He 
 had a strong hope that he might think them 
 reasonable. 
 
 But the table at which Brodick sat was not 
 more undemonstrative than his face. For once 
 he controlled himself absolutely until McNeil 
 had fully finished his statement; then he 
 said, 
 
 " I will take no responsibility in this matter, 
 McNeil. It is between you and your con 
 science. If you give it, give it without grudging. 
 Give it cheerfully. God loves a cheerful giver."
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 28 1 
 
 " I thought you would tell me what to do." 
 
 " If you really want to know, shut yourself 
 in your own room and think it out." 
 
 " It is a big sum, Brodick." 
 
 " It is ; but maybe with the stupendous 
 sacrifice of the Cross in your mind it will not 
 look so big." 
 
 He went away sorrowful; and his first at 
 tempt to think out the subject was not in the 
 line Brodick indicated. Helen had said, " Give 
 the money to God's poor." He sought for an 
 excuse in the very wording of the will. 
 
 God could take care of His own poor. He 
 was not needing his help. And as for the 
 Devil's poor, the drunkards and wasters and 
 idlers, what justice would there be in help 
 ing them? 
 
 To this mood succeeded one of angry resis 
 tance. He would not be forced to give, at any 
 rate. Not for fear, not for suffering of any kind, 
 would he submit to what he bluntly called a 
 superstition. If God saw well to afflict him, 
 He was a just Judge, not one to be bought with 
 a few thousand pounds. 
 
 When Brodick came up to the castle at night, 
 he glanced at the laird with a quick, anxious
 
 282 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 curiosity. McNeil caught the glance, and an 
 swered it fretfully: 
 
 " No ; I have not got any satisfaction from 
 my session with myself, Brodick. I am doubt 
 ing if there is a need of any special word. I 
 can't feel as if I was doing wrong, sir." 
 
 " I was thinking after you left, McNeil, of the 
 man who hid his talent in a napkin. Your desk 
 drawer is very like it." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, Brodick. I have been 
 using the siller to good purpose all along. Part 
 of it is in the fishing-boats, and part in the new 
 town, and the rest just here and there." 
 
 " And you dinna feel as if you were trading 
 with the Lord's money for your own proper 
 advantage ? " 
 
 " All the gold in the earth is the Lord's, for 
 that matter. He gives and He takes. I 'm not 
 settled in my mind at all ; I will wait and see 
 what Colin says. He has both wisdom and 
 some enthusiasm left ; and he will look at both 
 sides and hold the balance even. He will be 
 here, I hope, I surely hope, in four days." 
 
 " Yet I would give him a week, Laird." 
 
 Brodick spoke slowly, and his eyes dropped. 
 The laird had nothing more to say; he sat
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 283 
 
 silent, stooping forward with his hands out 
 stretched to the blaze. Now and then he fur 
 tively glanced at Brodick, who appeared to be 
 lost in some melancholy meditation. 
 
 Suddenly there was the sound of wheels, a 
 murmur of voices in the distance ; and as both 
 men rose inquiringly to their feet, Colin opened 
 the door. 
 
 They looked at him, speechless with woqder. 
 His face was shining with the joy behind it; 
 he walked, he spoke with the air of a man who 
 brings glad tidings, almost too glad to be borne. 
 He gave his hand to Brodick, but he put his 
 arm around his uncle's neck and kissed him. 
 It was a momentary touch of rapture, too great 
 to last longer than a moment; but in it both 
 McNeil and Brodick had been prepared for the 
 amazing happiness at hand. 
 
 "Grizelda?" 
 
 It was all the father could ask. 
 
 " Grizelda is found. She is well. She is here. 
 Grizelda ! " 
 
 Then through the open door came a vision 
 that might have come from heaven, Grizelda 
 and her child. The laird gave a loud cry. He 
 would have fallen but for Colin's arms. He
 
 284 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 would have fallen but that the next moment he 
 felt Grizelda's kisses on his lips ; her tears were 
 washing his face, her voice calling him back to 
 the full sensation of his blessed experience. 
 
 He sat down soon, but he kept her on his 
 knee, and laid her cheek against his. He could 
 say nothing but her name. Questions, conver 
 sation were as yet quite impossible to him. 
 But, oh, when conversation came, when he 
 heard the whole story, when he had talked with 
 Peppo and Caterina, what words were there for 
 his grief, his indignation, his delight over the 
 retribution he clasped in his hand. 
 
 And what language can describe that joyful 
 night ! The hurried meal, in which every 
 luxury within reach was put upon the table, 
 the wild excitement of the servants, the rapture 
 of the father,- tbe beaming face of the minister 
 as he tried to quiet the happy disturbance ! 
 Never in McNeil's memory of the past, never 
 in all the days to come, would there be greater 
 joy in McNeil Castle or greater reason for it. 
 
 Intentionally Colin had timed their arrival 
 after dark. Until their own plans with regard 
 to Maxwell were complete, it was better, it was 
 indeed a necessity, to keep Grizelda's arrival
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 285 
 
 unknown. Peppo had first thought of this pre 
 caution, and it commended itself to every one 
 concerned. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as McNeil could com 
 mand himself, the exigency was explained to 
 him. He saw it at once. He called every 
 servant in the place, men and women, into his 
 presence. They were all McNeils, and he re 
 minded them of it. 
 
 " Rejoice with me," he said, as he went from 
 one to another and gave them his hands, 
 " rejoice with me. My daughter was lost, is 
 found. My daughter was dead and is alive 
 again ! " 
 
 Then he explained to them the importance 
 of secrecy and silence, and they looked into 
 his face with a sympathy and intelligence that 
 no oath could have strengthened. And until 
 the dawn was pallid in the east they sat talking 
 over the pitiful story. Its romance and wrong 
 moved their Celtic natures to tears and lamenta 
 tions and passionate anticipations of vengeance. 
 
 Peppo looked at the scene with critical amuse 
 ment. The fumes of hot whiskey and the 
 smoke of coarse tobacco, the tears and laughter 
 were far too strong stimulants for his more in-
 
 286 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 tellectual temper. He had a bottle of claret 
 from the cellar, and found his cigarette, and 
 Caterina with it, quite sufficient for his enjoy 
 ment of the situation. 
 
 " But I shall put an end to this affair very 
 quickly, Caterina," he said. " We have our 
 selves to look after now, and this impertinent 
 Maxwell must not delay us. I shall only have 
 to speak to him. It is I that will do it all." 
 
 Brodick did not go back to the manse that 
 night; indeed, the night was far advanced when 
 the family separated, and even then McNeil 
 felt sleep to be impossible. When all others 
 had found it, he sat wide awake in his room, 
 enjoying every moment of his anticipated 
 meeting with Maxwell. 
 
 For all his wrongs and insults he was going 
 to have full payment ; and wonder of wonders, 
 Grizelda was back in his home ! He had his 
 child again ! Several times he rose and went 
 softly into the corridor and looked at the door 
 of her room ; and when the dawn was white in 
 the east, he heard Grizelda speaking to her 
 child, and her voice made him tremble with joy. 
 
 " Do not talk, Archie, my darling ! You 
 might awaken grandfather ! "
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADNESS. 287 
 
 " Grandfather ! " He had not thought of 
 that before ; he felt a new spring of love in his 
 heart, and as he stood before the window, and 
 the sunshine smote his wet eye-lids, and made 
 a glory all about him, an amazing thought came 
 into his mind. 
 
 With hasty steps he went down stairs into 
 his parlour. He took from its hiding-place 
 the slip of paper that had cost him so many 
 uncomfortable hours. He let it lie in the palm 
 of his hand, and looked bravely and tenderly 
 at it. He thought of his restored child, of the 
 loyalty of Colin, of his prosperous enterprises, 
 of the enemy put under his feet. He thought 
 of Helen ; she was still the sweetest and dear 
 est thought of his heart. He let the tears 
 down fall upon the paper as he remembered 
 her lovely life and the glad triumph of her 
 dying words : " Oh, breadth ! Oh, depth ! Oh, 
 boundless length ! Oh, inaccessible height ! Oh, 
 Christ's love ! " 
 
 He raised the faded, yellow bit of paper to 
 his lips. He kissed it with a great solemnity. 
 
 " Helen, sweet Helen ! all you asked of me 
 I will give, to the last farthing of increase ; it 
 shall go where you willed it."
 
 288 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 Without a thought of reservation, with all 
 his soul he surrendered. In the moment of 
 gift he resigned by an act of his mind every 
 claim. He placed Helen's note now in his 
 pocket-book; and before he had reached his 
 sleeping-room again, he was considering, with 
 his usual shrewd wisdom, how to expend it in 
 the wisest possible manner. 
 
 " I have no skill in such investments," he 
 said, quite seriously; "but Brodick and Mr. 
 Selwyn have, and I will see that not a bawbee 
 of Helen's money is wasted. Only one pleas 
 ure will I ask out of it, I love my old college, 
 and as God has not given me a son of my own, 
 I will keep a lad there. As long as it stands I 
 will keep a good lad there, one that wants to 
 learn, and has not the money to pay for his fees 
 and his feed." 
 
 This resolution, so perfect, so final, so volun 
 tarily and gratefully arrived at, gave him a 
 singular peace and happiness. He washed, and 
 then put on his finest clothing; nothing less 
 seemed in keeping with the tone of his spirits. 
 Though he had not even been in bed, he came 
 down stairs like a giant refreshed. Brodick 
 looked admiringly and inquisitively at him.
 
 THE GIFT OF GLADA T ESS. 289 
 
 The change was so evidently that change which 
 comes from the spiritual body, that he instantly 
 suspected its cause. 
 
 He said softly to himself: 
 
 " McNeil has been visited. He has had one 
 of thae glad times, when there is ' a song in 
 the night, when a holy solemnity is kept and 
 gladness of heart.' "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 Run, spindles, run, and weave the threads of doom. 
 
 CATULLUS. 
 
 For the ills inflicted on men by the gods they must sustain ; 
 but those involved in voluntary miseries, as thou art, on these 
 it is not just for any one to bestow either pardon or pity. 
 
 SOPHOCLES, 
 
 Because thy rage against me, and thy tumult, is come up 
 into mine ears, therefore will I put my hook in thy nose, and 
 my bridle in thy lips, and I will turn thee back by the way by 
 which thou earnest. Is. xxxvii. 29. 
 
 / T > HE mental sympathy of clothing is far 
 * more widely felt than understood. With 
 out any agreement on the subject, Colin also 
 appeared in his best toilet, and Grizelda looked 
 radiantly lovely in a rich costume of dark silk 
 and velvet. The shrinking manner which had 
 characterized her when last in her father's house, 
 had given, place to a noble serenity. For in the 
 continual presence of people who are really in 
 different to us, the soul learns wondrous self- 
 reliances ; and Grizelda had now that ease and
 
 RETRIBUTION. 2QI 
 
 confidence of manner which can only come 
 from a certainty of interior strength. 
 
 Brodick had gone to the village, but as they 
 sat at breakfast he returned. "I have been 
 making inquiries," he said ; " Maxwell went 
 away in his new yacht two days ago, his sup 
 posed wife with him. They will come in on 
 the top of the tide in about an hour. I saw 
 their carriage going down to the pier to meet 
 them." 
 
 "Then we have no time to lose. Grizelda, 
 put on your bonnet while I see to our own 
 carriage. Colin, come with me. Doctor, be 
 taking a cup of coffee till we join you. I 
 hope the Italian and his wife will not keep 
 us waiting." 
 
 Peppo entered with the words. He was in 
 his Roman costume, but then it was of the most 
 magnificent materials; and Caterina was in a 
 glory of stripes and colour, and shining with 
 chains and bracelets of gold. 
 
 All intense feeling is laconic. Perhaps we 
 have not yet discovered words to interpret emo 
 tions that are soul deep. So it was a silent 
 party that was driven rapidly over the moor 
 dividing Edderloch from Blairgowrie.
 
 292 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McKEIL. 
 
 At the gates, McNeil sent back the carriage. 
 He did not wish to alarm Maxwell's servants 
 before he had an opportunity to secure them. 
 Fortunately, the gardeners were not in sight, 
 and the approach of the McNeil party was 
 unobserved by the house-servants who were 
 lingering over a late breakfast. 
 
 McNeil's heavy knock at the main entrance 
 recalled them to the idea of duty. The foot 
 man, who had a determination to be insolent to 
 so early a caller, whoever it was, opened the 
 door. At the sight of McNeil his face changed. 
 McNeil laid his hand on his shoulder. He had 
 known the man from his boyhood. 
 
 " Be whist, Glammis ! Lady Maxwell, what 
 are your orders now? " 
 
 Grizelda stepped forward, and, throwing off 
 her cloak and bonnet, looked at the man. He 
 recognized her in a moment; and white and 
 speechless, sank into a chair. 
 
 " Listen, Glammis ! We must have every 
 servant in the house brought to this room. 
 Laird Colin McNeil and myself will go with 
 you to gather them. Brodick, you will stay 
 with my lady and the strangers." 
 
 In a few minutes every man and woman
 
 RE TRIE UTION. 293 
 
 were under the laird's surveillance. He was 
 determined that no one should have an oppor 
 tunity to warn Maxwell; and when they were 
 together, he told them such facts relating to 
 the usage of Lady Maxwell as it was desirable 
 should be known. 
 
 The words fell into ears quite ready for them. 
 Lord Maxwell and his new wife had had suffi 
 cient time to make themselves hated by their 
 household. Besides which, the vulgar mind 
 loves something to wonder over. Had they 
 been the best master and mistress in the world, 
 they would not have found any pity. Every 
 servant foresaw, not only a holiday, but a holi 
 day with a sensation, a sensation so great 
 that it would serve them for a lifetime's gossip. 
 
 As the minutes went slowly by, the fitful con 
 versation became a painful silence. The laird 
 strode up and down the main hall, keeping 
 guard upon the servants, whom he had placed 
 in a parlour on one side of it. Grizelda sat in 
 the opposite parlour; her face was still, but 
 white as marble. Colin sat at her side and held 
 her hand ; Brodick stood at the window watch 
 ing. His hands were clasped behind him; his 
 face stern yet flushed with excitement. Gate-
 
 294 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 rina was twirling her golden bracelets, smilingly 
 content, and full of admiration for the splendid 
 Peppo, whose dark eyes gleamed with wicked 
 enjoyment, and who tip-toed about as if he felt 
 himself to be the master of the ceremonies. 
 
 Suddenly Brodick turned from the window, 
 saying, 
 
 " He is here ! " 
 
 The carriage was driven up to the door at full 
 speed, and Maxwell came up the long flight of 
 steps with a black frown on his face. He was 
 so angry with Lady Julia that he did not, as 
 was usually his custom, give her his arm; for 
 she had made him wretched for two days. Her 
 face was also cross and dissatisfied ; for she had 
 been sea-sick, and she had got her dress spoiled 
 and her complexion burned, and she vowed she 
 " would never, never go to sea again." 
 
 And Maxwell's temper was increased by the 
 closed door. 
 
 "What do those lazy dogs of servants mean?" 
 he asked passionately. 
 
 They meant to permit him to knock at the 
 door for entrance, and he did it with a force that 
 frightened them. 
 
 In a moment Peppo had opened it, Peppo,
 
 RETRIBUTION. 295 
 
 gay and smiling, but with eyes full of hatred 
 and a mouth cruel as death. 
 
 " Peppo ! " 
 
 " Peppo, Milor'. Come in. I shall not hurt 
 you yet! And this is your new lady? Per 
 Baccho ! The old one was far more lovely." 
 
 " Maxwell, who is this fellow? " 
 
 Livid and faint with terror, he could not an 
 swer Julia a word ; and at the moment, McNeil 
 flung wide the door of the room he was in and 
 called with a might and a majesty which echoed 
 through the whole house : 
 
 " Grizelda ! Grizelda ! " 
 
 She answered the call ere it was past. She 
 came like an avenging spirit before them. The 
 sunshine poured in a flood of light behind her 
 and set her in a radiance. For a moment, she 
 stood silent and motionless, looking at the man 
 who had sold her to Death. 
 
 The servants were crowding to the door of 
 the room. McNeil beckoned them forward ; 
 he wanted witnesses of the criminal's fear and 
 abasement. Colin, Brodick, Caterina were all 
 there. Maxwell lifted his eyes in terror and 
 gazed at them. 
 
 Lady Julia was the first to stir the awful tab-
 
 296 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 leau. She flew in a passion to her husband and 
 touched him sharply. 
 
 " Who is that woman? Speak! " 
 
 " I thought she was dead, Julia, before God, 
 I did ! " 
 
 " Dio!" cried Peppo, scornfully. "Madam, 
 he gave me six hundred pounds to kill her! 
 Milady Maxwell gave me a thousand pounds 
 to save her alive. I have a tender heart." 
 
 " You are a devil ! " answered Maxwell, re 
 covering himself, and attempting to seize the sup 
 ple Italian, who was instantly at McNeil's side. 
 
 " Lord Maxwell," said McNeil, " all your das 
 tardly crime is fully discovered; there is not a 
 link in the chain of evidence wanting. You are 
 a felon, and a felon's life of degradation and 
 labour is before you." 
 
 "And I! and I! what ami?" cried Julia, 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 Grizelda went to her. 
 
 " I am sorry for you. Surely you must have 
 been deceived." 
 
 " I want not your pity. What am I, Max 
 well? A woman without rights, without name, 
 ruined for all my life ! And my child ! my 
 child ! wronged from his birth ! "
 
 RE TRIE UTION. 297 
 
 " Julia, have pity on me ! I never meant to 
 wrong you. I sinned for your love." 
 
 " Pity ! Love ! I will hate you to the last 
 breath I draw ! Think how you have wronged 
 me ! In all your shameful deed the world will 
 give me a part. They will say I knew it. I may 
 be arrested ! I may be taken to prison tried 
 like a common criminal ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! " 
 
 She fell to the floor with a shriek that was 
 the only expression possible of the rage and 
 hatred and terror that had her in its grasp. 
 
 There was a sudden rush toward the fallen 
 woman ; McNeil lifted her to a couch. When 
 he turned to Maxwell, he had fled. 
 
 " Let him go, father," said Grizelda. " For 
 my boy's sake let him go." 
 
 " Let him go, McNeil ; his sin will find him 
 out." 
 
 " Brodick, this vengeance is justly mine ; I 
 have suffered six years for it." 
 
 " Vengeance is God's own right. Be con 
 tent, Laird, with the joy that God has sent to 
 you." 
 
 Peppo listened to the conversation with in 
 terest. He had had the pleasure of terrifying 
 Maxwell; he was now willing that he should
 
 298 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 escape. His trial and punishment by law would 
 be a tedious thing. He was already longing for 
 Italy, and the money waiting there for him. 
 He was well pleased when the decision was for 
 that negative punishment which outlawry from 
 all decent society, from home, wife, child, na 
 tive land, and the privileges of his birth would 
 inflict; and though the minister was a heretic, 
 he felt a certain delight in Brodick's prediction : 
 
 " What if he escape human justice ! The 
 mark and the curse of Cain are on him ! For 
 the law is not always the hardest judge, God 
 has secret punishments of which the world 
 knows nothing." 
 
 The news spread like wild-fire over the hills 
 and through all the surrounding villages; but 
 Maxwell escaped before he had to meet it in his 
 neighbours' faces. The dreadful interview had 
 lasted but a few minutes ; he found the horses 
 still in his carriage, and he made the man drive 
 him with furious haste to his yacht. The tide 
 was turned, the wind was in his favour; before 
 Julia had recovered consciousness, he was far 
 out at sea with his shame and fear. 
 
 The captain and most of the crew had left the 
 yacht. There were only himself and two men
 
 RETRIBUTION. 299 
 
 on board ; but they knew enough to carry her 
 northward. Confusion, anguish, rage, despair 
 went with him. He could neither eat nor drink 
 nor sleep ; he had no use for anything but 
 thought. He looked as if hell was in his heart, 
 and he in hell. Every moment some fresh, 
 angry fiend of passion knocked at his memory, 
 and bade it not be quiet. 
 
 A storm arose during the first night, and 
 tossed the little ship hither and thither. He 
 made no effort to save her. His two compan 
 ions looked at him angrily and doubtfully. 
 Something was wrong. They talked and won 
 dered themselves into a superstitious dread of 
 their employer. 
 
 As they scarcely knew how to manage the 
 yacht, she was driven before the wind westward 
 of Mull and Coll, and so up the Little Minch. 
 A whole week passed in the changeable cur 
 rents and winds of this stormy water-way, and 
 Maxwell's first frenzy had become a dismal, 
 sullen stillness. There was a stupid weight 
 upon his senses; but he began to perceive from 
 the looks of the men with him that they were 
 dissatisfied and suspicious. 
 
 He called them into the cabin and told them
 
 300 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 the lie that came most readily: On his return 
 home he had found out something terrible 
 about his wife. He could not live with her, 
 and he hoped out at sea and in solitude to 
 forget his shame, and find some way out of 
 his trouble. Would they stay with him and 
 help him? 
 
 Then the men remembered that Maxwell had 
 been cross with his wife before she left the 
 yacht; they were sorry for him, and reconciled 
 to their peculiar voyage. Maxwell had some 
 money with him; he proposed to double their 
 wages, and they agreed with apparent cheer 
 fulness to remain with him. But he felt that 
 purposeless drifting depressed them; it would 
 be better to decide upon some place and object. 
 He took out his chart and considered it. 
 
 They had just passed Barr and were making 
 for South Uist. He examined the lockers and 
 stores, and concluded, as the provisions were 
 running short, to make direct for Harris. He 
 had once been with a shooting-party at Tarbet, 
 and he resolved to make Harris his hiding- 
 place. 
 
 He had guns on board, and powder and shot. 
 He was thoroughly weary of the sea. He
 
 RETRIBUTION. 301 
 
 could run the yacht into some quiet cove on the 
 south of the island and lose himself for years, if 
 hs desired to do so, in the woody wilderness 
 that still existed there. 
 
 He spoke to the men of his plan, and it 
 pleased them. A return to Nature and the first 
 principles of living finds an echo more or less 
 strong in all hearts. The weather, though still 
 wintry in that high latitude, would every day be 
 growing warmer. A sort of Robinson Crusoe 
 life was planned, and the two men looked for 
 ward to it with almost boyish delight. 
 
 At Taransay they bought some fine deer- 
 hounds and other dogs necessary for sport, 
 some materials for fishing, and a few rude cook 
 ing utensils for outdoor life. Their yacht was to 
 be moored as a kind of store-house and also as 
 a shelter in bad weather. 
 
 At this day, Maxwell would probably have 
 been intruded upon in his wilderness ; but then 
 southern Harris was almost in a primeval con 
 dition. The great deer forests, the fine sea 
 lochs running inland, and the little crofter 
 townships on the coast were scarcely known 
 to any one but the proprietor of the island and 
 his factor. Maxwell was confident that he was
 
 3O2 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McXEIL. 
 
 as practically cut off from the world as if he 
 were in Central Africa. 
 
 He did not suffer much from fear of the law. 
 He did not believe that Grizelda would permit 
 her private life to be discussed by the public ; 
 he was equally sure that Julia would retire as 
 quietly as possible with her shame and her 
 wrongs. He was positive that Peppo had not 
 come himself, and brought Caterina also, such 
 a distance without a large sum of money, and 
 equally positive that Peppo, having money, 
 would be miserable unless he was spending it 
 on the Roman Corso. 
 
 He arrived, therefore, readily enough at the 
 conclusion which had really been come to. 
 Grizelda's rights having - been asserted and ac 
 knowledged, he would be permitted to live his 
 own life if he never interfered with them. And 
 as long as Julia lived, he felt that he must be an 
 exile from everything he valued. For though 
 he flattered himself that Grizelda would forgive 
 him, he dared not take advantage of her clem 
 ency. If he did so, Julia's family would pursue 
 him with an unrelenting hatred. 
 
 After all, as time went on he made himself 
 very comfortable. In the green peace of the
 
 RETRIBUTIOX. 303 
 
 Harris wilderness he was spending the summer 
 very much to his mind. " In a few months," 
 he reflected, " the hue-and-cry will be over. 
 Nothing lasts in this world. Then I will go to 
 Greece, and write to my lawyer and insist upon 
 a proper allowance from my estates. Grizelda 
 is sure to favour it. With, say, five thousand 
 pounds a year, I can be very happy. Bah ! I 
 am only thirty-five years old ; the world is all 
 before me yet." 
 
 As he regained his confidence and his hopes, 
 he regained, however, his arrogance and his 
 ungovernable temper. At first the two sailors 
 had been treated by him with that kind of good- 
 comradeship which the circumstances seemed to 
 warrant. They had never imposed upon it, and 
 never forgotten that he was their employer; 
 but when Maxwell began again his bullying 
 abuse, his peremptory tone and manner, his 
 reckless disregard of all created things but 
 himself, they very quickly took refuge in a 
 sullen indifference to his orders and long ab 
 sences from his presence. 
 
 This state of things did not occur, however, 
 until the summer was nearly over, and when he 
 was almost careless as to whether they left him
 
 304 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 or not. It would be easy in Tarbet to get men 
 who were better sailors, and who would carry 
 the yacht southward and into the direct way of 
 meeting some of the large merchant ships leav 
 ing the ports of Greenock or Glasgow. 
 
 He was thinking over this plan one afternoon. 
 The weather had turned chilly and damp ; the 
 men were tired of their holiday, and sitting 
 gloomily apart, talking of their friends in Ed- 
 derloch. In a week or two, the winter in all its 
 fury might be upon them. Maxwell noticed 
 that they looked toward the yacht as they 
 talked. His suspicious nature instantly accused 
 them of an intention to go off with it. But he 
 did not give voice to his suspicions; he only 
 showed the temper, otherwise controlled, by 
 kicking violently out of his way a pet hound 
 belonging to one of the men. 
 
 The dog's master flamed in a moment. Lu- 
 tha was sick, he said ; and if a man that called 
 himself a gentleman wanted to kick brutes 
 about, there were plenty of them around that 
 were well enough to defend themselves. 
 
 But when it came to a matter of abuse, the 
 sailors were dumb before the spirit they had 
 raised. Maxwell could curse in half a dozen
 
 RETRIBUTION. 305 
 
 languages at once, and the long habit of power 
 was in his favour. He stormed them into a 
 sullen calm, and then left them. A little later 
 in the evening he kicked the dog again, and it 
 bit him. 
 
 Then a terrible fight ensued, in which man 
 and dog both did their worst. Maxwell would 
 not permit his companions to interfere. He 
 had a deer-knife on him, and after a demo 
 niacal struggle he cut the dog's throat; but 
 his own hands were severely torn by the brute's 
 teeth. He washed them in running water, and 
 determined with the morning's tide to take 
 the yacht into Tarbet and have the wounds 
 dressed ; but when morning came there seemed 
 to be no need of the northward journey, and a 
 passionate longing to go south as quickly as 
 possible was on him. 
 
 They began that day to prepare the yacht. 
 Maxwell was in a feverish hurry, and the men 
 were willing to humour him. But that night 
 there came from the north a great storm ; all of 
 them were drenched through, and the next day 
 all were sick and unable to move. A miserable 
 two weeks passed, in which mutual reproaches 
 did not help the racking chills and pains and 
 
 20
 
 306 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 unavoidable wants of their condition. Then the 
 sailors were well again, but Maxwell did not 
 rally so quickly. He was so restless and fret 
 ful and passionate that the men looked fearfully 
 at him. Had he really lost his senses? And 
 might he do them some bodily harm? 
 
 They kept a watch over him, at the same 
 time preparing the yacht for her voyage. At 
 sundown one night she was ready for sea; and 
 Maxwell gave orders to lift her anchor the next 
 morning. One of the men rose early and made I 
 a cup of coffee. Maxwell sat on a camp-stool 
 watching him; he looked miserable, his eyes 
 were full of a dull fire, and wild as those of 
 a hunted animal. 
 
 When the coffee was brought to him, he 
 dashed it away, and threw himself on the 
 ground in a paroxysm of strangulation and 
 horror. He had a fit, and he came out of it 
 with the knowledge in his heart of the awful 
 fate waiting for him. 
 
 But he said to the men that he was subject 
 to such fits, and ordered them to help him on 
 board. The moment he heard the lap of the 
 water on the beach, he had another paroxysm. 
 To go to sea was now impossible. Every hour
 
 RE TRIE UTION. 3 o/ 
 
 of the day he grew worse. A night of inde 
 scribable terror was passed in that lonely wood. 
 The two sailors were forced to hide themselves 
 from their possessed master; but they heard, 
 all through the dark midnight, shrieks and cries 
 of a torment beyond humanity. 
 
 Early in the morning they stole away in the 
 yacht, and put northward to Tarbet with all 
 speed. No nearer help could be got. They 
 ran away as if from the gates of hell ; they did 
 not dare cast a look behind them, but far over 
 the lonely waters the wind brought them such 
 awful echoes that their hearts fainted, and they 
 covered their ears and prayed audibly as they 
 went plunging, with every sail set, out of their 
 hearing. 
 
 In the midst of a tempest they reached and 
 yet hardly reached Tarbet ; for the yacht struck 
 a reef and had to be abandoned, and they were 
 saved only by the skill and bravery of the coast 
 fishermen. Their tale met with an instant pity ; 
 but what could be done? The storm was of 
 unusual severity, the wind tore everything to 
 ribbons, the rain came down in torrents, land 
 travel was impossible, there was not a boat in 
 harbour able to live in the sea outside.
 
 308 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 It was ten days before the best men in Tar- 
 bet dared venture out on their humane errand. 
 What could they hope to find? They only 
 looked in each other's face for answer. When 
 they arrived at the summer camp, the sun was 
 shining and the sea-birds pluming themselves 
 on the rocks; but the signs of the storm were 
 everywhere. All traces of human life had been 
 washed away ; a tree had fallen across the place 
 where their kettle had hung; great branches 
 were scattered all over the forest, as if the 
 powers of the air had used them as weapons. 
 The rain must have equalled the wind, it had 
 cut gullies for itself on every hand; the moss 
 had become dangerous to walk on; the well- 
 worn path to the sea, almost a morass. 
 
 They called the dogs, but none answered. 
 They sought long for what they wanted ere it 
 was found ; then with low cries of horror and 
 whispered prayers they turned their backs on 
 the sight. That regard for the dead, which is 
 among primitive peoples almost a piety, alone 
 enabled them to pay what last duty it was 
 possible to pay. 
 
 But they sought the dogs no more. Whether 
 they were dead also, or whether they wandered
 
 RETRIBUTION. 309 
 
 about the fastnesses of Chesham, no one could 
 ever be induced to inquire. 
 
 But for many a year the pious fishers on this 
 lonely coast used to say they heard from Renis 
 Head to Taransay, long, weird, melancholy 
 howls that filled all the spaces of land and sea 
 with mournful clamour; and then they would 
 talk in fearful whispers of the wretched soul 
 that from its tortured body went forth in rack 
 and tempest to its own place.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 
 
 Say not the struggle naught availeth, 
 The labour and the wounds are vain ; 
 
 For while the tired waves vainly breaking 
 
 Seem here no painful inch to gain, 
 Far back, through creeks and inlets making, 
 Comes silent, flooding in, the main. 
 
 CLOUGH. 
 
 A happy wedding as, I ween, 
 The best of life's romances. 
 
 PETOFI. 
 
 AT EVER within the memory of any living 
 * ^ being in Knapdale had there been such 
 an event as the Maxwell marriages to discuss; 
 and never had there been so much visiting. 
 Families long on terms of scant courtesy made 
 friends over it. The affair was felt in a manner 
 to touch everyone's honour; for it was impor 
 tant to come to a proper decision as to which 
 of the parties was to blame. If Lady Maxwell, 
 then, of course, she could not be visited ; if 
 Lord Maxwell, then some degree of pitying 
 courtesy might be granted.
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 311 
 
 Grizclda took her own place with an appar 
 ent calm indifference to public opinion; but 
 she was in reality very susceptible, as any good 
 woman is, and ought to be, to the criticisms of 
 her neighbours. She wished to stand well with 
 them. She had been so long isolated that she 
 had a very natural craving for the companion 
 ship of her social equals. She was grateful to 
 those ladies who called and gave her an op 
 portunity to encourage their good-will. 
 
 Maxwell's sudden flight, and his cowardly 
 desertion of Julia in the hour of her humilia 
 tion were universally condemned. Every man 
 spoke of it, and every man felt himself to be 
 immeasurably above and beyond such a das 
 tardly deed. And it was noticeable that as 
 each one explained the course he would have 
 taken, the more chivalrous and impossible that 
 course, the more positively it was asserted to 
 be the only one which would have adequately 
 met the situation. Nor was this sentiment alto 
 gether a false one. In great emergencies, men 
 can do great things much more easily than 
 small ones. A Rubicon may be crossed rather 
 than some trifling social demand obeyed. 
 
 But it is characteristic of our age that nothing
 
 312 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 lasts. The old nine days' wonder has dwindled 
 down to at most thirty-six hours. Anything 
 older is ancient history. Maxwell's memory 
 was only kept alive by the uncertainty of his 
 fate; and even this uncertainty became, in a 
 week or two, a bore. 
 
 The hotel filled with guests, many of them 
 remarkable ones ; the villagers had their hands 
 full, and were making money. The gentry had 
 their houses full, and were giving entertainments. 
 The person so foolish as to mention Maxwell 
 was quickly made to feel that he had committed 
 a social blunder. For even where there is the 
 average kindness of heart, how soon people get 
 over things ! Which of us has a friend who has 
 permanently suffered by his feelings? Which 
 of us is not aware that, out of our immediate 
 domestic relations, wife, husband, children, 
 money matters, there is nothing we could not 
 face with tolerable equanimity? 
 
 To Grizelda the summer went by happily. 
 She almost felt as if it were wrong to be so 
 happy; and yet this mental accusation of her 
 self could never stand examination. She had 
 no cause to give her husband regret. He had 
 hated and tortured her; he had betrayed her
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 313 
 
 to Death, careless either of her honour or suffer 
 ing. And in that last momentary meeting, 
 when he had found his crime unaccomplished, 
 he had glanced at her with the hatred of hell 
 in his eyes. That he had run away from the 
 shame and distress his passion had created was 
 quite in keeping with the man's cruel, craven 
 nature. She would have been astonished if he 
 had remained by the side of his suffering 
 partner. 
 
 For upon Julia Casselis fell the weight of the 
 shameful position. When she recovered con 
 sciousness, twelve hours after Maxwell's flight, 
 they were compelled to tell her that she had 
 been deserted. She took the news as passion 
 ate women without self-restraint are sure to 
 take an event full of sorrow and mortification. 
 She upbraided God and man and destiny, her 
 friends and her enemies alike. She refused 
 all Grizelda's offers. She went into hysterics 
 if she but heard her voice. She vowed she 
 would not leave Blairgowrie, nor yet would 
 she permit Grizelda under the same roof with 
 her. 
 
 The situation was a trying one to the real 
 mistress of the house. McNeil insisted upon
 
 3 14 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 her resuming at once the rights which nothing 
 had taken, or could take from her. As soon, 
 therefore, as Julia had been carried to her bed 
 room, Lady Maxwell called together the house 
 hold, and enrolled them anew in her service. 
 All but Julia's personal maid accepted the 
 change gladly. The latter was a London wo 
 man of the highest pretensions, and no offer 
 was made to induce her to desert her mistress. 
 
 The Earl of Lauder was then written to. But 
 some days must elapse before his arrival, and 
 Grizelda explained this, through Julia's maid, 
 to her. The rooms she had occupied at Blair- 
 gowrie were placed at her service until her 
 friends came. Julia's temper would not per 
 mit her to accept them. As soon as she could 
 control herself she ordered her effects to be 
 packed, and in the mean time sent word to 
 several of the families with whom she had been 
 most intimate, of the strait she was in. 
 
 Unfortunately, in every case there was an 
 insurmountable obstacle to her entertainment. 
 One was just going away; another had every 
 room full ; a third had sickness in the house 
 which might prove contagious. She could go 
 to the hotel, but she dreaded the publicity ; and
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 315 
 
 besides, it was in reality the McNeil Hotel. 
 No roof of McNeil's should shelter her. 
 
 In this dilemma, Doctor Brodick offered the 
 hospitality of the manse, and the lady accepted 
 it. This relationship at once changed the good 
 doctor's attitude. She was now his guest, and 
 he busied himself for her comfort. He gave up 
 his own room; he escorted her from Blair- 
 gowrie with respectful care, and soothed her 
 passionate grief with that gentle forbearance 
 and wisdom which, while hating the sin, deals 
 pitifully and patiently with the sinner. 
 
 Still, he would listen to none of her tirades 
 against Grizelda ; and he upheld McNeil's course 
 as the only proper course for a father to pursue. 
 Equally just was he when her anger turned 
 upon Lord Maxwell. 
 
 " My dear lady," he said, " you are alike in 
 the fault. It is aye Eve that offers the temp 
 tation. If you had not been from the first 
 mair kind than you ought to have been, there 
 would not have followed blood-money and 
 false marriage." 
 
 " Maxwell loved me from my childhood." 
 
 "There is no man, my lady, that will sin for 
 a woman if she gives him neither recompense
 
 316 THE HOUSEHOLD OF Me NEIL. 
 
 nor hope. Why should he? Maxwell under 
 stood from you that if Grizelda were out of 
 the way you would marry him ; so he put 
 Grizelda out of the way." 
 
 " I never uttered such a thought." 
 
 "There was no need of words. The eyes, 
 the lips, the hands, the feet can speak. Oh ! 
 madam, no doubt you offered him the apple 
 a thousand times." 
 
 " He loved me, and I loved him. We 
 belonged to each other by ties stronger than 
 those of marriage." 
 
 " Let me tell you, madam, there is no tie 
 stronger than a promise to Almighty God. I 
 myself heard that promise from Maxwell's lips 
 when he took Grizelda McNeil to wife, and 
 vowed to love and cherish her all his days." 
 
 "Then it was a cruel fate that threw us 
 together afterward." 
 
 " Madam, sin is not the result of fate, or of 
 any particular state of things. There is in the 
 sinner an inherent weakness, and an openness 
 to attack, which, sooner or later, would have 
 led him or her into the same crime, whatever 
 circumstances prevailed. The trouble is that 
 sinners do not count the cost; they will not
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 317 
 
 see that sin and punishment grow out of one 
 stem." 
 
 Such conversations as these, though main 
 tained in the kindest spirit by the minister, did 
 not please Julia; and she grew so impatient of 
 her position that on the morning of the third 
 day she left Edderloch, without any escort but 
 that of her maid. She knew the hotel her 
 Uncle Lauder would rest at in Glasgow, and 
 she resolved to meet him there. 
 
 It was a great relief to every one when she 
 departed. Already she had worn out what 
 little popular sympathy was directed to her; 
 and it was now every one's interest to be 
 friendly with McNeil. He was left without a 
 peer in Knapdale. Not only would he controul 
 his own lands and enterprises, but it was most 
 likely he would be appointed guardian of the 
 young lord, and of Blairgowrie. 
 
 As the months went by, the conviction grew 
 that Maxwell was dead. None of the advertise 
 ments, carefully worded to his circumstances 
 and needs, had been answered, though inserted 
 in the principal papers of all countries likely 
 to be his retreat. No one had seen the yacht. 
 It had put into no port ; it had not been met
 
 3 1 8 THE HOUSEHOLD OF MCNEIL. 
 
 by any incoming or outgoing vessel. The two 
 sailors whom he took with him had never re 
 turned. It was remembered that there had been 
 a severe storm the first night after the flight, 
 and every one believed that the yacht and all 
 on board had gone to the bottom of the sea. 
 
 But with the return of the spring, the men 
 who had accompanied Maxwell, came back to 
 Edderloch. They had been caught by the 
 winter when they were without money, in Harris, 
 and had remained in Tarbet, doing such work 
 as they were able to find, until the fine weather 
 enabled them to obtain a passage home on the 
 early trading-boats. They went at once to the 
 minister with the news of Maxwell's death, and 
 to him they spared none of its dreadful details. 
 
 Brodick was profoundly impressed; he was 
 almost terrified at the verification of his own 
 prophecy. 
 
 "The words came from the Lord," he said, 
 " and I am His servant. The message He gives 
 me, shall I not deliver it?" 
 
 Yet as he softly paced his room to the tumult 
 of his thoughts, a great pity for the miserable 
 man came over him. That impulse to pray for 
 the dead, which every heart has felt to be
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 319 
 
 deeper than creed and stronger than reason, 
 made him suddenly pause, and, with clasped 
 hands, raise his eyes to heaven; and though 
 his lips moved not, his soul recalled, like 
 flashes of light, the promises of God's ever 
 lasting mercy. 
 
 Into this strife of feeling and reason came the 
 laird. He brought into the study the freshness 
 of the spring, the atmosphere of primroses 
 and cuckoos, and the gurgling of fresh water 
 courses. Brodick's face was like an open book 
 to him. He was accustomed to read the man's 
 inmost thoughts there ; and he said, before the 
 minister could speak : 
 
 "What strange thing has happened?" 
 
 " Maxwell is dead." 
 
 " Now, God be thanked ! " 
 
 " Laird ! " 
 
 " Yes ! God Almighty be thanked for the 
 word ! When the wicked cease from troubling, 
 it is good reason for thanking Him." 
 
 " He died a dreadful death." 
 
 " He lived an ill life, which is in itself a kind 
 of death. To go before God with one's hands 
 bloody ! How terrible that must be, Brodick. 
 What came to him?"
 
 320 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 He listened with a shocked face to the story. 
 He had nothing further to say. Maxwell had 
 been judged by a Power whose awards were be 
 yond human criticism. But as the two men sat 
 silent they were both feeling how necessary it 
 was to take steps at once to verify the report, 
 and to prepare for the future it entailed. 
 
 It was not considered necessary to tell Gri- 
 zelda the manner of her husband's death. 
 
 " The yacht struck a reef off Harris," Colin 
 said to her. " The two men with him were 
 saved, and have returned. Lord Maxwell is no 
 more." 
 
 She made no further inquiry. For a few 
 days she was exceedingly still, and the laird 
 noticed, with a little private anger, that her eyes 
 looked as if she had been weeping; then she 
 assumed the widow's mourning garments, for 
 though they were but a dismal form, yet society 
 has certain demands which no one is entitled to 
 despise. The black dress and the band of 
 white crape round her head were, however, to 
 McNeil the livery of freedom and joy. He 
 liked to see her in them ; they were in his 
 eyes far more of festival robes than the snowy 
 satin and sparkling jewels of her bridal day.
 
 THE LAIRD IS 'SATISFIED. 32! 
 
 The whole of the summer was much dis 
 turbed by this event. Maxwell's lawyer, accom 
 panied by the two men who had been the dead 
 lord's last companions, went back to Harris and 
 removed the remains to the family vault in 
 Galloway. Brodick went with them. The laird 
 asked him no questions on his return, and the 
 only remark the minister made referred to the 
 funeral rites. 
 
 "It was an Episcopal clergyman who con 
 ducted them," he said. " There is something 
 for us to learn, McNeil, from their service. Our 
 silent gathering at the grave-side has no audible 
 voice of tenderness or hope. The English 
 Church never forsakes her dead as long as they 
 are in the upper air; she waits for her last 
 solemn farewell at the grave." 
 
 The young Lord Maxwell's affairs were not 
 so easily settled. Having been born on foreign 
 ground and in seclusion, it was necessary to 
 prove his identity and his parentage. But Gri- 
 zelda had always kept this emergency in view, 
 and prepared for it ; so that the only difficulty lay 
 in the direction of summoning her witnesses. 
 
 About this business it was necessary for Colin 
 to go again to Rome. The Donatas were 
 
 21
 
 322 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 pleased at the prospect of a visit to a country 
 they had long wished to see. Peppo, in view 
 of certain tangible profits, was not averse to it ; 
 and he brought not only Caterina to Scotland, 
 but such other peasants as had been familiar 
 with Grizelda during her stay with Caterina. 
 
 Peppo was found in a house which he had 
 bought, about sixteen miles from Rome; the 
 very finest house in the village, of which he 
 was now a most prominent resident. He was 
 filling an office very similar to a justice of 
 peace, and filling it with a moral severity which 
 was the admiration of the pious, and the terror 
 of those who came for judgement before him. 
 For Peppo was very sensitive to the admiration 
 of his fellows. His surroundings were those of 
 morality and religion; and he took the lead in 
 them as easily as he had taken in Rome the 
 lead among the class noted for their light fin 
 gers and easy virtues. His farm was prosper 
 ing, his vineyard doing well; Caterina was the 
 most obedient of wives, and Peppo the most 
 satisfied of mortals. 
 
 But Grizelda felt even this passing invasion 
 of her old life a great trial. There are friends 
 raised up for certain emergencies, who are
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 323 
 
 best kept only in kindly memory after the 
 emergency is over. They leave upon the 
 mountain-tops of the past a lovely light, but 
 they do not fit into any future circumstances of 
 life. Grizelda felt this with regard to her 
 Roman friends. She must always remember 
 them with affection and gratitude, but they 
 could only bring memories which had no part 
 in her happier existence. 
 
 So she was not sorry when all the forms and 
 demands of the law were satisfied, and they 
 could depart. The Donatas went away with 
 hearts full of pleasure in their new experiences. 
 Peppo had a slip of paper in his pocket-book 
 which satisfied all his expectations. Caterina 
 had many new dresses and ornaments, every 
 one, indeed, took back with him something to 
 brighten the rest of his years. 
 
 As had been universally prophesied, McNeil 
 was united with Grizelda in the guardianship of 
 the young lord and his estates. And gradually 
 
 " The tumult of the time disconsolate, 
 To inarticulate murmurs died away," 
 
 and Grizelda's life settled into that calm, me 
 thodical order which is the sweetness as well as 
 the saltness of our days. A governess was en-
 
 324 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 gaged for young Archibald, who proved also an 
 excellent companion for Grizelda, and Colin was 
 a great deal of his time at Blairgowrie. There 
 was always some business to attend to, and 
 he appeared to enjoy being his uncle's deputy. 
 
 After the term of her seclusion was over, 
 Grizelda began to entertain her neighbours, to 
 visit, and to travel a little. On the bread of 
 bitterness she had grown to a woman's noblest 
 stature; and her patient, pious soul had im 
 parted to her beautiful body an air of no 
 ble serenity and candour that was exceedingly 
 charming. McNeil watched her with a con 
 stantly increasing love and admiration. Colin 
 was her worshipper long before he was aware 
 of the power she had over him. 
 
 So the pleasant months, summer and winter, 
 summer and winter, went by. All were happy 
 in the present, and no one was so foolish, so 
 
 " O'er exquisite 
 As to cast the fashions of uncertain evils " 
 
 for the future. The laird, indeed, allowed him 
 self to worry a little because a certain good 
 thing which he longed for was unaccountably 
 delayed by the indecision of those who might so 
 easily gratify him.
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 325 
 
 For he saw plainly that Colin was deeply in 
 love with Grizelda ; and as far as he could 
 judge, Grizelda was in love with Colin. It was 
 the natural thing, the suitable thing for both. 
 Then why did they not say so ? He never took 
 into consideration the numerous shadowy im 
 pediments to its own bliss which love delights 
 in inventing. He could not understand why 
 Colin and Grizelda should like to find their 
 desire by a labyrinth, instead of by a straight 
 road. Ah ! it takes youth to understand that 
 the labyrinth is, after all, the nearest way. 
 
 One lovely Sabbath night there had been a 
 great preaching on the hills. Brodick had said 
 words to the gathered thousands which sent 
 them away solemnly happy. Some were sing 
 ing in their boats to the measured throb of 
 their oars as they rowed home in the glorious 
 moonlight; others were seeking their cots in 
 the hollows of the hills. Brodick and McNeil 
 walked together. The meeting had been near 
 Blairgowrie, and they agreed to call there and 
 take supper with Grizelda. 
 
 They entered the beautiful grounds. The 
 odours of lilies and lilacs made the place like 
 a shrine. The silence that was in the starry
 
 326 THE HOUSEHOLD OF McNEIL. 
 
 sky, the sleep that was among the lonely hills, 
 the glory that was in the mellow moonshine 
 were influences that were irresistibly sweet and 
 tender. The fragrance made them stand still to 
 wonder over it. 
 
 As they did so, Colin and Grizelda came out 
 of the lilac walk. She was clothed in white, and 
 in the enchanting atmosphere looked like an 
 angel at Colin's side. He bent to her, he drew 
 her to his heart, he kissed her uplifted face. 
 
 The old men turned silently away, as if 
 they had been guilty of a profanation. Their 
 eyes were wet, and yet their hearts were full of 
 happiness. McNeil was dreaming of Grizelda 
 in her own home again, of Grizelda the be 
 loved wife of Colin; of Grizelda's sons and 
 daughters rilling the old rooms with life, and 
 convoying him to the grave with their young 
 arms around him. 
 
 Brodick had a vision of his own youth ; of the 
 days when he had wooed his lost wife on the 
 hills of Aranteenie ; of his joyful tryst she had 
 given him when dying upon the hills of God. 
 His strong face was as tender as a child's. 
 
 " McNeil," he said, " it is a wonderful story, 
 this old story of love ! It is as fresh to-night
 
 THE LAIRD IS SATISFIED. 327 
 
 in the garden of Blairgowrie as it was in the 
 Garden of Eden." 
 
 " I am a happy man, Brodick." 
 
 Over the moonlit moor, in the solitude 
 and silence of the exquisite night, the two 
 walked in gladness of heart. Their tall, mas 
 sive figures had a grave majesty; they carried 
 with them the air of those men who lived when 
 the world was young, when angels walked the 
 earth not unseen, and God himself talked with 
 Abraham, calling him " My Friend" 
 
 THE END.
 
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