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 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR4699.F4A151881 
 
 v.1-6 
 
 [Novels] 
 
 3 1924 013 457 357 
 
Cornell University 
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 the Cornell University Library. 
 
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MISS FERBIER'S NOVELS 
 
". . . . Cato did well reprove Alus Albinos for writing 
 the Roman story in tlie Greek tongue, of which he had hut 
 imperfect knowledge ; and himself was put to make his apology 
 for so doing : Cato told him that he was mightily in love 
 with a fault that he had rather beg a pardon than be innocent. 
 Who forced him to need the pardon ? " 
 
 Jeremy Tatloe. 
 
~ MAEEIAaE 
 
 Jl #Ol)£l 
 
 "Life consists not of a series of illustrious actions ; the greater part 
 of our time passes in compliance with necessities — in the performance 
 of daily duties — in the removal of small inconveniences — in the pro- 
 curement of petty pleasures ; and we are well or ill at ease, as the 
 main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small and 
 frequent interruption." — Johnson. 
 
 ffiSittliutgjt ffiBition 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOLUME L 
 
 LONDON 
 
 EICHARD BENTLEY & SON 
 
 IPuHistiers in ©rtinarg to |^tt Utajeatg tfte (JIueen 
 
 1881 
 

 ^=d:^X.^ 
 
 3 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, EdhUmrgh. 
 
PREFATOEY NOTE. 
 
 Miss Feebiek's Novels have, since their first 
 appearance, suffered curtailment in all subsequent 
 Editions. The present Edition is the first reprint 
 from the original Editions, and contains the whole 
 of the omissions in other reprints. It is, therefore, 
 the only perfect Edition of these Novels. 
 
 Works which have received the praise of Sir 
 Walter Scott and Sir James Mackintosh, and been 
 thought worthy of discussion in the Nodes Amhro- 
 siance, require no further introduction to the reader. 
 The almost exceptional position which they occupy 
 as satirizing the foibles rather than the more 
 serious faults of human nature, and the caustic 
 character of that satire, mingled with such bright 
 wit and genial humour, give Miss Eerrier a place 
 to herself in English fiction ; and it is felt that a 
 
VI PEEFATOBY NOTE. 
 
 time has come to recognize this by producing her 
 works in a form which fits them for the library, 
 and in a type which enables them to be read with 
 enjoyment. 
 
 G. B. 
 
 New Bueungton Street, 
 December 1881. 
 
MISS FEREIER'S NOVELS.' 
 
 In November 1854 there died in Edinburgh one who 
 might, with truth, be called almost the last, if not tlie 
 last, of that literary galaxy that adorned Edinburgh 
 society in the days of Scott, Jeffrey, Wilson, and 
 others. Distinguished by the friendship and confid- 
 ence of Sir "Walter Scott, the name of Susan Edmon- 
 stone Ferrier is one that has become famous from her 
 three clever, satirical, and most amusing novels of 
 Marriage, The Inheritance, and Destiny. They exhibit, 
 besides, a keen sense of the ludicrous almost un- 
 equalled. She may be said to have done for Scotland 
 what Jane Austen and Maria Edgeworth have respect- 
 ively done fbr England and Ireland — left portraits, 
 painted in undying colours, of men and women that 
 will live for ever in the hearts and minds of her 
 readers. In the present redundant age of novel- 
 writers and novel-readers, and when one would sup- 
 pose the supply must far exceed the demand from 
 the amount of puerile and often at the same time 
 prurient literature in the department of fiction that 
 
 ' Reprinted from the Temple Bar Magazine for November 1878. 
 VOL. I. B M 
 
2 MISS FEKEIER S NOVELS. 
 
 daily flows from the press, it is refreshiag to turn to 
 the vigorous and, above all, healthy moral tone of 
 this lady's works. To the present generation they 
 are as if they had never been, and to the question, 
 "Did you ever read Marriage?" it is not uncommon 
 in these times to get such an answer as, " No, never. 
 Who wrote it f " Miss Ferrier. " "I never heard of 
 her or her novels." It is with the view, therefore, 
 of enlightening such benighted ones that I pen the 
 following pages. 
 
 Miss Ferrier was the fourth and youngest daughter 
 of James Ferrier, Writer to the Signet, and was bom 
 at Edinburgh, 7th of September 1782. Her father 
 was bred to that profession in the office of a distant 
 relative, Mr. Archibald Campbell of Succoth (great- 
 grandfather of the present Archbishop of Canterbury). 
 To his valuable and extensive business, which included 
 the management of all the Argyll estates, he ultimately 
 succeeded. He was admitted as a member of the 
 Society of Writers to the Signet in the year 1770. 
 He was also appointed a Principal Clerk of Session 
 through the influence (most strenuously exerted) of 
 his friend and patron, John, fifth Duke of ArgyU,^ 
 and was a colleague in that office with Scott. He 
 
 ■^ To tHs nobleman, in his later years, Mr. Ferrier devoted 
 mucli of his time, both at Inveraray and Roseneath. He died 
 in 1806. His Duchess was the lovely Elizabeth Gunning. Mr. 
 Ferrier died at 25 George Street, Edinburgh, January 1829, 
 aged eighty-six. Sir Walter Scott attended his funeral. After 
 his death Miss Ferrier removed to a smaller house, in Nelson 
 Street. 
 
MISS FEBKIEE S NOVELS. 3 
 
 also numbered among his friends Henry Mackenzie, 
 the " Man of Feeling," Dr. Hugh Blair, and last, 
 though not least, Burns the poet. His father, John 
 Ferrier, had been in the same office till his marriage 
 with Grizzel, only daughter and heiress of Sir Walter 
 Sandilands Hamilton, Bart., of Westport, county 
 Linlithgow. 1 John Ferrier was the last Laird of 
 Kirklands, county Eenfrew, subsequently sold to Lord 
 Blantyre. Mr. James Ferrier was the third son of 
 his parents, and was born 1744.^ Miss Ferrier was 
 in the habit of frequently visiting at Inveraray Castle 
 in company with her father, and while there had 
 ample opportunity afforded her of studying fashion- 
 able life in all its varied and capricious moods, and 
 which have been preserved to posterity in her admir- 
 able delineations of character. Her reason for becom- 
 ing an authoress is from her own pen, as follows, and 
 is entitled a preface to The Inheritance : — 
 
 ^ Sir Walter's father, Walter Sandilands of Hilderston, a 
 cadet of the Torphiehen family (his father was commonly styled 
 Tutor of Calder), assumed the name of Hamilton on his mar- 
 riage with the heiress of Westport. 
 
 ^ His brothers were : William, who assumed the name of 
 Hamilton on succeeding his grandfather in the Westport estate. 
 He was in the navy, and at the capture of Quebec, where 
 he assisted the sailors to drag the cannon up the heights of 
 Abraham ; m. Miss Johnstone of Straiton, co. Linlithgow ; died 
 1814. Walter; m. Miss Wallace of Cairnhill, co. Ayr, father 
 of the late Colonel Ferrier Hamilton of CairnhiU and Westport. 
 Hay, major-general in the army ; ni. first Miss Macqueen, niece 
 of Lord Braxiield, second, Mrs. Cutlar of Orroland, co. Kirk- 
 cudbright. He was Governor of Dumbarton Castle, and died 
 there 1824. 
 
4 MISS FEKRIER S NOVELS. 
 
 " An introduction had been requested for the first of 
 these three works, Marriage; but while the author was 
 considering what could be said for an already thrice-told 
 tale, it had passed through the press with such rapidity 
 as to outstrip all consideration. Indeed, what can be said 
 for any of them amounts to so little, it is scarcely worth 
 saying at all. The first was begun at the urgent desire 
 of a friend, and with the promise of assistance, which, how- 
 ever, failed long before the end of the first volume ; the 
 work was then thrown aside, and resumed some years 
 after.^ It afforded occupation and amusement for idle 
 and solitary hours, and was published in the belief that 
 the author's name never would be guessed at, or the work 
 heard of beyond a very limited sphere. ' Ce n'est que le 
 premier pas qu'il coute ' in novel- writing, as in carrying 
 one's head in their hand ; The Inheritance and Destiny 
 followed as matters of course. It has been so often and 
 confidently asserted that almost all the characters are 
 individual portraits, that the author has little hope of 
 being believed when she asserts the contrary. That some 
 of them were sketched from life is not denied ; but the 
 circumstances in which they are placed, their birth, habits, 
 language, and a thousand minute particulars, differ so 
 widely from the originals as ought to refute the charge of 
 personality. With regard to the introduction of religious 
 sentiment into works of fiction, there exists a difference 
 of opinion, which, in the absence of any authoritative 
 command, leaves each free to act according to their own 
 feelings and opinions. Viewing this life merely as the 
 prelude to another state of existence, it does seem strange 
 that the future should ever be wholly excluded from 
 any representation of it, even in its motley occurrences, 
 scarcely less motley, perhaps, than the human mind itself. 
 The author can only wish it had been her province to 
 have raised plants of nobler growth in the wide field of 
 
 ^ It underwent several changes before its final publication in 
 1818. 
 
MISS feeeiek's novels. 5 
 
 Christian literature ; but as such has not been her high 
 calling, she hopes her ' small herbs of grace ' may, with- 
 out offence, be allowed to put forth their blossoms amongst 
 the briars, weeds, and wild flowers of life's common path. 
 "Edinburgh, April 1840." 
 
 The friend on whose assistance she relied was Miss 
 Clavering, daughter of Lady Augusta Clavering, and 
 niece of the late Duke of Argyll. Between this lady 
 and our author an early friendship existed, which 
 was severed only by death. It commenced in 1797, 
 when Miss Ferrier lost her mother,^ and when she 
 
 ^ Mrs. Ferrier {nie Coutts) was the daughter of a farmer at 
 Gourdon, near Montrose. She was very amiable, and possessed 
 of great personal beauty, as is attested by her portrait by Sir 
 George Chalmers, Bart., in a fancy dress, and painted 1765. At 
 the time of her marriage (1767) she resided at the Abbey of 
 Holyrood Palace with an aunt, the Honourable Mrs. Maitland, 
 widow of a, younger son of Lord Lauderdale's, who had been 
 left in poor circumstances, and had charge of the apartments 
 there belonging to the Argyll family. After their marriage 
 Mr. and Mrs. Ferrier occupied a flat in Lady Stair's Close (Old 
 Town of Edinburgh), and which had just been vacated by Sir 
 James Pulteuey and his wife Lady Bath. Ten children were 
 the fruit of this union (six sons and four daughters), viz. — 
 
 1. John, W.S., of 12 York Place, Edinburgh, d. 1851 ; m. 
 Miss WUson, sister of Professor Wilson, and father of the late 
 Professor Ferrier of St. Andrews, "N. B. 
 
 2. Archibald Campbell, "W.S., d. 1814; m. Miss^Garden. 
 
 3. Lorn, d. 1801, at Demerara. 
 
 4. James, d. in India, 1804. ) „ j.,, «,„ 
 
 , -„.,,. „ ... , ,„„, . , ,. K Both officers. 
 
 5. Wubam Hamilton, d. 1804, m India. ) 
 
 6. Walter, W.S., d. 1856 ; m. Miss Gordon. 
 
 7. Jane (Mrs. Graham), d. 1846. 
 
 8. Janet (Mrs. Connell), d. 1848. 
 
 9. Helen (Mrs. Kinloch), d. 1866, at Torquay, aged 90. 
 10. Susan Edmonstone. 
 
6 MISS FBRKIEE S NOVELS. 
 
 went with her father to Inveraray Castle she was then 
 fifteen, and her friend only eight. Miss Clavering 
 became the wife of Mr. Miles Fletcher, advocate, but 
 was better known in later years as Mrs. Christison. 
 She inherited aU the natural elegance and beauty of 
 face and form for which her mother, and aunt Lady 
 Charlotte Campbell, were so distinguished, and died 
 at Edinburgh, 1869, at an advanced age. While con- 
 cocting the story of her iirst novel. Miss Ferrier 
 writes to her friend in a lively and sprightly vein : — 
 
 " Your proposals flatter and deUght me, but how in 
 the name of Postage are we to transport our brains to 
 and fro ? I suppose we'd be pawning our flamiel petti- 
 coats to bring about our heroine's marriage, and lying on 
 straw to give her Christian buriaL Part of your plot I 
 like much, some not quite so well— for example, it wants 
 a moral — your principal characters are good and interest- 
 ing, and they are tormented and persecuted and punished 
 from no fault .of their own, and for no possible purpose. 
 Now I don't think, Hke all penny-book manufacturers, 
 that 'tis absolutely necessary that the good boys and girls 
 should be rewarded and the naughty ones punished. Yet 
 I think, where there is much tribulation, 'tis fitter it 
 should be the consequence rather than the caiise of miscon- 
 duct or frailty. You'll say that rule is absurd, inasmuch 
 as it is not observed in human life : that I allow, but we 
 know the inflictions of Providence are for wise purposes, 
 therefore our reason willingly submits to them. But as 
 the only good purpose of a book is to inculcate morality 
 and convey some lesson of instruction as well as delight, 
 I do not see that what is called a good moral can be dis- 
 pensed with in a work of fiction. Another fault is your 
 making your hero attempt suicide, which is greatly too 
 shocking, and destroys all the interest his misfortunes 
 
MISS FEKRIEK S NOVELS. 7 
 
 would otherwise excite — that, however, could be easily- 
 altered, and iu other respects I think your plot has great 
 merit. You'll perhaps be displeased at the freedom of 
 my remarks ; but in the first place freedom is absolutely 
 necessary in the cause in which we are about to embark, 
 and it must be understood to be one if not the chief article 
 of our creed. In the second (though it should have been 
 the first), know that I always say what I think, or say 
 nothing. Now as to my own deeds — I shall make no 
 apologies (since they must be banished from our code of 
 laws) for sending you a hasty and imperfect sketch of 
 what I think might be wrought up to a tolerable form. 
 I do not recollect ever to have seen the sudden transition 
 of a high-bred English beauty, i who thinks she can sacri- 
 fice all for love, to an uncomfortable solitary Highland 
 dwelling^ among tall red-haired sisters and grim-faced 
 aunts. Don't you think this would make a good opening 
 of the piece ? Suppose each of us try our hands on it ; 
 the moral to be deduced from that is to warn all young 
 ladies against runaway matches, and the character and 
 fate of the two sisters would be unexceptionable. I expect 
 it will be the first book every wise matron will put into 
 the hand of her daughter, and even the reviewers will 
 relax of their severity in favour of the morality of this 
 little work. Enchanting sight ! already do I behold my- 
 self arrayed in an old mouldy covering, thumbed and 
 creased and filled with dogs'-ears. I hear the enchanting 
 sound of some sentimental miss, the shrill pipe of some 
 antiquated spinster, or the hoarse grumbling of some 
 incensed dowager as they severally inquire for me at the 
 circulating library, and are assured by the master that 
 'tis in such demand that though he has thirteen copies 
 
 ^ Lady Juliana. 
 
 ^ Glenfern. Dunderawe Castle, on Loch Fyne, was in Miss 
 Ferrier's mind when she drew this sketch of a "solitary High- 
 land dwelling." 
 
8 MISS feeeier's novels. 
 
 they are insufficient to answer tlie calls upon it, but tliat 
 each of them may depend upon having the very first that 
 comes in ! ! ! Child, child, you had need be sensible of 
 the value of my correspondence. At this moment I'm 
 squandering mines of wealth upon you when I might be 
 drawing treasures from the bags of time ! But I shall 
 not repine if you'll only repay me in kind — speedy and 
 long is all that I require ; for all things else I shall take 
 my chance. Though I have been so impertinent to your 
 book, I nevertheless hope and expect you'll send it to me. 
 Gombie^ and his daughter (or Mare, as you call her) are 
 coming to town about this time, as I'm informed, and you 
 may easily contrive to catch them (wild as they are) and 
 send it by them, for there's no judging what a picture 
 will be like from a mere pen-and-ink outline — ^if that 
 won't do, is there not a coach or a carrier ? One thing 
 let me entreat of you : if we engage in this undertaking, 
 let it be kept a profound secret from every human being. 
 If I was suspected of being accessory to such foul deeds, 
 my brothers and sisters would murder me, and my father 
 bury me alive — and I have always observed that if a 
 secret ever goes beyond those immediately concerned in its 
 concealment it very soon ceases to be a secret." 
 
 Again she writes to her friend and copartner in 
 her literary work : — 
 
 "I am boiling to hear from you, but I've taken a 
 remorse of conscience about Lady Maclaughlan and her 
 friends : if I was ever to be detected, or even suspected, I 
 would have nothing for it but to drown myself. I mean, 
 therefore, to let her alone till I hear from you, as I think 
 we might compound some other kind of character for her 
 that might do as well and not be so dangerous. As to 
 the misses, if ever it was to be published they must be 
 altered or I must fly my native land." 
 
 Campbell of Combie. 
 
MISS fekeiee's novels. 9 
 
 Miss Clavering ■writes in answer : — 
 
 " Ardbncaplb Castle, Sunday Morning. 
 
 " First of all I must tell you that I approve in the 
 most signal manner of Lady MaclaugHan. The sort of 
 character was totally unexpected by me, and I was really 
 transported with her. Do I know the person who is the 
 original ? The dress was vastly like Mrs. Darner, '^ and 
 the manners like Lady Frederick. ^ Tell me if you did 
 not mean a touch at her. I love poor Sir Sampson 
 vastly, though it is impossible, in the presence of his lady, 
 to have eyes or ears for any one else. Now you must not 
 think of altering her, and it must all go forth in the 
 world ; neither must the misses upon any account be 
 changed. I have a way now of at least offering it to 
 publication by which you never can be discovered. I 
 will tell the person that I wrote it (indeed, quotha, cries 
 Miss Ferrier, and no great favour ; see how she loves to 
 plume herself with borrowed fame !). Well, however, 
 my way is quite sure, and the person would never think 
 of speaking of it again, so never let the idea of detection 
 come across your brain while you are writing to damp 
 your ardour. 
 
 " Positively neither Sir Sampson's lady nor the foolish 
 virgins must be displaced." 
 
 Again she writes from Inveraray Castle (of date 
 December 1810), eight years before the work was 
 published : — 
 
 ^ Daughter of General Seymour Conway, and a distinguished 
 sculptor. She was niece of the fifth Duke of Argyll. 
 
 " Lady Frederick Campbell is believed to have suggested the 
 character of Lady Maclaughlan to Miss Ferrier, and there is 
 little doubt she was the original. She was the widow of Earl 
 Ferrers, of Tyburn notoriety, and was burnt to death at Coombe 
 Bank, Kent, in 1807. 
 
10 MISS ferkier's novels. 
 
 " And now, my dear Susannah, I must tell you of the 
 success of your first-born. I read it to Lady Charlotte 
 in the carriage when she and I came together from Arden- 
 caple, Bessie ^ having gone with mamma. If you will 
 believe, I never yet in my existence saw Lady C. laugh 
 so much as she did at that from beginning to end ; and, 
 seriously, I was two or three times afraid that she would 
 fall into a fit. Her very words were, 'I assure you I 
 think it without the least exception the cleverest thing 
 that ever was written, and in wit far surpassing Fielding.' 
 Then she said as to our other books they would all sink 
 to nothingness before yours, that they were not fit to be 
 mentioned in the same day, and that she felt quite dis- 
 couraged from writing when she thought of yours. The 
 whole conversation of the aunties ^ made her screech with 
 laughing ; and, in short, I can neither record nor describe 
 all that she said ; far from exaggerating it, I don't say 
 half enough, but I only wish you had seen the effect it 
 produced. I am sure you will be the first author of the 
 
 In another letter she writes :^ 
 
 " I had an immense packet from Lady C. the other 
 day, which I confess rather disappointed me, for I expected 
 volumes of new compositions. On opening it, what should 
 it prove but your book returned ? so I shall keep it safe 
 till I see you. She was profuse in its praises, and so was 
 mamma, who said she was particularly taken with Lady 
 
 ^ Lady Charlotte Campbell, her aimt, better known latterly 
 as Lady Charlotte Bury, and celebrated for her beauty and 
 accomplishments. 
 
 2 Miss Mure of Caldwell. 
 
 3 These oddities were the three Misses Edmonstone, of the 
 Duntreath family, and old family friends, after one of whom 
 Miss Ferrier was named. 
 
MISS fereiee's novels. 11 
 
 Juliana's brotlier,i lie was so like the duke. Lady C. said 
 she tad read it all deliberately and critically, and pro- 
 nounced it capital, with, a dash under it. Lady 0. begs 
 that in your enumeration of Lady Olivia's peccadilloes 
 you will omit waltzes." 
 
 That dance had just been introduced in London 
 (1811), and the season of that year Miss Clavering 
 spent with her aunt, Lady Charlotte, in the metro- 
 polis, in a round of gaiety, going to parties at Ken- 
 sington Palace (where the Princess of Wales ^ then 
 lived), Devonshire House, and the witty Duchess of 
 Gordon's, one of the " Empresses of Fashion," as 
 Walpole calls her. Apvpos of waltzes, she writes to 
 Miss Ferrier : — 
 
 " They are aU of a sudden become so much the rage 
 here that people meet in the morning at one another's 
 houses to learn them. And they are getting on very 
 much. Lady Charlotte and I get great honour for the 
 accomplishment, and I have improved a few scholars. 
 Clanronald^ is grown so detestably fine. He waltzes 
 with me because he thinks he thereby shows off his 
 figure, but as to speaking to me or Lady Charlotte he 
 thinks himself much above that. He is in. much request 
 at present because of his dancing ; next to him Lord 
 Hartington is, I think, the best dancer ; he is, besides, 
 very fond of it, and is much above being fine ; I never 
 met with a more natural, boyish creature." 
 
 To return to the novel. The only portion from 
 
 ^ Lord Courtland. 
 
 2 Lady Charlotte was one of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting. 
 ' Macdonald of Clanronald, a great beau in the fashionable 
 London world. 
 
12 MISS fekeiee's novels. 
 
 Miss Clavering's pen is the history of Mrs. Douglas 
 in the first volume, and are, as she herself remarked, 
 "the only few pages that wiU be skipped," She 
 further adds : — 
 
 " Make haste and print it then, lest one of the Miss 
 Edmonstones should die, as then I should think you 
 would scarce venture for fear of being haunted. 
 
 " I shall hasten to burn your last letter, as you men- 
 tion something of looking out for a father for your hant- 
 lirvg, 80 I don't think it would be decent to let anybody 
 get a sight of such a letter !" 
 
 At last, in 1818, the novel was published by the 
 late Mr. Blackwood, and drew forth loud plaudits 
 from the wondering public, as to who the author of 
 so original a book could be. " In London it is much 
 admired, and generally attributed to Walter Scott,'' 
 so writes a friend to Miss Terrier ; and she replies in 
 her humorous style : " Whosever it is, I have met 
 mth nothing that has interested me since." Sir 
 Walter must have been flattered at his being supposed 
 its father, for he says, in the conclusion of the Tales 
 of my Landlord : — 
 
 " There remains behind not only a large harvest, but 
 labourers capable of gathering it in ; more than one writer 
 has of late displayed talents of this description, and if the 
 present author, himself a phantom, may be permitted to 
 distinguish a brother, or perhaps a sister, shadow, he would 
 mention in particular the author of the very lively work 
 entitled Marriage." 
 
 Mr. Blackwood, whose opinion is of some value. 
 
MISS ferrier's novels. 13 
 
 thought very highly of Marriage, and he writes to Miss 
 Farrier (1817) :— 
 
 " Mr. B. will not allow himself to think for one moment 
 that there can be any uncertainty as to the work being 
 completed. Not to mention his own deep disappointment, 
 Mr. B. would almost consider it a crime if a work possess- 
 ing so much interest and useful instruction were not given 
 to the world. The aiithor is the only critic of whom 
 Mr. B. is afraid, and after what he has said, he anxiously 
 hopes that this censor of the press will very speedily afiBx 
 the imprimatur." 
 
 In allusion to Sir Walter's eulogium on the novel 
 above quoted, Mr. Blackvrood writes to the author : — 
 
 " I have the pleasure of enclosing you this concluding 
 sentence of the new Tales of my Landlord, which are to 
 be published to-morrow. After this call, surely you will 
 be no longer silent. If the great magician does not con- 
 jure you I shall give up all hopes." 
 
 But Miss Ferrier seems to have been proof against 
 the great magician even. Marriage became deservedly 
 popular, and was translated into French, as appears 
 from the annexed : — 
 
 " We perceive by the French papers that a translation 
 of Miss Ferrier's clever novel Marriage has been very suc- 
 cessful in France." — New Times, 6 Oct. '25. 
 
 For Marriage she received the sum of £150. Her 
 second venture was more successful in a pecuniary 
 sense. Space, however, prohibits me from dwelling 
 any longer on Marriage, so we come next to The 
 Inheritance. This novel appeared six years after, in 
 
14 MISS feeeier's novels. 
 
 1824, and is a work of very great merit. To her sister 
 (Mrs. Kinloch, in London) Miss Farrier writes : — 
 
 " John (her brother) has now completed a bargain with 
 Mr. Blackwood, by which I am to have £1000 for a novel 
 now in hand, but which is not nearly finished, and pos- 
 sibly never may be. Nevertheless he is desirous of 
 announcing it in his magazine, and therefore I wish to 
 prepare you for the shock. I can say nothing more than 
 I have already said on the subject of silence, if not of 
 secrecy. I never will avow myself, and nothing can hurt 
 and offend me so much as any of my friends doing it for 
 me ; tliis is not fagon de parler, but my real and unalter- 
 able feeling ; I could not bear the fuss of authorism ! " 
 
 Secrecy as to her authorship seems to have been 
 the great desire of her heart, and much of The Inherii- 
 ance was written in privacy at Momingside House, 
 old Mr. Ferrier's summer retreat near Edinburgh, and 
 she says, "This house is so small, it is very ill-calculated 
 for concealment." 
 
 It was not till 1851 that she pubHcIy avowed her- 
 self by authorising her name to be prefixed to a 
 revised and corrected edition of her works.^ Sir 
 Walter Scott was delighted with this second novel, 
 a proof of which was conveyed to Miss Ferrier by 
 Mr. Blackwood : — 
 
 " On "Wednesday I dined in company with Sir Walter 
 Scott, and he spoke of the work in the very highest terms. 
 I do not always set the highest value on the baronet's 
 
 1 Published by the late Mr. Richard Bentley, to whom she 
 sold her copyrights in 1841. A previous edition was published 
 by him in 1841. 
 
MISS FERKIERS NOVELS. 15 
 
 favourable opinion of a book, because lie has so much 
 kindness of feeling towards every one, but in this case he 
 spoke so much con amore, and entered so completely, and at 
 such a length, to me, into the spirit of the book and of the 
 characters, that showed me at once the impression it had 
 made on him. Every one I have seen who has seen the 
 book gives the some praise of it. Two or three days ago 
 I had a note from a friend, which I copy : ' I have nearly 
 finished a volume of The Inheritance. It is unquestionably 
 the best novel of the class of the present day, in so far as 
 I can yet judge. Lord Eossville, Adam Ramsay, Bell 
 Black and the Major, Miss Pratt and Anthony Whyte, are 
 capital, and a fine contrast to each other. It is, I think, 
 a more elaborate work than Marriage, better told, with 
 greater variety, and displaying improved powers. I con- 
 gratulate you, and have no doubt the book will make a 
 prodigious sough.'" ^ 
 
 Mr. Blackwood adds : "I do not know a better 
 judge nor a more frank and honest one than the writer 
 of this note.'' 
 
 Again he writes : — 
 
 " On Saturday I lent in confidence to a very clever 
 friend, on whose discretion I can rely, the two volumes 
 of The Inheritance. This morning I got them back 
 with the following note: 'My dear Sir — I am truly 
 delighted with The Inheritance. I do not find as yet any 
 one character quite equal to Dr. B,edgill,2 except, perhaps, 
 the good-natured, old-tumbled (or troubled, I can't make 
 out which) maiden,^ but as a novel it is a hundred miles 
 
 ^ Sensation. 
 
 ^ In Marriage the gourmet physician to Lord Courtland, and 
 ' ' the living portrait of hundreds, though never before hit off 
 so well." 
 
 ' ilisB Becky Duguid. 
 
16 MISS FEBRIERS NOVELS. 
 
 above Marriage. It reminds me of Miss Austen's very 
 best things in every page. And if tbe third volume be 
 like these, no fear of success triumphant.'" 
 
 Mr. Blackwood again says : — 
 
 " You have only to go on as you are going to sustain 
 the character Sir Walter gave me of Marriage, that you 
 had the rare talent of making your conclusion even better 
 than your commencement, for, said this worthy and vera- 
 cious person, ' Mr. Blackwood, if ever I were to write a 
 novel, I would like to write the two first volumes, and 
 leave anybody to write the third that liked.'" 
 
 In the following note. Lister, author of Granhy, 
 also expresses his admiration in graceful terms, and 
 with a copy of his own novel for Miss Ferrier's 
 acceptance : — 
 
 T. JS. Lister to Miss Ferrier. 
 
 "17 Heriot Row, Feb. 3, 1836. 
 
 " My dear Madam — I should feel that, in requesting 
 your acceptance of the hook which accompanies this note, 
 I should be presuming too much upon the very short time 
 that I have had the honour of being known to you, if 
 Mrs. Lister had not told me that you had kindly spoken 
 of it in approving terms. I hope, therefore, I may he 
 allowed, without presumption, to present to you a book 
 which you have thus raised in the opinion of its writer, 
 and the composition of which is associated in my mind 
 with the recollection of one of the greatest pleasures I 
 have derived from novel-reading, for which I am indebted 
 to you. I believe the only novel I read, or at any rate 
 can now remember to have read, during the whole time I 
 was writing Grariby, was your Inheritance. — Believe me, 
 my dear Madam, your very faithful, T. H. Lister." 
 
MISS FEREIERS NOVELS. 17 
 
 From Mrs. Lister (afterwards Lady Theresa Corne- 
 wall Lewis) Miss Farrier also received the following 
 complimentary note : — 
 
 Mrs. Lister to Miss Ferrier. 
 
 "Thursday Night. 17 Heriot Eow. 
 
 " My deab Miss Fereier — I cannot leave Edinburgh 
 without a grateful acknowledgment of your very kind and 
 flattering gift. Mr. Lister called upon you in hopes of 
 being able to wish you good-bye, and to tell you in per- 
 son how much we were pleased with the proof you have 
 given us that we are not unworthy of enjoying and appre- 
 ciating your delightful works — pray accept our very best 
 thanks, and I hope as an authoress jou wiU not feel 
 offended if I say that they will now have an added charm 
 in our eyes from the regard which our personal acquaint- 
 ance with the writer has engendered. I know that, to 
 those who do not mix much in society, the acquaint- 
 ance with strangers is often irksome : we therefore feel 
 the more obliged to you for having allowed us the pleasure 
 of knowing you, and I hope that if we return in the 
 course of the year that we may find you less suffering in 
 health, but as kindly disposed to receive our visits ae you 
 have hitherto been. We feel very grateful for all the 
 kindness we have met with in Edinburgh, and amongst 
 the pleasant reminiscences of the last five months we must 
 always rank high the having received from you as a token 
 of regard so acceptable a gift. — Believe me (or, indeed, 
 I ought to say us), my dear Miss Ferrier, yours most 
 sincerely, M. Theresa Lister." 
 
 Lord Murray, the late Scotch Judge, writes to a 
 mutual friend of his and Miss Ferrier's (Miss Walker 
 of Daby) : — 
 
 VOL. I. C M- 
 
18 MISS fereiee's novels. 
 
 " I received a copy of Inheritance in the name of tlie 
 author, and as I do not know who the author is, an(i I 
 suspect that you know more than I do, I trust you will 
 find some channel through which you will convey my 
 thanks. I read Inheritance with very great pleasure. 
 The characters are very well conceived, and delineated 
 with great success. I may add I have heard it highly 
 commended by much better judges. Jeffrey speaks very 
 favourably. He is particularly pleased with the Nabob 
 (Major) and spouse, the letter from the Lakes, and the 
 P.S. to it. Lord Gwydyr, who lives entirely in fashion- 
 able cu'cles, said to me much in its praise, in which I 
 concurred. 
 
 " From many other symptoms I have no doubt of its 
 complete success." 
 
 ■ I 
 
 Miss Hannah Mackenzie, daughter of the "Man 
 of FeeHng," writes to her friend Miss Farrier : — 
 
 " Walter Scott dined here the other day, and both he 
 and papa joined heartily in their admiration of uncle 
 Adam, and their wish to know who he is. Sir W. also 
 admires Miss Becky Duguid, and said he thought her 
 quite a new character. I should like much to see you, 
 and talk all over at length, but fear to invite you to my 
 own bower for fear of suspicion ; but I trust you will soon 
 come boldly, and face my whole family. I do not think 
 you need fear them much ; of course, like other people, 
 they have their ' thoughts,' but by no means speak wdth 
 certainty, and Margaret has this minute assured us that 
 she does not think it Miss Farrier's." 
 
 Uncle Adam, with " his seventy thousand pounds," 
 and as "cross as two sticks," in some degree resembled 
 old Mr. Terrier, who was somewhat brusque and testy 
 in his manner, and alarmed many people who were 
 
MISS FEERIEES NOVELS. 19 
 
 otherwise unacquainted with the true genuine worth 
 and honesty of his character. . Miss Becky is a poor 
 old maid, saddled with commissions from all her 
 friends of a most miscellaneous description. 
 
 " She was expected to attend all accouchemeiits, christ- 
 enings, deaths, chestings, and burials, but she was seldom 
 asked to a marriage, and never to any party of pleasure." 
 
 She is an admirable pendant to the "Pratt," who 
 is inseparable, however, from her invisible nephew, 
 Mr. Anthony Whyte. Miss Pratt is a sort of female 
 Paul Pry, always turning up at the most unexpected 
 moment at Lord Eossville's, and finally puts the finish- 
 ing stroke to the pompous old peer by driving up 
 to his castle door in the hearse of Mr. M'Vitie, the 
 Eadical distiller, being unable to procure any other 
 mode of conveyance during a heavy snow-storm, and 
 assured every one that she fancied she was the first 
 person who thought herself in luck to have got into a 
 hearse, but considered herself stiU luckier in having 
 got well out of one. 
 
 Caroline, Duchess of Argyll,^ expresses her appre- 
 ciation of The Inheritance to the author, for whom she 
 entertained a warm friendship :— 
 
 " Upper Brook Street, Monday Evening. 
 "What can I say sufficiently to express my thanks 
 either to you, my dear Miss Ferrier, or to the author of 
 
 ^ Daughter of Lord Jersey, and wife of the first Marquis of 
 Anglesea, whom she divorced, when Lord Paget, in 1810 : m. 
 the same ysar George, sixth Duke of Argyll. 
 
20 MISS feerier's novels. 
 
 The Inheritance, wtoever she may be, for tlie most perfect 
 edition of that most perfect book that was ever written ! 
 and now that I may be allowed to have my suspicion, I 
 shall read it again with double pleasure. It was so kind 
 of you to remember your promise ! When I received 
 your kind letter and books this morning I was quite 
 delighted with my beautiful present, and to find I was 
 not forgotten by one of my best friends." 
 
 The Inheritance — a fact not generally known — was 
 dramatised and produced at Covent Garden, but had 
 a very short run, and was an utter failure, as might 
 have been expected Mrs. Gore was requested to 
 adapt it for the stage by the chief comic actors of the 
 day, and she writes to Miss Ferrier on the subject : — 
 
 " Since the management of Covent Garden Theatre fell 
 into the hands of Laporte, he has favoured me with a 
 commission to write a comedy for him, and the subject 
 proposed by him is again the French novel of L'HSretidre, 
 which turns out to be a literal translation of The Inherit- 
 ance. He is quite bent upon having Miss Pratt on the 
 stage. I have not chosen to give Monsieur Laporte any 
 positive answer on the subject without previously apply- 
 ing to yourself to know whether you have any intention 
 or inclination to apply to the stage those admirable 
 talents which are so greatly appreciated in London." 
 
 Mrs. Gore, meanwhile, had been forestalled in her 
 attempt, as a play on the subject had been laid before 
 the reader to Covent Garden, and she writes again to 
 Miss Ferrier : — 
 
 " I have since learned with regret that the play is the 
 production of a certain Mr. Fitzball, the distinguished 
 author of the Flying Dutchman, and sixty other successful 
 
MISS fereiee's novels. 21 
 
 melodramas, represented with great applause at the Surrey, 
 Coburg, City, and Pavilion Theatres, etc.; in short, a 
 writer of a very low class. The play of The Inheritance 
 has been accepted at Covent Garden ; but, from my know- 
 ledge of the general engagements of the theatre, I should 
 say that it has not the shghtest chance of approaching to 
 representation. For your sake it cannot be better than in 
 the black-box of the manager's room, which secures it at 
 least from performance at the Coburg Theatre." 
 
 We must let the curtain, so to speak, drop on The 
 Inheritance, and pass on to Destiny. This novel also 
 appeared six years after, in 1831, and was dedicated 
 to Sir Walter Scott. And he acknowledges the com- 
 pliment as follows : — 
 
 Sir Walter Scott to Miss Ferrier. 
 
 "My dear Miss Ferrier — Ann returned to-day, 
 and part of her Edinburgh news informs me that you 
 meditated honouring your present literary offspring with 
 my name, so I do not let the sun set without saying how 
 much I shall feel myself obliged and honoured by such 
 a compliment. I will not stand bandying compliments 
 on my want of merit, but can swallow so great a compli- 
 ment as if I really deserved it, and iudeed, as whatever 
 I do not owe entirely to your goodness I may safely set 
 down to your friendship, I shall scarce be more iiattered 
 one way or the other. I hope you will make good some 
 hopes, which make Ann very proud, of visiting Abbotsford 
 about April next. Nothing can give the proprietor more 
 pleasure, for the birds, which are a prodigious chorus, 
 are making of their nests and singing in blithe chorus. 
 ' Pray come, and do not make, this a flattering dream.' I 
 know a little the value of my future godchild, since I 
 had a peep at some of the sheets when I was in town 
 
22 MISS fekkier's novels. 
 
 during the great snowstorm, wMcli, out of compassion 
 for an author closed up within her gates, may prove an 
 apology for his breach of confidence. So far I must say 
 that what I have seen has had the greatest effect in making 
 me curious for the rest. 
 
 "Believe me, dear Miss Terrier, with the greatest 
 respect, your most sincere, humble servant, 
 
 " Walter Scott. 
 
 " Abbotsford, Tuesday Evening." 
 
 In the next note he acknowledges a copy of Destiny, 
 sent him by the author : — 
 
 Sir Walter Scott to Miss Ferrier. 
 
 " Dear Miss Feeribh — If I had a spark of gratitude 
 in me I ought to have written you well-nigh a month 
 ago, to thank you in no common fashion for Destiny, 
 which by the few, and at the same time the probability, 
 of its incidents, your writings are those of the first person 
 of genius who has disarmed the little pedantry of the 
 Court of Cupid and of gods and men, and allowed youths 
 and maidens to propose other alliances than those an early 
 choice had pointed out to them. I have not time to teU 
 you all the consequences of my revolutionary doctrine. 
 All these we will talk over when you come here, which 
 I am rejoiced to hear is likely to be on Saturday next, 
 when Mr. Cadell ^ will be happy to be your beau in the 
 Blucher,^ and we will take care are met with at the toll. 
 Pray do not make this a flattering dream. You are of 
 the initiated, so will not be de trop with Cadell. — I am, 
 always, with the greatest respect and regard, your faithful 
 and affectionate servant, Waiter Scott. 
 
 "Abbotsford, Wednesday Evening." 
 
 1 Destiny was published by CadeU through Sir Walter's 
 intervention, and by it the author realised £1700. 
 ^ Name of the stage-coach. 
 
MISS feeriee's novels. 23 
 
 In 1832, the year after the birth of his godchild 
 Destiny, poor Sir Walter began to show signs of that 
 general break-up of mind and body so speedily fol- 
 lowed by his death. Of this sad state Miss Ferrier 
 writes to her sister, Mrs. Kinloch (in London) : — 
 
 " Alas ! the night cometh when no man can work, as 
 is the case with that mighty genius which seems now 
 completely quenched. Well might he be styled ' a bright 
 and benignant luminary,' for while all will deplore 
 the loss of that bright intellect which has so long charmed 
 a world, many will still more deeply lament the warm 
 and steady friend, whose kind and genuine influence was 
 ever freely diffused on all whom it could benefit. I trust, 
 however, he may be spared yet awhile ; it might be salu- 
 tary to himself to con over the lessons of a death-bed, 
 and it might be edifying to others to have his record 
 added to the many that have gone before him, that all 
 below is vanity. But till we feel that we shall never 
 believe it ! I ought to feel it more than most people, as 
 I sit in my dark and solitary chamber, shut out, as it 
 seems, from all the ' pride of life ' ; but, alas ! worldly 
 things make their way into the darkest and most solitary 
 recesses, for their dwelling is in the heart, and from 
 thence God only can expel them." 
 
 Her first visit to the author of Wamrley was in 
 the autumn of 1811, when she accompanied her father 
 to Ashestiel. The invitation came from Scott to Mr. 
 Ferrier : — 
 
 Walter Scott, Esq., to James Ferrier, Esq. 
 
 "Mx DEAR Sir — We are delighted to see that your 
 feet are free and disposed to turn themselves our way — 
 a pleasure which we cannot consent to put off till we have 
 
24 MISS feeeieb's novels. 
 
 a house at Abbotsford, which is but a distant prospect. 
 We are quite disengaged and alone, saving the company 
 of Mr. Terry the comedian, who is assisting me in plan- 
 ning my cottage, having been bred an architect under 
 Wyat. He reads to us after coifee in the evening, which 
 is very pleasant. This letter will reach you to-morrow, 
 so probably Thursday may be a convenient day of march, 
 when we shall expect you to dinner about five o'clock, 
 unless the weather should be very stormy, in which case 
 we should be sorry Miss Ferrier should risk getting cold. 
 To-day is clearing up after a week's dismal weather, which 
 may entitle us to expect some pleasant October days, not 
 the worst of our climate. The road is by Middleton and 
 Bankhouse ; we are ten miles from the last stage, and 
 thirty from Edinburgh, hUly road. There is a ford 
 beneath Ashestiel generally very passable, but we will 
 have the boat in readiness in case Miss Ferrier prefers it, 
 or the water should be full. Mrs. Scott joins in kind 
 respects to Miss Ferrier, and I ever am, dear Sir, — yours 
 truly obliged, W. Scott. 
 
 "Ashestiel, October 7." 
 
 It was in 1811 that Scott was appointed a clerk of 
 session, and to Mr. Ferrier he was in some measure 
 indebted for that post. 
 
 Her last visit to Abbotsfprd is touchingly alluded 
 to by Lockhart in his Life of Scott : — 
 
 " To assist them in amusing him ia the hours which 
 he spent out of his study, and especially that he might 
 make these hours more frequent, his daughter had invited 
 his friend the authoress of Marriage to come out to 
 Abbotsford, and her coming was serviceable. For she 
 knew and loved him well, and she had seen enough of 
 affliction akin to his to be well skilled in dealing with it. 
 She could not be an hour in his company without observ- 
 
MISS FEREIEES NOVELS. 25 
 
 ing what filled his children with more sorrow than all 
 the rest of the case. He would begin a story as gaily as 
 ever, and go on, in spite of the hesitation in his speech, 
 to tell it with highly picturesque effect — but before he 
 reached the point, it would seem as if some internal spring 
 had given way. He paused and gazed round him with 
 the blank anxiety of look that a blind man has when he 
 has dropped his staff. Unthinking friends sometimes 
 gave him the catch-word abruptly. I noticed the delicacy 
 of Miss Ferrier on such occasions. Her sight was bad, 
 and she took care not to use her glasses when he was 
 speaking, and she affected also to be troubled with deafness, 
 and would say, 'Well, I am getting as dull as a post, I 
 have not heard a word since you said so and so,' being 
 sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which he 
 had really halted. He then took up the thread with his 
 habitual smUe of courtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely 
 in the consideration of the lady's infirmity." 
 
 A very interesting account of her recollections of 
 visits to Ashestiel and Abbotsford appeared in the 
 February (1874) number of this magazine : it is short, 
 but gives a sad and pathetic picture of the great man 
 and his little grandson as they sat side by side at 
 table. 
 
 The following letter on Destiny is from Mrs. 
 Fletcher,^ a distinguished citizen of Edinburgh at 
 the commencement of this century, and a leader of 
 the Whig society there. For that reason it is worthy 
 of insertion here. Her son married Miss Clavering, 
 as before mentioned : — 
 
 ^ Her Memoir, by her daughter, Lady Eichardson, was pub- 
 lished not long since. 
 
26 MISS fereiee's novels. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher to Miss Ferris. 
 
 "Tadcasteb, April 16, 1831. 
 "My dear Miss Ferrieb — I should not have been 
 so long in thanking you for your kind present, had I not 
 wished to subject Destiny to a severer test than that 
 chosen by the French dramatist. Bis old ■woman pro- 
 bably partook of the vivacity of her nation, but my old 
 aunt, as Mary will tell you, is sick and often very sorrow- 
 ful, and yet Destiny has made her laugh heartily, and 
 cheated her of many wearisome hours of lamentation. 
 My grandson, Archibald Taylor, too, forsook football and 
 cricket for your fascinating book, and told me ' he could 
 sit up all night to see what had become of Eonald.' Mr. 
 Ribley and ' Kitty, my dear,' hit his comic fancy particu- 
 larly. My two most bookish neighbours, one an Oxford 
 divine, and the other a Cambridge student, declare that 
 ' Glenroy and M'Dow are exquisite originals.' My own 
 favourite, 'Molly Macaulay,' preserves her good-humour 
 to the last, though I thought you rather unmerciful in 
 shutting her up so long in Johnnie's nursery. The 
 fashionable heartlessness of Lady Elizabeth and her 
 daughter is coloured to the Ufe, and the refreshment of 
 returning to nature, truth, affection, and happiuess at Inch 
 Orran is admirably managed. Mary tells me you have 
 returned from Fife with fresh materials for future volumes. 
 Go on, dear Miss Ferrier, you are accountable for the 
 talents entrusted to you. Go on to detect selfishness in 
 all its various forms and foldings ; to put pride and vanity 
 to shame ; to prove that vulgarity belongs more to charac- 
 ter than condition, and that aU who make the world their 
 standard are essentially vulgar and low-minded, however 
 noble their exterior or refined their manners may be, and 
 that true dignity and elevation belong only to those to 
 whom Milton's lines may be applied : 
 
 " ' Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends 
 To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 
 And hope that reaps not shame. ' " 
 
MISS fereier's novels. 27 
 
 The following letter from Joanna Baillie gives a 
 very just and truthful criticism on Destiny : — 
 
 Miss Joanna Baillie to Miss Ferrier. 
 
 "Hampstead, May 1831. 
 " My deae Madam — I received your very kind present 
 of your last work about three weeks ago, and am very 
 grateful for the pleasure I have had in reading it, and for 
 being thus remembered by you. I thank you also for the 
 pleasure and amusement which my sisters and some other 
 friends have drawn from it. The first volume struck me 
 as extremely clever, the description of the different cha- 
 racters, their dialogues, and the writer's own remarks, 
 excellent. There is a spur both with the writer and the 
 reader on the opening of a work which naturally gives 
 the beginning of a story many advantages, but I must 
 confess that your characters never forget their outset, but 
 are well supported to the very end. Your Molly Mac- 
 aulayi is a delightful creature, and the footing she is on 
 with Glenroy very naturally represented, to say nothing 
 of the rising of her character at the end, when the weight 
 of contempt is removed from her, which is very good and 
 true to nature. Your minister, M'Dow,^ hateful as he is, 
 is very amusing, and a true representative of a few of the 
 Scotch clergy, and with different language and manners of 
 
 ^ The humble and devoted dependant of the proud chief 
 Glenroy, and governess to his children. She was drawn from 
 life, for Mrs. Kinloch writes to her sister, Miss Ferrier : " Molly 
 Macaulay is charming ; her niece. Miss Gumming, is an- old 
 acquaintance of mine, and told me the character was da-awn 
 to the life. The old lady is still alive, in her ninety-first 
 year, at Inveraray, and Miss C. , who is a very clever, pleasing 
 person, seems delighted with the truth and spirit of the whole 
 character of her aunty." 
 
 ^ Lord Jeffrey considered M'Dow "an entire and perfect 
 chrysolite, not to be meddled with. " 
 
28 MISS feeeier's novels. 
 
 a great many of the Englisli clergy — worldly, mean men, 
 who boldly make their way into every great and wealthy 
 family for the sake of preferment and good cheer. Your 
 Lady Elizabeth, too, with all her selfishness and excess of 
 absurdity, is true to herself throughout, and makes a very 
 characteristic ending of it in her third marriage. But 
 why should I tease you by going through the dififerent 
 characters 1 Suface it to say that I thank you very 
 heartily, and congratulate you on again having added a 
 work of so much merit to our stock of national novels. 
 Perhaps before this you have received a very short publi- 
 cation of mine on a very serious subject. I desired my 
 bookseller to send a copy to you, enclosed along with one 
 to jovi friend. Miss Mackenzie. How far you will agree 
 with my opinions regarding it I cannot say, but of one 
 thing I am sure, that you will judge with candour and 
 charity. I should have sent one to Mr. Alison had I not 
 thought it presumptuous in me to send such a work to 
 any clergyman, and, with only one exception (a Presby- 
 terian clergyman), I have abstained from doing so. I 
 was very much obliged to Mrs. Mackenzie, Lord M.'s lady, 
 for the letter she was so good as to vrrite me in her sister- 
 in-law's stead. If you should meet her soon, may I beg 
 that you will have the goodness to thank her in my 
 name. I was very sorry indeed to learn from her that 
 Miss Mackenzie had been so ill, and was then so weak, 
 and that the favourable account I had received of your 
 eyes had been too favourable. With all good wishes to 
 you, in which my sister begs to join me, — I remain, my 
 dear Madam, gratefully and sincerely yours, 
 
 "J. Baillie." 
 
 Granville Penn, the descendant of the founder of 
 Pennsylvania, records the impression Destiny made on 
 him, and which he communicates to Miss Erskine of 
 Cardross, who copied and sent it to the author, as 
 follows : — 
 
MISS feeriee's novels. 29 
 
 " My dear Madam — I return your book, but I am 
 unable to return you adequate tbanks for being the cause 
 of my reading it. I bave done this (and all with me) 
 witb deligbt, from tbe interest and admiration at the 
 whole composition, the novelty and excitement of its plan, 
 the exquisite and thrilling manner of its disclosure, the 
 absence of all flat and heavy intervals, the conception and 
 support of the characters, the sound and salutary moral 
 that pervades it all — these make me love and honour its 
 valuable authoress, and lament that I am not in the 
 number of her acquaintance. We all doat upon Miss 
 Macaulay, and grieve that she is not living at Richmond 
 or Petersham ; and Mr. M'Dow has supplied me with a 
 new name for our little young dog, whom I have called, 
 in memorial of his little nephew (or niece). Little M'Fee. 
 With all the thanks, however, that I can offer, etc. 
 
 " Gbanville Pbnn. 
 "Devonshire Cottage, 1st May 1831." 
 
 The next tribute of admiration bestowed on Destiny 
 was from Sir James Mackintosh : — 
 
 Sir James Mackintosh to Miss Ferrier. 
 
 "London, 10th June 1831. 
 " Dear Miss Ferrier — Let me tell you a fact, which 
 I hope you will excuse me from mentioning, as some sub- 
 sidiary proof of your power. On the day of the dissolu- 
 tion of Parliament, and in the critical hours between 
 twelve and three, I was employed in reading part of the 
 second volume of Destiny. My mind was so completely 
 occupied on your colony in Argyleshire, that I did not 
 throw away a thought on kings or parliaments, and was 
 not moved by the general curiosity to stir abroad till I 
 had finished your volume. It would have been nothing 
 if you had so agitated a youth of genius and susceptibility, 
 prone to literary enthusiasm, but such a victory over an 
 
30 MISS fereier's novels. 
 
 old hack is perhaps worthy of your notice. — I am, my 
 dear Miss Ferrier, your friend and admirer, 
 
 "J. Mackintosh." 
 
 Professor Wilson, "Christopher North," and his 
 uncle, Mr. Eobert Sym, W.S., "Timothy Tickler," 
 discuss the merits of Destiny in the far-famed Nodes : 
 
 "Tickler. — 'I would also except Miss Susan Ferrier. 
 Her novels, no doubt, have many defects, their plots are 
 poor, their episodes disproportionate, and the characters 
 too often caricatures ; but they are all thick-set with such 
 specimens of sagacity, such happy traits of nature, such 
 flashes of genuine satire, such easy humour, sterling good 
 sense, and, above all — God only knows where she picked 
 it up — mature and perfect knowledge of the world, that 
 I think we may safely 'anticipate for them a different fate 
 from what awaits even the cleverest of juvenile novels.' 
 
 " North. — ' They are the works of a very clever woman, 
 sir, and they have one feature of true and melancholy 
 interest quite peculiar to themselves. It is in them alone 
 that the ultimate breaking-down and debasement of the 
 Highland character has been depicted. Sir Walter Scott 
 had fixed the enamel of genius over the last fitful gleams 
 of their half-savage chivalry, but a humbler and sadder 
 scene — the age of lucre -banished clans — of chieftains 
 dwindled into imitation squires, and of chiefs content to 
 barter the recollections of a thousand years for a few 
 gaudy seasons of Almacks and Grockfords, the euthanasia 
 of kilted aldermen and steamboat pibrochs was reserved 
 for Miss Ferrier.' 
 
 " Tickler. — ' She in general fails almost as egregiously 
 as Hook does in the pathetic,' but in her last piece there 
 
 ' This is not true, as there are many pathetic passages in 
 Destiny, particularly between Edith, the heroine, and her faith- 
 less lover, Sir Reginald. 
 
MISS ferrier's novels. 31 
 
 is one scene of this description worthy of either Sterne or 
 Goldsmith. I mean where the young man* supposed to 
 have been lost at sea, revisits, after a lapse of time, 
 the precincts of Ms own home, watching unseen in the 
 twilight the occupations and bearings of the different 
 members of the family, and resolving, under the influ- 
 ence of a most generous feeling, to keep the secret of his 
 preservation.' 
 
 " North. — ' I remember it well, and you might bestow 
 the same kind of praise on the whole character of Molly 
 Macaulay. It is a picture of humble, kind-hearted, 
 thorough-going devotion and long-suffering, indefatigable 
 gentleness, of which, perhaps, no sinner of our gender 
 could have adequately filled up the outline. Miss Ferrier 
 appears habitually in the light of a hard satirist, but there 
 is always a fund of romance at the bottom of every true 
 woman's heart who has tried to stifle and suppress that 
 element more carefully and pertinacioiisly, and yet who 
 has drawn, in spite of herself, more genuine tears than 
 the authoress of Simple Susan.' " 
 
 The story of Destiny, like its predecessors, is laid 
 in Miss Ferrier's favourite Highlands, and it contains 
 several picturesque and vivid descriptions of scenery 
 there, — Inveraray, and its surroundings generally, 
 forming the model for her graphic pen. Much of this 
 novel vras written at Stirling Castle, when she was 
 there on a visit to her sister, Mrs. Graham,^ whose 
 
 ' Ronald Malcolm. 
 
 ^ Celebrated by Burns, the poet, for her beauty. She inspired 
 his muse when turning the comer of George Street, Edinburgh. 
 The lines addressed to her are to be found in his Poems. She 
 was also a highly-gifted artist. The illustrations in the work 
 called the Stirling Heads are from her pencil. It was pub- 
 lished by Blackwood, 1817. 
 
32 MISS feerier's novels. 
 
 husband, General Graham, was governor of that 
 garrison. After the publication of this last work, 
 and the offer of a thousand pounds from a London 
 publisher for anything from her pen,'^ she entirely 
 ceased from her literary labours, being content to rest 
 upon the sohd and enduring reputation her three 
 " bantlings " (as she called her novels) had won for 
 her. The following fragment, however, was found 
 among her papers, and is the portrait of another old 
 maid, and might serve as a companion to Miss Pratt. 
 As it is amusing, and in the writer's satirical style, I 
 lay it before my readers : — 
 
 " Miss Betty Landon was a single lady of small for- 
 tune, few personal charms, and a most jaundiced imagina^ 
 tion. There was no event, not even, the most fortunate, 
 from which Miss Betty could not extract evil ; everything, 
 even the milk of human kindness, with her turned to gall 
 and vinegar. Thus, if any of her friends were married, 
 she sighed over the miseries of the wedded state ; if they 
 were single, she bewailed their solitary, useless condition ; 
 if they were parents, she pitied them for having children ; 
 if they had no children, she pitied them for being child- 
 less. But one of her own letters will do greater justice 
 to the turn of her mind than the most elaborate description. 
 
 " ' My dear Miss 1 ought to have written to 
 
 you long before now, but I have suffered so much from 
 the constant changes of the weather that the wonder is 
 I am able to hold a pen. During the whole summer the 
 heat was really quite intolerable, not a drop of rain or 
 a breath of wind, the cattle dying for absolute want, the 
 
 1 She says (1837), " I made two attempts to write something, 
 but could not please myself, and would not publish anything." 
 
MISS fekkiee's novels. 33 
 
 vegetables dear and scarce, and as for fruit — that, you 
 know, in this town, is at all times scarce and bad, and 
 particularly when there is the greatest occasion for it. 
 In the autumn we never had two days alike, either wind 
 or rain, or frost, or something or another ; and as for our 
 winter — you know what that is — either a constant splash 
 of rain, or a frost like to take the skin off you. For these 
 six weeks I may say I have had a constant running at 
 my head, with a return of my old complaint ; but as for 
 doctors, I see no good they do, except to load people's 
 stomachs and pick their pockets : everything now is im- 
 position ; I really think the very pills are not what they 
 were thirty years ago. How people with families con- 
 tinue to live is a mystery to me ; and people still going 
 on marrying, in the face of national debt, taxes, a new 
 war, a starving population, ruined commerce, and no 
 outlet for young men in any quarter — God only knows 
 what is to be the end of all this ! In spite of all this, 
 these thoughtless young creatures, the Truemans, have 
 thought proper to make out their marriage ; he is just 
 five-and-twenty, and she is not yet nineteen ! so you may 
 judge what a prudent, well-managed establishment it will 
 be. He is in a good enough business at present, but in 
 these times who can tell what's to happen ? He may be 
 wallowing in wealth to-day, and bankrupt to-morrow. 
 His sister's marriage with Fairplay is now quite off, and 
 her prospects for life, poor thing, completely wrecked ! 
 Her looks are entirely gone, and her spirits quite broken. 
 She is not like the same creature, and, to be sure, to a girl 
 who had set her heart upon being married, it must be a 
 great and severe disappointment, for this was her only 
 chance, unless she tries India, and the expense of the 
 outfit must be a complete bar to that. You would hear 
 that poor Lady Oldhouse has had a son — it seemed a 
 desirable thing, situated as they are with an entailed pro- 
 perty ; and yet when I look around me, and see the way 
 that sons go on, the dissipation and extravagance, and the 
 
 VOL. I. D M' 
 
34 MISS feeeier's novels. 
 
 heartbreak they are to their parents, I think a son any- 
 thing hiTt a blessing. No word of anything of that kind 
 to the poor Richardsons ; with all their riches, they are 
 without any one to come after them. The Prowleys are 
 lip in the air at having got what they caU " a fine appoint- 
 ment" for their fourth son, but for my part I'm really 
 sick of hearing of boys going to India, for after aU what 
 do they do there 2 I never hear of their sending home 
 anything but black children, and when they come home 
 themselves, what do they bring but yellow faces, worn-out 
 constitutions, and livers like cocked-hats, crawling about 
 from one watering-place to another, tiU they are picked 
 up by some light-hearted, fortune-hunting miss, who does 
 not care twopence for them."' 
 
 A beautiful and strong feature in Miss Ferrier's 
 character was her intense devotion to her father, and 
 when he died the loss to her was irreparable. She 
 also was much attached to a very handsome brother, 
 James ; he was colonel of the 94th regiment, or Scots 
 Brigade, and died in India in 1804, at the early age 
 of twenty-seven. He had been at the siege of Serin- 
 gapatam in 1799, and was much distinguished by 
 the notice of Napoleon at Paris in February 1803, 
 whence he writes to his sister Susan : — 
 
 " I think I wrote you I had been introduced to the 
 Chief Consul. I was on Sunday last presented to his 
 lady, whom I do not at all admire. The great man spoke 
 to me then again, which is a very unusual thing, and I am 
 told by the French I must be in his good graces ; however, 
 I myself rather think it was my good fortune only : at aU 
 events it has given me much pleasure, for it would have 
 only been doing the thing half if he had not spoken to 
 me. I do not think any of the pictures like him much, 
 
MISS ferriee's novels. 35 
 
 althongh most of them have some resemhlance ; they give 
 him a frown in general, which he certainly has not — so 
 far from it, that when he speaks he has one of the finest 
 expressions possible." 
 
 Here, unfortunately, this interesting description 
 comes abruptly to an end, the rest of the letter being 
 lost. On account of failing health and increased 
 bodily languor, Miss Ferrier latterly lived a very 
 retired life, seeing few but very intimate friends, and, 
 as she said, "We are more recluse than ever, as our 
 little circle is yearly contracting, and my eyes are 
 more and more averse to light than ever." 
 
 Again she viTites : — 
 
 " I can say nothing good of myself, my cough is very 
 severe, and will probably continue so, at least as long as 
 this weather lasts ; but I have many comforts, for which 
 I am thankful ; amongst those I must reckon silence and 
 darkness, which are my best companions at present." 
 
 For years she had suffered from her eyes, being 
 nearly quite blind of one.^ In 1830 she went to 
 London to consult an oculist, but unfortunately derived 
 little benefit. While there, she visited Isleworth, in 
 order to see a villa belonging to Lord Cassillis, and 
 which subsequently figured in Destiny as " Wood- 
 lands," Lady Waldegrave's rural retreat near London. 
 A valued friend^ who saw much of her remarked : — 
 
 ^ Lady Morgan, a fellow-sufferer from her eyes, was most 
 anxious she should consult Mr. Alexander, the eminent oculist, 
 as he entirely cured her after four years' expectation of total 
 blindness. ^ Lady Kichardson. 
 
36 MISS feeriek's novels. 
 
 " The wonderful vivacity slie maintained in tlie midst 
 of darkness and pain for so many years, the humour, wit, 
 and honesty of her character, as well as the Christian 
 suhmission with which she bore her great privation and 
 general discomfort when not suffering acute pain, made 
 every one who knew her desirous to alleviate the tedious- 
 ness of her days, and I used to read a great deal to her at 
 one time, and I never left her darkened chamber without 
 feeling that I had gained something better than the book 
 we might be reading, from her quick perception of its 
 faults and its beauties, and her unmerciful remarks on aU 
 that was mean or unworthy in conduct or expression." 
 
 But perhaps the most faithful picture of her is 
 conveyed in this brief sentence from Scott's diary, 
 who describes her 
 
 " As a gifted personage, having, besides her great talents, 
 conversation the least eodgeomte of any author-female, at 
 least, whom I have ever seen among the long list I have 
 encountered ; simple, full of humour, and exceedingly 
 ready at repartee, and all this without the least affectation 
 of the blue-stocking." 
 
 From the natural modesty of her character she had 
 a great dislike to her biography, or memorial of her in 
 any shape, being written, for she destroyed all letters 
 that might have been used for such a purpose, puh- 
 Ucity of any kind being most distasteful to her, evi- 
 dence of which is very clearly shown in the first part 
 of this narrative. The chief secret of her success as a 
 novelist (setting aside her great genius) was the great 
 care and time she bestowed on the formation of each 
 novel — an interval of six years occurring between 
 
MISS ferriee's novels. 37 
 
 each, the result being delineations of character that 
 are unique. 
 
 Unfortunately there is little to relate regarding 
 her childhood, that most interesting period of human 
 existence in the lives of (and which is generally dis- 
 tinguished by some uncommon traits of character) 
 people of genius — save that she had for a school com- 
 panion and playfellow the late Lord Brougham, the 
 distinguished statesman ; she was remarkable also 
 for her power of mimicry. An amusing anecdote 
 of this rather dangerous gift is the following: Her 
 brothers and sisters returned home from a ball, very 
 hungry, and entered her room, where they supposed 
 she lay asleep, and, whUe discussing the events of the 
 evening and the repast they had procured by stealth 
 (unknown to their father), they were suddenly put to 
 flight by the sounds and voice, as they thought, of 
 their dreaded parent ascending the stairs, and in their 
 confusion and exit from the room overturned chairs 
 and tables, much to the amusement of little Susan, 
 who, no doubt, enjoyed the fright and commotion she 
 had caused, and who mimicked under the cover of the 
 bedclothes the accents of her redoubtable parent — 
 a fit punishment, as she thought, for their ruthless 
 invasion of her chamber, and their not offering her a 
 share of their supper. An old Miss Peggy Campbell 
 (sister to Sir Islay Campbell, President of the Court 
 of Session) was also taken off by her, and so like that 
 her father actually came into the room, where she was 
 amusing her hearers, thinking that Miss Campbell 
 
38 MISS feeeiee's novels. 
 
 was really present. When she died a blank was left 
 in her native city that has not been since filled, the 
 modern Athens having somewhat deteriorated in the 
 wit, learning, and refinement that so distinguished her 
 ia the days that are gone. 
 
EECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS 
 TO ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOED.i 
 
 By SFSAN EDMONSTONE FERRIER, 
 Author of 'Marriage,'' 'Inheritance,' and 'Destiny.' 
 
 I HAVE never kept either note-book or journal, and 
 as my memory is not a retentive one I have allowed 
 much to escape which I should now vainly attempt to 
 recall. Some things must, however, have made a 
 vivid and durable impression on my mind, as frag- 
 ments remaia, after the lapse of years, far more 
 distinct than occurrences of much more recent date ; 
 such, amongst others, are my recollections of my visits 
 to Ashestiel and Abbotsford. 
 
 The first took place in the autumn of 1811, in 
 consequence of repeated and pressing invitations from 
 Mr. Scott to my father, in which I was included. 
 Nothing could be kinder than our welcome, or more 
 gratifying than the attentions we received during our 
 stay ; but the weather was too broken and stormy to 
 admit of our enjoying any of the pleasant excursions 
 our more weather-proof host had intended for us. 
 
 "• Reprinted from the Temple Bar Magazine for February 1874. 
 
40 EECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 
 
 My father and I could therefore only take short drives 
 with Mrs. Scott, while the bard (about one o'clock) 
 mounted his pony, and accompanied by Mr. Terry the 
 comedian, his own son Walter, and our young relative 
 George Kinloch, sallied forth for a long morning's 
 ride in spite of wind and rain. In the evening Mr. 
 Terry commonly read some scenes from a play, to 
 which Mr. Scott listened with delight, though every 
 word must have been quite familiar to him, as he 
 occasionally took a part in the dialogue impromptu ; 
 at other times he recited old and awesome ballads 
 from memory, the very names of which I have forgot. 
 The night preceding our departure had blown a perfect 
 hurricane ; we were to leave immediately after break- 
 fast, and while the carriage was preparing Mr. Scott 
 stepped to a writing-table and wrote a few hurried 
 lines in the course of a very few minutes ; these he 
 put into my hand as he led me to the carriage ; they 
 were in allusion to the storm, coupled with a friendly 
 adieu, and are to be found in my autograph album. 
 
 " The mountain winds are up, and proud 
 O'er heath and hill careering loud ; 
 The groaning forest to its power 
 Yields aU that formed our summer bower. 
 The summons wakes the anxious swain, 
 Whose tardy shocks still load the plain, 
 And bids the sleepless merchant weep, 
 Whose richer hazard loads the deep. 
 For me the blast, or low or high, 
 Blows nought of wealth or poverty ; 
 It can but whirl in whimsies vain 
 The windmill of a restless brain, 
 
ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOED. 41 
 
 And bid me tell in slipshod verse 
 What honest prose might best rehearse ; 
 How much we forest-dwellers grieve 
 Our valued friends our cot should leave, 
 Unseen each beauty that we boast, 
 The little wonders of our coast, 
 That still the pile of Melrose gray, 
 for you must rise in minstrel's lay, 
 And Yarrow's birk immortal long 
 For you but bloom in rural song. 
 Yet Hope, who still in present sorrow 
 Whispers the promise of to-morrow, 
 Tells us of future days to come, 
 When you shall glad our rustic home ; 
 When this wild whirlwind shall be still, 
 And summer sleep on glen and hill, 
 And Tweed, unvexed by storm, shall guide- 
 In silvery maze his stately tide. 
 Doubling in mirror every rank 
 Of oak and alder on his bank ; 
 And our kind guests such welcome prove 
 As most we wish to those we love. " ' 
 Ashestid, October 13, 1811. 
 
 The invitation had been often repeated, but my dear 
 father's increasing infirmities made him averse to leave 
 home, and when, in comphance with Sir Walter's 
 urgent request, I visited Abbotsford in the autumn of 
 1829, I went alone. I was met at the outer gate by 
 Sir Walter, who welcomed me in the kindest manner 
 and most flattering terms ; indeed, nothing could sur- 
 pass the courtesy of his address on such occasions. 
 On our way to the house he stopped and called his two 
 little grandchildren, Walter and Charlotte Lockhart, 
 
 ' Lines written by Walter Scott while the carnage was wait- 
 ing to convey my father and me from Ashestiel. — S. E. F. 
 
4:2 RECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 
 
 ■who were chasing each other like butterflies among the 
 flowers — the boy was quite a Cupid, though not an al 
 fresco one ; for he wore a Tartan cloak, whose sundry- 
 extras fluttered -in the breeze as he ran to obey the 
 summons, and gave occasion to his grandfather to pre- 
 sent him to me as "Major Waddell ;"^ the pretty little 
 fairy-looking girl he next introduced as "Whipper- 
 stowrie," and then (aware of my love for fairy lore) 
 he related the tale, in his own inimitable manner, 
 as he walked slowly and stopped frequently in our 
 approach to the house. As soon as I could look 
 round I was struck with the singular and picturesque 
 appearance of the mansion and its environs. Yet I 
 must own there was more of strangeness than of admira- 
 tion in my feelings ; too many objects seemed crowded 
 together in a small space, and there was a "felt want" 
 of breadth and repose for the eye. On entering the 
 house I was however charmed with the rich imposing 
 beauty of the hall, and admired the handsome antique 
 appearance of the dining-room with its interesting 
 pictures. After luncheon Sir Walter was at pains to 
 point them out to my notice, and related the histories 
 of each and all ; he then conducted me through the 
 apartments, and showed me so much, and told me so 
 many anecdotes illustrative of the various objects 
 of interest and curiosity they contained, that I retain 
 a very confused and imperfect recollection of what I 
 saw and heard. It was a strong proof of his good- 
 
 ' One of Miss Ferriei's characters in her novel of Tlie 
 Inheritance. 
 
ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOED. 43 
 
 nature that in showing the many -works of art and 
 relics of antiquity he had continued to accumulate and 
 arrange with so much taste and skill, he should have 
 been at such pains to point out the merits and relate 
 the history of most of them to one so incapable of 
 appreciating their value. But he never allowed one 
 to feel their own deficiencies, for he never appeared 
 to be aware of them himself. 
 
 It was in the quiet of a small domestic circle I 
 had again an opportunity of enjoying the society of 
 Sir Walter Scott, and of witnessing, during the ten 
 days I remained, the unbroken serenity of his temper, 
 the unflagging cheerfulness of his spirits, and the un- 
 ceasing courtesy of his manners. I had been promised 
 a quiet time, else I should not have gone ; and indeed 
 the state of the family was a sufficient guarantee 
 against all festivities. Mrs. Lockhart was confined to 
 bed by severe indisposition, while Mr. Lockhart was 
 detained in London by the alarming illness of their 
 eldest boy, and both Captain Scott and his brother were 
 absent. The party, therefore, consisted only of Sir 
 Walter and Miss Scott, Miss Macdonald Buchanan 
 (who was almost one of the family), and myself. 
 Being the only stranger, I consequently came in for a 
 larger share of my amiable host's time and attention 
 than I should otherwise have been entitled to expect. 
 Many a pleasant tale and amusing anecdote I might 
 have had to relate had I written down half of what I 
 daily heard; but I had always an invincible repug- 
 nance to playing the re;porter and taking down people's 
 
44 RECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 
 
 words under their own roof. Every day Sir Walter 
 was ready by one o'clock to accompany us either in 
 driving or walking, often in both, and in either there 
 was the same inexhaustible flow of legendary lore, 
 romantic incident, apt quotation, curious or diverting 
 story ; and sometimes old ballads were recited, com- 
 memorative of some of the localities through which 
 he passed. Those who had seen him only amidst the 
 ordinary avocations of life, or even doing the honours 
 of his own table, could scarcely have conceived the 
 fire and animation of his countenance at such times, 
 when his eyes seemed literally to kindle, and even 
 (as some one has remarked) to change their colour 
 and become a sort of deep sapphire blue ; but, perhaps, 
 from being close to him and in the open air, I was 
 more struck with this peculiarity than those whose 
 better sight enabled them to mark his varjdng ex- 
 pression at other times. Yet I must confess this was 
 an enthusiasm I found as little infectious as that of 
 his antiquarianism. On the contrary, I often wished 
 his noble faculties had been exercised on loftier themes 
 than those which seemed to stir his very souL 
 
 The evenings were passed either in Mrs. Lock- 
 hart's bedroom or in chatting quietly by the fireside 
 below, but wherever we were he was always the 
 same kind, unostentatious, amusing, and amusaUe 
 companion. 
 
 The day before I was to depart Sir David Wilkie 
 and his sister arrived, and the Fergussons and one or 
 two friends were invited to meet him. Mrs. Lockhart 
 
ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOED. 45 
 
 was SO desirous of meeting this old friend and distin- 
 guished person, that, though unable to put her foot 
 to the ground, she caused herself to be dressed and 
 carried down to the drawing-room while the company 
 were at dinner. Great was her father's surprise and 
 delight on his entrance to find her seated (looking 
 well and in high spirits) with her harp before her, 
 ready to sing his favourite ballads. This raised his 
 spirits above their usual quiet pitch, and towards the 
 end of the evening he proposed to wind up the whole 
 by all present standing in a circle with hands joined, 
 singing, 
 
 ' ' Weel may we a' be ! 
 Ill may we never see ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lockhart was, of course, unable to join the festive 
 band. Sir David Wilkie was languid and dispirited 
 from bad health, and my feelings were not such as to 
 enable me to join in what seemed to me Httle else 
 than a mockery of human life ; but rather than " dis- 
 place the mirth," I tried, but could not long remain 
 a passive spectator ; the glee seemed forced and un- 
 natural It touched no sympathetic chord; it only 
 jarred the feeHngs ; it was the last attempt at gaiety 
 I witnessed within the walls of Abbotsford. 
 
 Although I had intended to confine my slight 
 reminiscence of Sir Walter Scott to the time I had 
 passed with him under his own roof in the country, 
 yet I cannot refrain from noticing the great kindness 
 I received from him during the following winter in 
 town. 
 
46 EECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 
 
 I had, when at Abbotsford in the autumn, spoken 
 to him for the first time of my authorship and of the 
 work on which I was then engaged. He entered into 
 the subject with much warmth and earnestness, shook 
 his head at hearing how matters had hitherto been 
 transacted, and said unless I could make a better bar- 
 gain in this instance I must leave to him the disposal 
 of Destiny. I did so, and from the much more liberal 
 terms he made with Mr. Cadell I felt, when too late, 
 I had acted unwisely in not having sooner consulted 
 him or some one versant in these matters. But secrecy 
 at that time was all I was anxious about, and so I 
 paid the penalty of trusting entirely to the good faith 
 of the publishers. 
 
 I saw Sir Walter frequently during the winter, and 
 occasionally dined en famille with Miss Scott and him, 
 or with one or two friends, as I did not go into parties, 
 neither indeed did he give any, but on account of the 
 state of his affairs lived as retiredly as he possibly 
 could. 
 
 In the month of February he sustained a paralytic 
 shock ; as soon as I heard of this I went to Miss Scott, 
 from whom I learned the particulars. She had seen 
 her father in his study a short time before, apparently 
 in his usual health. She had returned to the drawing- 
 room when Sir Walter opened the door, came in, but 
 stood looking at her with a most peculiar and dread- 
 fvl expression of countenance. It immediately struck 
 her he had come to communicate some very distress- 
 ing intelligence, and she exclaimed, " Oh, papa ! is 
 
ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOED. 47 
 
 Johnnie gone?" He made no reply, but still con- 
 tinued standing still and regarding her with the same 
 fearful expression. She then cried, "Oh, papa ! speak ! 
 Tell me, is it Sophia herself?" Still he remained 
 immovable. Almost frantic, she then screamed, "It 
 is Walter ! it is Walter ! I know it is." Upon which 
 Sir Walter fell senseless on the floor. Medical assist- 
 ance was speedily procured. After being bled he re- 
 covered his speech, and his first words were, " It was 
 very strange ! very horrible." He afterwards told 
 her he had all at once felt very queer, and as if unable 
 to articulate ; he then went upstairs in hopes of get- 
 ting rid of the sensation by movement ; but it would 
 not do, he felt perfectly tongue-tied, or rather chained, 
 till overcome by witnessing her distress. This took 
 place, I think, on the 15th, and on the 18th I was 
 invited to dine with him, and found him without any 
 trace of illness, but as cheerful and animated as usual. 
 Not being very correct as to dates, I should scarcely 
 have ventured to name the day had not a trifling 
 circumstance served to mark it. After dinner he pro- 
 posed that instead of going to the drawing-room we 
 should remain with him and have tea in the dining- 
 room. In the interval the post letters were brought, 
 and amongst others there was one from a sister of 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence (Mrs. Bloxam), enclosing a 
 letter of her brother's, having heard that Sir Walter 
 had expressed a wish to have some memorial of him, 
 "rather of his pencil than his pen," said he, as he 
 handed the letter to me, who, as a collector of auto- 
 
48 EECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 
 
 graphs, would probably value them more than he did , 
 and on referring to Mrs. Bloxam's letter I find the 
 Edinburgh post-mark February the 18th. 
 
 I received repeated invitations to Abboteford, and 
 had fixed to go on the 17th of April, when, the day 
 before, Mrs. Skene called upon me with the sad tid- 
 ings of another paralytic stroke, which not only put 
 a stop to my visit for the present, but rendered it 
 very doubtful whether I should ever see him again. 
 But the worst fears of his friends were not yet to be 
 realised. 
 
 Early in May the invitation was renewed in a note 
 from himself, which I availed myself of, too well assured 
 it was a privilege I should enjoy for the last time. 
 On reaching Abbotsf ord I found some morning visitors 
 (Mr. and Mrs. James, etc.) in the drawing-room, but 
 as soon as they were gone Sir Walter sent for me to 
 his study. I found him seated in his armchair, but 
 with his habitual politeness he insisted upon rising 
 to receive me, though he did so with such extreme 
 difficulty I would gladly have dispensed with this 
 mark of courtesy. His welcome was not less cordial 
 than usual, but he spoke in a slow and somewhat in- 
 distinct manner, and as I sat close by him I could 
 perceive but too plainly the change which had taken 
 place since we last met. His figure was unwieldy, 
 not so much from increased bulk as from diminished 
 life and energy ; his face was swollen and pu%, his 
 complexion mottled and discoloured, his eyes heavy 
 and dim ; his head had been shaved, and he wore a 
 
ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOKD. 49 
 
 small black silk cap, which was extremely unbecom- 
 ing. Altogether, the change was no less striking than 
 painful to behold. The impression, however, soon 
 wore off (on finding, as I believed), that his mind was 
 unimpaired and his warm kindly feelings unchanged. 
 There was no company, and the dinner party con- 
 sisted of Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, Miss Scott, and my- 
 self. Sir Walter did not join us till the dessert, 
 when he entered, assisted by his servant, and took his 
 place at the foot of the table. His grandchildren 
 were then brought in, and his favourite, Johnnie 
 Lockhart, was seated by his side. I must have forgot 
 most things before I can cease to recall that most 
 striking and impressive spectacle, each day repeated, 
 as it seemed, with deepening gloom. The first tran- 
 sient glow of cheerfulness which had welcomed my 
 arrival had passed away, and been succeeded by an 
 air of languor and dejection which sank to deepest 
 sadness when his eye rested for a moment on his once 
 darling grandson, the child of so much pride and 
 promise, now, alas ! how changed. It was most 
 touching to look upon one whose morning of life had 
 been so bright and beautiful and, still in the sunny 
 days of childhood, transformed into an image of de- 
 crepitude and decay. The fair blooming cheek and 
 finely chiselled features were now shrunk and stiflened 
 into the wan and rigid inflexibility of old age ; while 
 the black bandages which swathed the little pale sad 
 countenance, gave additional gloom and harshness to 
 the profound melancholy which clouded its most in- 
 VOL. I, E M 
 
50 RECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 
 
 tellectual expression. Disease and death were stamped 
 upon the grandsire and the boy as they sat side by side 
 with averted eyes, each as if in the bitterness of his 
 own heart refusing to comfort or be comforted. The 
 two who had been wont to regard each other so fondly 
 and so proudly, now seemed averse to hold communion 
 together, while their appearance and style of dress, 
 the black cap of the one and the black bandages of 
 the other, denoted a sympathy in suffering if in 
 nothing else. The picture would have been a most 
 affecting and impressive one viewed under any cir- 
 cumstances, but was rendered doubly so by the con- 
 trast which everywhere presented itself. 
 
 The month was May, but the weather had all the 
 warmth of summer with the freshness and sweetness 
 of spring. The windows of the dining-room were 
 open to admit the soft balmy air which " came and 
 went Hke the warbling of music," but whose reviving 
 influence seemed unfelt by the sufferers. The trees, 
 and shrubs, and flowers were putting forth their tender 
 leaves and fragrant blossoms as if to charm Jm senses 
 who used to watch their progress with almost paternal 
 interest, and the little birds were singing in sweet 
 chorus as if to cheer him who was wont to listen to 
 their evening song with such placid delight. All 
 around were the dear familiar objects which had 
 hitherto ministered to his enjoyment, but now, alas ! 
 miserable comforters were they all ! It was impossible 
 to look upon such a picture without beholding in it 
 the realisation of those solemn and affecting passages 
 
ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOED. 51 
 
 of Holy Writ which speak to us of the ephemeral 
 nature of all earthly pleasures and of the mournful 
 insignificance of human life, even in its most palmy 
 state, when its views and actions, its hopes and desires, 
 are confined to this sublunary sphere : " Whence then 
 cometh any wisdom, and where is the place of under- 
 standing V " Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise 
 man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man 
 glory in his might ; let not the rich man glory in his 
 riches : but let him that glorieth glory in this, that 
 he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the 
 Lord." 
 
MAEEIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "Love! — A word by superstition thought a God; by use 
 turned to an humour ; by self-will made a flattering madness. " 
 
 Alexander and Gampaspe. 
 
 " Come hither, child," said the old Earl of Courtland 
 to his daughter, as, in obedience to his summons, she 
 entered his study; "come hither, I say; I wish to 
 have some serious conversation with you : so dismiss 
 your dogs, shut the door, and sit down here." 
 
 Lady Juliana rang for the footman to take Venus ; 
 bade Pluto be quiet, like a darling, under the sofa ; 
 and, taking Cupid in her arms, assured his Lordship 
 he need fear no disturbance from the sweet creatures, 
 and that she would be all attention to his commands 
 — kissing her cherished pug as she spoke. 
 
 "You are now, I think, seventeen, Juliana," said 
 his Lordship in a solemn important tone. 
 
 "And a half, papa." 
 
 "It is therefore time you should be thinking of 
 establishing yourseK in the world. Have you ever 
 turned your thoughts that way 1 " 
 
54 MAEEIAGK. 
 
 Lady Juliana cast down her beautiful eyes, and 
 was silent. 
 
 "As I can give you no fortune," continued the 
 Earl, swelling with ill-suppressed importance, as he 
 proceeded, "you have perhaps no great pretensions 
 to a very brilliant establishment." 
 
 "Oh! none in the world, papa," eagerly inter- 
 rupted Lady Juliana ; " a mere competence with the 
 man of my heart." 
 
 " The man of a fiddlestick ! " exclaimed Lord 
 Courtland in a fury; "what the devil have you to 
 do with a heart, I should like to know t There's no 
 talking to a young woman now about marriage, but 
 she is all in a blaze about hearts, and darts, and — 
 and — But hark ye, child, I'll suffer no daughter of 
 mine to play the fool with her heart, indeed ! She 
 shall marry for the purpose for which matrimony was 
 ordained amongst people of birth — that is, for the 
 aggrandisement of her family, the extending of their 
 political influence — for becoming, in short, the depo- 
 sitory of their mutual interest. These are the only 
 purposes for which persons of rank ever think of 
 marriage. And pray, what has your heart to say to 
 that?" 
 
 " Nothing, papa," replied Lady Juliana in a faint 
 dejected tone of voice. " Have done, Cupid ! " addres- 
 sing her favourite, who was amusing himself in pulling 
 and tearing the beautiful lace veil that partly shaded 
 the head of his fair mistress. 
 
 " I thought not," resumed the Earl in a triumphant 
 
MARRIAGE. 55 
 
 tone — "I thought not, indeed." And as this victory 
 over his daughter put him in unusual good humour, 
 he condescended to sport a little with her curiosity. 
 
 "And pray, can this wonderful wise heart of yours 
 inform you who it is you are going to obtain for a 
 husband 1 " 
 
 Had Lady Juliana dared to utter the wishes of 
 that heart she would have been at no loss for a reply ; 
 but she saw tlie necessity of dissimulation ; and after 
 naming such of her admirers as were most indifferent 
 to her, she declared herself quite at a loss, and begged 
 her father to put an end to her suspense. 
 
 "Now, what would you think of the Duke of 
 
 L ? " asked the Earl in a voice of half -smothered 
 
 exultation and delight. 
 
 "The Duke of L !" repeated Lady Juliana, 
 
 with a scream of horror and surprise ; " surely, papa, 
 you cannot be serious? Why, he's red-haired and 
 squints, and he's as old as you." 
 
 "If he were as old as the devil, and as ugly too," 
 interrupted the enraged Earl, "he should be your 
 husband : and may I perish if you shall have any 
 other ! " 
 
 The youthful beauty burst into tears, while her 
 father traversed the apartment with an inflamed and 
 wrathful visage. 
 
 "If it had been anybody but that odious Duke," 
 sobbed the lovely Juhana. 
 
 "If it had been anybody but that odious Duke !" 
 repeated the Earl, mimicking her, " they should not 
 
56 MARRIAGE. 
 
 have had you. It has been my sole study, ever since 
 I saw your brother settled, to bring about this alliance; 
 and, when this is accomplished, my utmost ambition 
 will be satisfied. So no more whining — the affair is 
 settled ; and aU that remains for you to do is to study 
 to make yourself agreeable to his Grace, and to sign 
 the settlements. No such mighty sacrifice, methinks, 
 when repaid with a ducal coronet, the most splendid 
 jewels, the finest equipages, and the largest jointure 
 of any woman in England." 
 
 Lady Juliana raised her head, and wiped her eyes. 
 Lord Courtland perceived the effect his eloquence had 
 produced upon the childish fancy of his daughter, and 
 continued to expatiate upon the splendid joys that 
 awaited her in a union with a nobleman of the 
 Duke's rank and fortune ; till at length, dazzled, if not 
 convinced, she declared herself "satisfied that it was 
 her duty to marry whoever papa pleased ; but — " and 
 a sigh escaped her as she contrasted her noble suitor 
 with her handsome lover : " but if I should marry him, 
 papa, I am sure I shall never be able to love him." 
 
 The Earl smiled at her childish simplicity as he 
 assured her that was not at all necessary ; that love 
 was now entirely confined to the canaille ; that it was 
 very well for ploughmen and dairymaids to marry 
 for love ; but for a young woman of rank to think of 
 such a thing was plebeian in the extreme ! 
 
 Lady Juliana did not entirely subscribe to the 
 arguments of her father; but the gay and glorious 
 vision that floated in her brain stifled for a while the 
 
MARRIAGE. 57 
 
 pleadings of her heart ; and with a sparkling eye and 
 an elastic step she hastened to prepare for the recep- 
 tion of the Duke. 
 
 For a few weeks the delusion lasted. Lady Jiiliana 
 was flattered with the homage she received as a future 
 Duchess ; she was delighted with the 6clat that attended 
 her, and charmed with the daily presents showered 
 upon her by her noble suitor. 
 
 "Well, really, Favolle," said she to her maid, one 
 day, as she clasped on her beautiful arm a resplendent 
 bracelet, "it must be owned the Duke has a most 
 exquisite taste in trinkets ; don't you think so ? And, 
 do you know, I don't think him so very — ^very ugly. 
 When we are married I mean to make him get a 
 Brutus, cork his eyebrows, and have a set of teeth." 
 But just then the smiling eyes, curling hair, and finely 
 formed person of a certain captivating Scotsman rose 
 to view in her mind's eye; and, with a peevish 
 "pshaw !" she threw the bauble aside. 
 
 Educated for the sole purpose of forming a brilliant 
 establishment, of catching the eye, and captivating 
 the senses, the cultivation of her mind or the correc- 
 tion of her temper had formed no part of the system 
 by which that aim was to be accomphshed. Under 
 the auspices of a fashionable mother and an obsequious 
 governess the froward petulance of childhood, fostered 
 and strengthened by indulgence and submission, had 
 gradually ripened into that selfishness and caprice 
 which now, in youth, formed the prominent features 
 of her character. The Earl was too much engrossed 
 
58 MAKRIAGB. 
 
 by affairs of importance to pay much attention to any- 
 tliing so perfectly insignificant as the mind of his 
 daughter. Her person he had predetermined should 
 be entirely at his disposal, and therefore contemplated 
 with delight the uncommon beauty which already dis- 
 tinguished it ; not with the fond partiality of parental 
 love, but with the heartless satisfaction of a crafty 
 politician. 
 
 The mind of Lady Juliana was consequently the 
 sport of every passion that by turns assailed it Now 
 swayed by ambition, and now softened by love, the 
 struggle was violent, but it was short A few days 
 before the one which was to seal her fate she granted 
 an interview to her lover, who, young, thoughtless, 
 and enamoured as herself, easily succeeded in persuad- 
 ing her to elope with him to Scotland. There, at the 
 altar of Vulcan, the beautiful daughter of the Earl of 
 Courtland gave her hand to her handsome but penni- 
 less lover ; and there vowed to immolate every ambi- 
 tious desire, every sentiment of vanity and high-born 
 pride. Yet a sigh arose as she looked on the filthy 
 hut, sooty priest, and ragged witnesses ; and thought 
 of the special license, splendid saloon, and bridal 
 pomp that would have attended her union with the 
 Duke. But the rapturous expressions which burst 
 from the impassioned Douglas made her forget the 
 gaudy pleasures of pomp and fashion. Amid the 
 sylvan scenes of the neighbouring lakes the lovers 
 sought a shelter; and, mutually charmed with each 
 other, time flew for a while on downy pinions. 
 
MAEBIAGE. 59 
 
 At the end of two months, however, the enamoured 
 husband began to suspect that the lips of his " angel 
 Julia " could utter very silly things ; while the fond 
 bride, on her part, discovered that though her "adored 
 Henry's " figure was symmetry itself, yet it certainly 
 was deficient in a certain air — a je ne sgais quoi — that 
 marks the man of fashion. 
 
 " How I wish I had my pretty Cupid here," said 
 her Ladyship, with a sigh, one day as she lolled on 
 a sofa : " he had so many pretty tricks, he would 
 have helped to amuse us, and make the time pass; 
 for really this place grows very stupid and tiresome ; 
 don't you think so, love ?" 
 
 "Most confoundedly so, my darling," replied her 
 husband, yawning sympathetically as he spoke. 
 
 " Then suppose I make one more attempt to soften 
 papa, and be received into favour again?" 
 
 "With all my heart." 
 
 " Shall I say I'm very sorry for what I have done?" 
 asked her Ladyship, with a sigh. " You know I did 
 not say that in my first letter." 
 
 "Ay, do; and, if it will serve any purpose, you 
 may say that I am no less so." 
 
 In a few days the letter was returned, in a blank 
 cover; and, by the same post, Douglas saw himself 
 superseded in the Gazette, being absent without leave ! 
 
 There now remained but one course to pursue ; and 
 that was to seek refuge at his father's, in the High- 
 lands of Scotland. At the first mention of it Lady 
 Juliana was transported with joy, and begged that a 
 
60 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 letter might be instantly despatched, containing the 
 offer of a visit: she had heard the Duchess of M. 
 declare nothing could be so delightful as the style of 
 living in Scotland : the people were so frank and gay, 
 and the manners so easy and engaging — oh ! it was 
 delightful ! And then Lady Jane G. and Lady Mary 
 L, and a thousand other lords and ladies she knew, 
 were all so charmed with the country, and all so sorry 
 to leave it. Then dear Henry's family must be so 
 charming : an old castle, too, was her delight ; she 
 would feel quite at home while wandering through its 
 long galleries ; and she quite loved old pictures, and 
 armour, and tapestry ; and then her thoughts reverted 
 to her father's magnificent mansion in D shire. 
 
 At length an answer arrived, containing a cordial 
 invitation from the old Laird to spend the winter 
 with them at Glenfern Castle. 
 
 All impatience to quit the scenes of their short- 
 lived feUcity, they bade a hasty adieu to the now 
 fading beauties of Windermere ; and, full of hope and 
 expectation, eagerly turned towards the bleak hills 
 of Scotland. They stopped for a short time at Edin- 
 burgh, to provide themselves with a carriage, and 
 some other necessaries. There, too, she fortunately 
 met with an English Abigail and footman, who, for 
 double wages, were prevailed upon to attend her to 
 the Highlands ; which, with the addition of two dogs, 
 a tame squirrel, and mackaw, completed the establish- 
 ment 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " What transport to retrace our early plays, 
 Our easy Miss, when each thing joy supplied ; 
 The woods, the mountains, and the warbling maze 
 Of the wild brooks." Thomson. 
 
 Many ■were the dreary muirs and rugged mountains 
 her Ladyship had to encounter in her progress to 
 Glenfern Castle ; and, but for the hope of the new 
 world that awaited her beyond those formidable 
 barriers, her delicate frame and still more sensitive 
 feeHngs must have sunk beneath the horrors of such 
 a journey. But she remembered the Duchess had 
 said the inns and roads were execrable ; and the face 
 of the country, as well as the lower orders of people, 
 frightful; but what signified those things? There 
 were balls, and sailing parties, and rowing matches, 
 and shooting parties, and fishing parties, and parties 
 of every description ; and the certainty of being re- 
 compensed by the festivities of Glenfern Castle, 
 reconciled her to the ruggedness of the approach. 
 
 Douglas had left his paternal home and native 
 hills when only eight years of age. A rich relation 
 of his mother's happening to visit them at that time. 
 
62 MARRIAGE. 
 
 took a fancy to the boy ; and, under promise of making 
 him his heir, had prevailed on his parents to part with 
 him. At a proper age he was placed in the Guards, 
 and had continued to maintain himself in the favour 
 of his benefactor untU his imprudent marriage, which 
 had irritated this old bachelor so much that he 
 instantly disinherited him, and refused to listen to 
 any terms of reconciliation. The impressions which 
 the scenes of his infancy had left upon the mind of 
 the young Scotsman, it may easUy be supposed, were 
 of a pleasing description. He expatiated to his 
 Juliana on the wild but august scenery that sur- 
 rounded his father's castle, and associated with the 
 idea the bopsh exploits, which though faintly re- 
 membered, still served to endear them to his heart. 
 He spoke of the time when he used to make one of 
 a numerous party on the lake, and, when tired of 
 sailing on its glassy surface to the sound of soft 
 music, they would land at some lovely spot; and, 
 after partaking of their banquet beneath a spreading 
 tree, conclude the day by a dance on the grass. 
 
 Lady Juliana would exclaim, " How delightful ! I 
 doat upon picnics and dancing ! — hpropos, Henry, 
 there will surely be a ball to welcome our arrival 1 " 
 
 The conversation was interrupted ; for just at that 
 moment they had gained the summit of a very high 
 hill, and the post-boy, stopping to give his horses 
 breath, turned round to the carriage, pointing at the 
 same time, with a significant gesture, to a taU thin 
 gray house, something resembUng a tower, that stood 
 
MAEKIAGE. 63 
 
 in the vale beneath. A small sullen-looking lake was 
 in front, on whose hanks grew neither tree nor shrub. 
 Behind rose a chain of rugged cloud-capped hills, on 
 the declivities of which were some faint attempts 
 at young plantations ; and the only level ground 
 consisted of a few dingy turnip fields, enclosed with 
 stone walls, or dykes, as the post-boy called them. 
 It was now November; the day was raw and cold ; and 
 a thick drizzUng rain was beginning to fall. A dreary 
 stillness reigned all around, broken only at intervals 
 by the screams of the sea-fowl that hovered over the 
 lake, on whose dark and troubled waters was dimly 
 descried a little boat, plied by one soHtary being. 
 
 "What a scene!" at length Lady JuUana ex- 
 claimed, shuddering as she spoke. " Good God, what 
 a scene ! How I pity the unhappy wretches who are 
 doomed to dwell in such a place ! and yonder hideous 
 grim house — it makes me sick to look at it. For 
 Heaven's sake, bid him drive on." Another signifi- 
 cant look from the driver made the colour mount to 
 Douglas's cheek, as he stammered out, " Surely it can't 
 be ; yet somehow I don't know. Pray, my lad," 
 letting down one of the glasses, and addressing the 
 post^boy, " what is the name of that house ? " 
 
 " Hoose ! " repeated the driver ; " ca' ye thon a 
 hoose ? Thon's gude Glenfem Castle." 
 
 Lady Juliana, not understanding a word he said, sat 
 silently wondering at her husband's curiosity respect- 
 ing such a wretched-looking place. 
 
 " Impossible ! you must be mistaken, my lad : 
 
64 MARRIAGE. 
 
 why, what's become of all the fine wood that used to 
 surround it 1 " 
 
 "Grin you mean a wheen auld firs, there's some 
 o' them to the fore yet," pointing to two or three tall, 
 bare, scathed Scotch firs, that scarcely bent their 
 stubborn heads to the wind, that now began to howl 
 around them. 
 
 " I insist upon it that you are mistaken ; you must 
 have wandered from the right road," cried the now 
 alarmed Douglas in a loud voice, which vainly 
 attempted to conceal his agitation. 
 
 "We'll shune see that," replied the phlegmatic 
 Scot, who, having rested his horses and affixed a 
 drag to the wheel, was about to proceed, when Lady 
 Juliana, who now began to have some vague suspicion 
 of the truth, called to him to stop, and, almost breath- 
 less with alarm, inquired of her husband the meaning 
 of what had passed. 
 
 He tried to force a smile, as he said, "It seems 
 our journey is nearly ended ; that fellow persists in 
 asserting that that is Glenfern, though I can scarcely 
 think it. If it is, it is strangely altered since I left it 
 twelve years ago." 
 
 For a moment Lady Juliana was too much alarmed 
 to make a reply ; pale and speechless, she sank back 
 in the carriage ; but the motion of it, as it began to 
 proceed, roused her to a sense of her situation, and 
 she burst into tears and exclamations. 
 
 The driver, who attributed it all to fears at de- 
 scending the hill, assured her she need na be the least 
 
MAEEIAGE. 65 
 
 feared, for there were na twa cannier beasts atween 
 that and Johnny Groat's hoose ; and that they wad 
 ha'e her at the castle door in a crack, gin they were 
 ance down the brae." 
 
 Douglas's attempts to soothe his high-born bride 
 were not more successful than those of the driver : in 
 vain he made use of every endearing epithet and 
 tender expression, and recalled the time when she 
 used to declare that she could dwell with him in a 
 desert; her only repHes were bitter reproaches and 
 upbraidings for his treachery and deceit, mingled with 
 floods of tears, and interrupted by hysterical sobs. 
 Provoked at her foUy, yet softened by her extreme 
 distress, Douglas was in the utmost state of per- 
 plexity — now ready to give way to a paroxysm of 
 rage; then yielding to the natural goodness of his 
 heart, he sought to soothe her into composure ; and, 
 at length, with much difficulty succeeded in changing 
 her passionate indignation into silent dejection. 
 
 That no fresh objects of horror or disgust might 
 appear to disturb this calm, the blinds were pulled 
 down, and in this state they reached Glenfern Castle. 
 But there the friendly veU was necessarily withdrawn, 
 and the first object that presented itself to the high- 
 bred Englishwoman was an old man clad in a short 
 tartan coat and striped woollen night-cap, with blear 
 eyes and shaking hands, who vainly strove to open 
 the carriage door. 
 
 Douglas soon extricated himself, and assisted his 
 lady to alight ; then accosting the venerable domes- 
 VOL. I. F M. 
 
66 MABKIAGE. 
 
 tic as "Old Donald," asked him if he recollected 
 him. 
 
 "Weel that, weel that, Maister Hairy, and ye're 
 welcome hame; and ye tu, bonny sir"^ (addressing 
 Lady Juliana, who was caUing to her footman to 
 follow her with the mackaw) ; then, tottering before 
 them, he led the way, while her Ladyship followed, 
 leaning on her husband, her squirrel on her other 
 arm, preceded by her dogs, barking with all their 
 might, and attended by the mackaw, screaming with 
 all his strength ; and in this state was the Lady Juliana 
 ushered into the drawing-room of Glenfem Castle ! 
 
 ' The Highlanders use this term of respect indifferently to 
 both sexes. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 "What can be worse, 
 Than to dwell here ?" 
 
 Faradise Lost. 
 
 It was a long, narrow, low-roofed room, with a number 
 of small windows, that admitted feeble hghts in every 
 possible direction. The scanty furniture bore every 
 appearance of having been constructed at the same 
 time as the edifice ; and the friendship thus early 
 formed stUl seemed to subsist, as the high-backed 
 worked chairs adhered most pertinaciously to the gray 
 waUs, on which hung, in narrow black frames, some 
 of the venerable ancestors of the Douglas family. A 
 fire, which appeared to have been newly kindled, was 
 beginning to bum, but, previous to showing itself in 
 flame, had chosen to vent itself in smoke, with which 
 the room was completely filled, and the open windows 
 seemed to produce no other effect than that of admit- 
 ting the rain and wind. 
 
 At the entrance of the strangers a flock of females 
 rushed forward to meet them. Douglas good humour- 
 edly submitted to be hugged by three long-chinned 
 spinsters, whom he recognised as his aunts; and 
 warmly saluted five awkward purple girls he guessed 
 
68 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 to be his sisters ; while Lady Juliana stood the image 
 of despair, and, scarcely conscious, admitted in silence 
 the civilities of her new relations ; tUl, at length, sink- 
 ing into a chair, she endeavoured to conceal her 
 agitation hy calling to the dogs, and caressing her 
 mackaw. 
 
 The Laird, who had been hastily summoned from 
 his farming operations, now entered. He was a good- 
 looking old man, with something the air of a gentle- 
 man, in spite of the inelegance of his dress, his rough 
 manner, and provincial accent. After warmly welcom- 
 ing his son, he advanced to his beautiful daughter-ia- 
 law, and, taking her in his arms, bestowed a loud and 
 hearty kiss on each cheek ; then, observing the pale- 
 ness of her complexion, and the tears that swam ia 
 her eyes, " What ! not frightened for our Hieland 
 hiUs, my leddy ? Come, cheer up — ^trust me, ye'U find 
 as warm hearts among them as ony ye ha'e left in your 
 fine Enghsh policies " — shakiag her delicate fingers ia 
 his hard muscular gripe as he spoke. 
 
 The tears, which had with diflaculty been hitherto 
 suppressed, now burst in torrents from the eyes of 
 the high-bred beauty, as she leant her cheek against 
 the back of a chair, and gave way to the anguish 
 which mocked control 
 
 To the loud, anxious inquiries, and oppressive 
 kindness of her homely relatives, she made no reply ; 
 but, stretching out her hands to her husband, sobbed, 
 "Take, oh, take me from this place !" 
 
 Mortified, ashamed, and provoked, at a behaviour 
 
MAEEIAGE. 69 
 
 SO childish and absurd, Douglas could only stammer 
 out something about Lady Juliana having been 
 frightened and fatigued ; and, requesting to be shown 
 to their apartment, he supported her almost Hfeless 
 to it, while his aunts followed, all three prescribing 
 different remedies in a breath. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, take them from me !" faintly 
 articulated Lady JuUana, as she shrank from the 
 many hands that were alternately applied to her pulse 
 and forehead. 
 
 After repeated entreaties and plausible excuses 
 from Douglas, his aunts at length consented to with- 
 draw, and he then exerted all the rhetoric he was 
 master of to reconcile his bride to the situation love 
 and necessity had thrown her into. But in vain he 
 employed reasoning, caresses, and threats; the only 
 answers he could extort were tears and entreaties to 
 be taken from a place where she declared she felt it 
 impossible to exist. 
 
 "If you wish my death, Harry," said she, in a 
 voice almost inarticulate from excess of weepiag, 
 " oh ! kill me quickly, and do not leave me to 
 Hnger out my days, and perish at last with misery 
 here." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, tell me what you would have 
 me do," said her husband, softened to pity by her 
 extreme distress, "and I swear that in everything 
 possible I will comply with your wishes." 
 
 " Oh, fly then, stop the horses, and let us return 
 immediately. Do run, dearest Harry, or they will be 
 
70 MABRIAGE. 
 
 gone ; and we shall never get away from this odious 
 place." 
 
 " Where would you go 1 " asked he, with affected 
 calmness. 
 
 "Oh, anywhere; no matter where, so as we do 
 but get away from hence : we can be at no loss." 
 
 "None in the world," interrupted Douglas, with a 
 bitter smile, " as long as there is a prison to receive 
 us. See," continued he, throwing a few shillings down 
 on the table, "there is every sixpence I possess in the 
 world, so help me heaven ! " 
 
 Lady Juliana stood aghast. 
 
 At that instant the EngHsh Abigail burst into the 
 room, and in a voice choking with passion, she 
 requested her discharge, that she might return with 
 the driver who had brought them there. 
 
 "A pretty way of travelling, to be sure, it will 
 be," continued she, " to go bumping behind a dirty 
 chaise-driver ; but better to be shook to a jelly alto- 
 gether than stay amongst such a set of Oaten-toads."^ 
 
 " What do you mean ? " inquired Douglas, as 
 soon as the voluble Abigail allowed him an oppor- 
 tunity of asking. 
 
 " Why, my meaning, sir, is to leave this here place 
 immediately ; not that I have any objections either to 
 my Lady or you, sir ; but, to be sure, it was a sad 
 day for me that I engaged myself to her Ladyship. 
 Little did I think that a lady of distinction would 
 be coming to such a poor pitiful place as this. I am 
 ' Hottentots. 
 
MAEEIAGE. 71 
 
 sure I thought I should ha' swooned when I was 
 showed the hole where I was to sleep." 
 
 At the bare idea of this indignity to her person 
 the fury of the incensed fair one blazed forth with 
 such strength as to choke her utterance. 
 
 Amazement had hitherto kept Lady Juliana silent ; 
 for to such scenes she was a stranger. Born in an 
 elevated rank, reared in state, accustomed to the most 
 obsequious attention, and never approached but with 
 the respect due rather to a divinity than to a mortal, 
 the strain of vulgar insolence that now assailed her 
 was no less new to her ears than shocking to her feel- 
 ings. With a voice and look that awed the woman 
 into obedience, she commanded her to quit her presence 
 for ever ; and then, no longer able to suppress the 
 emotions of insulted pride, wounded vanity, and in- 
 dignant disappointment, she gave way to a violent fit 
 of hysterics. 
 
 In the utmost perplexity the unfortunate husband 
 by turns cursed the hour that had given him such 
 a wife ; now tried to soothe her into composure ; but 
 at length, seriously alarmed at the increasing attack, 
 he called loudly for assistance. 
 
 In a moment the three aunts and the five sisters all 
 rushed together into the room, full of wonder, exclama- 
 tion, and inquiry. Many were the remedies that were 
 tried and the experiments that were suggested ; and at 
 length the violence of passion exhausted itself, and a 
 faint sob or deep sigh succeeded the hysteric scream. 
 
 Douglas now attempted to account for the behaviour 
 
72 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 of his noble spouse by ascribing it to the fatigue she 
 had lately undergone, joined to distress of mind at 
 her father's unrelenting severity towards her. 
 
 " Oh, the amiable creature ! " interrupted the un- 
 suspecting spinsters, almost stifling her with their 
 caresses as they spoke : " Welcome, a thousand times 
 welcome, to Glenfem Castle," said Miss Jacky, who 
 was esteemed by much the most sensible woman, as 
 well as the greatest orator in the whole parish; 
 " nothing shall be wanting, dearest Lady JuUana, to 
 compensate for a parent's rigour, and make you happy 
 and comfortable. Consider this as your future home ! 
 My sisters and myself will be as mothers to you ; and 
 see these charming young creatures,'' dragging for- 
 ward two tall frightened girls, with sandy hair and 
 great purple arms; "thank Providence for having 
 blest you with such sisters ! " " Don't speak too 
 much, Jacky, to our dear niece at present," said Miss 
 Grizzy; "I think one of Lady Maclaughlan's com- 
 posing draughts would be the best thing for her." 
 
 "Composing draughts at this time of day!" cried 
 Miss Nicky; "I should think a little good broth a 
 much wiser thing. There are some excellent family 
 broth making below, and I'll desire Tibby to bring 
 a few." 
 
 " Will you take a little soup, love ?" asked Douglas. 
 His lady assented; and Miss Nicky vanished, but 
 quickly re-entered, followed by Tibby, carrying a huge 
 bowl of coarse broth, swimming with leeks, greens, 
 and grease. Lady Juliana attempted to taste it ; but 
 
MAEEIAGE. 73 
 
 her delicate palate revolted at the homely fare ; and 
 she gave up the attempt, in spite of Miss Nicky's 
 earnest entreaties to take a few more of these excellent 
 family broth. 
 
 "I should think," said Henry, as he vainly at- 
 tempted to stir it round, " that a httle wine would be 
 more to the purpose than this stuff." 
 
 The aunts looked at each other; and, withdraw- 
 ing to a comer, a whispering consultation took place, 
 in which Lady Maclaughlan's opinion, " birch, balm, 
 currant, heating, cooHng, running risks," etc. etc., 
 transpired. At length thp question was carried ; and 
 some tolerable sherry and a piece of very substantial 
 shortbread were produced. 
 
 It was now voted by Miss Jacky, and carried mem. 
 con. that her Ladyship ought to take a little repose 
 till the hour of dinner. 
 
 "And don't trouble to dress," continued the con- 
 siderate aunt, " for we are not very dressy here ; and 
 we are to be quite a charming family party, nobody 
 but ourselves; and," turning to her nephew, "your 
 brother and his wife. She is a most superior woman, 
 though she has rather too many of her Enghsh pre- 
 judices yet to be aU we could wish ; but I have no 
 doubt, when she has Hved a httle longer amongst us, 
 she will just become one of ourselves." 
 
 "I forget who she was," said Douglas. 
 
 "A grand -daughter of Sir Duncan Malcolm's, a 
 
 very old family of the blood, and nearly allied 
 
 to the present Earl. And here they come," exclaimed 
 
74 MARRIAGE. 
 
 she, on hearing the sound of a carriage ; and all rushed 
 out to receive them. 
 
 " Let us have a glimpse of this scion from a noble 
 stock,'' said Lady JuHana, mimicking the accent of 
 the poor spinsters, as she rose and ran to the ■window. 
 
 " Good heavens, Henry ! do come and behold this 
 equipage;" and she laughed with childish glee as she 
 pointed to a plain, old-fashioned whisky, with a large 
 top. A tall handsome young man now alighted, and 
 lifted out a female figure, so enveloped in a cloak 
 that eyes less penetrating than Lady Juliana's could 
 not, at a single glance, have discovered her to be a 
 "frightful quiz." 
 
 " Only conceive the effect of this dashing equipage 
 in Bond Street !" continued she, redoubling her mirth 
 at the bright idea ; then suddenly stopping, and sigh- 
 ing — " Ah, my pretty vis-d^s ! I remember the first 
 time I saw you, Henry, I was in it at a review;" and 
 she sighed still deeper. 
 
 "True; I was then aid-de camp to your handsome 
 lover, the Duke of L ." 
 
 "Perhaps I might think him handsome now. 
 People's tastes alter according to circumstances." 
 
 " Yours must have imdergone a wonderful revolu- 
 tion, if you can find charms in a hunchback of fifty- 
 three." 
 
 "He is not a hunchback," returned her Ladyship 
 warmly ; " only a little high shouldered ; but at any- 
 rate he has the most beautiful place and the finest 
 house in England." 
 
MAKEIAGE. 75 
 
 Douglas saw the storm gathering on the brow of his 
 capricious wife, and clasping her in his arms, "Are you 
 indeed so changed, my Juha, that you have forgot the 
 time when you used to declare you would prefer a 
 desert with your Henry to a throne with another.'' 
 
 "No, certainly, not changed; but — I — I did not 
 very well know then what a desert was ; or, at least, 
 I had formed rather a different idea of it." 
 
 "What was yoiir idea of a desert f said her 
 husband, laughing. "Do tell me, love." 
 
 "Oh! I had fancied it a beautiful place, full of 
 roses and myrtles, and smooth green turf, and mur- 
 muring rivulets, and, though very retired, not abso- 
 lutely out of the world ; where one could occasionally 
 see one's friends, and give dejeunis d fetes champitres." 
 
 " Well, perhaps the time may come, Juhana, when 
 we may realise your Elysian deserts ; but at present, 
 you know, I am wholly dependent on my father. I 
 hope to prevail on him to do something for me ; and 
 that our stay here will be short ; as, you may be sure, 
 the moment I can, I will take you hence. I am sen- 
 sible it is not a situation for you ; but for my sake, 
 dearest Juhana, bear with it for a while, without be- 
 traying your disgust. Will you do this, darling V and 
 he kissed away the suUen tear that hung on her cheek. 
 
 " You know, love, there's nothing in the world I 
 wouldn't do for you," replied she, as she played with 
 her squirrel ; " and as you promise our stay shall be 
 short, if I don't die of the horrors I shall certainly 
 try to make the agreeable. Oh ! my cherub !" flying 
 
76 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 to her pug, who came barking into the room, "where 
 have you been, and where's my darling Psyche, and 
 sweet mackaw? Do, Harry, go and see after the 
 darlings." 
 
 " I must go and see my brother and his wife first. 
 Will you come, love?" 
 
 " Oh, not now ; I don't feel equal to the encounter ; 
 besides, I must dress. But what shall I do ? Since 
 that vUe woman's gone I can't dress myself. I never 
 did such a thing in my life, and I am sure it's impos-' 
 sible that I can," almost weepiag at the hardships she 
 was doomed to experience in making her own toUet. 
 
 "Shall I be your Abigail?" asked her husband, 
 smiling at the distress; "methinks it would be no 
 difl&cult task to deck my Julia." 
 
 " Dear Harry, will you really dress me ? Oh ! that 
 will be delightful ! I shall die with laughing at your 
 awkwardness;" and her beautiful eyes sparkled with 
 childish delight at the idea. 
 
 "In the meantime," said Douglas, "I'U send some 
 one to unpack your things ; and after I have shook 
 hands with Archie, and been introduced to my new 
 sister, I shall enter on my office." 
 
 " Now do, pray, make haste ; for I die to see your 
 great hands tying strings and sticking pins." 
 
 Delighted with her gaiety and good humoui-, he 
 left her caressing her favourites ; and finding rather a 
 scarcity of female attendance, he despatched two of his 
 sisters to assist his helpless beauty ia her arrange- 
 ments. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "And ever against eating cares, 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs." 
 
 L' Allegro. 
 
 When Douglas returned he found the floor strewed 
 with dresses of every description, his sisters on their 
 knees before a great trunk they were busied in un- 
 packing, and his Lady in her wrapper, with her hair 
 about her ears, still amusing herself with her pets. 
 
 " See how good your sisters are," said she, pointing 
 to the poor girls, whose inflamed faces bore testimony 
 to their labours. " I declare I am quite sorry to see 
 them take so' much trouble," yawning as she leant 
 back in her chair ; " is it not quite shocking, Tommy V 
 kissing her squirrel. " Oh ! pray, Henry, do teU me 
 what I am to put on; for I protest I don't know. 
 FavoUe always used to choose for me ; and so did that 
 odious MartiQ, for she had an exquisite taste.'' 
 
 " Not so exquisite as your own, I am sure ; so for 
 once choose for yourself," rephed the good-humoured 
 husband ; " and pray make haste, for my father waits 
 dinner." 
 
 Betwixt scolding, laughing, and blundering, the 
 dress was at length completed ; and Lady Juliana, in 
 
78 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 all the pomp of dress and pride of beauty, descended, 
 leaning on her husband's arm. 
 
 On entering the drawing-room, which was now in 
 a more comfortable state, Douglas led her to a lady 
 who was sitting by the fire: and, placing her hand 
 within that of the stranger, " Juliana, my love," said 
 he, " this is a sister whom you have not yet seen, and 
 with whom I am sure you will gladly make acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 The stranger received her noble sister with graceful 
 ease ; and, with a sweet smile and pleasing accent, 
 expressed herself happy in the introduction. Lady 
 Juliana was surprised and somewhat disconcerted. 
 She had arranged her plans, and made up her mind 
 to be condescending ; she had resolved to enchant by 
 her sweetness, dazzle by her brilliancy, and overpower 
 by her affability. But there was a simple dignity 
 in the air and address of the lady, before which even 
 high-bred affectation sank abashed. Before she found 
 a reply to the courteous yet respectful salutation of 
 her sister-in-law Douglas introduced his brother ; and 
 the old gentleman, impatient at any farther delay, 
 taking Lady Juliana by the hand, pulled, rather than 
 led her into the dining-room. 
 
 Even Lady Juhana contrived to make a meal of 
 the roast mutton and moorfowl ; for the Laird piqued 
 himself on the breed of his sheep, and his son was too 
 good a sportsman to allow his friends to want for 
 game. 
 
 " I think my darhng Tommy would relish this 
 
MAKEIAGE. 79 
 
 grouse very much," observed Lady Juliana, as she 
 secured the last remaining wing for her favourite. 
 "Bring him here !" turning to the tall, dashing lackey 
 who stood behind her chair, and whose handsome 
 livery and well-dressed hair formed a striking con- 
 trast to old Donald's tartan jacket and bob-wig. 
 
 "Come hither, my sweetest cherubs," extending 
 her arms towards the charming trio, as they entered, 
 barkiag, and chattering, and flying to their mistress. 
 A scene of noise and nonsense ensued. 
 
 Douglas remained silent, mortified and provoked 
 at the weakness of his wife, which not even the silver 
 tones of her voice or the elegance of her manners 
 could longer conceal from him. But still there was a 
 charm in her very folly, to the eye of love, which had 
 not yet wholly lost its power. 
 
 After the table was cleared, observing that he was 
 still silent and abstracted. Lady JuHana turned to her 
 husband, and, laying her hand on his shoulder, " You 
 are not well, love ! " said she, looking up in his face, 
 and shaking back the redundant ringlets that shaded 
 her own. 
 
 " Perfectly so, " replied her husband, with a sigh. 
 
 " What ? dull '! Then I must sing to enhven you. " 
 And, leaning her head on his shoulder, she warbled 
 averse of the beautiful little Venetian air, La Bion- 
 dina in Gondoletta. Then suddenly stopping, and 
 fixing her eyes on Mrs. Douglas, "I beg pardon, 
 perhaps you don't like music ; perhaps my singing's a 
 bore, " 
 
80 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 "You pay us a bad compliment in saying so," said 
 her sister-in-law, smiling; "and the only atonement 
 you can make for such an injurious doubt is to pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 "Does anybody sing here?" asked she, without 
 noticing this request. "Do, somebody, sing me a 
 song." 
 
 " Oh ! we all sing, and dance too," said one of the 
 old young ladies ; " and after tea we wiU show you 
 some of our Scotch steps ; but in the meantime Mrs. 
 Douglas wiU favour us with her song." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas assented good-humouredly, though 
 aware that it would be rather a nice point to please 
 all parties in the choice of a song. The Laird 
 reckoned aU foreign music — i.e. everything that was not 
 Scotch — an outrage upon his ears ; and Mrs. Douglas 
 had too much taste to murder Scotch songs with her 
 English accent. She therefore compromised the matter 
 as well as she could by selecting a Highland ditty 
 clothed in her own native tongue ; and sang with 
 much pathos and simplicity the lamented Leyden's 
 "Fallof Macgregor:" 
 
 " In the vale of Glenorcty tlie night breeze was sighing 
 O'er the tomb where the ancient Macgregors are lying ; 
 Green are their graves by their soft murmnring river, 
 But the name of Macgregor has perished for ever. 
 
 " On a red stream of light, by his gray mountains glancing, 
 Soon I beheld a dim spirit advancing ; 
 Slow o'er the heath of the dead was its motion, 
 Like the shadow of mist o'er the foam of the ocean. 
 
MARKIAGE. 81 
 
 " Like the sound of a stream through the still evening dying, — 
 Stranger ! who treads where Macgregor is lying ? 
 Darest thou to walk, unappall'd and firm-hearted, 
 'Mid the shadowy steps of the mighty departed ? 
 
 " See ! round thee the caves of the dead ai-e disclosing 
 The shades that have long been in silence reposing ; 
 Thro' their forms dimly twinkles the moon-beam descending, 
 As upon thee their red eyes of wrath they are bending. 
 
 " Our gray stones of fame though the heath-blossom cover. 
 Round the fields of our battles our spirits still hover ; 
 Where we oft saw the streams running red from the moun- 
 tains ; 
 But dark are our forms by our blue native fountains. 
 
 ' ' For our fame melts away like the foam of the river. 
 Like the last yellow leaves on the oak-boughs that shiver : 
 The name is unknown of our fathers so gallant ; 
 And our blood beats no more in the breasts of the valiant. 
 
 ' ' The hunter of red deer now ceases to number 
 The lonely gray stones on the field of our slumber. — 
 Fly, stranger ! and let not thine eye be reverted ; 
 "Why should'st thou see that our fame is departed ?" 
 
 "Pray, do you play on the harp?" asked the vola- 
 tile lady, scarcely waiting till the first stanza was 
 ended ; " and, apropos, have you a good harp here V 
 
 We've a very sweet spinnet," said Miss Jacky, 
 " which, in my opinion, is a far superior instrument : 
 and Bella wiU give us a tune upon it. Bella, my dear, 
 let Lady JuUana hear how well you can play. " 
 
 Bella, blushing hke a peony rose, retired to a 
 comer of the room, where stood the spinnet ; and with 
 great, heavy, trembling hands, began to belabour the 
 unfortunate instrument, while the aunts beat time, 
 
 VOL. I. « .n. 
 
82 MARRIAGE. 
 
 and encouraged her to proceed with exclamations of 
 admiration and applause. 
 
 "You have done very well, Bella," said Mrs. 
 Douglas, seeing her preparing to execute another piece, 
 and pitying the poor girl, as well as her auditors. 
 Then whispering Miss Jacky that Lady Juliana looked 
 fatigued, they arose to quit the room. 
 
 "Give me your arm, love, to the drawing-room," 
 said her Ladyship languidly. " And now, pray, don't 
 be long away," continued she, as he placed her on the 
 sofa, and returned to the gentlemen. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ' ' You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, 
 With most admired disorder. " M h fh 
 
 The interval, which seemed of endless duration to 
 the hapless Lady Juliana, was passed by the aunts in 
 giving sage counsel as to the course of life to be 
 pursued by married ladies. Worsted stockings and 
 quilted petticoats were insisted upon as indispensable 
 articles of dress ; while it was plainly insinuated that 
 it was utterly impossible any child could be healthy 
 whose mother had not confined her wishes to barley 
 broth and oatmeal porridge. 
 
 " Only look at thae young lambs," said Miss Grizzy, 
 pointing to the five great girls; "see what pickters 
 of health they are ! I'm sure I hope, my dear niece, 
 your children will be just the same — only boys, for 
 we are sadly in want of boys. It's melancholy to 
 think we have not a boy among us, and that a fine 
 auntient race Uke ours should be dying away for want 
 of male heirs.'' And the tears streamed down the 
 cheeks of the good spinster as she spoke. 
 
 The entrance of the gentlemen put a stop to the 
 conversation. 
 
 Flying to her husband, Lady Juliana began to 
 
84 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 whisper, in very audible tones, her inquiries, whether 
 he had yet got any money — when they were to go 
 away, etc. etc. 
 
 "Does your Ladyship choose any tea t" asked Miss 
 Nicky, as she disseminated the little cups of coarse 
 black Hquid. 
 
 " Tea ! oh no, I never drink tea. I'U take some 
 cofiFee though ; and Psyche doats on a dish of tea. " And 
 she tendered the beverage that had been intended 
 for herself to her favourite. 
 
 "Here's no coffee," said Douglas, surveying the 
 tea-table J "but I will ring for some," as he pulled 
 the bell. 
 
 Old Donald answered the summons. 
 
 " Where's the coffee ? " demanded Miss Nicky. 
 
 " The coffee ! " repeated the Highlander ; " troth, 
 Miss Nicky, an' it's been clean forgot." 
 
 " Well, but you can get it yet 1 " said Douglas. 
 
 " 'Deed, Maister Harry, the night's owre far gane 
 for't noo ; for the fire's a' ta'en up, ye see," reckoning 
 with his fingers, as he proceeded; "there's parritch 
 makin' for oor supper; and there's patatees boihng 
 for the beasts ; and " 
 
 "I'll see about it myself," said Miss Nicky, leaving 
 the room, with old Donald at her back, muttering all 
 the way. 
 
 The old Laird, all this while, had been enjoying 
 his evening nap ; but, that now ended, and the tea 
 equipage being dismissed, starting up, he asked what 
 they were about, that the dancing was not begun. 
 
MAKRIAGE. 85 
 
 " Come, my Leddy, we'll set the example," snapping 
 his fingers, and singing in a hoarse voice, 
 
 " The mouse is a merry beastie, 
 And the moudiwort wants the een ; 
 But folk sail ne'er get wit, 
 Sae merry as we twa ha'e been. ' 
 
 " But whar's the girlies ? " cried he. " Ho ! Belle, 
 Becky, Betty, Baby, Beany — to your posts ! " 
 
 The young ladies, eager for the delights of music 
 and dancing, now entered, followed by Coil, the piper, 
 dressed in the native garb, with cheeks seemingly 
 ready blown for the occasion. After a little strutting 
 and puffing, the pipes were fairly set agoing in Coil's 
 most spirited manner. But vain would be the attempt 
 to describe Lady Juliana's horror and amazement at 
 the hideous sounds that for the first time assailed her 
 ear. Tearing herself from the grasp of the old gentle- 
 man, who was just setting oflf in the reel, she flew 
 shrieking to her husband, and threw herself trembling 
 into his arms, while he called loudly to the self- 
 delighted Coil to stop. 
 
 "What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried 
 the whole family, gathering round. 
 
 " Matter ! " repeated Douglas furiously ; " you have 
 frightened Lady Juliana to death with your infernal 
 music. What did you mean," turning fiercely to 
 the astonished piper, "by blowing that confounded 
 bladder?" 
 
 Poor Coil gaped with astonishment; for never 
 
86 MABRIAGE. 
 
 before had his performance on the bagpipe been heard 
 but with admiration and applause. 
 
 "A bonny bargain, indeed, that canna stand the 
 pipes," said the old gentleman, as he went puffing up 
 and down the room. " She's no the wife for a Heeland- 
 man. Confoonded blather, indeed! By my faith, 
 ye're no blate ! " 
 
 "I declare it's the most distressing thing I ever 
 met with," sighed Mss Grizzy. "I wonder whether 
 it could be the sight or the sound of the bagpipe that 
 frightened our dear niece. I wish to goodness Lady 
 Maclaughlan was here ! " 
 
 "It's impossible the bagpipe could frighten any- 
 body," said Miss Jacky, in a high key ; " nobody 
 with common sense could be frightened at a bag- 
 pipe." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas here mildly interposed, and soothed 
 down the offended pride of the Highlanders by attri- 
 buting Lady Juliana's agitation entirely to surprise. 
 The word operated like a charm ; all were ready to 
 admit that it was a surprising'thing when heard for the 
 first time. Miss Jacky remarked that we are aU liable 
 to be surprised ; and the still more sapient Grrizzy said 
 that, indeed, it was most surprising the effect that 
 surprise had upon some people. For her own part, 
 she could not deny but that she was very often 
 frightened when she was surprised. 
 
 Douglas, meanwhile, was employed in soothing the 
 terrors, real or affected, of his delicate bride, who 
 declared herself so exhausted with the fatigue she 
 
MAKRIAGE. 87 
 
 had undergone, and the sufferings she had endured, 
 that she must retire for the night. Henry, eager to 
 escape from the questions and remarks of his family, 
 gladly availed himself of the same excuse ; and, to 
 the infinite mortification of both aunts and nieces, 
 the ball was broken up. 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 "What choice to choose for delicacy test.'' 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Of what nature were the remarks passed in the 
 parlour upon the new married couple has not reached 
 the writer of these memoirs with as much exactness 
 as the foregoiag circumstances ; but they may in part 
 be imagined from the sketch already given of the 
 characters which formed the Glenfern party. The 
 conciliatory indulgence of Mrs. Douglas, when aided 
 by the good-natured Miss Grizzy, doubtless had a 
 favourable effect on the irritated pride but short-lived 
 acrimony of the old gentleman. Certain it is that, 
 before the evening concluded, they appeared all re- 
 stored to harmony, and retired to their respective 
 chambers in hopes of beholding a more propitious 
 morrow. 
 
 Who has not perused sonnets, odes, and speeches 
 in praise of that balmy blessing sleep; from the 
 divine effusions of Shakespeare down to the drowsy 
 notes of newspaper poets ? 
 
 Yet cannot too much be said in its commendation. 
 Sweet is its influence on the careworn eyes to tears 
 
MARRIAGE. 89 
 
 accustomed. In its arms the statesman forgets lus 
 harassed thoughts; the weary and the poor are blessed 
 with its charms ; and conscience — even conscience — 
 is sometimes soothed into silence, while the sufferer 
 sleeps. But nowhere, perhaps, is its influence more 
 happily felt than in the heart oppressed by the har- 
 assing accumulation of petty ills; like a troop of 
 locusts, making up by their number and their stings 
 what they want in magnitude. 
 
 Mortified pride in discovering the fallacy of our 
 own judgment ; to be ashamed of what we love, yet 
 still to love, are feeUngs most unpleasant ; and though 
 they assume not the dignity of deep distress, yet 
 philosophy has scarce any power to soothe their 
 worrying, incessant annoyance. Douglas was glad to 
 forget himself in sleep. He had thought a vast deal 
 that day, and of unpleasant subjects, more than the 
 whole of his foregoing life would have produced. If 
 he did not curse the fair object of his imprudence, 
 he at least cursed his own folly and himself; and 
 these were his last waking thoughts. 
 
 But Douglas could not repose as long as the seven 
 sleepers, and, in consequence of having retired sooner 
 to bed than he was accustomed to do, he waked at an 
 early hour in the morning. 
 
 The wonderful activity which people sometimes 
 feel when they have httle to do with their bodies, and 
 less with their minds, caused him to rise hastily and 
 dress, hoping to pick up a new set of ideas by virtue 
 of his locomotive powers. 
 
90 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 On descending to the dining-parlour he found his 
 father seated at the window, carefully perusing a 
 pamphlet written to illustrate the principle, Let 
 nothing he lost, and containing many sage and erudite 
 directions for the composition and dimensions of that 
 ornament to a gentleman's farmyard, and a cottager's 
 front door, ycleped, in the language of the country, a 
 midden — with the signification of which we would not, 
 for the world, shock the more refined feelings of our 
 southern readers. 
 
 Many were the inquiries about dear Lady Juhana ; 
 hoped she had rested well ; hoped they found the bed 
 comfortable, etc. etc. These inquiries were inter- 
 rupted by the Laird, who requested his son to take 
 a turn with him while breakfast was getting ready, 
 that they might talk over past events and new plans ; 
 that he might see the new planting on the hill ; the 
 draining of the great moss; with other agricultiu'al 
 concerns which we shall omit, not having the same 
 power of commanding attention for our readers as 
 the Laird had from his hearers. 
 
 After repeated summonses and many inquiries 
 from the impatient party already assembled round the 
 breakfast table, Lady Juliana made her appearance, 
 accompanied by her favourites, whom no persuasions of 
 her husband could prevail upon her to leave behind. 
 
 As she entered the room her olfactory nerves were 
 smote with gales, not of " Araby the blest," but of old 
 cheese and herrings, with which the hospitable board 
 was amply provided. 
 
MAEEIAGE. 91 
 
 The ladies having severally exchanged the salu- 
 tations of the morning, Miss Nicky commenced the 
 operation of pouring out tea, while the Laird laid 
 a large piece of herring on her Ladyship's plate. 
 
 " Good heavens ! what am I to do with this ? " 
 exclaimed she. " Do take it away, or I shall faint ! " 
 
 "Brother, brother!" cried Miss Grizzy in a tone 
 of alarm, "I beg you won't place any unpleasant 
 object before the eyes of our dear niece. I declare ! 
 Pray, was it the sight or the smell of the beast ^ 
 that shocked you so much, my dear Lady Juliana ? 
 I'm sure I wish to goodness Lady Maclaughlan was 
 come!" 
 
 Mr. Douglas, or the Major, as he was styled, imme- 
 diately rose and puUed the bell. 
 
 "Desire my gig to be got ready directly!" said 
 he. 
 
 The aunts drew up stiffly, and looked at each other 
 without speaking; but the old gentleman expressed 
 his surprise that his son should think of lea^ang them 
 so soon. 
 
 " May we inquire the reason of this sudden resolu- 
 tion V at length said Miss Jacky in a tone of stifled 
 indignation. 
 
 " Certainly, if you are disposed to hear it ; it is 
 because I find that there is company expected." 
 
 The three ladies turned up their hands and eyes in 
 speechless horror. 
 
 ^ In Scotland everything that flies and swims ranks in the 
 bestial tribe. 
 
92 MAEEIAGB. 
 
 "Is it that virtuous woman Lady Maclaughlan 
 you would shun, nephew?" demanded Miss Jacky. 
 
 "It is that insufferable woman I would shun," 
 replied her nephew, with a heightened colour and a 
 violence very unusual with him. 
 
 The good Miss Grizzy drew out her pocket-hand- 
 kerchief, while Mrs. Douglas vainly endeavoured to 
 silence her husband, and avert the rising storm. 
 
 "Dear Douglas !" whispered his wife in a tone of 
 reproacL 
 
 " Oh, pray let him go on," said Miss Jacky, almost 
 choking under the effort she made to appear cabn. 
 "Let him go on. Lady Maclaughlan's character, luckily, 
 is far above the reach of calumny ; nothing that Mr. 
 Archibald Douglas can say will have power to change 
 our opinions, or, I hope, to prejudice his brother and 
 Lady JuHana against this most exemplary, virtuous 
 woman — a woman of family — of fortune — of talents — 
 of accomplishments ; a woman of imblemished reputa- 
 tion—of the strictest morals, sweetest temper, charm- 
 ing heart, delightful spirits, so charitable — every year 
 gives fifty flannel petticoats to the old people of the 
 parish " 
 
 "Then such a wife as she is!" sobbed out Miss 
 Grizzy. " She has invented I don't know how many 
 different medicines for Sir Sampson's complaint, and 
 makes a point of his taking some of them every day ; 
 but for her I'm sure he would have been in his grave 
 long ago." 
 
 "She's doing all she can to send him there, as 
 
MARRIAGE. 93 
 
 she has done many a poor wretch akeady, with her 
 infernal compositions." 
 
 Here Miss Grizzy sank back in her chair, overcome 
 with horror ; and Miss Nicky let fall the teapot, the 
 scalding contents of which discharged themselves upon 
 the unfortunate Psyche, whose yells, mingling with 
 the screams of its fair mistress, for a while drowned 
 even Miss Jacky's oratory. 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do?" cried Lady Juliana, as she 
 bent over her favourite. "Do send for a surgeon; 
 pray, Henry, fly ! Do fetch one directly, or she will 
 die ; and it would quite kill me to lose my darhng. 
 Do run, dearest Harry !" 
 
 "My dear JuHa, how can you be so absurd? 
 There's no surgeon within twenty miles of this.'' 
 
 " No surgeon within twenty miles !" exclaimed she, 
 starting up. "How could you bring me to such a 
 place ? Good God ! those dear creatures may die — I 
 may die myself — before I can get any assistance !" 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, my dearest niece," said the good 
 Miss Grizzy ; " we are all doctors here. I understand 
 something of physic myself ; and our friend Lady 
 Maclaughlan, who, I daresay, will be here presently, is 
 perfect mistress of every disease of the human frame." 
 
 "Clap a cauld potatae to the brute's tae," cried 
 the old Laird grufiiy. 
 
 " I've a box of her scald ointment that will cure it 
 in a minute." 
 
 "If it don't cure, it will kUl," said Mr. Douglas, 
 with a smile. 
 
94 MARRIAGE. 
 
 "Brother," said Miss Jacky, rising with dignity 
 from her chair, and waving her hand as she spoke — 
 " brother, I appeal to you to protect the character of 
 this most amiable, respectable matron from the insults 
 and calumny your son thinks proper to load it with. 
 Sir Sampson Maclaughlan is your friend, and it there- 
 fore becomes your duty to defend his wife." 
 
 " Troth, but I'll hae aneugh to do if I am to stand 
 up for a' my friends' wives," said the old gentlemaa 
 " But, however, Archie, you are to blame : Leddy 
 Maclaughlan is a very decent woman — at least, as far 
 as I ken — though she is a little free in the gab ; and 
 out of respect to my auld friend Sir Sampson, it is 
 my desire that you should remain here to receive him, 
 and that you trait baith him and his Lady discreetly." 
 
 This was said in too serious a tone to be disputed, 
 and his son was obliged to submit. 
 
 The ointment meanwhile having been applied to 
 Psyche's paw, peace was restored, and breakfast 
 recommenced. 
 
 " I declare our dear niece has not tasted a morsel," 
 observed Miss Nicky. 
 
 "Bless me, here's charming barley meal scones," 
 cried one, thrusting a plateful of them before her. 
 "Here's tempting pease bannocks," interposed another, 
 "and oat cakes. I'm sure your Ladyship never saw 
 such cakes." 
 
 " I can't eat any of those things," said their delicate 
 niece, with an air of disgust. "I should like some 
 muffin and chocolate." 
 
MAKKIAGE. 95 
 
 "You forget you are not in London, my love," 
 said her husband reproachfully. 
 
 " No indeed, I do not forget it. Well then, give 
 me some toast," with an air of languid condescension. 
 
 "Unfortunately, we happen be quite out of loaf 
 bread at present," said Miss Nicky; "but we've sent 
 to Drymsine for some. They bake excellent bread at 
 Drymsine." 
 
 " Is there nothing within the bounds of possibiHty 
 you would fancy, Julia 1" asked Douglas. " Do think, 
 love." 
 
 "I think I should Hke some grouse, or a beef- 
 steak, if it was very nicely done," returned her Lady- 
 ship in a languishing tone. 
 
 " Beef-steak ! " repeated Miss Grizzy. 
 
 "Beef-steak !" responded Miss Jacky. 
 
 "Beef-steak !" reverberated Miss Nicky. 
 
 After much deHberation and consultation amongst 
 the three spinsters, it was at length unanimously 
 carried that the Lady's whim should be indulged. 
 
 " Only think, sisters," observed Miss Grizzy in an 
 undertone, " what reflections we should have to make 
 upon ourselves if the child was to resemble a moor- 
 fowl!" 
 
 "Or have a face like a raw beef-steak !" said Miss 
 Nicky. 
 
 These arguments were unanswerable ; and a smok- 
 ing steak and plump moor-fowl were quickly produced, 
 of which Lady Juliana partook in company with her 
 four-footed favourites. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 " When winter soaks the fields, and female feet — 
 Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, 
 Or ford the rivulets — are best at home." 
 
 The Task. 
 
 The meal being at length concluded, Glenfern desired 
 Henry to attend him on a "walk, as he wished to have 
 a little more private conversation with him. Lady 
 Juliana was beginning a remonstrance against the 
 cruelty of taking Harry away from her, when her 
 husband whispering her that he hoped to make some- 
 thing of the old gentleman, and that he should soon 
 be back, she suffered him to depart in silence. 
 
 Old Donald having at length succeeded in clearing 
 the table of its heterogeneous banquet, it was quickly 
 covered with the young ladies' work. 
 
 Miss Nicky withdrew to her household affairs. 
 Miss Jacky sat with one eye upon Lady Juliana, the 
 other upon her five nieces. Miss Grizzy seated her- 
 seK by her Ladyship, holding a spread letter of Lady 
 Maclaughlan's before her as a screen. 
 
 While the young ladies busily plied their needles, 
 the elder ones left no means untried to entertain their 
 listless niece, whose only repUes were exclamations of 
 
MAKRIAGE. 97 
 
 weariness, or expressions of affection bestowed upon 
 her favourites. 
 
 At length even Miss Jacky's sense and Miss Grizzy's 
 good nature were at -fault ; when a ray of sunshine 
 darting into the room suggested the idea of a walk. 
 The proposal was made, and assented to by her 
 Ladyship, in the twofold hope of meeting her husband 
 and pleasing her dogs, whose whining and scratching 
 had for some time testified their desire of a change. 
 The ladies therefore separated to prepare for their sortie, 
 after many recommendations from the aunts to be 
 sure to hap ^ well ; but, as if distrusting her powers 
 in that way, they speedily equipped themselves, and 
 repaired to her chamber, arrayed cap-h-pie in the 
 walking costume of Glenfern Castle. And, indeed, it 
 must be owned their style of dress was infinitely more 
 judicious than that of their fashionable niece ; and it 
 was not surprising that they, in their shrunk dufile 
 greatcoats, vast poke -bonnets, red worsted neck- 
 cloths, and pattens, should gaze with horror at her 
 lace cap, lilac satin pelisse, and sUk shoes. Euin to 
 the whole race of Glenfern, present and future, seemed 
 inevitable from such a display of extravagance and 
 imprudence. Having surmounted the first shock. 
 Miss Jacky made a violent effort to subdue her rising 
 wrath ; and, with a sort of convulsive smile, addressed 
 Lady Juliana : " Your Ladyship, I perceive, is not of 
 the opinion of our inimitable bard, who, in his charm- 
 ing poem, ' The Seasons,' says ' Beauty needs not the 
 
 ^ Wrap. 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 MABRIAGE. 
 
 foreign aid of ornament; but is, when unadorned, 
 adorned the most.' That is a truth that ought to be 
 impressed on every young woman's mind." 
 
 Lady Juliana only stared. She was as little 
 accustomed to be advised as she was to hear Thomson's 
 "Seasons" quoted. 
 
 "I declare that's all quite true," said the more 
 temporising Grizzy ; " and certainly our girls are not 
 in the least taken up about their dress, poor things ! 
 which is a great comfort. At the same time, I'm sure 
 it's no wonder your Ladyship should be taken up 
 about yours, for certainly that pelisse is most beautiful 
 Nobody can deny that ; and I daresay it is the very 
 newest fashion. At the same time, I'm just afraid 
 that it's rather too delicate, and that it might perhaps 
 get a little dirty on our roads; for although, in 
 general, our roads are quite remarkable for being 
 always dry, which is a great comfort in the country, 
 yet you know the very best roads of course must be 
 wet sometimes. And there's a very bad step just at 
 the door almost, which Glenfern has been always 
 speaking about getting mended. But, to be sure, he 
 has so many things to think about that it's no wonder 
 he forgets sometimes; but I daresay he will get it 
 done very soon now.'' 
 
 The prospect of the road being mended produced 
 no better effect than the quotation from Thomson's 
 "Seasons." It was now Miss Nicky's turn..- 
 
 " I'm afraid your Ladyship will frighten our stirks 
 and stots with your finery. I assure you they are 
 
MAERUGE. 99 
 
 not accustomed to see such fine figures; and" — putting 
 her hand out at the window — " I think it's spitting 
 already." 1 
 
 All three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady 
 Juliana to put on something warmer and more wise- 
 like. 
 
 "I positively have nothing," cried she, wearied 
 with their importunities, "and I shan't get any winter 
 things now till I return to town. My roguelaire does 
 very well for the carriage." 
 
 The acknowledgment at the beginning of this 
 speech was enough. All three instantly disappeared 
 like the genii of Aladin's lamp, and, like that same 
 person, presently returned, loaded with what, in their 
 eyes, were precious as the gold of Arabia. One dis- 
 played a hard worsted shawl, with a flower-pot at each 
 corner ; another held up a tartan cloak, with a hood ; 
 and a third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined 
 with flannel; while one and all showered down a 
 variety of old bonnets, fur tippets, hair soles, clogs, 
 pattens, and endless et ceteras. Lady Juliana shrank 
 with disgust from these "delightful haps," and re- 
 sisted all attempts to have them forced upon her, 
 declaring, in a manner which showed her determined 
 to have her own way, that she would either go out 
 as she was or not go out at all. The aunts were 
 therefore obliged to submit, and the party proceeded 
 to what was termed the high road, though a stranger 
 would have sought in vain for its pretensions to that 
 
 1 A common expression in Scotland to signify slight rain. 
 
100 MAERIAGE. 
 
 title. Far as the eye could reach — and that was far 
 enough — not a single vehicle could be descried on it, 
 though its deep ruts showed that it was well frequented 
 by carts. The scenery might hare had charms for 
 Ossian, but it had none for Lady Juliana, who would 
 rather have been entangled in a string of Bond Street 
 equipages than traversing "the lonely heath, with 
 the stream murmuring hoarsely, the old trees groan- 
 ing in the wind, the troubled lake," and the stUl more 
 troubled sisters. As may be supposed, she very soon 
 grew weary of the walk. The bleak wind pierced 
 her to the soul; her silk slippers and lace flounces 
 became undistinguishable masses of mud; her dogs 
 chased the sheep, and were, in their turn, pursued by 
 the " nowts," as the ladies termed the steers. One 
 sister expatiated on the great blessing of having a 
 peat moss at their door; another was at pains to 
 point out the purposed site of a set of new offices ; 
 and the third lamented that her Ladyship had not on 
 thicker shoes, that she might have gone and seen the 
 garden. More than ever disgusted and wretched, the 
 hapless Lady Juliana returned to the house to fret 
 away the time till her husband's return. 
 
CHAPTER VHL 
 
 "On se rend insupportable dans la sooiite par des defanta 
 legers, mais qui se font sentir h, tout moment." — Voltaire. 
 
 The family of Glenf ern have already said so much 
 for themselves that it seems as if little remained to 
 be told by their biographer. Mrs. Douglas was the 
 only member of the community who was at all con- 
 scious of the unfortunate association of characters and 
 habits that had just taken place. She was a stranger 
 to Lady Juliana ; but she was interested by her youth, 
 beauty, and elegance, and felt for the sacrifice she had 
 made — a sacrifice so much greater than it was possible 
 she ever could have conceived or anticipated. She 
 could in some degree enter into the nature of her 
 feelings towards the old ladies ; for she too had felt 
 how disagreeable people might contrive to render 
 themselves without being guilty of any particular 
 fault, and how much more difficult it is to bear with 
 the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbours. 
 Had these ladies' failings been greater in a moral 
 point of view, it might not have been so arduous a 
 task to put up with them. But to love such a set 
 of little, trifling, tormenting foibles, all dignified with 
 
102 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 the name of virtues, required, from her elegant mind, 
 an exertion of its highest principles — a continual 
 remembrance of that difficult Christian precept, " to 
 bear with one another.'' A person of less sense than 
 Mrs. Douglas would have endeavoured to open the 
 eyes of their understandings on what appeared to be 
 the folly and narrowmindedness of their ways ; but 
 she refrained from the attempt, not from want of 
 benevolent exertion, but from an innate conviction 
 that their foibles all originated in what was now 
 incurable, viz. the natural weakness of their minds, 
 together with their ignorance of the world and the 
 iinberahty and prejudices of a vulgar education. 
 "These poor women," reasoned the charitable Mrs. 
 Douglas, "are perhaps, after all, better characters 
 in the sight of God than I am. He who has endowed 
 us all as His wisdom has seen fit, and has placed me 
 amongst them, oh, may He teach me to remember 
 that we are all His children, and enable me to bear 
 with their faults, while I study to correct my own." 
 
 Thus did this amiable woman contrive not only 
 to live in peace, but, without sacrificing her own 
 liberal ideas, to be actually beloved by those amongst 
 whom her lot had been cast, however dissimilar to 
 herself. But for that Christian spirit (in which must 
 ever be included a liberal mind and gentle temper), 
 she must have felt towards her connexions a still 
 stronger repugnance than was even manifested by 
 Lady Juliana; for Lady Juliana's superiority over 
 them was merely that of refined habits and elegant 
 
MAEEIAGE. 103 
 
 manners ; whereas Mrs. Douglas's was the superiority 
 of a noble and highly-gifted mind, which could hold 
 no intercourse with theirs except by stooping to the 
 level of their low capacities. But, that the merit of 
 her conduct may be duly appreciated, I shall en- 
 deavour to give a slight sketch of the female dramatis 
 personce of Glenfem Castle. 
 
 Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is 
 reckoned a very sensible woman — which generally 
 means, a very disagreeable, obstinate, illiberal director 
 of all men, women, and children — a sort of superin- 
 tendent of all actions, time, and place— with unques- 
 tioned authority to arraign, judge, and condemn upon 
 the statutes of her own supposed sense. Most country 
 parishes have their sensible woman, who lays down 
 the law on aU affairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss 
 Jacky stood unrivalled as the sensible woman of 
 Glenfem. She had attained this eminence partly 
 from having a little more understanding than her 
 sisters, but principally from her dictatorial manner, 
 and the pompous decisive tone in which she delivered 
 the most commonplace truths. At home her supremacy 
 in all matters of sense was perfectly established ; and 
 thence the infection, like other superstitions, had 
 spread over the whole neighbourhood. As sensible 
 woman she regulated the family, which she took care 
 to let everybody see ; she was conductor of her nieces' 
 education, which she took care to let everybody hear ; 
 she was a sort of postmistress general — a detector of 
 all abuses and impositions; and deemed it her pre- 
 
104 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 rogative to be consulted about all the useful and use- 
 less things which everybody else could have done as 
 well. She was liberal of her advice to the poor, 
 always enforcing upon them the iniquity of idleness, 
 but doing nothing for them in the way of employment 
 — strict economy being one of the many points in which 
 she was particularly sensible. The consequence was, 
 while she was lecturing half the poor women in the 
 parish for their idleness, the bread was kept out of 
 their mouths by the incessant carding of wool and 
 knitting of stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and 
 winding, and piming, that went on amongst the 
 ladies themselves. And, by- the -bye. Miss Jacky is 
 not the only sensible woman who thinks she is acting 
 a meritorious part when she converts what ought to 
 be the portion of the poor into the employment of 
 the affluent. 
 
 In short. Miss Jacky was all over sense. A skilful 
 physiognomist would, at a single glance, have detected 
 the sensible woman, in the erect head, the compressed 
 lips, square elbows, and firm judicious step. Even 
 her very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing 
 character of their mistress : her ruff always looked 
 more sensible than any other body's ; her shawl sat 
 most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking shoes 
 were acknowledged to be very sensible ; and she 
 drew on her gloves with an air of sense, as if the one 
 arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From 
 what has been said it may easily be inferred that 
 Miss Jacky was in fact anything but a sensible woman; 
 
MAEEIAGE. 105 
 
 as indeed no woman can be who bears such visible 
 outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet 
 and unostentatious of all good qualities. But there 
 is a spurious sense, which passes equally well with 
 the multitude; it is easily assumed, and still more 
 easily maintained ; common truths and a grave dicta- 
 torial air being all that is necessary for its support. 
 
 Miss Grizzy's character will not admit of so long 
 a commentary as that of her sister. She was merely 
 distinguishable from nothing by her simple good 
 nature, the inextricable entanglement of her thoughts, 
 her love of letter -writing, and her friendship with 
 Lady Maclaughlan. Miss Nicky had about as much 
 sense as Miss Jacky ; but, as no kingdom can main- 
 tain two kings, so no family can admit of two sensible 
 women ; and Nicky was therefore obliged to confine 
 hers to the narrowest possible channels of housekeep- 
 ing, mantua-making, etc., and to sit down for life (or 
 at least tiU Miss Jacky should be married) with the 
 dubious character of "not wanting for sense either." 
 With all these Uttle peccadilloes the sisters possessed 
 some good properties. They were well-meaning, 
 kind-hearted, and, upon the whole, good-tempered ; 
 they loved one another, revered their brother, doated 
 upon their nephews and nieces, took a Hvely interest 
 in the poorest of their poor cousins, a hundred degrees 
 removed, and had a firm conviction of the perfecti- 
 biUty of human nature, as exemplified in the persons 
 of all their own friends. " Even their failings leaned 
 to virtue's side ;" for whatever they did was with the 
 
106 MARRIAGE. 
 
 intention of doing good, though the means they made 
 use of generally produced an opposite effect. But 
 there are so many Miss Douglases in the world, that 
 doubtless every one of my readers is as well acquainted 
 with them as I am myself. I shall therefore leave 
 them to finish the picture according to their own 
 ideas, while I return to the parlour, where the worthy 
 spinsters are seated in expectation of the arrival of 
 their friend. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Thougli both 
 Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed — 
 For contemplation he, and valour formed ; 
 For softness she, and sweet attractive grace." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 " What can have come over Lady Maclaughlan ?" said 
 Miss Grizzy, as she sat at the window in a dejected 
 attitude. 
 
 "I think I hear a carriage at last," cried Miss 
 Jacky, turning up her ears. "Wisht ! let us listen." 
 
 " It's only the wind," sighed Miss Grizzy. 
 
 "It's the cart with the bread," said Miss Nicky. 
 
 "It's Lady Maclaughlan, I assure you," pronounced 
 Miss Jacky. 
 
 The heavy rumble of a ponderous vehicle now 
 proclaimed the approach of the expected visitor; 
 which pleasing anticipation was soon changed into 
 blissful certainty by the approach of a high-roofed, 
 square-bottomed, pea-green chariot, drawn by two 
 long-tailed white horses, and followed by a lackey in 
 the Highland garb. Out of [this equipage issued a 
 figure, clothed in a Hght-coloured, large-flowered chintz 
 raiment, carefully drawn through the pocket-holes, 
 
108 MARRIAGE. 
 
 either for its own preservation, or the more disinter- 
 ested purpose of displaying a dark short stuff petticoat, 
 which, with the same liberality, afforded ample scope 
 for the survey of a pair of worsted stockings and black 
 leather shoes, something resembling buckets. A 
 faded red cloth jacket, which bore evident marks of 
 having been severed from its native skirts, now acted 
 in the capacity of a spencer. On the head rose a 
 stupendous fabric, in the form of a cap, on the summit 
 of which was placed a black beaver hat, tied d, la pois- 
 sarde. A small black satin muff in one hand, and a 
 gold-headed walking-stick in the other, completed the 
 dress and decoration of this personage. 
 
 The lackey, meanwhile, advanced to the carriage ; 
 and, putting in both his hands, as if to catch some- 
 thing, he pulled forth a small bundle, enveloped ia a 
 military cloak, the contents of which would have baffled 
 conjecture, but for the large cocked hat and little 
 booted leg which protruded at opposite extremities. 
 
 A loud but slow and weU-modulated voice now 
 resounded through the narrow stone passage that con- 
 ducted to the drawing-room. 
 
 "Bring him in — bring him in, Philistine! I 
 always call my man PhiUstine, because he has Samp- 
 son in his hands. Set him down there," pointing to 
 an easy chair, as the group now entered, headed "by 
 Lady Maclaughlan. 
 
 "Well, girls!" addressing the venerable spinsters, 
 as they severally exchanged a tender salute; "so 
 you're all alive, I see ; — ^humph !" 
 
MAEEIAGE. 109 
 
 "Dear Lady Maclaughlan, allow me to introduce 
 our beloved niece, Lady Juliana Douglas," said Miss 
 Grizzy, leading her up, and bridling as she spoke 
 with ill-suppressed exultation. 
 
 " So — you're very pretty — yes, you are very 
 pretty!" kissing the forehead, cheeks, and chin of 
 the youthful beauty between every pause. Then, 
 holding her at arm's length, she surveyed her from 
 head to foot, with elevated brows, and a broad fixed 
 stare. 
 
 "Pray sit down. Lady Maclaughlan," cried her 
 three friends all at once, each tendering a chair. 
 
 "Sit down!" repeated she; "why, what should I 
 sit down for ? I choose to stand — I don't like to sit 
 — I never sit at home — do I, Sir Sampson?" turning 
 to the little warrior, who, having been seized with a 
 violent fit of coughing on his entrance, had now sunk 
 back, seemingly quite exhausted, while the Philistine 
 was endeavouring to disencumber him of his military 
 accoutrements. 
 
 "How very distressing Sir Sampson's cough is!" 
 said the sympathising Miss Grizzy. 
 
 "Distressing, chUd ! No — it's not the least dis- 
 tressing. How can a thing be distressing that does 
 no harm 1 He's much the better of it — it's the only 
 exercise he gets.'' 
 
 " Oh ! well, indeed, if that's the case, it would be a 
 thousand pities to stop it," replied the accommodating 
 spinster. 
 
 "No, it wouldn't be the least pity to stop it!" 
 
no MAKKIAGE. 
 
 returned Lady Maclaughlan, in her loud authoritative 
 tone ; " because, though it's not distressing, it's very 
 disagreeable. But it cannot be stopped — you might 
 as well talk of stopping the wind — it is a cradle 
 cough." 
 
 " My dear Lady Maclaughlan ! " screamed Sir 
 Sampson in a shrill pipe, as he made an eifort to 
 raise himself, and rescue his cough from this asper- 
 sion ; " how can you persist in saying so, when I have 
 told you so often it proceeds entirely from a cold 
 caught a few years ago, when I attended his Majesty 
 
 at " Here a violent relapse carried the conclusion 
 
 of the sentence along with it. 
 
 "Let him alone — don't meddle with him," called 
 his lady to the assiduous nymphs who were bustling 
 around him ; " leave him to Philistine ; he's in very 
 good hands when he is in Philistine's." Then resting 
 her chin upon the head of her stick, she resumed her 
 scrutiny of Lady Juliana. 
 
 " You really are a pretty creature ! You've got a 
 very handsome nose, and your mouth's very weU, but 
 I don't like your eyes ; they're too large and too light ; 
 they're saucer eyes, and I don't like saucer eyes. Why 
 ha'nt you black eyes ? You're not a bit like you're 
 father — I knew him very welL Your mother was an 
 heiress ; your father married her for her money, and 
 she married him to be a Countess ; and so that's the 
 history of their marriage — humph." 
 
 This well-bred harangue was delivered in an unvary- 
 ing tone, and with unmoved muscles ; for though the 
 
MAERIAGE. Ill 
 
 lady seldom failed of calling forth some conspicuous 
 emotion, either of shame, mirth, or anger, on the 
 countenances of her hearers, she had never heen 
 known to betray any correspondent feelings on her 
 own ; yet her features were finely formed, marked, and 
 expressive ; and, in spite of her ridiculous dress and 
 eccentric manners, an air of dignity was diffused over 
 her whole person, that screened her from the ridicule 
 to which she must otherwise have been exposed. 
 Amazement at the uncouth garb and singular address 
 of Lady Maclaughlan was seldom unmixed with terror 
 at the stern imperious manner that accompanied all 
 her actions. Such were the feelings of Lady Juliana 
 as she remained subjected to her rude gaze and imper- 
 tinent remarks. 
 
 "My Lady !" squeaked Sir Sampson from forth his 
 easy chair. 
 
 " My love f interrogated his lady as she leant upon 
 her stick. 
 
 "I want to be introduced to my Lady Juliana 
 Douglas ; so give me your hand," attempting, at the 
 same time, to emerge from the huge leathern recep- 
 tacle into which he had been plunged by the care of 
 the kind sisters. 
 
 " Oh, pray sit still, dear Sir Sampson," cried they 
 as usual all at once ; " our sweet niece wiU come to 
 you, don't take the trouble to rise ; pray don't," each 
 putting a hand on this man of might, as he was half 
 risen, and pushing him down. 
 
 " Ay, come here, my dear," said Lady Maclaughlan; 
 
112 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " you're abler to walk to Sir Sampson than he to you," 
 pulling Lady Juliana in front of the easy chair; 
 "there — that's her; you see she is very pretty." 
 
 "Zounds, what is the meaning of all this?" screamed 
 the enraged baronet. " My Lady Juliana Douglas, I 
 am shocked beyond expression at this freedom of my 
 lady's. I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons; 
 pray be seated. I'm shocked ; I am ready to faint at 
 the impropriety of this introduction, so contrary to 
 all rules of etiquette. How could you behave in such 
 a manner, my Lady Maclaughlan?" 
 
 " Why, you know, my dear, your legs may be very 
 good legs, but they can't walk," replied she, with her 
 usual sang froid. 
 
 "My Lady Maclaughlan, you perfectly confound 
 me," stuttering with rage. " My Lady Juliana 
 Douglas, see here," stretching out a meagre shank, to 
 which not even the military boot and large spur could 
 give a respectable appearance : " You see that leg 
 strong and straight," stroking it down; "now, be- 
 hold the fate of war ! " dragging forward the other, 
 which was shrunk and shrivelled to almost one half 
 its original dimensions. "These legs were once the 
 same; but I repine not — I sacrificed it in a noble 
 cause : to that leg my Sovereign owes his life ! " 
 
 "Well, I declare, I had no idea; I thought always 
 it had been rheumatism," burst from the lips of the 
 astonished spinsters, as they crowded round the illus- 
 trious limb, and regarded it with looks of veneration. 
 
 "Humph !" emphatically uttered his lady. 
 
MARRIAGE. 113 
 
 "The story's a simple one, ladies, and soon told : I 
 happened'to be attending his Majesty at a review ; I 
 
 was then aid-de-camp to Lord . His horse took 
 
 fright, I — I — I,"— here, in spite of all the efforts that 
 could be made to suppress it, the royal cough burst 
 forth with a violence that threatened to silence its 
 brave owner for ever. 
 
 "It's very strange you will talk, my love," said his 
 sympathising lady, as she supported him; "talking 
 never did, nor never will agree with you; it's very 
 strange what pleasure people take in talking — 
 humph !" 
 
 " Is there anything dear Sir Sampson could take 1" 
 asked Miss Grizzy. 
 
 " Could take ? I don't know what you mean by 
 could take. He couldn't take the moon, if you mean 
 that ; but he must take what I give him ; so call 
 PhiHstine; he knows where my cough tincture is." 
 
 "Oh, we have plenty of it in this press," said Miss 
 Grizzy, flying to a cupboard, and, drawing forth a 
 bottle, she poured out a bumper, and presented it 
 to Sir Sampson. 
 
 "I'm poisoned!" gasped he feebly; "that's not 
 my lady's cough-tincture." 
 
 "Not cough-tincture !" repeated the horror-struck 
 doctress, as for the first time she examined the label ; 
 " Oh ! I declare, neither it is — it's my own stomach 
 lotion. Bless me, what will be done ?" and she wrung 
 her hands in despair. " Oh, Murdoch," flying to the 
 Philistine, as he entered with the real cough-tincture, 
 
 VOL. I. I M. 
 
114 MARRIAGE. 
 
 "I've given Sir Sampson a dose of my own stomach 
 lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for the con- 
 sequences !" 
 
 " Oo, but hur need na be feared, hur will no be a 
 hair the war o't ; for hurs wad na tak' the f eesick 
 that the leddie ordered hur yestreen." 
 
 "Well, I declare things are wisely ordered," ob- 
 served Miss Grizzy; "in that case it may do dear 
 Sir Sampson a great deal of good." 
 
 Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas 
 and his father entered, and the ceremony of present- 
 ing her nephew to her friend was performed by Miss 
 Grrizzy in her most conciliatiag manner. 
 
 "Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is our nephew 
 Henry, who, I know, has the highest veneration for 
 Sir Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you, Lady 
 Maclaughlan takes the greatest interest in everything 
 that concerns Lady Juliana and you." 
 
 "Humph !" rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed 
 him from head to foot. " So your wife fell in love 
 with you, it seems ; well, the more fool she ; I never 
 knew any good come of love marriages." 
 
 Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this 
 extraordinary address, and withdrawing himself from 
 her scrutiny, resumed his station by the side of his 
 Juliana. 
 
 " Now, girls, I must go to my toilet ; which of you 
 am I to have for my handmaid ?" 
 
 "Oh, we'll all go," eagerly exclaimed the three 
 nymphs ; " our dear niece will excuse us for a httle ; 
 
MAREIAGE, 115 
 
 young people are never at a loss to amuse one an- 
 other." 
 
 "Venus and the Graces, by Jove!" exclaimed Sir 
 Sampson, bowing with an air of gallantry ; " and now 
 I must go and adonise a little myself." 
 
 The company then separated to perform the im- 
 portant offices of the toilet. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Nature here 
 Wanton'd as in her prime, and played at will 
 Her virgin fancies." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 The gentlemen were already assembled round the 
 drawing-room fire, impatiently waiting the hour of 
 dinner, when Lady Maclaughlan and her three friends 
 entered. The masculine habihments of the morning 
 had been exchanged for a more feminine costume. 
 She was now arrayed in a pompadour satin nSgligie, 
 and petticoat trimmed with Brussels lace. A high 
 starched handkerchief formed a complete breastwork, 
 on which, amid a large bouquet of truly artificial roses, 
 reposed a miniature of Sir Sampson, a la mUitaire. 
 A small fly cap of antique lace was scarcely percep- 
 tible on the summit of a stupendous frizzled toupee, 
 hemmed in on each side by large curls. The muff 
 and stick had been relinquished for a large fan, some- 
 thing resembling an Indian screen, which she waved 
 to and fro ia one hand, while a vast brocaded work- 
 bag was suspended from the other. 
 
 "So, Major Douglas, your servant," said she, in 
 answer to the constrained formal bow mth which he 
 
MARRIAGE. 117 
 
 saluted her on her entrance. " Why, it's so long since 
 I've seen you that you may be a grandfather for 
 ought I know." 
 
 The poor awkward Misses at that moment came 
 sneaking into the room: "As for you, girls, you'll 
 never be grandmothers; you'll never be married, unless 
 to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that; 
 it would save you the trouble of combing your hair, 
 and tying your shoes, for then you could go without 
 clothes altogether— humph ! You'd be much better 
 without clothes than to put them on as you do," 
 seizing upon the luckless Miss Baby, as she endea- 
 voured to steal behind backs. 
 
 And here, in justice to the lady, it must be owned 
 that, for once, she had some grounds for animadversion 
 in the dress and appearance of the Misses Douglas. 
 
 They had stayed out, running races and riding on 
 a pony, until near the dinner hour; and, dreading 
 their father's displeasure should they be too late, they 
 had, with the utmost haste, exchanged their thick 
 morning dresses for thin muslin gowns, made by a 
 mantuamaker of the neighbourhood in the extreme of 
 a two-year-old fashion, when waists were not. 
 
 But as dame Nature had been particularly lavish 
 in the length of theirs, and the staymaker had, 
 according to their aunt's direction, given them full 
 measure of their new dark stays, there existed a visible 
 breach between the waists of their gowns and the 
 bands of their petticoats, which they had vainly sought 
 to adjust by a meeting. Their hair had been curled. 
 
118 MAEBIAGE. 
 
 but not combed, and dark gloves had been hastily 
 drawn on to hide red arms. 
 
 " I suppose," continued the stem Lady Maclaugh- 
 lan, as she twirled her victim round and round ; " I 
 suppose you think yourself vastly smart and well 
 dressed. Yes, you are very neat, very neat indeed ; 
 one would suppose Ben Jonson had you in his eye 
 when he composed that song." Then in a voice like 
 thunder, she chanted forth — 
 
 " Give me a look, give me a face 
 That makes simplicity a grace ; 
 Eobes loosely flowing, hair as free. 
 Such sweet neglect more taketh me." 
 
 Miss Grizzy was in the utmost perplexity between 
 her inclination to urge something in extenuation for 
 the poor girls, and her fear of dissenting from Lady 
 Maclaughlan, or rather of not immediately agreeing 
 with her ; she therefore steered, as usual, the middle 
 course, and kept saying, " Well, children, really what 
 Lady Maclaughlan says is all very true ; at the same 
 time" — turning to her friend — " I declare it's not much 
 to be wondered at ; young people are so thoughtless, 
 poor lambs!" 
 
 "What's aw this wark aboot?" said the old gentle- 
 man angrily; "the girlies are weel eneugh; I see 
 naething the matter wi' them ; they're no dressed like 
 auld queens or stage -actresses;" and he glanced his 
 eye from Lady Maclaughlan to his elegant daughter- 
 in-law, who just then entered, hanging, according to 
 custom, on her husband, and preceded by Cupid. 
 
MAKEIAGE. 119 
 
 Mrs. Douglas followed, and the sound of the dinner 
 bell put a stop to the dispute. 
 
 "Come, my leddie, we'll see how the dinner's 
 dressed,' said the Laird, as he seized Lady Maclaugh- 
 lan by the tip of the finger, and holding it up aloft, 
 they marched into the dining-room. 
 
 "Permit me, my Lady Juliana Douglas," said the 
 little Baronet, with much difficulty hobbling towards 
 her, and attempting to take her hand. " Come, Harry, 
 love ; here, Cupid," cried she ; and without noticing 
 the enraged Sir Sampson, she passed on, humming a 
 tune, and leaning upon her husband. 
 
 "Astonishing! perfectly astonishiag !" exclaimed 
 the Baronet; "how a young woman of Lady Juliana's 
 rank and fashion should be guilty of such a solecism 
 in good breeding." 
 
 "She is very young," said Mrs. Douglas, smiling, 
 as he limped along with her, "and you must make 
 allowances for her; but, indeed, I think her beauty 
 must ever be a sufficient excuse for any little errors 
 she may commit with a person of such taste and gal- 
 lantry as Sir Sampson Maclaughlan." 
 
 The little Baronet smiled, pressed the hand he 
 held ; and, soothed by the well-timed compliment, he 
 seated himself next to Lady Juliana with some com- 
 placency. As she insisted on having her husband on 
 the other side of her, Mr. Douglas was condemned to 
 take his station by the hated Lady Maclaughlan, who, 
 for the first time observing Mrs. Douglas, called to 
 her — 
 
120 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Come here, my love; I haven't seen you these hun- 
 dred years;" then seizing her face between her hands, 
 she saluted her in the usual style. " There," at length 
 releasing Mrs. Douglas from her gripe — "there's for 
 you ! I love you very much ; you're neither a fool 
 nor a hoyden ; you're a fine intelligent being." 
 
 Having carefully rolled up and deposited her gloves 
 in her pocket, she pulled out a pin-cushion, and calling 
 Miss Bella, desired her to pin her napkin over her 
 shoulders ; which done, she began to devour her soup 
 in silence. 
 
 Peace was, however, of short duration. Old 
 Donald, in removing a dish of whipt cream, unfor- 
 tunately overturned one upon Lady Maclaughlan's 
 pompadour satin petticoat — ^the only part of her dress 
 that was unprotected. 
 
 "Do you see what you have done, you old Donald, 
 you?" cried she, seizing the culprit by the sleeve; 
 "why, you've got St. Vitus's dance. A fit hand to 
 carry whipt cream, to be sure ! Why, I could as 
 well carry a custard on the point of a bayonet — 
 humph !" 
 
 " Dear me, Donald, how could you be so senseless V 
 cried Miss Jacky. 
 
 "Preserve me, Donald, I thought you had more 
 sense ! " squeaked Miss Nicky. 
 
 "I am sure, Donald, that was na like you!" said 
 Miss Grizzy, as the friends all flocked around the 
 petticoat, each suggesting a different remedy. 
 
 "It's all of you, girls, that this has happened. 
 
MARRIAGE. 121 
 
 Why can't you have a larger tablecloth upon your 
 table ! And that old man has the palsy. Why don't 
 you electrify himl" in a tone admirably calculated 
 to have that effect. 
 
 "I declare, it's all very true," observed Miss 
 Grizzy; "the tablecloth is very small, and Donald 
 certainly does shake, that cannot be denied;" but, 
 lowering her voice, "he is so obstinate, we really 
 don't know what to do with him. My sisters and I 
 attempted to use the flesh-brush with him." 
 
 " Oh, and an excellent thing it is ; I make Philis- 
 tine rub Sir Sampson every morning and night. If 
 it was not for that and his cough, nobody would know 
 whether he were dead or aUve; I don't believe he 
 would know himself — ^humph !" 
 
 Sir Sampson's lemon face assumed an orange hue 
 as he overheard this domestic detail ; but not daring 
 to contradict the facts, he prudently turned a deaf 
 ear to them, and attempted to carry on a flirtation 
 with Lady Juliana through the medium of Cupid, 
 whom he had coaxed upon his knee. 
 
 Dinner being at length ended, toasts succeeded : 
 and each of the ladies having given her favourite 
 laird, the signal of retreat was given, and a general 
 movement took place. 
 
 Lady Juliana, throwing herself upon a sofa with 
 her pugs, called Mrs. Douglas to her. " Do sit down 
 here and talk with me," yawned she. 
 
 Her sister-in-law, with great good-humour, fetched 
 her work, and seated herself by the spoilt child. 
 
122 MAKRIAGB. 
 
 "What strange thing is that you are making?" 
 asked she, as Mrs. Douglas puUed out her knitting. 
 
 " It's a child's stocking," replied her sister-in-law. 
 
 "A child's stocking! Oh, by-the-bye, have you 
 a great many children V 
 
 "I have none," answered Mrs. Douglas, with a 
 haK-stifled sigh. 
 
 "None at allf repeated Lady Juliana, with sur- 
 prise ; " then, why do you make children's stockings ?" 
 
 "I make them for those whose parents cannot 
 afford to purchase them." 
 
 " La ! what poor wretches they must be, that can't 
 afford to buy stockings," rejoined Lady Juliana, with 
 a yawn. " It's monstrous good of you to make them, 
 to be sure ; but it must be a shocking bore ! and such 
 a trouble ! " and another long yawn succeeded. 
 
 "Not half such a bore to me as to sit idle," re- 
 turned Mrs. Douglas, with a smile, "nor near so 
 much trouble as you undergo with your favourites.'' 
 
 Lady Juliana made no reply, but turning from her 
 sister-in-law, soon was, or affected to be, sound asleep, 
 from which she was only roused by the entrance of 
 the gentlemen. "A rubber or a reel, my Leddiel" 
 asked the Laird, going up to his daughter-in-law. 
 
 " Julia, love," said her husband, " my father asks 
 you if you choose cards or dancing." 
 
 " There's nobody to dance with," said she, casting 
 a languid glance around; " I'll play at cards." 
 
 " Not whist, surely ! " said Henry. 
 
 " Whist ! Oh, heavens, no." 
 
MAERIAGE. 123 
 
 "Weel, weel, you youngsters will get a round 
 game ; come, my Leddy Maclaughlan, Grizzy, Mrs. 
 Douglas, hey for the odd trick and the honours ! " 
 
 " What would your Ladyship choose to play at V 
 asked Miss Jacky, advancing with a pack of cards in 
 one hand, and a box of counters in the other. 
 
 " Oh, anything ; I like loo very well, or quadrille, 
 or — I really don't care what." 
 
 The Misses, who had gathered round, and were 
 standing gaping in joyful expectation of Pope Joan, 
 or a pool at commerce, here exchanged sorrowful 
 glances. 
 
 " I am afraid the young people don't play these 
 games,'' rephed Miss Jacky; "but we've counters 
 enough," shaking her little box, " for Pope Joan, and 
 we aU know that." 
 
 " Pope Joan ! I never heard of such a game,'' 
 repUed Lady Juhana. 
 
 "Oh, we can soon learn you," said Miss Nicky, 
 who having spread the green cloth on the tea-table, 
 now advanced to join the consultation. 
 
 " I hate to be taught," said Lady Juliana, with a 
 yawn; "besides; I am sure it must be something 
 very stupid." 
 
 "Ask if she plays commerce," whispered Miss 
 Bella to Miss Baby; 
 
 The question was put, but with no better success, 
 and the young ladies' faces again bespoke their dis- 
 appointment, which their brother observing, he good- 
 naturedly declared his perfect knowledge of commerce ; 
 
124 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " and I must insist upon teaching you, Juliana," gently- 
 dragging her to the table. 
 
 " What's the pool to be ? " asked one of the young 
 ladies. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," said the aunts, looking 
 to each other. 
 
 " I suppose we must make it sixpence," said Miss 
 Jacky, after a whispering consultation with her 
 sister. 
 
 " In that case we can afford nothing to the best 
 hand," observed Miss Nicky. 
 
 "And we ought to have five lives and grace," 
 added one of the nieces. 
 
 These points having been conceded, the prelimin- 
 aries were at length settled. The cards were slowly 
 doled out by Miss Jacky ; and Lady Juliana was care- 
 fully instructed in the rules of the game, and strongly 
 recommended always to try for a sequence, or pairs, 
 etc. " And if you win," rejoined Miss Nicky, shaking 
 the snuffer-stand in which were deposited the sixpences, 
 "you get all this." 
 
 As may be conjectured. Lady Juliana's patience 
 could not survive more than one life; she had no 
 notion of plapng for sixpences, and could not be at 
 the trouble to attend to any instructions ; she there- 
 fore quickly retired in disgust, leaving the aunts and 
 nieces to struggle for the glorious prize. " My dear 
 child, you played that last stroke like a perfect 
 natural," cried Lady Maclaughlan to Miss Grizzy, as, 
 the rubber ended, they arose from the table. 
 
MAEEIAGE. 125 
 
 "Indeed, I declare, I daresay I did," replied her 
 friend in a deprecating tone. 
 
 " Daresay you did ! I know you did — humph ! I 
 knew the ace lay with you ; I knew that as well as if 
 I had seen it. I suppose you have eyes — but I don't 
 know ; if you have, didn't you see Glenfern turn up 
 the king, and yet you returned his lead— returned 
 your adversary's lead in the face of his king. I've 
 been telUng you these twenty years not to return 
 your adversary's lead; nothing can be more despi- 
 cable ; nothing can be a greater proof of imbecility 
 of mind — humph !" Then, seating herself, she began 
 to exercise her fan with considerable activity. " This 
 has been the most disagreeable day I ever spent in 
 this house, girls. I don't know what's come over 
 you, but you are aU wrong; my petticoat's ruined; 
 my pockets picked at cards. It won't do, girls; it 
 won't do — ^humph ! " 
 
 " I am sure I can't understand it," said Miss Grizzy 
 in a rueful accent ; " there really appears to have been 
 some fatality." 
 
 " Fatality ! — humph ! I wish you would give every- 
 thing its right name. What do you mean by fatality 1" 
 
 "I declare — lam sure — I — I really don't know," 
 stammered the unfortunate Grizzy. 
 
 "Do you mean that the spilling of the custard was 
 the work of an angel?" demanded her unrelenting 
 friend. 
 
 " Oh, certainly not." 
 
 " Or that it was the devil tempted you to throw 
 
126 MARRIAGE. 
 
 away your ace there f I suppose there's a fatality in 
 our going to supper just now," continued she, as her 
 deep-toned voice resounded through the passage that 
 conducted to the dining-room ; " and I suppose it will 
 be called a fataUty if that old Fate," pointing to 
 Donald, "scalds me to death with that mess of por- 
 ridge he's going to put on the table — ^humph ! " 
 
 No such fatality, however, occurred; and the rest 
 of the evening passed off in as much harmony as could 
 be expected from the very heterogeneous parts of which 
 the society was formed. 
 
 The family group had already assembled round the 
 breakfast-table, with the exception of Lady Juliana, 
 who chose to take that meal in bed ; but, contrary to 
 her usual custom, no Lady Maclaughlan had yet made 
 her appearance. 
 
 " The scones will be like leather,'' said Miss Grizzy, 
 as she wrapped another napkin round them. 
 
 "Tie eggs will be Hke snowballs," cried Miss 
 Jacky, popping them into the slop-basin. 
 
 "The tea will be like brandy," observed Miss 
 Nicky, as she poured more water to the three tea- 
 spoonfuls she had infused. 
 
 " I wish we saw our breakfast," said the Laird, as 
 he finished the newspapers, and deposited his spec- 
 tacles in his pocket. 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and the person 
 in question entered in her travelling dress, followed 
 by Sir Sampson, Phihstine bringing up the rear with 
 a large green bag and a little band-box. 
 
MAEEIAGE. 127 
 
 . "I hope your bed was warm and comfortable. I 
 hope you rested well. I hope Sir Sampson's quite 
 well ! " immediately burst as if from a thousand voices, 
 while the sisters officiously fluttered round their friend. 
 
 " I rested very ill; my bed was very uncomfortable; 
 and Sir Sampson's as sick as a cat — humph !" 
 
 Three disconsolate "Bless me's !" here burst forth. 
 
 "Perhaps your bed was too hard?" said Miss 
 G-rizzy. 
 
 " Or too soft 1" suggested Miss Jacky. 
 
 " Or too hot 1" added Miss Nicky. 
 
 " It was neither too hard, nor too soft, nor too hot, 
 nor too cold," thundered the Lady, as she seated her- 
 self at the table ; "but it was aU of them." 
 
 "I declare, that's most distressing," said Miss 
 Grizzy, in a tone of sorrowful amazement. "Was 
 your head high enough, dear Lady Maclaughlan?" 
 
 " Perhaps it was too high," said Miss Jacky. 
 
 "I know nothing more disagreeable than a high 
 head," remarked Miss Nicky. 
 
 "Except a fool's head — ^humph !" 
 
 The sound of a carriage here set all ears on fuU 
 stretch, and presently the well-known pea-green drew 
 up. 
 
 " Dear me ! Bless me ! Goodness me ! " shrieked 
 the three ladies at once. " Surely, Lady Maclaugh- 
 lan, you can't — you don't — ^you won't ; this must be 
 a mistake.'' 
 
 " There's no mistake in the matter, girls," replied 
 their friend, with her accustomed sang froid. " I'm 
 
128 MARRIAGE. 
 
 going home ; so I ordered the carriage ; that's all — 
 humph!" 
 
 " Going home !" faintly murmured the disconsolate 
 spinsters. 
 
 " What ! I suppose you think I ought to stay here 
 and have another petticoat spoiled; or lose another 
 half-crown at cards ; or have the finishing stroke put 
 to Sir Sampson — humph !" 
 
 " Oh ! Lady Maclaughlan ! " was three times uttered 
 in reproachful accents. 
 
 " I don't know what else I should stay for ; you 
 are not yourselves, girls; you've all turned topsy-turpy. 
 I've visited here these twenty years, and I never saw 
 things in the state they are now — humph!" 
 
 "I declare it's very true," sighed Miss Grizzy; 
 " we certainly are a little in confusion, that can't he 
 denied." 
 
 " Denied ! Why, can you deny that my petticoat's 
 ruined 1 Can you deny that my pocket was picked 
 of half-a-crown for nothing 1 Can you deny that Sir 
 Sampson has been half-poisoned ? and " 
 
 "My Lady Maclaughlan," interrupted the enraged 
 husband, "I — I — I am surprised — I am shocked! 
 Zounds, my Lady, I won't sufi'er this ! I cannot stand 
 it;" and pushing his tea-cup away, he arose, and 
 limped to the window. Philistuie here entered to 
 inform his mistress that " awthing was ready." 
 " Steady, boys, steady ! I always am ready," re- 
 sponded the Lady in a tone adapted to the song. 
 " Now I am ready ; say nothing, girls — you know my 
 
MARRIAGE. 129 
 
 rules. Here, Philistine, wrap up Sir Sampson, and 
 put him in. Get along, my love. G-ood-bye, girls; 
 and I hope you wHl all be restored to your right senses 
 soon." 
 
 "Oh, Lady Maclaughlan ! " whined the weeping 
 Grizzy, as she embraced her friend, who, somewhat 
 melted at the signs of her distress, bawled out from 
 the carriage, as the door was shut, " Well, God bless 
 you, girls, and make you what you have been ; and 
 come to LochmarUe Castle soon, and bring your wits 
 along with you.'' 
 
 The carriage then drove off, and the three discon- 
 solate sisters returned to the parlour to hold a cabinet 
 council as to the causes of the late disasters. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "If there be cure or charm 
 To respite or relieve, or slack the pain 
 Of this ill mansion. " 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Time, which generally alleviates ordinary distresses, 
 served only to augment the severity of Lady Juliana's, 
 as day after day roUed heavily on, and found her stiU 
 an inmate of Glenfern Castle. Destitute of every re- 
 source in herself, she yet turned with contempt from the 
 scanty sources of occupation or amusement that were 
 suggested hy others ; and Mrs. Douglas's attempts to 
 teach her to play at chess and read Shakespeare were 
 as unsuccessful as the endeavours of the good aunts to 
 persuade her to study Fordyce's Sermons and make 
 baby linen. 
 
 In languid dejection or fretful repinings did the 
 unhappy beauty therefore consume the tedious hours, 
 while her husband sought alternately to soothe with 
 fondness he no longer felt, or flatter with hopes which 
 he knew to be groundless. To his father alone could 
 he now look for any assistance, and from him he was 
 not likely to obtain it in the form he desired ; as the 
 old gentleman repeatedly declared liis utter inability 
 
MARRIAGE. 131 
 
 to advance him any ready money, or to allow him 
 more than a hundred a year — moreover, to be paid 
 quarterly — a sum which could not defray their ex- 
 penses to London. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs when the Laird one 
 morning entered the dining-room with a face of much 
 importance, and addressed his son with, "Weel, 
 Harry, you're a lucky man ; and it's an ill wind that 
 blaws naebody gude : here's puir Macglashan gane like 
 snaw aff a dyke.'' 
 
 " Macglashan gone ! " exclaimed Miss Grizzy. 
 "Impossible, brother; it was only yesterday I sent 
 him a bhster for his back ! " 
 
 "And I," said Miss Jacky, "talked to him for 
 upwards of two hours last night on the impropriety 
 of his allowing his daughter to wear white gowns on 
 Sunday." 
 
 "By my troth, an' that was eneugh to kill ony 
 man," muttered the Laird. 
 
 " How I am to derive any benefit from this import- 
 ant demise is more than I can perceive," said Henry 
 in a somewhat contemptuous tone. 
 
 "You see," replied his father, " that by our agree- 
 ment his farm falls vacant in consequence." 
 
 " And I hope I am to succeed to it 1" replied the 
 son, with a smile of derision. 
 
 "Exactly! By my faith, but you have a bein 
 downset. There's three thousand and seventy-five 
 acres of as good sheepwalk as any in the whole 
 country-side; and I shall advance you stocking and 
 
132 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 stedding, and everything complete, to your very peat- 
 stacks. What think ye of that?" slapping his son's 
 shoulder, and rubbing his own hands with delight as 
 he spoke. 
 
 Horrorstruck at a scheme which appeared to him 
 a thousand times worse than anything his imagination 
 had ever painted, poor Henry stood in speechless 
 consternation ; while " Charming ! Excellent ! De- 
 lightful ! " was echoed by the aunts, as they crowded 
 round, wishing him joy, and applauding their brother's 
 generosity. 
 
 " What wiU our sweet niece say to this, I wonder?" 
 said the innocent Grizzy, who in truth wondered none. 
 "I would like to see her face when she hears it ;" and 
 her own was puckered into various shapes of deUght. 
 
 "I have no doubt but her good sense wiU teach 
 her to appreciate properly the blessings of her lot," 
 observed the more reflecting Jacky. 
 
 "She has had her own good luck," quoth the 
 sententious Nicky, "to find such a downset all cut 
 and dry." 
 
 At that instant the door opened, and the favoured 
 individual in question entered. In vain Douglas 
 strove to impose silence on his father and aunts. The 
 latter sat, bursting with impatience to break out into 
 exclamation, while the former, advancing to his fair 
 daughter-in-law, saluted her as " Lady Clackandow ?" 
 Then the torrent burst forth, and, stupefied with sur- 
 prise, Lady Juliana suffered herself to be kissed and 
 hugged by the whole host of aunts and nieces, while 
 
MAEEIAGE. 133 
 
 the very walls seemed to reverberate the shouts, and 
 the pugs and mackaw, who never failed to take part 
 in every commotion, began to bark and scream in 
 chorus. 
 
 The old gentleman, clapping his hands to his ears, 
 rushed out of the room. His son, cursing his aunts, 
 and everything around him, kicked Cupid, and gave 
 the mackaw a box on the ear, as he also quitted the 
 apartment, with more appearance of anger than he 
 had ever yet betrayed. 
 
 The tumult at length began to subside. The 
 mackaw's screams gave place to a low quivering croak; 
 and the insulted pug's yells yielded to a gentle whine. 
 The aunts' obstreperous joy began to be chastened 
 with fear for the consequences that might follow an 
 abrupt disclosure ; and, while Lady Juliana condoled 
 with her favourites, it was concerted between the 
 prudent aunts that the joyful news should be broke 
 to their niece in the most cautious manner possible. 
 For that purpose Misses Grizzy and Jacky seated 
 themselves on each side of her ; and, after duly pre- 
 paring their voices by sundry small hems, Miss 
 Grizzy thus began : 
 
 " I'm sure- — I declare — I dare say, my dear Lady 
 Juliana, you must think we are all distracted." 
 
 Her auditor made no attempt to contradict the 
 supposition. 
 
 "We certainly ought, to be sure, to have been 
 more cautious, considering your delicate situation; 
 but the joy — though, indeed, it seems cruel to say so. 
 
134 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 And I am sure you will sympathise, my dear niece, 
 in the cause, when you hear that it is occasioned by 
 GUI poor neighbour Macglashan's death, which, I'm 
 sure, was quite unexpected. Indeed, I declare I can't 
 conceive how it came about ; for Lady Maclaughlan, 
 who is an excellent judge of these things, thought he 
 was really a remarkably stout-looking man for his 
 time of hfe; and indeed, except occasional colds, 
 which you know we are all subject to, I reaUy never 
 knew him complain. At the same time " 
 
 "I don't think, sister, you are taking the right 
 method of communicating the intelligence to our 
 niece," said Miss Jacky. 
 
 "You cannot communicate anything that would 
 give me the least pleasure, unless you could teU me 
 that I was going to leave this place," cried Lady 
 Juliana in a voice of deep despondency. 
 
 " Indeed ! if it can afford your Ladyship so much 
 pleasure to be at liberty to quit the hospitable mansion 
 of your amiable husband's respectable father," said 
 Miss Jacky, with an inflamed visage and outspread 
 hands, " you are at perfect liberty to depart when you 
 think proper. The generosity, I may say the munifi- 
 cence, of my excellent brother, has now put it in 
 your power to do as you please, and to form your 
 own plans." 
 
 " Oh, delightful !" exclaimed Lady Juliana, starting 
 up ; " now I shall be quite happy. Where's Harry ? 
 Does he know ? Is he gone to order the carriage 1 
 Can we get away to-day 1" And she was flying out 
 
MAREIAGE. 135 
 
 of the room when Miss Jacky caught her by one 
 hand, while Miss Grizzy secured the other. 
 
 " Oh, pray don't detain me ! I must find Harry ; 
 and I have all my things to put up," struggling to 
 release herself from the gripe of the sisters ; when the 
 door opened, and Harry entered, eager, yet dreading 
 to know the effects of the Maircissement. His surprise 
 extreme at beholding his wife, with her eyes spark- 
 ling, her cheeks glowing, and her whole countenance 
 expressing extreme pleasure. Darting from her 
 keepers, she bounded towards him with the wildest 
 ejaculations of delight; while he stood alternately 
 gazing at her and his aunts, seeking by his eyes the 
 explanation he feared to demand. 
 
 "My dearest Juliana, what is the meaning of all 
 this V he at length articulated. 
 
 " Oh, you cunning thing ! So you think I don't 
 know that your father has given you a great, great 
 quantity of money, and that we may go away whenever 
 we please, and do just as we hke, and live in London, 
 and — and — oh, delightful!" And she bounded and 
 skipped before the eyes of the petrified spinsters. 
 
 " In the name of heaven, what does all this mean '! " 
 asked Henry, addressing his aunts, who, for the first 
 time in their lives, were struck dumb by astonishment. 
 But Miss Jacky, at length recollecting herself, turned 
 to Lady JuHana, who was stiU testifying her delight 
 by a variety of childish but graceful movements, and 
 thus addressed her : 
 
 " Permit me to put a few questions to your Lady- 
 
136 MAERIAGE. 
 
 ship, in presence of those who were witnesses of what 
 has already passed." 
 
 " Oh, I can't endure to be asked questions ; besides, 
 I have no time to answer them." 
 
 " Your Ladyship must excuse me ; but I can't per- 
 mit you to leave this room under the influence of an 
 error. Have the goodness to answer me the following 
 questions, and you wUl then be at liberty to depart 
 Did I inform your Ladyship that my brother had 
 given my nephew a great quantity of money?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! a great, great deal ; I don't know how 
 much, though " 
 
 " Did I ? " returned her interrogator. 
 
 " Come, come, have done with all this confounded 
 nonsense !" exclaimed Henry passionately. "Do you 
 imagine I will allow Lady Juliana to stand here all 
 day, to answer all the absurd questions that come 
 into the heads of three old women? You stupefy 
 and bewilder her with your eternal tattling and 
 roundabout harangues." And he paced the room 
 in a paroxysm of rage, while his wife suspended her 
 dancing, and stood in breathless amazement. 
 
 " I declare — I'm sure — it's a thousand pities that 
 there should have been any mistake made," whined 
 poor Miss Grizzy. 
 
 " The only remedy is to explain the matter quickly," 
 observed Miss Nicky; "better late than never." 
 
 "I have done," said Miss Jacky, seating herself 
 with much dignity. 
 
 " The short and the long of it is this," said Miss 
 
MAEEIAGE. 137 
 
 Nicky, " My brother has not made Henry a present 
 of money. I assure you money is not so rife ; but 
 he has done what is much better for you both, — ^he 
 has made over to him that fine thriving farm of poor 
 Macglashan's." 
 
 " No money ! " repeated Lady JuUana in a discon- 
 solate tone : then quickly brightening up, " It would 
 have been better, to be sure, to have had the money 
 directly ; but you know we can easily sell the estate. 
 How long wiU it take ? — a week ? " 
 
 "Sell Clackandow!" exclaimed the three horror- 
 struck daughters of the house of Douglas. "Sell 
 Clackandow! Oh! oh! oh!" 
 
 "What else could we do with it?" inquired her 
 Ladyship. 
 
 "Live at it, to be sure," cried aU three. 
 
 "Live at it !" repeated she, with a shriek of horror 
 that vied with that of the spinsters — " Live at it ! 
 Live on a thriving farm ! Live all my life in such a 
 place as this ! Oh ! the very thought is enough to 
 kiUme!" 
 
 " There is no occasion to think or say any more 
 about it," interrupted Henry in a calmer tone ; and, 
 glancing round on his aunts, " I therefore desire no 
 more may be said on the subject." 
 
 "And is this really all? And have you got no 
 money ? And are we not going away ? " gasped the 
 disappointed Lady Juliana, as she gave way to a 
 violent burst of tears, that terminated in a fit of 
 hysterics; a,t sight of which, the good spinsters 
 
138 MARRIAGE. 
 
 entirely forgot their wrath; and while one burnt 
 feathers under her nose, and another held her hands, 
 a third drenched her in floods of Lady Maclaughlan's 
 hysteric water. After going through the regular 
 routine, the lady's paroxsym subsided; and being 
 carried to bed, she soon sobbed herseK into a feverish 
 slumber; in which state the harassed husband left 
 her to attend a summons from his father. 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 " See what delight in sylvan scenes appear !" 
 
 Pope. 
 ' ' Haply this life is best, 
 Sweetest to you, well corresponding 
 With your stiff age ; but unto us it is 
 A cell of ignorance, a prison for a debtor." 
 
 He found the old gentleman in no very complaisant 
 humour, from the disturbances that had taken place, 
 but the chief cause of which he was still in ignorance 
 of. He therefore accosted his son with : 
 
 " What was the meaning o' aw that skirHng and 
 squeeling I heard a while ago ? By my faith, there's 
 nae bearing this din ! Thae beasts o' your wife's are 
 enough to drive a body oot o' their judgment. But 
 she maun gi'e up thae maggots when she becomes a 
 farmer's wife. She maun get stirks and stots to mak' 
 pets o', if she maun ha'e four-fitted favourites ; but, to 
 my mind, it wad set her better to be carrying a wise- 
 like wean in her arms, than trailing aboot wi' thae 
 confoonded dougs an' paurits." 
 
 Henry coloured, bit his hps, but made no reply to 
 this elegant address of his father's, who continued, 
 "I sent for you, sir, to have some conversation about 
 
140 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 this farm of Macglashan's ; so sit down there till I 
 show you the plans." 
 
 Hardly conscious of what he was doing, poor 
 Henry gazed in silent confusion, as his father pointed 
 out the various properties of this his future possession. 
 Wholly occupied in debating within himself how he 
 was to decline the offer without a downright quarrel, 
 he heard, without understanding a word, all the old 
 gentleman's plans and proposals for building dikes, 
 draining moss, etc. ; and, perfectly unconscious of 
 what he was doing, jdelded a ready assent to all the 
 improvements that were suggested. 
 
 " Then as for the hoose and offices, — let me see," 
 continued the Laird, as he rolled up the plans of the 
 farm, and pulled forth that of the dwelling-house 
 from a bundle of 'papers. "Ay, here it is. By my 
 troth, ye'll be weel lodged here. The hoose is in a 
 manner quite new, for it has never had a brush upon 
 it yet And there's a byre — fient a bit, if I would 
 mean the best man i' the country to sleep there 
 himsel.'" 
 
 A pause followed, during which Glenf em was busily 
 employed in poring over his parchment ; then taking 
 off his spectacles, and siu:veying his son, " And now, 
 sir, that you've heard a' the oots an' ins o' the busi- 
 ness, what think you your farm should bring you at 
 the year's endf 
 
 "I — I — I'm sure — I — I don't know," stammered 
 poor Henry, awakening from his reverie. 
 
 "Come, come, gi'e a guess." 
 
MAKKIAGE. 141 
 
 "I really — I cannot — I haven't the least idea." 
 
 " I desire, sir, ye'U say something directly, that I 
 may judge whether or no ye ha'e common sense," cried 
 the old gentleman angrily. 
 
 " I should suppose — I imagine — I don't suppose it 
 will exceed seven or eight hundred a year," said his 
 son, in the greatest trepidation at this trial of his 
 intellect. 
 
 "Seven or eight hunder deevils!" cried the in- 
 censed Laird, starting up and pushing his papers from 
 him. "By my faith, I beheve ye're a born idiot! 
 Seven or eight hunder pounds !" repeated he, at least 
 a dozen times, as he whisked up and down the little 
 apartment with extraordinary velocity, while poor 
 Henry affected to be busily employed in gathering up 
 the parchments with which the floor was strewed. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, sir," contiaued he, stopping; 
 "you're no fit to manage a farm; you're as ignorant 
 as yon coo, an' as senseless as its cauf. Wi' gude 
 management, Clackandow should produce you twa 
 hunder and odd pounds yearly ; but in your guiding 
 I doot if it will yield the haK. However, tak' it or 
 want it, mind me, sir, that it's a' ye ha'e to trust to in 
 my lifetime ; so ye may mak' the maist o't.'' 
 
 Various and painful were the emotions that struggled 
 in Henry's breast at this declaration. Shame, regret, 
 indignation, all burned within him ; but the fear he 
 entertained of his father, and the consciousness of his 
 absolute dependence, chained his tongue, while the 
 bitter emotions that agitated him painted themselves 
 
142 MARRIAGE. 
 
 legibly in his countenance. His father observed his 
 agitation; and, mistaking the cause, felt somewhat 
 softened at what he conceived his son's shame and 
 penitence for his foUy. He therefore extended his 
 hand towards him, saying, "Weel, weel, nae mair 
 aboot it; Clackandow's yours, as soon as I can put 
 you in possession. In the meantime, stay still here, 
 and welcome." 
 
 "I — am much obliged to you for the ofifer, sir; I 
 — feel very grateful for your kindness," at length 
 articulated his son ; " but — I — am, as you observe, so 
 perfectly ignorant of country matters, that I — I — in 
 short, I am afraid I should make a bad hand of the 
 business." 
 
 "Nae doot, nae doot ye would, if ye was left to 
 your ain discretion ; but ye'U get mair sense, and I 
 shall put ye upon a method, and provide ye wi' a 
 grieve ; an' if you are active, and your wife managing, 
 there's nae fear o' you." 
 
 "But Lady Juliana, sir, has never been accus- 
 tomed " 
 
 "Let her serve an apprenticeship to your aunts; 
 she couldna be in a better school" 
 
 " But her education, sir, has been so different from 
 what would be required in that station," resumed her 
 husband, choking with vexation, at the idea of his 
 beauteous high-born bride being doomed to the 
 drudgery of household cares. 
 
 "Edication ! what has her edication been, to mak' 
 her different frae other women? If a woman can 
 
MAEEIAGE. 143 
 
 nurse her bairns, mak' their class, and manage her 
 hoose, what mair need she do 1 If she can play a tune 
 on the spinnet, and dance a reel, and play a rubber 
 at whist — nae doot these are accomplishments, but 
 they're soon learnt. Edication ! pooh !— I'll be bound 
 Leddy Jully Anie wull mak' as gude a figure by-and- 
 by as the best edicated woman in the country." 
 
 " But she dislikes the country, and " 
 
 " She'll soon come to like it. Wait a wee till she 
 has a wheen bairns, an' a hoose o' her ain, an' I'll be 
 bound she'U be happy as the day's lang." 
 
 "But the climate does not agree with her,'' con- 
 tinued the tender husband, almost driven to extremi- 
 ties by the persevering simplicity of his father. 
 
 " Stay a wee till she gets to Clackandow ! There's 
 no a finer, freer-aired situation in a' Scotland. The 
 air's sharpish, to be sure, but fine and bracing ; and 
 you have a braw peat-moss at your back to keep you 
 warm." 
 
 Finding it in vain to attempt insinuating his objec- 
 tions to a pastoral life, poor Henry was at length re- 
 duced to the necessity of coming to the point with 
 the old gentleman, and telling him plainly that it 
 was not at aU suited to his inclinations, or Lady 
 Juliana's rank and beauty. 
 
 Vain would be the attempt to paint the fiery wrath 
 and indignation of the ancient Highlander as the 
 naked truth stood revealed before him : — that his son 
 despised the occupation of his fathers, even the feed- 
 ing of sheep and the breeding of black cattle; and 
 
144 MAERIAGE. 
 
 that his high-born spouse was above fulfilling those 
 duties which he had ever considered the chief end 
 for which woman was created. He swore, stamped, 
 screamed, and even skipped with rage, and, in short, 
 went through aU the evolutions as usually performed 
 by testy old gentlemen on first discovering that they 
 have disobedient sons and undutif ul daughters. Henry, 
 who, though uncommonly good-tempered, inherited a 
 portion of his father's warmth, became at length irri- 
 tated at the invectives that were so liberally bestowed 
 on him, and replied in language less respectful than 
 the old Laird was accustomed to hear ; and the alter- 
 cation became so violent that they parted in mutual 
 anger ; Henry returning to his wife's apartment in a 
 state of the greatest disquietude he had ever known. 
 To her childish complaints, and tiresome complaints, 
 he no longer vouchsafed to reply, but paced the 
 chamber with a disordered mien, in sullen sUence; 
 tni at length, distracted by her reproaches, and dis- 
 gusted with her selfishness, he rushed from the apart- 
 ment and quitted the house. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Never talk to me ; I will weep." 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 Twice had the dinner bell been loudly sounded by- 
 old Donald, and the family of Glenfem were all 
 assembled, yet their fashionable guests had not 
 appeared. Impatient of delay. Miss Jacky hastened 
 to ascertain the cause. Presently she returned in the 
 utmost perturbation, and announced that Lady Juliana 
 was iu bed in a high fever, and Henry nowhere to be 
 found. The whole eight rushed upstairs to ascertain 
 the fact, leaving the old gentleman much discomposed 
 at this unseasonable delay. 
 
 Some time elapsed ere they again returned, which 
 they did with lengthened faces, and in extreme per- 
 turbation. They had found their noble niece, accord- 
 ing to Miss Jacky's report, in bed — according to Miss 
 Grizzy's opinion, in a brain fever ; as she no sooner 
 perceived them enter, than she covered her head with 
 the bedclothes, and continued screaming for them to 
 be gone, till they had actually quitted the apartment. 
 
 " And what proves beyond a doubt that our sweet 
 niece is not herself," continued poor Miss Grizzy, in a 
 
 VOL. I. L M. 
 
146 MARRIAGE. 
 
 lamentable tone, " is that we appeared to her in every 
 form but our own ! She sometimes took us for cats ; 
 then thought we were ghosts haunting her ; and, in 
 short, it is impossible to teU aU the things she called 
 us ; and she screams so for Harry to come and take 
 her away that I am sure — I declare — ^I don't know 
 what's come over her ! " 
 
 Mrs. Douglas could scarce suppress a smile at the 
 simplicity of the good spinsters. Her husband and 
 she had gone out immediately after breakfast to pay 
 a visit a few miles off, and did not return till near 
 the dinner hour. They were therefore ignorant of all 
 that had been acted during their absence; but as 
 she suspected something was amiss, she requested the 
 rest of the company would proceed to dinner, and 
 leave her to ascertain the nature of Lady Juhana's 
 disorder. 
 
 "Don't come near me!" shrieked her Ladyship, 
 on hearing the door open. " Send Harry to take me 
 away; I don't want anybody but Harry!" — and a 
 torrent of tears, sobs, and exclamations followed. 
 
 "My dear Lady JuKana," said Mrs. Douglas, 
 softly approaching the bed, " compose yourself ; and 
 if my presence is disagreeable to you I shall imme- 
 diately withdraw.'' 
 
 " Oh, is it you ? " cried her sister-in-law, uncover- 
 ing her face at the sound of her voice. " I thought it 
 had been these frightfid old women come to torment 
 me ; and I shall die — I know I shall — if ever I look 
 at them again. But I don't dislike you ; so you may 
 
MAEEIAGE. 147 
 
 stay if you choose, though I don't want anybody but 
 Harry to come and take me away.'' 
 
 A fresh fit of sobbing here impeded her utterance ; 
 and Mrs. Douglas, compassionating her distress, while 
 she despised her folly, seated herself by the bedside, 
 and taking her hand, in the sweetest tone of com- 
 placency attempted to soothe her into composure. 
 
 " The only way in which you can be less miserable," 
 said Mrs. Douglas in a soothing tone, "is to support 
 your present situation with patience, which you may 
 do by looking forward to brighter prospects. It is 
 possible that your stay here may be short ; and it is 
 certain that it is in your own power to render your 
 life more agreeable by endeavouring to accommodate 
 yourself to the peculiarities of your husband's family. 
 No doubt they are often tiresome and ridiculous ; but 
 they are always kind and weU-meaning." 
 
 " You may say what you please, but I think them 
 all odious creatures; and I won't live here with 
 patience ; and I shan't be agreeable to them ; and all 
 the talking in the world won't make me less miserable. 
 If you were me, you would be just the samej but 
 you have never been in London — that's the reason." 
 
 "Pardon me," replied her sister-in-law, "I spent 
 many years of my life there." 
 
 "You lived in London!" repeated Lady Juliana 
 in astonishment. " And how, then, can you contrive 
 to exist here ? " 
 
 " I not only contrive to exist, but to be extremely 
 contented with existence," said Mrs. Douglas, with a 
 
148 MARRIAGE. 
 
 smile. Then assuming a more serious air, " I possess 
 health, peace of mind, and the affections of a worthy 
 husband ; and I should be very undeserving of these 
 blessings were I to give way to useless regrets or 
 indulge in impious repinings because my happiness 
 might once have been more perfect, and still admits 
 of improvement." 
 
 "I don't understand you," said Lady Juliana, with 
 a peevish yawn. "Who did you live with in London?" 
 
 "With my aunt. Lady Audley." 
 
 "With Lady Audley!" repeated her sister-in-law 
 in accents of astonishment. " Why, I have heard of 
 her ; she lived quite in the world ; and gave balls and 
 assemblies ; so that's the reason you are not so dis- 
 agreeable as the rest of them. Why did you not 
 remain with her, or marry an Englishman? But I 
 suppose, like me, you didn't know what Scotland 
 was!" 
 
 Happy to have excited an interest, even through 
 the medium of childish curiosity, in the bosom of her 
 fashionable relative, Mrs. Douglas briefly related such 
 circumstances of her past life as she judged proper 
 to communicate ; but as she sought rather to amuse 
 than instruct by her simple narrative, we shall allow 
 her to pursue her charitable intentions, while we 
 do more justice to her character by introducing her 
 regularly to the acquaintance of our readers. 
 
MARRIAGE. 149 
 
 li0torp of 9^r0» 2Dous;la0* 
 
 " The selfish heart deserves the pang it feels; 
 More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts, 
 And conscious virtue mitigates the pang. " 
 
 Young. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas was, on the maternal side, related to 
 an English family. Her mother had died in giving 
 birth to her ; and her father, shortly after, falling in 
 the service of his country, she had been consigned in 
 infancy to the care of her aunt. Lady Audley had 
 taken charge of her, on condition that she should 
 never be claimed by her Scottish relations, for whom 
 that lady entertained as much aversion as contempt. 
 A latent feeling of affection for her departed sister, 
 and a large portion of family pride, had prompted her 
 wish of becoming the protectress of her orphan niece ; 
 and, possessed of a high sense of rectitude and honour, 
 she fulfilled the duty thus voluntarily imposed in a 
 manner that secured the unshaken gratitude of the 
 virtuous Alicia. 
 
 Lady Audley was a character more esteemed and 
 feared than loved, even by those with whom she was 
 most intimate. Firm, upright, and rigid, she exacted 
 from others those inflexible virtues which in herself 
 
150 MARRIAGE. 
 
 she found no obstacle to performing. Neglecting the 
 softer attractions which shed their benign influence 
 over the commerce of social life, she was content to 
 enjoy the extorted esteem of her associates; for friends 
 she had none. She sought in the world for objects to 
 fill up the void which her heart could not supply. 
 She loved 6clat, and had' succeeded in creating herself 
 an existence of importance in the circles of high life, 
 which she considered more as due to her consequence 
 than essential to her enjoyment. She had early in 
 life been left a widow, with the sole tutelage and 
 management of an only son, whose large estate she 
 regulated with the most admirable prudence and 
 judgment. 
 
 Alicia Malcolm was put under the care of her aunt 
 at two years of age. A governess had been procured 
 for her, whose character was such as not to impair 
 the promising dispositions of her pupiL Alicia was 
 gifted by nature with a warm afiectionate heart, and 
 a calm imagination attempered its influence. Her 
 governess, a woman of a strong understanding and 
 enlarged mind, early instilled into her a deep and 
 strong sense of rehgion ; and to it she owed the 
 support which had safely guided her through the 
 most trying vicissitudes. 
 
 When at the age of seventeen Alicia Malcolm was 
 produced in the world. She was a rational, cheerful, 
 and sweet-tempered girl, vidth a finely formed person, 
 and a countenance in which was so clearly painted the 
 sunshine of her breast, that it attracted the bienveill- 
 
MARRIAGE. 151 
 
 ance even of those wlio had not taste or judgment to 
 define the charm. Her open natural manner, blend- 
 ing the frankness of the Scotch with the polished 
 reserve of the English woman, her total exemption 
 from vanity, calculated aUke to please others and main- 
 tain her own cheerfulness undimmed by a single cloud. 
 
 Lady Audley felt for her niece a sentiment which 
 she mistook for affection; her self -approbation was 
 gratified at the contemplation of a being who owed 
 every advantage to her, and whom she had rescued 
 from the coarseness and vulgarity which she deemed 
 inseparable from the manners of every Scotchwoman. 
 
 If Lady Audley really loved any human being 
 it was her son. In him were centred her dearest 
 interests ; on his aggrandisement and future import- 
 ance hung her most sanguine hopes. She had acted 
 contrary to the advice of her male relations, and 
 followed her own judgment, by giving her son a 
 private education. He was brought up under her 
 own eye by a tutor of deep erudition, but who was 
 totally unfitted for forming the mind, and compensat- 
 ing for those advantages which may be derived from 
 a pubHc education. The circumstances of his educa- 
 tion, however, combined rather to stifle the exposure 
 than to destroy the existence of some very dangerous 
 qualities that seemed inherent in Sir Edmund's nature. 
 He was ardent, impetuous, and passionate, though 
 these propensities were cloaked by a reserve, partly 
 natural, and partly arising from the repeUing manners 
 of his mother and tutor. 
 
152 MARRIAGE. 
 
 His was not the effervescence of character which 
 bursts forth on every trivial occasion ; but when any 
 powerful cause awakened the slumbering inmates of 
 his breast, they blazed with an uncontrolled fury that 
 defied aU opposition, and overleaped all bounds of 
 reason and decorum. 
 
 Experience often shows us that minds formed of 
 the most opposite attributes more forcibly attract each 
 other than those which appear cast in the same mould. 
 The source of this fascination is difficult to trace ; it 
 possesses not reason for its basis, yet it is perhaps the 
 more t3Tannical in its influence from that very cause. 
 The weakness of our natures occasionally makes us 
 feel a potent charm in "errors of a noble mind." 
 
 Sir Edmund Audley and AHcia Malcolm proved 
 examples of this observation. The affection of child- 
 hood had so gradually ripened into a warmer senti- 
 ment, that neither was conscious of the nature of that 
 sentiment till after it had attained strength to cast a 
 material influence on their after Uves. The f amiharity 
 of near relatives associating constantly together pro- 
 duced a warm sentiment of affection, cemented by 
 similarity of pursuits, and enlivened by diversity of 
 character ; while the perfect tranquillity of their lives 
 afforded no event that could withdraw the veil of 
 ignorance from their eyes. 
 
 Could a woman of Lady Audley's discernment, it 
 may be asked, place two young persons in such a 
 situation, and doubt the consequences? Those who 
 are no longer young are liable to forget that love is a 
 
MAEEIAGE. 153 
 
 plant of early growth, and that the individuals that 
 they have but a short time before beheld placing 
 their supreme felicity on a rattle and a go-cart can 
 so soon be actuated by the strongest passions of the 
 human breast. 
 
 Sir Edmund completed his nineteenth year, and 
 Alicia entered her eighteenth, when this happy state 
 of unconscious security was destroyed by a circum- 
 stance which rent the veil from her eyes, and disclosed 
 his sentiments in all their energy and warmth. This 
 circumstance was no other than a proposal of marriage 
 to Alicia from a gentleman of large fortune and bril- 
 liant connexions who resided in their neighbourhood. 
 His character was as little calculated as his appearance 
 to engage the affections of a young woman of delicacy 
 and good sense. But he was a man of consequence ; 
 heir to an earldom; member for the county; and 
 Lady Audley, rejoicing at what she termed Alicia's 
 good fortune, determined that she should become his 
 wife. 
 
 With mild firmness she rejected the honour 
 intended her; but it was with difficulty that Lady 
 Audley's mind could adopt or understand the idea of 
 an opposition to her wishes. She could not seriously 
 embrace the conviction that Alicia was determined 
 to disobey her ; and in order to bring her to a right 
 understanding she underwent a system of persecution 
 that tended naturally to increase the antipathy her 
 suitor had inspired. Lady Audley, with the indis- 
 criminating zeal of prejudiced and overbearing persons. 
 
154 MAEKIAGB. 
 
 strove to recommend him to her niece by all those 
 attributes which were of value in her own eyes; 
 making allowance for a certain degree of indecision 
 in her niece, but never admitting a doubt that in due 
 time her will should be obeyed, as it had always 
 hitherto been. 
 
 At this juncture Sir Edmund came down to the 
 country, and was struck by the altered looks and 
 pensive manners of his once cheerful cousin. About 
 a week after his arrival he found Alicia one morning 
 in tears, after a long conversation with Lady Audley. 
 Sir Edmund tenderly soothed her, and entreated to 
 be made acquainted with the cause of her distress. 
 She was so habituated to impart every thought to her 
 cousin, the intimacy and sympathy of their souls were 
 so entire, that she would not have concealed the late 
 occurrence from him had she not been withheld by 
 the natural timidity and delicacy a young woman feels 
 in making her own conquests the subject of conversa- 
 tion. But now so pathetically and irresistibly per- 
 suaded by Sir Edmund, and sensible that every dis- 
 tress of hers wounded his heart, Alicia candidly 
 related to him the pursuit of her disagreeable suitor, 
 and the importunities of Lady Audley in his favour. 
 Every word she had spoken had more and more dis- 
 pelled the mist that had so long hung over Sir 
 Edmund's inclinations. At the first mention of a 
 suitor, he had felt that to be hers was a happiness 
 that comprised all others ; and that the idea of losing 
 her made the whole of existence appear a frightful 
 
MAEEIAGE. 155 
 
 blank. These feelings were no sooner known to him- 
 self than spontaneously poured into her delighted 
 ears ; while she felt that every sentiment met a 
 kindred one in her breast. Alicia sought not a 
 moment to disguise those feelings, which she now, for 
 the first time, became aware of ; they were known to 
 the object of her innocent affection as soon as to her- 
 self, and both were convinced that, though not con- 
 scious before of the nature of their sentiments, love 
 had long been mistaken for friendship in their hearts. 
 
 But this state of bhssful serenity did not last long. 
 On the evening of the following day Lady Audley 
 sent for her to her dressing-room. On entering, 
 Alicia was panic-struck at her aunt's pale countenance, 
 fiery eyes, and frame convulsed with passion. With 
 difficulty Lady Audley, struggling for calmness, de- 
 manded an instant and decided reply to the proposals 
 of Mr. Compton, the gentleman who had solicited 
 her hand. Alicia entreated her aunt to waive the 
 subject, as she found it impossible ever to consent to 
 such a union. 
 
 Scarcely was her answer uttered when Lady 
 Audley's anger burst forth uncontrollably. She ac- 
 cused her niece of the vilest ingratitude in having 
 seduced her son from the obedience he owed his 
 mother; of having plotted to ally her base Scotch 
 blood to the noble blood of the Audleys ; and, having 
 exhausted every opprobrious epithet, she was forced 
 to stop from want of breath to proceed. As Alicia 
 listened to the cruel, unfounded reproaches of her 
 
156 . MAKKIAGE. 
 
 aunt, her spirit rose under the unmerited ill-usage, 
 but her conscience absolved her from all intention of 
 injuring or deceiving a human being ; and she calmly 
 waited till Lady Audley's anger should have exhausted 
 itself, and then entreated to know what part of her 
 conduct had excited her aunt's displeasure. 
 
 Lady Audley's reply was diffuse and intemperate. 
 Alicia gathered from it that her rage had its source in 
 a declaration her son had made to her of his affection 
 for his cousin, and his resolution of marrying her as 
 soon as he was of age; which open avowal of his 
 sentiments had followed Lady Audley's injunctions to 
 him to forward the suit of Mr. Compton. 
 
 That her son, for whom she had in view one of the 
 first matches in the kingdom, should dare to choose 
 for himself ; and, above all, to choose one whom she 
 considered as much his inferor in birth as she was in 
 fortune, was a circumstance quite insupportable to her 
 feeUngs. 
 
 Of the existence of love Lady Audley had httle 
 conception ; and she attributed her son's conduct to 
 wilful disobedience and obstinacy. In proportion as 
 she had hitherto found him complying and gentle, her 
 wrath had kindled at his present firmness and inflexi- 
 bility. So bitter were her reflections on his conduct, 
 so severe her animadversions on the being he loved, 
 that Sir Edmund, fired with resentment, expressed 
 his resolution of acting according to the dictates of 
 his own will; and expressed his contempt for her 
 authority in terms the most unequivocal. Lady 
 
MARRIAGE. 157 
 
 Audley, ignorant of the arts of persuasion, by every 
 word she uttered more and more widened the breach 
 her imperiousness had occasioned, until Sir Edmund, 
 feeling himseK no longer master of his temper, an- 
 nounced his intention of leaving the house, to allow 
 his mother time to reconcile herself to the inevitable 
 misfortune of beholding him the husband of Alicia 
 Malcolm. 
 
 He instantly ordered his horses and departed, 
 leaving the following letter for his cousin : — 
 
 " I have been compelled by motives of prudence, 
 of which you are the sole object, to depart without 
 seeing you. My absence became necessary from the 
 unexpected conduct of Lady Audley, which has led 
 me so near to forgetting that she was my mother, 
 that I dare not remain, and subject myself to excesses 
 of temper which I might afterwards repent. Two 
 years must elapse before I can become legally my 
 own master, and should Lady Audley so far depart 
 from the dictates of cool judgment as stiU to oppose 
 what she knows to be inevitable, I fear that we cannot 
 meet tUl then. My heart is well known to you ; 
 therefore I need not enlarge on the pain I feel at this 
 unlooked-for separation. At the same time, I am 
 cheered with the prospect of the unspeakable happi- 
 ness that awaits me — the possession of your hand ; 
 and the confidence I feel in your constancy is in pro- 
 portion to the certainty I experience in my own; 
 I cannot, therefore, fear that any of the means which 
 
158 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 may be put in practice to disunite us will have more 
 eifect on you than on me. 
 
 " Looking forward to the moment that shall make 
 you mine for ever, I remain with steady confidence 
 and unspeakable affection, your 
 
 "Edmund Axjdley." 
 
 With a trembling frame Alicia handed the note to 
 Lady Audley, and begged leave to retire for a short 
 time ; expressing her willingness to reply at another 
 moment to any question her aunt might choose to 
 put to her with regard to her engagement with Sir 
 Edmund. 
 
 In the solitude of her own chamber Ahcia gave 
 way to those feelings of wretchedness which she had 
 with difiiculty stifled in the presence of Lady Audley, 
 and bitterly wept over the extinction of her bright 
 and newly -formed visions of felicity. To yield to 
 unmerited iU-usage, or to crouch beneath imperious 
 and self-arrogated power, [was not in the nature of 
 AHcia ; and had Lady Audley been a stranger to her, 
 the path of duty would have been less intricate. 
 However much her own pride might have been 
 wounded by entering into a family which considered 
 her as an intruding beggar, never would she have 
 consented to'sacrifice the virtuous inclinations of the 
 man she loved to the will of an arrogant and imperious 
 mother. But alas ! the case was far different. The 
 recent iU-treatment she had experienced from Lady 
 Audley could not efface from her noble mind the 
 
MAKEIAGE. 159 
 
 recollection of benefits conferred from the earliest 
 period of her life, and of unvarjdng attention to her 
 welfare. To her aunt she owed all but existence : 
 she had wholly supported her ; bestowed on her the 
 most liberal education ; and from Lady Audley sprang 
 every pleasure she had hitherto enjoyed. 
 
 Had she been brought up by her paternal relations, 
 she would in all probability never have beheld her 
 cousin ; and the mother and son might have lived in 
 iminterrupted concord. Could she be the person to 
 inflict on Lady Audley the severest disappointment 
 she could experience ? The thought was too dreadful 
 to bear ; and, knowing that procrastination could but 
 increase her misery, no sooner had she felt convinced 
 of the true nature of her duty than she made a steady 
 resolution to perform and to adhere to it. Lady 
 Audley had vowed that while she had life she would never 
 give her consent and approbation to her son's marriage ; 
 and Alicia was too well acquainted with her disposition 
 to have the faintest expectation that she would relent. 
 
 But to remain any longer under her protection 
 was impossible ; and she resolved to anticipate any 
 proposal of that sort from her protectress. 
 
 When Lady Audley's passion had somewhat cooled, 
 she again sent for Alicia. She began by repeating 
 her eternal enmity to the marriage in a manner impres- 
 sive to the greatest degree, and still more decisive in 
 its form by the cool coUectedness of her manner. 
 She then desired to hear what Alicia had to say in 
 exculpation of her conduct. 
 
160 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 The profound sorrow which filled the heart of 
 Alicia left no room for timidity or indecision. She 
 answered her without hesitation and embarrassment, 
 and asserted her innocence of all deceit in such a 
 manner as to leave no doubt at least of honourable 
 proceeding. In a few impressive words she proved 
 herself sensible of the benefits her aunt had through 
 life conferred upon her; and, while she openly pro- 
 fessed to think herself, in the present instance, 
 deeply wronged, she declared her determination of 
 never uniting herself to her cousin without Lady 
 Audley's permission, which she felt convinced was 
 unattainable. 
 
 She then proceeded to ask where she should deem 
 it most advisable for her to reside in future. 
 
 Happy to find her wishes thus prevented, the un- 
 feehng aunt expressed her satisfaction at Alicia's good 
 sense and discretion ; represented, in what she thought 
 glowing colours, the unheard-of presumption it would 
 have been in her to take advantage of Sir Edmund's 
 momentary infatuation ; and then launched out into 
 details of her ambitious views for him in a matrimonial 
 alUaitce — views which she affected now to consider 
 without obstacle. 
 
 Alicia interrupted the painful and unfeehng har- 
 angue. It was neither, she said, for Sir Edmund's 
 advantage nor to gratify his mother's pride, but to 
 perform the dictates of her own conscience, that she 
 had resigned him ; she even ventured to declare that 
 the sharpest pang which that resignation had cost her 
 
MARRIAGE. 161 
 
 was the firm conviction that it would inflict upon him 
 a deep and lasting sorrow. 
 
 Lady Audley, convinced that moderate measures 
 would be most likely to ensure a continuation of 
 Alicia's obedience, expressed herself grieved at the 
 necessity of parting with her, and pleased that she 
 should have the good sense to perceive the propriety 
 of such a separation. 
 
 Sir Duncan Malcolm, the grandfather of Alicia, had, 
 in the few communications that had passed between 
 Lady Audley and him, always expressed a wish to see 
 his granddaughter before he died. Her ladyship's 
 antipathy to Scotland was such that she would have 
 deemed it absolute contamination for her niece to 
 have entered the country; and she had therefore 
 always eluded the request. 
 
 It was now, of all plans, the most eligible ; and she 
 graciously offered to convey her niece as far as Edin- 
 burgL The journey was immediately settled; and 
 before Alicia left her aunt's presence a promise was 
 exacted with unfeehng tenacity, and given with melan- 
 choly firmness, never to unite herself to Sir Edmund 
 unsanctioned by his mother. 
 
 Alas ! how imperfect is human wisdom ! Even in 
 seeking to do right how many are the errors we 
 commit ! Alicia judged wrong in thus sacrificing the 
 happiness of Sir Edmund to the pride and injustice 
 of his mother; but her error was that of a noble, 
 self-denying spirit, entitled to respect, even though it 
 cannot claim approbation. The honourable open con- 
 
 VOL. I. M M. 
 
162 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 duct of her niece had so far gained upon Lady Audley 
 that she did not object to her writing to Sir Edmund, 
 which she did as follows : — 
 
 "Dear Sir Edmund — ^A painfid line of conduct 
 is pointed out to me by duty ; yet of all the regrets 
 I feel not one is so poignant as the consciousness of 
 that which you will feel at learning that I have for 
 ever resigned the claims you so lately gave me to your 
 heart and hand. It was not weakness — ^it could not 
 be inconstancy — that produced the painful sacrifice of 
 a distinction stiU more gratifying to my heart than 
 flattering to my pride. 
 
 " Need I remind you that to your mother I owe 
 every benefit in hf e 1 Nothing can release me from 
 the tribute of gratitude which would be iU repaid by 
 braving her authority and despising her wilL Should 
 I give her reason to regret the hour she received me 
 under her roof, to repent of every benefit she has 
 hitherto bestowed on me; should I draw down a 
 mother's displeasure, what reasonable hopes could we 
 entertain of solid peace through life ? I am not in a 
 situation which entitles me to question the justice of 
 Lady Audley's will; and that will has pronounced 
 that I shall never be Sir Edmund's wife. 
 
 " Your first impulse may perhaps be to accuse me 
 of coldness and ingratitude in quitting the place and 
 country you inhabit, and resigning you back to your- 
 self, without personally taking leave of you; but I trust 
 that you will, on reflection, absolve me from the charge. 
 
MARRIAGE. 163 
 
 " Could I have had any grounds to suppose that a 
 personal interview would he productive of comfort to 
 you, I would have joyfully supported the sufferings 
 it would have inflicted on myself. But question your 
 own heart as to the nse you would have made of such 
 a meeting ; bear in mind that Lady Audley has my 
 solemn promise never to be yours — a promise not 
 lightly given ; then imagine what must have been an 
 interview between us under such circumstances. 
 
 "In proof of an affection which I can have no 
 reason to doubt, I conjure you to listen to the last 
 request I shall ever make to my dear cousin. Give 
 me the heartfelt satisfaction to know that my depart- 
 ure has put an end to those disagreements between 
 mother and son of which I have been the innocent 
 cause. 
 
 " You have no reason to blame Lady Audley for 
 this last step of mine. I have not been intimidated — 
 threats, beUeve me, never would have extorted from 
 me a promise to renounce you, had not Virtue herself 
 dictated the sacrifice; and my reward will spring 
 from the conviction that, as far as my judgment could 
 discern, I have acted right. 
 
 "Forget, I entreat you, this inauspicious passion. 
 Eesolve, hke me, to resign yourself, without murmur- 
 ing, to what is now past recall; and, instead of in- 
 dulging melancholy, regain, by a timely exertion of 
 mind and body, that serenity which is the portion of 
 those who have obeyed the dictates of rectitude. 
 
 "Farewell, Sir Edmund. May every happiness 
 
164 MARRIAGE. 
 
 attend your future life ! While I strive to forget my 
 ill-fated affection, the still stronger feelings of grati- 
 tude and esteem for you can never fade from the 
 heart of "Alicia Malcolm." 
 
 To say that no tears were shed during the com- 
 position of this letter would be to overstrain forti- 
 tude beyond natural bounds. With difficulty Alicia 
 checked the effusions of her pen. She wished to have 
 said much more, and to have soothed the agony of 
 renunciation by painting with warmth her tenderness 
 and her regret; but reason urged that, in exciting 
 his feelings and displaying her own, she would defeat 
 the chief purpose of her letter. She hastily closed 
 and directed it, with a feeling almost akin to despair. 
 
 The necessary arrangements for the journey having 
 been hastily made, the ladies set out two days after 
 Sir Edmund had so hastily quitted them. The un- 
 complaining Alicia buried her woes in her own bosom; 
 and neither murmurs on the one hand, nor reproaches 
 on the other, were heard. 
 
 At the end of four days the travellers entered 
 Scotland ; and when they stopped for the night, 
 Alicia, fatigued and dispirited, retired immediately to 
 her apartment. 
 
 She had been there but a few minutes when the 
 chambermaid knocked at the door, and informed her 
 that she was wanted below. 
 
 Supposing that Lady Audley had sent for her, she 
 followed the girl without observing that she was con- 
 
MAEEIAGE. 165 
 
 ducted in an opposite direction ; when, upon entering 
 an apartment, what was her astonishment at finding 
 herself, not in the presence of Lady Audley, but in 
 the arms of Sir Edmund ! In the utmost agitation, 
 she sought to disengage herself from his almost frantic 
 embrace; while he poured forth a torrent of rapturous 
 exclamations, and swore that no human power should 
 ever divide them again. 
 
 " I have followed your steps, dearest Alicia, from 
 the moment I received your letter. We are now in 
 Scotland — in this blessed land of liberty. Everything 
 is arranged; the clergyman is now in waiting; and 
 in five minutes you shall be my own beyond the 
 power of fate to sever us." 
 
 Too much agitated to reply, Alicia wept in silence; 
 and in the delight of once more beholding him she 
 had thought never more to behold, forgot, for a 
 moment, the duty she had imposed upon herself. 
 But the native energy of her character returned. 
 She raised her head, and attempted to withdraw from 
 the encircling arms of her cousin. 
 
 " Never until you have vowed to be mine ! The 
 clergyman — the carriage — everything is in readiness. 
 Speak but the word, dearest." And he knelt at her 
 feet. 
 
 At this juncture the door opened, and, pale with 
 rage, her eyes flashing fire. Lady Audley stood before 
 them. A dreadful scene now ensued. Sir Edmund 
 disdained to enter into any justification of his con- 
 duct, or even to reply to the invectives of his mother, 
 
166 MARRIAGE. 
 
 but lavished the most tender assiduities on Alicia; 
 who, overcome more by the conflicts of her own heart 
 than Yith alarm at Lady Audley's violence, sat the 
 pale and silent image of consternation. 
 
 Baffled by her son's indignant disregard, Lady 
 Audley turned all her fiu-y on her niece ; and, in the 
 most opprobrious terms that rage could invent, up- 
 braided her with deceit and treachery — accusing her 
 of making her pretended submission instrumental 
 to the more speedy accomplishment of her marriage. 
 Too much incensed to reply, Sir Edmimd seized his 
 cousin's hand, and was leading her from the room. 
 
 "Go, then — go, marry her; but first hear me 
 swear, solemnly swear" — and she raised her hand 
 and eyes to heaven — " that my malediction shall be 
 your portion ! Speak but the word, and no power 
 shall make me withhold it ! " 
 
 " Dear Edmund ! " exclaimed Alicia, distractedly, 
 "never ought I to have allowed time for the terrify- 
 ing words that have fallen from Lady Audley's lips ; 
 never for me shall your mother's malediction fall on 
 you. Farewell for ever ! " and, with the strength of 
 desperation, she rushed past him, and quitted the 
 room. Sir Edmund madly followed, but in vain. 
 Alicia's feelings were too highly wrought at that 
 moment to be touched even by the man she loved ; 
 and, without an additional pang, she saw him throw 
 himself into the carriage which he had destined for 
 so different a purpose, and quit for ever the woman 
 he adored. 
 
MAREIAGE. 167 
 
 It may easily be conceived of how painful a nature 
 must have been the future intercourse betwixt Lady 
 Audley and her niece. The former seemed to regard 
 her victim with that haughty distance which the un- 
 relenting oppressor never fails to entertain towards the 
 object of his tyranny ; while even the gentle Alicia, 
 on her part, shrank, with ill-concealed abhorrence, 
 from the presence of that being whose stem decree 
 had blasted all the fairest blossoms of her happiness. 
 
 Alicia was received with aifection by her grand- 
 father; and she laboured to drive away the heavy 
 despondency which pressed on her spirits by study- 
 ing his taste and humours, and striving to contribute 
 to his comfort and amusement. 
 
 Sir Duncan had chosen the time of Alicia's arrival 
 to transact some business ; and instead of return- 
 ing immediately to the Highlands, he determined to 
 remain some weeks in Edinburgh for her amusement. 
 
 But, little attractive as dissipation had been, it 
 was now absolutely repugnant to Alicia. She loathed 
 the idea of mixing in scenes of amusement with a 
 heart incapable of joy, a spirit indifferent to every 
 object that surrounded her; and in solitude alone 
 she expected gradually to regain her peace of mind. 
 
 In the amusements of the gay season of Edinburgh 
 Alicia expected to find all the vanity, emptiness, and 
 frivolity of London dissipation, without its varied 
 brilliancy and elegant luxury; yet, so much was it 
 the habit of her mind to look to the fairest side of 
 things, and to extract some advantage from every 
 
l68 MARRIAGE. 
 
 situation in which she was placed, that pensive and 
 thoughtful as was her disposition, the discriminating 
 only perceived her deep dejection, while all admired her 
 benevolence of manner and unaffected desire to please. 
 
 By degrees Alicia found that in some points she 
 had been inaccurate in her idea of the style of living 
 of those who form the best society of Edinburgh. 
 The circle is so confined that its members are almost 
 universally known to each other ; and those various 
 gradations of gentility, from the cit's snug party to 
 the duchess's most crowded assembly, all totally dis- 
 tinct and separate, which are to be met with in 
 London, have no prototype in Edinburgh. There the 
 ranks and fortunes being more on an equality, no one 
 is able greatly to exceed his neighbour in luxury and 
 extravagance. Great magnificence, and the consequent 
 gratification produced by the envy of others being out 
 of the question, the object for which a reunion of 
 individuals was originally invented becomes less of a 
 secondary consideration. Private parties for the actual 
 purpose of society and conversation are frequent, and 
 answer the destined end ; and in the societies of pro- 
 fessed amusement are to be met the learned, the 
 studious, and the rational ; not presented as shows to 
 the company by the host and hostess, but professedly 
 seeking their own gratification. 
 
 Still the lack of beauty, fashion, and elegance dis- 
 appoint the stranger accustomed to their brilliant 
 combination in a London world. But Alicia had long 
 since sickened in the metropolis at the frivolity of 
 
MAERIAGE. 169 
 
 beauty, the heartlessness of fashion, and the insipidity 
 of elegance ; and it was a relief to her to turn to the 
 variety of character she found beneath the cloak of 
 simple, eccentric, and sometimes coarse manners. 
 
 We are never long so totally abstracted by our 
 own feehngs as to be unconscious of the attempts of 
 others to please us. In Alicia, to be conscious of it 
 and to be grateful was the same movement. Yet she 
 was sensible that so many persons could not in that 
 short period have become seriously interested in her. 
 The observation did not escape her how much an 
 English stranger is looked up to for fashion and taste 
 in Edinburgh, though possessing little merit save that 
 of being English ; yet she felt gratified and thankful 
 for the kindness and attention that greeted her ap- 
 pearance on all sides. 
 
 Amongst the many who expressed goodwill towards 
 Ahcia there were a few whose kindness and real aifec- 
 tion failed not to meet with a return from her ; and 
 others whose rich and varied powers of mind for the 
 first time afforded her a true specimen of the exalting 
 enjoyment produced by a communion of intellect. 
 She felt the powers of her understanding enlarge in 
 proportion ; and, with this mental activity, she sought 
 to solace the languor of her heart and save it from 
 the listlessness of despair. 
 
 Alicia had been about six weeks in Edinburgh 
 when she received a letter from Lady Audley. No 
 allusions were made to the past; she wrote upon 
 general topics, in the cold manner that might be used 
 
170 MAERIAGE. 
 
 to a common acquaintance; and slightly named her 
 son as having set out upon a tour to the Continent. 
 
 Alicia's heart was heavy as she read the heartless 
 letter of the woman whose cruelty had not been able 
 to eradicate wholly from her breast the strong durable 
 affection of early habit. 
 
 Sir Duncan and Alicia spent two months in Edin- 
 burgh, at the end of which time they went to his 
 
 country seat in shire. The adjacent country was 
 
 picturesque; and Sir Duncan's residence, though bear- 
 ing marks of the absence of taste and comfort in its 
 arrangements, possessed much natural beauty. 
 
 Two years of tranquil seclusion had passed over 
 her head when her dormant feeHngs were all aroused 
 by a letter from Sir Edmund. It informed her that 
 he was now of age ; that his affection remained un- 
 alterable; that he was newly arrived from abroad ; and 
 that, notwithstanding the death-blow she had given 
 to his hopes, he could not refrain, on returning to his 
 native land, from assuring her that he was resolved 
 never to pay his addresses to any other woman. He 
 concluded by declaring his intention of presenting 
 himself at once to Sir Duncan, and soHciting his per- 
 mission to claim her hand : when all scruples relating 
 to Lady Audley must, from her change of abode, be 
 at an end. 
 
 Alicia read the letter with grateful affection and 
 poignant regret. Again she shed the bitter tears of 
 disappointment, at the hard task of refusing for a 
 second time so noble and affectionate a heart. But 
 
MAREIAGE. 171 
 
 conscience whispered that to hold a passive line of 
 conduct would be, in some measure, to deceive Lady 
 Audley's expectations; and she felt, with exquisite 
 anguish, that she had no means to put a final stop to 
 Sir Edmund's pursuits, and to her own trials, but by 
 bestowing her hand on another. The first dawning 
 of this idea was accompanied by the most violent 
 burst of anguish; but, far from driving away the 
 painful subject, she strove to render it less appalling 
 by dweUing upon it, and labouring to reconcile herself 
 to what seemed her only plan of conduct. She 
 acknowledged to herself that, to remain still single, a 
 prey to Sir Edmund's importunities and the continual 
 temptations of her own heart, was, for the sake of 
 present indulgence, submitting to a fiery ordeal, from 
 which she could not escape unblamable without the 
 most repeated and agonising conflicts. 
 
 Three months stiU remained for her of peace and 
 liberty, after which Sir Duncan would go to Edinburgh. 
 There she would be sure of meeting with the loved 
 companion of her youthful days; and the lurking 
 weakness of her own breast would then be seconded 
 by the passionate eloquence of the being she most 
 loved and admired upon earth. 
 
 She wrote to him, repeating her former arguments; 
 declaring that she could never feel herself absolved 
 from the promise she had given Lady Audley but by 
 that lady herself, and imploring him to abandon a 
 pursuit which would be productive only of lasting pain 
 to both. 
 
172 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 Her arguments, her representations, all failed in 
 their effect on Sir Edmund's impetuous character. 
 His answer was short and decided ; the purport of it, 
 that he should see her in Edinburgh the moment she 
 arrived there. 
 
 " My fate then is fixed," thought Alicia, as she read 
 this letter; "I must finish the sacrifice." 
 
 The more severe had been the struggle between 
 love and victorious duty, the more firmly was she 
 determined to maintain this dear-bought victory. 
 
 Alicia's resolution of marrying was now decided, 
 and the opportunity was not wanting. She had 
 become acquainted, during the preceding winter in 
 Edinburgh, with Major Douglas, eldest son of Mr. 
 Douglas of Glenfem. He had then paid her the most 
 marked attention; and, since her return to the country, 
 had been a frequent visitor at Sir Duncan's. At length 
 he avowed his partiality, which was heard by Sir 
 Duncan with pleasure, by Alicia with dread and sub- 
 mission. Yet she felt less repugnance towards him 
 than to any other of her suitors. He was pleasing in 
 his person ; quiet and simple in his manners ; and his 
 character stood high for integrity, good temper, and 
 plain sense. The sequel requires little further detail 
 Alicia Malcolm became the wife of Archibald Douglas. 
 
 An eternal constancy is a thing so rare to be met 
 with, that persons who desire that sort of reputation 
 strive to obtain it by nourishing the ideas that recall 
 the passion, even though guilt and sorrow should go 
 hand in hand with it. But Alicia, far from piquing 
 
MAEEIAGE. 173 
 
 herself in the lovelorn pensiveness she might have 
 assumed, had she yielded to the impulse of her feel- 
 ings, diligently strove not only to make up her mind 
 to the lot which had devolved to her, but to bring it 
 to such a frame of cheerfulness as should enable her 
 to contribute to her husband's happiness. 
 
 When the soul is no longer buffeted by the storms 
 of hope or fear, when all is iixed xmchangeably for 
 life, sorrow for the past will never long prey on a 
 pious and well-regulated mind. If Alicia lost the 
 buoyant spirit of youth, the bright and quick play of 
 fancy, yet a placid contentment crowned her days; 
 and at the end of two years she would have been 
 astonished had any one marked her as an object of 
 compassion. 
 
 She scarcely ever heard from Lady Audley ; and 
 in the few letters her aunt had favoured her with, she 
 gave favourable, though vague accounts of her son. 
 Ahcia did not court a more unreserved communication, 
 and had long since taught herself to hope that he was 
 now happy. Soon after their marriage Major Douglas 
 quitted the army, upon succeeding to a small estate on 
 the banks of Lochmarlie by the death of an uncle ; 
 and there, in the calm seclusion of domestic life, Mrs. 
 Douglas found that peace which might have been 
 denied her amid gayer scenes. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "And joyous was tlie scene in early summer." 
 
 Madoc. 
 
 On Henry's return from his solitary ramble Mrs. 
 Douglas learnt from him the cause of the misunder- 
 standing that had taken place ; and judging that, in 
 the present state of afiairs, a temporary separation 
 might be of use to both parties, as they were now 
 about to return home she proposed to her husband 
 to invite his brother and Lady Juliana to foUow and 
 spend a few weeks with them at LochmarUe Cottage. 
 
 The invitation was eagerly accepted ; for though 
 Lady Juhana did not anticipate any positive pleasure 
 from the change, still she thought that every place 
 must be more agreeable than her present abode, 
 especially as she stipulated for the utter exclusion of 
 the aunts from the party. To atone for this mortifi- 
 cation Miss Becky was invited to fill the vacant seat 
 in the carriage; and, accordingly, with a cargo of 
 strong shoes, greatcoats, and a large work-bag well 
 stuffed with white-seam, she took her place at the 
 appointed hour. 
 
 The day they had chosen for their expedition was 
 one that " sent a summer feeling to the heart" 
 
MAKEIAGE. 175 
 
 The air was soft and genial ; not a cloud stained 
 the bright azure of the heavens j and the sun shone 
 out in aU his splendour, shedding Hf e and beauty even 
 over aU the desolate heath-clad hills of Glenfern. But, 
 after they had journeyed a few miles, suddenly emerg- 
 ing from the valley, a scene of matchless beauty burst 
 at once upon the eye. Before them lay the dark-blue 
 waters of Lochmarlie, reflecting, as in a mirror, every 
 surrounding object, and bearing on its placid trans- 
 parent bosom a fleet of herring -boats, the drapery 
 of whose black suspended nets contrasted with pic- 
 turesque effect the white sails of the larger vessels, 
 which were vainly spread to catch a breeze. AU 
 around, rocks, meadows, woods, and hills, mingled in 
 wild and lovely irregularity. 
 
 On a projecting point of land stood a Httle fishing 
 village, its white cottages reflected in the glassy 
 waters that almost surrounded it. On the opposite 
 side of the lake, or rather estuary, embosomed in 
 wood, rose the lofty turrets of Lochmarlie Castle; 
 while here and there, perched on some mountain's 
 brow, were to be seen the shepherd's lonely hut, and 
 the heath-covered summer sheaUng. 
 
 Not a breath was stirring, not a sound was heard 
 save the rushing of a waterfall, the tinkling of some 
 silver rivulet, or the calm ripphng of the tranquil 
 lake; now and then, at intervals, the fisherman's 
 GaeUc ditty chanted, as he lay stretched on the sand 
 in some sunny nook ; or the shrill distant sound of 
 childish glee. How dehcious to the feeHng heart to 
 
176 MARRIAGE. 
 
 behold so fair a scene of unsophisticated Nature, and 
 to listen to her voice alone, breathing the accents of 
 innocence and joy ! 
 
 But none of the party who now gazed on it had 
 minds capable of being touched with the emotions it 
 was calculated to inspire. 
 
 Henry, indeed, was rapturous in his expressions 
 of admiration; but he concluded his panegyrics by 
 wondering his brother did not keep a cutter, and 
 resolving to pass a night on board one of the herring 
 boats, that he might eat the fish in perfection. 
 
 Lady Juliana thought it might be very pretty, if, 
 instead of those frightful rocks and shabby cottages, 
 there could be viUas, and gardens, and lawns, and 
 conservatories, and summer-houses, and statues. 
 
 Miss Becky observed, if it was hers, she would 
 cut down the woods, and level the hiUs, and have 
 races. 
 
 The road wound along the sides of the lake, some- 
 times overhung with banks of natural wood, which, 
 though scarcely budding, grew so thick as to exclude 
 the prospect; in other places surmounted by large 
 masses of rock, festooned with ivy, and embroidered 
 by mosses of a thousand hues that ghttered under the 
 Uttle mountain streamlets. Two miles farther on 
 stood the simple mansion of Mr. Douglas. It was 
 situated in a wild sequestered nook, formed by a little 
 bay at the farther end of the lake. On three sides it 
 was surrounded by wooded hills that offered a com- 
 plete shelter from every nipping blast. To the south 
 
MAREIAGE. 177 
 
 the lawn, sprinkled with trees and shrubs, sloped 
 gradually down to the water. 
 
 At the door they were met by Mrs. Douglas, who 
 welcomed them with the most affectionate cordiality, 
 and conducted them into the house through a little 
 circular hall, filled with flowering shrubs and foreign 
 plants. 
 
 "How delightful !" exclaimed Lady Juliana, as she 
 stopped to inhale the rich fragrance. " Moss roses ! 
 I do delight in them," twisting off a rich cluster of 
 flowers and buds in token of her aff'ectionj "and I 
 quite doat upon heliotrope," gathering a handful of 
 flowers as she spoke. Then extending her hand to- 
 wards a most luxuriant Cape jessamine — 
 
 "I must really petition you to spare this, my 
 favourite child," said her sister-in-law, as she gently 
 withheld her arm ; " and, to tell you the truth, dear 
 Lady Juliana, you have already infringed the rules of 
 my little conservatory, which admit only of the grati- 
 fication of two senses — seeing and smelling." 
 
 "What ! don't you like your flowers to be gathered 1 " 
 exclaimed Lady Juliana in a tone of surprise and dis- 
 appointment ; " I don't know any other use they're of. 
 What quantities I used to have from Papa's hothouses ! " 
 
 Mrs. Douglas made no reply; but conducted her 
 to the drawing-room, where her chagrin was dispelled 
 by the appearance of comfort and even elegance that 
 it bore. " Now, this is really what I hke," cried she, 
 throwing herself on one of the couches ; " a large fire, 
 open windows, quantities of roses, comfortable Otto- 
 
 VOL I. N M. 
 
178 MARRIAGE. 
 
 mans, and pictures ; only what a pity you haven't a 
 larger mirror." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas now rang for refreshments, and 
 apologised for the absence of her husband, who, she 
 said, was so much interested m his ploughing that 
 he seldom made his appearance till sent for. 
 
 Henry then proposed' that they should all go out 
 and surprise his brother ; and though walking in the 
 country formed no part of Lady Juliana's amusements, 
 yet, as Mrs. Douglas assured her the walks were 
 perfectly dry, and her husband was so pressing, she 
 consented. The way lay through a shrubbery, by the 
 side of a brawhng brook, whose banks retained all 
 the wildness of imadomed nature. Moss and ivy 
 and fern clothed the ground; and under the banks 
 the young primroses and violets began to raise their 
 heads; while the red wintry berry still hung thick 
 on the hollies. 
 
 " This is really very pleasant," said Henry, stopping 
 to contemplate a view of the lake through the branches 
 of a weeping birch ; " the sound of the stream, and 
 the singing of the birds, and all those wild flowers 
 make it appear as if it was summer in this spot ; and 
 only look, Julia, how pretty that wherry looks lying 
 at anchor." Then whispering to her, " What would 
 you think of such a desert as this, with the man of 
 your heart ? " 
 
 Lady Juliana made no reply but by complaining 
 of the heat of the sun, the hardness of the gravel, and 
 the damp from the water. 
 
MAEEIAGE. 179 
 
 Henry, who now began to look upon the condition 
 of a Highland farmer with "more complacency than 
 formerly, was confirmed in his favourable sentiments 
 at sight of his brother, following the primitive occupa- 
 tion of the plough, his fine face glowing with health, 
 and lighted up with good humour and happiness. 
 He hastily advanced towards the party, and shaking 
 his brother and sister-in-law most warmly by the 
 hand, expressed, with aU the warmth of a good heart, 
 the pleasure he had in receiving them at his house. 
 Then observing Lady Juliana's languid air, and im- 
 puting to fatigue of body what, in fact, was the con- 
 sequence of mental vacuity, he proposed returning 
 home by a shorter road than that by which they had 
 come. Henry was again in raptures at the new 
 beauties this walk presented, and at the high order 
 and neatness in which the grounds were kept. 
 
 "This must be a very expensive place of yours, 
 though," said he, addressing his sister-in-law ; " there 
 is so much garden and shrubbery, and such a number 
 of rustic bridges, bowers, and so forth: it must re- 
 quire half a dozen men to keep it in any order." 
 
 " Such an establishment would very ill accord with 
 our moderate means," replied she; "we do not pre- 
 tend to one regular gardener; and had our Httle 
 embellishments been productive of much expense, or 
 tending solely to my gratification, I should never have 
 suggested them. When we first took possession of 
 this spot it was a perfect wilderness, with a dirty 
 farm-house on it ; nothing but mud about the doors ; 
 
180 MAERIAGE. 
 
 nothing but wood and briers and brambles beyond it ; 
 and the village presented a still more melancholy scene 
 of rank luxuriance, in its swarms of dirty idle girls 
 and mischievous boys. I have generally found that 
 wherever an evil exists the remedy is not far off; 
 and in this case it was strikingly obvious. It was 
 only engaging these ill-directed children by trifling 
 rewards M> apply their hvely energies in improving 
 instead of destroying the works of nature, as had 
 formerly been their zealous practice. In a short time 
 the change on the moral as well as the vegetable part 
 of creation became very preceptible : the children 
 grew iadustrious and peaceable; and instead of 
 destrojdng trees, robbing nests, and worrying cats, 
 the bigger boys, under Douglas's direction, con- 
 structed these wooden bridges and seats, or cut out 
 and gravelled the little winding paths that we had 
 previously marked out. The task of keeping every- 
 tliing in order is now easy, as you may believe, when 
 I tell you the whole of our pleasure-grounds, as you 
 are pleased to term them, receive no other attention 
 than what is bestowed by children under twelve 
 years of age. And now, having, I hope, acquitted 
 myseK of the charge of extravagance, I ought to beg 
 Lady Juliana's pardon for this long, and, I fear, tire- 
 some detail" 
 
 Having now reached the house, Mrs. Douglas con- 
 ducted her guest to the apartment prepared for her, 
 while the brothers pursued their walk. 
 
 As long as novelty retained its power, and the 
 
MAHKIAGE. 181 
 
 comparison between Glenfern and Lochmarlie was 
 fresh in remembrance, Lady Juliana, charmed with 
 everything, was in high good-humour. 
 
 But as the horrors of the one were forgotten, and 
 the comforts of the other became familiar, the demon 
 of ennui again took possession of her vacant mind, 
 and she relapsed into all her capricious humours and 
 childish impertinences. The harpsichord, which, on 
 her first arrival, she had pronounced to be excellent, 
 was now declared quite shocking; so much out of 
 tune that there was no possibility of playing upon it. 
 The small collection of well -chosen novels she soon 
 exhausted, and then they became " the stupidest 
 books she had ever read ;" the smell of the heliotrope 
 now gave her the headache; the sight of the lake 
 made her sea-sick. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas heard all these civilities in silence, 
 and much more "in sorrow than in anger." In the 
 wayward inclinations, variable temper, and wretched 
 inanity of this poor victim of indulgence, she beheld 
 the sad fruits of a fashionable education ; and thought 
 with humihty that, under similar circumstances, such 
 might have been her own character. 
 
 " Oh, what an awful responsibility do those parents 
 incur,'' she would mentally exclaim, "who thus ne- 
 glect or corrupt the noble deposit of an immortal soul ! 
 And who, alas ! can tell where the mischief may end ? 
 This unfortunate will herself become a mother; yet 
 wholly ignorant of the duties, incapable of the self- 
 denial of that sacred ofl&ce, she will bring into the 
 
182 MARRIAGE. 
 
 world creatures to whom she can only transmit her 
 errors and her weaknesses !" 
 
 These reflections at times deeply affected the 
 generous heart and truly Christian spirit of Mrs. 
 Douglas; and she sought, by every means in her 
 power, to restrain those faults which she knew it 
 would be vain to attempt eradicating. 
 
 To diversify the routine of days which grew more 
 and more tedious to Lady Juliana, the weather being 
 remarkably fine, many little excursions were made 
 to the nearest country seats ; which, though they 
 did not afford her any actual pleasure, answered the 
 purpose of consuming a considerable portion of her 
 time. 
 
 Several weeks passed away, during which Httle 
 inclination was shown on the part of the guests to 
 quit their present residence, when Mr. and Mrs. 
 Douglas were summoned to attend the sick-bed of 
 Sir Duncan Malcolm ; and though they pressed their 
 guests to remain during their absence, yet Henry felt 
 that it would be highly offensive to his father were 
 they to do so, and therefore resolved immediately to 
 return to Glenfern. 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 " They steeked doors, they steeked yetts, 
 Close to the cheek and chin ; 
 They steeked them a' hut a little wicket, 
 And Lammikia crap in. 
 
 "Now quhere's the lady of this castle ?" 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 The party were received with the loudest acclama- 
 tions of joy by the good old ladies ; and even the 
 Laird seemed to have forgotten that his son had refused 
 to breed black cattle, and that his daughter-in-law was 
 above the management of her household. 
 
 The usual salutations were scarcely over when Miss 
 Grizzy, flying to her little writing-box, pulled out a 
 letter, and, with an air of importance, having enjoined 
 silence, she read as follows : — 
 
 "LocHMAELiE CASTLE, March 27, 17 — . 
 " Deae, Child — Sir Sampson's stomach has been as 
 bad as it could well be, but not so bad as your roads. 
 He was shook to a jeUy. My petticoat will never do. 
 Mrs. M'Hall has had a girl. I wonder what makes 
 people have girls; they never come to good. Boys 
 may go to the mischief, and be good for something — 
 if girls go, they're good for nothing I know of. I 
 
184 MABRIAGE. 
 
 never saw such roads. I suppose Glenfem means to 
 bury you all in the highway ; there are holes enough 
 to make you graves, and stones big enough for cofi5ns. 
 You must aU come and spend Tuesday here — ^not all, 
 but some of you — you, dear child, and your brother, 
 and a sister, and your pretty niece, and handsome 
 nephew — I love handsome people. Miss M'Kraken 
 has boimced away with her father's footman — I hope 
 he will clean his knives on her. Come early, and 
 come dressed, to your loving friend, 
 
 "ISAJBELLA MaCLAUGHLAN." 
 
 The letter ended, a volley of applause ensued, which 
 at length gave place to consultation. " Of course we 
 all go — at least as many as the carriage will hold : 
 we have no engagements, and there can be no objec- 
 tions.'' 
 
 Lady Juliana had already frowned a contemptuous 
 refusal, but in due time it was changed to a sullen 
 assent, at the pressing entreaties of her husband, to 
 whom any place was now preferable to home. In 
 truth, the mention of a party had more weight with 
 her than either her husband's wishes or her aunts' 
 remonstrances; and they had assured her that she 
 should meet with a large assemblage of the very first 
 company at LochmarUe Castle. 
 
 The day appointed for the important visit arrived ; 
 and it was arranged that two of the elder ladies and 
 one of the young ones should accompany Lady Juli- 
 ana in her barouche, which Henry was to drive. 
 
MARRIAGE. 185 
 
 At peep of dawn the ladies were astir, and at eight 
 o'clock breakfast was hurried over that they might 
 begin the preparations necessary for appearing with 
 dignity at the shrine of this their patron saint. At 
 eleven they reappeared in aU the majesty of sweeping 
 silk trains and weU-powdered toupees. In outward 
 show Miss Becky was not less elaborate ; the united 
 strength and skill of her three aunts and four sisters 
 had evidently been exerted in forcing her hair into 
 every position but that for which nature had intended 
 it ; curls stood on end around her forehead, and tresses 
 were dragged up from the roots, and formed into a 
 club on the crown ; her arms had been strapped back 
 tUl her elbows met, by means of a pink ribbon of no 
 ordinary strength or doubtful hue. 
 
 Three hours were past in all the anguish of full- 
 dressed impatience ; an anguish in which every female 
 breast must be ready to sympathise. But Lady 
 Juliana sympathised in no one's distresses but her 
 own, and the difference of waiting in high dress or in 
 deshabille was a distinction to her inconceivable. But 
 those to whom to he dressed is an event wiU readily 
 enter into the feelings of the ladies in question as 
 they sat, walked, wondered, exclaimed, opened win- 
 dows, wrung their hands, adjusted their dress, etc. 
 etc., during the three tedious hours they were doomed 
 to wait the appearance of their niece. 
 
 Two o'clock came, and with it Lady Juliana, as if 
 purposely to testify her contempt, in a loose morning 
 dress and mob cap. The sisters looked blank with 
 
186 MARRIAGE. 
 
 disappointment; for having made themselves mis- 
 tresses of the contents of her ladyship's wardrobe, 
 they had settled amongst themselves that the most 
 suitable dress for the occasion would be black velvet, 
 and accordingly many hints had been given the pre- 
 ceding evening on the virtues of black velvet gowns. 
 They were warm, and not too warm; they were 
 dressy, and not too dressy ; Lady Maclaughlan was a 
 great admirer of black velvet gowns; she had one 
 herseK with long sleeves, and that buttoned behind ; 
 black velvet gowns were very much wore ; they knew 
 several ladies who had them ; and they were certain 
 there would be nothing else wore amongst the matrons 
 at Lady Maclaughlan's, etc. etc. 
 
 Time was, however, too precious to be given either 
 to remonstrance or lamentation. Miss Jacky could 
 only give an angry look, and Miss Grizzy a sorrowful 
 one, as they hurried away to the carriage, uttering 
 exclamations of despair at the lateness of the hour, 
 and the impossibility that anybody could have time 
 to dress after getting to Lochmarlie Castle. 
 
 The consequence of the delay was that it was dark 
 by the time they reached the place of destination. 
 The carriage drove up to the grand entrance; but 
 neither lights nor servants greeted their arrival ; 
 and no answer was returned to the ringing of the 
 bell. 
 
 " This is most alarming, I declare ! " cried Miss 
 Grizzy. 
 
 "It is quite incomprehensible!" observed Miss 
 
MAEEIAGE. 187 
 
 Jacky, "We had best get out and try the back 
 door." 
 
 The p^rty alighted, and another attack being made 
 upon the rear, it met with better success ; for a little 
 boy now presented himself at a narrow opening of 
 the door, and in a strong Highland accent demanded 
 " wha ta war seekin' ? " 
 
 "Lady Maclaughlan, to be sure, Colin," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "Weel, weel," stiU refusing admittance j "but te 
 leddie's no to be spoken wi' to-night." 
 
 " Not to be spoken with !" exclaimed Miss Grizzy, 
 almost sulking to the ground with apprehension. 
 "Good gracious! — I hope! — I declare! — Sir Samp- 
 son ! " 
 
 "Oo ay, hur may see Lochmarhe hursel." Then 
 opening the door, he led the way, and ushered them 
 into the presence of Sir Sampson, who was reclining 
 in an easy chair, arrayed in a rohe de chamhre and night- 
 cap. The opening of the door seemed to have broken 
 his slumber ; for, gazing around with a look of stupe- 
 faction, he demanded in a sleepy peevish tone, "Who 
 was there ?" 
 
 "Bless me, Sir Sampson !" exclaimed both spinsters 
 at once, darting forward and seizing a hand ; " bless 
 me, don't you know us ? And here is our niece, 
 Lady Juliana." 
 
 "My Lady Juliana Douglas!" cried he, with a 
 shriek of horror, sinking again upon his cushions. "I 
 am betrayed — I — Where is my Lady Maclaughlan 1 — 
 
188 MABEIAGE. 
 
 Where is Philistine 1 — Where is — the devil ! This is 
 not to be borne ! My Lady Juliana Douglas, the 
 Earl of Courtland's daughter, to be introduced to 
 Lochmarlie Castle in so Arile a manner, and myself 
 surprised in so indecorous a situation!" And, his 
 lips quivering with passion, he rang the beU. 
 
 The summons was answered by the same attendant 
 that had acted as gentleman usher. 
 
 "Where are all my people?" demanded his in- 
 censed master. 
 
 "Huts aw awa tull ta Sandy More's." 
 
 " Where is my Lady 1 " 
 
 " Hurs i' ta teach tap."'^ 
 
 " Where is Murdoch ? " 
 
 "Hur's helpin' ta leddie i' ta teach tap." 
 
 "Oh, we'll aU go upstairs, and see what Lady Mac- 
 laughlan and Philistine are about in the laboratory,'' 
 said Miss Giizzy. "So pray, just go on with your 
 nap, Sir Sampson ; we shall find the way — don't stir ;" 
 and taking Lady Juliana by the hand, away tripped 
 the spinsters in search of their friend. "I cannot 
 conceive the meaning of all this," whispered Miss 
 Grizzy to her sister as they went along. " Something 
 must be wrong ; but I said nothing to dear Sir Samp- 
 son, his nerves are so easily agitated. But what can 
 be the meaning of all this? I declare it's quite a 
 mystery." 
 
 After ascending several long dark stairs, and follow- 
 ing divers windings and turnings, the party at length 
 ' House top. 
 
MAERIAGE. 189 
 
 reached the door of the sanctum sa/nctorum, and having 
 gently tapped, the voice of the priestess was heard in 
 no very encouraging accents, demanding " Who was 
 there?" 
 
 " It's only us," replied her trembling friend. 
 
 " Only us 1 humph ! I wonder what fool is called 
 only us/ Open the door, Philistine, and see what 
 only its wants." 
 
 The door was opened and the party entered. The 
 day was closing in, but by the faint twilight that 
 mingled with the gleams from a smoky smouldering 
 fire. Lady Maclaughlan was dimly discernible, as she 
 stood upon the hearth, watching the contents of an 
 enormous kettle that emitted both steam and odour. 
 She regarded the invaders with her usual marble 
 aspect, and without moving either joint or muscle as 
 they drew near. 
 
 " I declare — I don't think you know us. Lady Mac- 
 laughlan," said Miss Grizzy in a tone of affected 
 vivacity, with which she strove to conceal her agi- 
 tation. 
 
 "Know you!" repeated her friend — "humph! 
 Who you are, I know very well ; but what brings you 
 here, I do not know. Do you know yourselves ? " 
 
 "I declare — I can't conceive " began Miss 
 
 Grizzy ; but her trepidation arrested her speech, and 
 her sister therefore proceeded — 
 
 "Your ladyship's declaration is no less astonishing 
 than incomprehensible. We have waited upon you 
 by your own express invitation on the day appointed 
 
190 MAERIAGE. 
 
 by yourself ; and we have been received in a manner, 
 I must say, we did not expect, considering this is the 
 first visit of our niece Lady Juliana Douglas." 
 
 "I'll tell you what, girls," repUed their friend, as 
 she still stood with her back to the fire, and her hands 
 behind her ; " I'll tell you what, — ^you are not your- 
 selves—you are all lost — quite mad — that's all — 
 humph !" 
 
 " If that's the case, we cannot be fit company for 
 your ladyship," retorted Miss Jacky warmly; "and 
 therefore the best thing we can do is to return the 
 way we came. Come, Lady Juliana — come, sister." 
 
 " I declare, Jacky, the impetuosity of your temper 
 
 is — I really cannot stand it " and the gentle 
 
 Grizzy gave way to a flood of tears. 
 
 "You used to be rational, intelligent creatures," 
 resumed her ladyship; "but what has come over 
 you, I don't know. You come tumbling in here at the 
 middle of the night — and at the top of the house — 
 nobody knows how — when I never was thinking of 
 you ; and because I don't tell a parcel of hes, and 
 pretend I expected you, you are for flying off again — 
 hiraiph ! Is this the behaviour of women in their 
 senses ? But since you are here, you may as well sit 
 down and say what brought you. Get down, Gil 
 Bias — go along, Tom Jones," addressing two huge 
 cats, who occupied a three-cornered leather chair by 
 the fireside, and who relinquished it with much 
 reluctance. 
 
 "How do you do, pretty creature f kissing Lady 
 
MARRIAGE. 191 
 
 Juliana, as she seated her in this cat's cradle. " Now, 
 girls, sit down, and tell what brought you here to-day 
 — humph ! " 
 
 "Can your Ladyship ask such a question, after 
 having formally invited us?" demanded the wrathful 
 Jacky. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, girls ; you were just as much 
 invited by me to dine here to-day as you were ap- 
 pointed to sup with the Grand Seignior — humph !" 
 
 " What day of the week does your Ladyship call 
 this?" 
 
 "I call it Tuesday; but I suppose the Glenfern 
 calendar calls it Thursday : Thursday was the day I 
 invited you to come." 
 
 " I'm sure — I'm thankful we're got to the bottom 
 of it at last,'' cried Miss Grizzy ; " I read it, because 
 I'm sure you wrote it, Tuesday." 
 
 "How could you be such a fool, my love, as to 
 read it any such thing 1 Even if it had been written 
 Tuesday, you might have had the sense to know it 
 meant Thursday. When did you know me invite 
 anybody for a Tuesday?" 
 
 " I declare it's very true ; I certainly ought to have 
 known better. I am quite confounded at my own 
 stupidity ; for, as you observe, even though you had 
 said Tuesday, I might have known that you must 
 have meant Thursday." 
 
 "Well, well, no more about it. Since you are 
 here you must stay here, and you must have some- 
 thing to eat, I suppose. Sir Sampson and I have 
 
192 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 dined two hours ago ; but you shall have your dinner 
 for all that. I must shut shop for this day, it seems, 
 and leave my resuscitating tincture all in the dead- 
 thraw — Methusalem pills quite in their infancy. But 
 there's no help for it. Since you are here you must 
 stay here, and you must be fed and lodged ; so get 
 along, girls, get along. Here, Gil Bias — come, Tom 
 Jones." And, preceded by her cats, and followed by 
 her guests, she led the way to the parlour. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Point de milieu : I'hymen et ses liens 
 Sont les plus grands ou des maux ou des Mens." 
 L'Enfcmt Prodigue. 
 
 On returning to the parlour they found Sir Sampson 
 had, by means of the indefatigable Phihstiae, been 
 transported into a suit of regimentals and weU-pow- 
 dered peruke, which had in some measure restored 
 him to his usual complacency. Henry, who had gone 
 in quest of some person to take charge of the horses, 
 now entered ; and shortly after a tray of provisions 
 was brought, which the half-famished party eagerly 
 attacked, regardless of their hostess's admonitions to 
 eat sparingly, as nothing was so dangerous as eating 
 heartily when people were hungry. 
 
 The repast being at length concluded. Lady Mac- 
 laughlan led her guests into the saloon. They passed 
 through an antechamber, which seemed, by the faint 
 light of the lamp, to contain nothing but piles on piles 
 of china, and entered the room of state. 
 
 The eye at first wandered in uncertain obscurity ; 
 
 and the guests cautiously proceeded over a bare oaken 
 
 floor, whose dark polished surface seemed to emulate 
 
 a mirror, through an apartment of formidable extent. 
 
 VOL. I. M. 
 
194 MARRIAGE. 
 
 The walls were hung with rich but grotesque tapestry. 
 The ceiling, by its height and massy carving, bespoke 
 the age of the apartment ; but the beauty of the design 
 was lost in the gloom. 
 
 A Turkey carpet was placed in the middle of the 
 floor ; and on the middle of the carpet stood the card 
 table, at which two footmen, hastily summoned from 
 the revels at Sandy More's, were placing chairs and 
 cards ; seemingly eager to display themselves, as if to 
 prove that they were always at their posts. 
 
 Cards were a matter of course with Sir Sampson 
 and his lady ; but as whist was the only game they 
 ever played, a difiiculty arose as to the means of 
 providing amusement for the younger part of the 
 company. 
 
 " I have plenty of books for you, my loves," said 
 Lady Maclaughlan ; and, taking one of the candles, 
 she made a journey to the other end of the room, and 
 entered a small turret, from which her voice was heard 
 issuing most audibly, " AH the books that should ever 
 have been pubUshed are here. Eead these, and you 
 need read no more : all the world's in these books — 
 humph ! Here's the Bible, great and small, with 
 apocrypha and concordance ! Here's Floyer's Medicina 
 Gerocomica, or the Galenic Art of Preserving Old 
 Men's Health ; — Love's Art of Surveyiag and Measur- 
 ing Land ; — Transactions of the Highland Society ; — 
 Glass's Cookery ; — Flavel's Fountain of Life Opened ; 
 — Fencing Familiarised ; — Observations on the Use of 
 Bath Waters; — Cure for Soul Sores; — De Blondt's 
 
MAEKIAGE. 195 
 
 Military Memoirs ; — MacGhie's Book-keeping ; — Mead 
 on Pestilence ; — Astenthology, or the Art of Preserv- 
 ing Feeble Life ! " 
 
 As she enumerated the contents of her Ubrary, she 
 paused at the end of each title, in hopes of hearing 
 the book called for ; but she was allowed to proceed 
 without interruption to the end of her catalogue. 
 
 " Why, what would you have, children 1" cried she 
 in one of her sternest accents. " I don't know ! Do 
 you know yourselves ? Here are two novels, the only 
 ones worth any Christian's reading." 
 
 Henry gladly accepted the first volumes of Gil Bias 
 and Clarissa Harlowe ; and, giving the latter to Lady 
 Juhana, began the other himseK. Miss Becky was 
 settled with her hands across ; and, the whist party 
 being arranged, a solemn silence ensued. 
 
 Lady Juliana turned over a few pages of her own 
 book, then begged Henry would exchange with her ; 
 but both were in so difierent a style from the French 
 and German school she had been accustomed to, that 
 they were soon relinquished in disappointment and 
 disgust. 
 
 On the table, which had been placed by the fire 
 for her accommodation, lay an Enghsh newspaper; 
 and to that she had recourse, as a last efibrt at amuse- 
 ment. But, alas ! even the dulness of Clarissa Har- 
 lowe was delight compared to the anguish with which 
 this fatal paper was fraught, in the shape of the fol- 
 lowing paragraph, which presented itself to the un- 
 fortunate fair one's eye : — 
 
196 MAJIRIAGE. 
 
 " Yesterday was married, by special license, at the 
 
 house of Mrs. D , his Grace the Duke of L , 
 
 to the beautiful and accomplished Miss D . His 
 
 Royal Highness the Duke of was gracious enough 
 
 to act as father to the bride upon this occasion, and 
 was present in person, as were their Royal Highnesses 
 
 the Dukes of , and of . The bride looked 
 
 most bewitchingly lovely, in a simple robe of the finest 
 Mechlin lace, with a superb veil of the same costly 
 material, which hung down to her feet. She wore a 
 set of pearls estimated at thirty thousand pounds, 
 whose chaste elegance corresponded with the rest of 
 the dress. Immediately after the ceremony they par- 
 took of a sumptuous collation, and the happy pair set 
 off in a chariot and four, attended by six outriders, and 
 two coaches and four. 
 
 "After spending the honeymoon at his Grace's 
 unique villa on the Thames, their Graces wiU receive 
 company at their splendid mansion in Portman Square. 
 The wedding paraphernalia is said to have cost ten 
 thousand pounds ; and her Grace's jewel-box is 
 estimated at little less than half a milUon." 
 
 Wretched as Lady Juliana had long felt herself to 
 be, her former state of mind was positive happiness 
 compared to what she now endured. Envy, regret, 
 self-reproach, and resentment, all struggled in the 
 breast of the seK-devoted beauty, while the paper 
 dropped from her hand, and she cast a fearful glance 
 around, as if to ascertain the reality of her fate. The 
 dreadful certainty smote her with a sense of wretched- 
 
MAEEIAGB. 197 
 
 ness too acute to be suppressed ; and, darting a look 
 of horror at her unconscious husband, she threw 
 herself back in her chair, while the scalding tears of 
 envy, anger, and repentance fell from her eyes. 
 
 Accustomed as Henry now was to these ebullitions 
 of feeling from his beauteous partner, he was not yet 
 so indifferent as to behold them unmoved ; and he 
 sought to soothe her by the kindest expressions and 
 most tender epithets. These indeed had long since 
 ceased to charm away the lady's ill-humour, but they 
 sometimes succeeded in moUifying it. But now their 
 only effect seemed to be increasing the irritation, as 
 she turned from all her husband's inquiries, and 
 impatiently withdrew her hands from his. 
 
 Astonished at a conduct so incomprehensible, 
 Douglas earnestly besought an explanation. 
 
 "There !" cried she, at length, pushing the paper 
 towards him, " see there what I might have been but 
 for you; and then compare it with what you have 
 made me !" 
 
 Confounded by this reproach, Henry eagerly 
 snatched up the paper, and his eye instantly feU on 
 the fatal paragraph — the poisoned dart that struck 
 the death-blow to aU that now remained to him of 
 happiness — ^the fond idea that, even amidst childish 
 foUy and capricious estrangement, still in the main 
 he was beloved ! With a quavering lip, and cheek 
 blanched with mortification and indignant contempt, 
 he laid down the paper ; and without casting a look 
 upon, or uttering a word to, his once adored and adoring 
 
198 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Juliana, quitted the apartment in all that bitterness 
 of spirit •which a generous nature must feel when it 
 first discovers the fallacy of a cherished affection. 
 Henry had indeed ceased to regard his wife with 
 the ardour of romantic passion; nor had the solid 
 feelings of affectionate esteem supplied its place ; but 
 he loved her stUl, because he believed himself the 
 engrossing object of her tenderness; and in that 
 blest delusion he had hitherto found palliatives for 
 her folly and consolation for all his own distresses. 
 
 To indifference he might for a time have remained 
 insensible ; because, though his feelings were strong, 
 his perceptions were not acute. But the veil of illu- 
 sion was now rudely withdrawn. He beheld himself 
 detested where he imagined himself adored ; and the 
 anguish of disappointed affection was heightened by 
 the stings of wounded pride and deluded self-love. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " What's done, cannot be undone ; to bed, to bed, to bed ! " 
 
 Exit Lady Macbeth. 
 
 The distance at which the whist party had placed 
 themselves, and the deep interest in which their 
 senses were involved while the fate of the odd trick 
 was pending, had rendered them insensible to the 
 scene that was acting at the other extremity of the 
 apartment. The task of administering succour to the 
 afflicted fair one therefore devolved upon Miss Becky, 
 whose sympathetic powers never had been called 
 into action before. Slowly approaching the wretched 
 Lady Juliana as she lay back in her chair, the tears 
 coursing each other down her cheeks, she tendered 
 her a smelling-bottle, to which her own nose, and the 
 noses of her sisters, were wont to be applied when- 
 ever, as they choicely expressed it, they wanted a 
 "fine smell." But upon this trying occasion she 
 went still farther.. She unscrewed the stopper, un- 
 folded a cotton handkerchief, upon which she poured 
 a few drops of lavender water, and offered it to her 
 ladyship, deeming that the most elegant and efficient 
 manner in which she could afford relief. But the 
 
200 MAERIAGE. 
 
 well-meant offering was silently waved off; and poor 
 Miss Becky, having done all that the light of reason 
 suggested to her, retreated to her seat, wondering 
 what it was her fine sister-in-law would be at. 
 
 By the time the rubber was ended her ladyship's 
 fears of Lady Maclaughlan had enabled her to con- 
 quer her feeUngs so far that they had now sunk into 
 a state of sullen dejection, which the good aunts 
 eagerly interpreted into the fatigue of the journey. 
 Miss Grizzy declaring that although the drive was 
 most delightful — nobody could deny that — and they 
 all enjoyed it excessively, as indeed everybody must 
 who had eyes in their head ; yet she must own, at the 
 same time, that she really felt as if all her bones were 
 broke. 
 
 A general rising therefore took place at an early 
 hour, and Lady Juliana, attended by all the females 
 of the party, was ushered into the chamber of state, 
 which was fitted up in a style acknowledged to be 
 truly magnificent, by all who had ever enjoyed the 
 honour of being permitted to gaze on its white velvet 
 bedcurtains, surmounted by the family arms, and 
 gracefully tucked up by hands sinister-couped at the 
 wrists, etc. But lest my fashionable readers should 
 be of a different opinion, I shall refrain from giving 
 an inventory of the various articles with which this 
 favoured chamber was furnished. Misses Grizzy and 
 Jacky occupied the green room which had been fitted 
 up at Sir Sampson's birth. The curtains hung at a 
 respectful distance from the ground; the chimney- 
 
MARRIAGE. 201 
 
 piece was far beyond the reach even of the majestic 
 Jacky's arm^ and the painted tiflfany toilet was 
 covered with a shoal of little tortoise-shell boxes of 
 all shapes and sizes. A grim visage, scowling from 
 under a Highland bonnet, graced by a single black 
 feather, hung on high. Miss Grizzy placed herself 
 before it, and, holding up the candle, contemplated 
 it for about the nine hundredth time, with an awe 
 bordering almost on adoration. 
 
 "Certainly Sir Eneas must have been a most 
 wonderful man — nobody can deny that; and there 
 can be no question but he had the second-sight to the 
 greatest degree — ^indeed, I never heard it disputed; 
 many of his prophecies, indeed, seem to have been 
 quite incomprehensible ; but that is so much the more 
 extraordinary ; you know — for instance, the one with 
 regard to our family," lowering her voice; "for my 
 part I declare I never could comprehend it ; and yet 
 there must be something in it, too; but how any 
 branch from the Glenfern tree — of course, you know, 
 that can only mean the family tree — should help to 
 prop Lochmarlie's walls, is what I can't conceive. If 
 Sir Sampson had a son, to be sure, some of the girls 
 — ^for you know it can't be any of us ; at least I de- 
 clare for my own part — I'm sure even if anything — 
 which I trust, in goodness, there is not the least chance 
 of, should ever happen to dear Lady Maclaughlan, 
 and Sir Sampson should take it into his head — which, 
 of course, is a thing not to be thought about — and 
 indeed I'm quite convinced it would be very much 
 
202 MARRIAGE. 
 
 out of respect to dear Lady Maclaughlan, as well as 
 friendship for us, if such a thing was ever to come 
 into his head." 
 
 Here the tender Grizzy got so involved in her own 
 ideas as to the possibility of Lady Maclaughlan's death, 
 and the propriety of Sir Sampson's proposals, together 
 with the fulfiUing of Sir Eneas the seer's prophecy, 
 that there is no saying how far she strayed in her self- 
 created labyrinth. Such as choose to follow her may. 
 For our part, we prefer accompanying the youthful 
 Becky to her chamber, whither she was also attended 
 by the lady of the mansion. Becky's destiny for the 
 night lay at the top of one of those little straggling 
 wooden stairs common in old houses, which creaked 
 in all directions. The bed was placed in a recess dark 
 as Erebus, and betwixt the bed and the wall was a 
 depth profound, which Becky's eye dared not attempt 
 to penetrate. 
 
 " You will find everything right here, chUd," said 
 Lady Maclaughlan ; " and if anything should be wrong 
 you must think it right. I never suffer anything to 
 be wrong here — humph!" Becky, emboldened by 
 despair, cast a look towards the recess ; and in a faint 
 voice ventured to inquire, "Is there no fear that 
 Tom Jones or Gil Bias may be in that place behind 
 the bed?" 
 
 " And if they should," answered her hostess in her 
 most appalling tone, " what is that to you 1 Are you 
 a mouse, that you are afraid they will eat you 1 Yes, 
 I suppose you are. You are perhaps the princess in 
 
MAKKIAGE. 203 
 
 the fairy tale, who was a woman by day and a mouse 
 by night I beheve you are bewitched ! So I wish 
 your mouseship a good night." And she descended 
 the creaking stair, singing, 
 
 " Mrs. Mouse, are you within ?" 
 
 till even her stentorian voice was lost in distance. 
 Poor Becky's heart died with the retreating sounds, 
 and only revived to beat time with the worm in the 
 wood. Long and eerie was the night, as she gave 
 herself up to all the horrors of a superstitious mind — 
 ghosts, gray, black, and white, flitted around her 
 couch ; cats, half human, held her throat ; the death- 
 watch ticked in her ears. At length the light of 
 morning shed its brightening influence on the dim 
 opaque of her understanding; and when all things 
 stood disclosed in light, she shut her eyes and oped 
 her mouth in all the blissfulness of security. The 
 light of day was indeed favourable for displaying to 
 advantage the beauties of Lochmarlie Castle, which 
 owed more to nature than art. It was beautifully 
 situated on a smooth green bank, that rose somewhat 
 abruptly from the lake, and commanded a view, which, 
 if not extensive, was yet full of variety and grandeur. 
 Its venerable turrets reared themselves above the 
 trees which seemed coeval with them ; and the vast 
 magnificence of its wide-spreading lawns and extensive 
 forests seemed to appertain to some feudal prince's 
 lofty domain. But in vain were creation's charms 
 spread before Lady Juliana's eyes. Woods and 
 
204 MARRIAGE. 
 
 mountains and lakes and rivers were odious things; 
 and her heart panted for dusty squares and suffocating 
 drawing-rooms. 
 
 Something was said of departing by the sisters 
 when the party met at breakfast ; but this was im- 
 mediately negatived in the most decided manner by 
 their hostess. 
 
 " Since you have taken your own time to come, my 
 dears, you must take mine to go. Thursday was the 
 day I invited you for, or at least wanted you for, so 
 you must stay Thursday, and go away on Friday, and 
 my blessing go with you — ^humph !" 
 
 The sisters, charmed with what they termed the 
 hospitality and friendship of this invitation, delightedly 
 agreed to remain; and as things were at least con- 
 ducted in better style there than at Grlenfem, uncom- 
 fortable as it was, Lady Juliana found herself somewhat 
 nearer home there than at the family chateaa Lady 
 Maclaughlan, who covld be commonly civil in her own 
 house, was at some pains to amuse her guest by show- 
 ing her collection of china and cabinet of gems, both 
 of which were remarkably fine. There was also a 
 library, and a gallery, containing some good pictures, 
 and, what Lady Juliana prized stiU more, a bilhard- 
 table. Thursday, the destined day, at length arrived, 
 and a large party assembled to dinner. Lady Juliana, 
 as she half reclined on a sofa, surveyed the company 
 with a supercilious stare, and without deigning to take 
 any part in the general conversation that went on. 
 It was enough that they spoke with a peculiar accent 
 
MABEIAGE. 205 
 
 — everything they said must be barbarous ; but she 
 was pleased once more to eat off plate, and to find 
 herself in rooms which, though grotesque and comfort- 
 less, yet wore an air of state, and whose vastness 
 enabled her to keep aloof from those with whom she 
 never wiUingly came in contact. It was therefore 
 with regret she saw the day of her departure arrive, 
 and found herself once more an unwilhng inmate of 
 her only asylum; particularly as her situation now 
 required comforts and indulgences which it was there 
 impossible to procure. 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 " No mother's care 
 
 Shielded my infant innocence with prayer : 
 
 ***** 
 
 Mother, miscall'd, farewell ! " 
 
 Savage. 
 
 The happy period, so long and anxiously anticipated 
 by the ladies of G-lenfem, at length arrived, and Lady 
 Juliana presented to the house of Douglas — not, alas ! 
 the ardently-desired heir to its ancient consequence, 
 but tvrin-daughters, who could only be regarded as 
 additional burdens on its poverty. 
 
 The old gentleman's disappointment was excessive ; 
 and, as he paced up and down the parlour, with his 
 hands in his pockets, he muttered, "Twa lasses! I 
 ne'er heard tell o' the like o't. I wonder whar their 
 tochers are to come ir&eV 
 
 Miss Grizzy, in great perturbation, declared it 
 certainly was a great pity it had so happened, but 
 these things couldn't be helped ; she was sure Lady 
 Maclaughlan would be greatly surprised. 
 
 Miss Jacky saw no cause for regret, and promised 
 herself an endless source of delight in forming the 
 minds and training the ideas of her infant nieces. 
 
MAERIAGE. 207 
 
 Miss Nicky wondered how they were to be nursed. 
 She was afraid Lady Juliana would not be able for 
 both, and wet-nurses had such stomachs ! 
 
 Henry, meanwhile, whose love had all revived in 
 anxiety for the safety, and anguish for the sufferings 
 of his youthful partner, had hastened to her apart- 
 ment, and, kneehng by her side, he pressed her hands 
 to his lips with feelings of the deepest emotion. 
 
 "Dearer — a thousand times dearer to me than 
 ever," whispered he, as he fondly embraced her, "and 
 those sweet pledges of our love ! " 
 
 "Ah, don't mention them," interrupted his lady 
 in a languid tone. " How very provoking ! I hate 
 girls so — and two of them — oh!" and she sighed 
 deeply. Her husband sighed too"; but from a 
 diiFerent cause. The nurse now appeared, and 
 approached with her helpless charges; and both 
 parents for the first time looked on their own 
 offspring. 
 
 " What nice little creatures ! " said the delighted 
 father, as, taking them in his arms, he imprinted the 
 first kiss on the innocent faces of his daughters, and 
 then held them to their mother ; who, turning from 
 them with disgust, exclaimed, " How can you kiss 
 them, Harry 1 They are so ugly, and they squall so ! 
 Oh do, for heaven's sake, take them away ! And see, 
 there is poor Psyche quite wretched at being so long 
 away from me. Pray, put her on the bed." 
 
 "She will grow fond of her babies by-and-by," said 
 poor Henry to himself, as he quitted the apartment,- 
 
208 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 with feelings very different from those with which he 
 entered it. 
 
 At the pressing solicitations of her husband, the 
 fashionable mother was prevailed upon to attempt 
 nursing one of her poor starving infants; but the 
 iirst trial proved also the last, as she declared nothing 
 upon earth should ever induce her to perform so 
 odious an office ; and as Henry's entreaties and her 
 aunts' remonstrances served alike to irritate and 
 agitate her, the contest was, by the advice of her 
 medical attendant, completely given up. A wet-nurse 
 was therefore procured ; but as she refused to under- 
 take both children, and the old gentleman would not 
 hear of having two such encumbrances in his family, 
 it was settled, to the unspeakable dehght of the 
 maiden sisters, that the youngest should be entrusted 
 entirely to their management, and brought up by 
 hand. 
 
 The consequence was such as might have been 
 foreseen. The chUd, who was naturally weak and 
 delicate at its birth, daily lost a portion of its little 
 strength, whUe its continued cries declared the inten- 
 sity of its sufierings, though they produced no other 
 effect on its unfeeling mother than her having it 
 removed to a more distant apartment, as she could 
 not endure to hear the cross little thing scream so for 
 nothing. On the other hand, the more favoured twin, 
 who was from its birth a remarkably strong lively 
 infant, and met with all justice from its nurse, throve 
 apace, and was pronounced by her to be the very 
 
MABEIAGE. 209 
 
 picture of the honnie leddie, its mamma; and then, 
 with all the low cunning of her kind, she would launch 
 forth into panegyrics of its beauty, and prophecies of 
 the great dignities and honours that would one day 
 be showered upon it; until, by her fawning and 
 flattery, she succeeded in exciting a degree of interest, 
 which nature had not secured for it in the mother's 
 breast. 
 
 Things were in this situation when, at the end of 
 three weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas arrived to offer 
 their congratulations on the birth of the twins. Lady 
 Juliana received her sister-in-law in her apartment, 
 which she had not yet quitted, and replied to her 
 congratulations only by querulous complaints and 
 childish murmurs. 
 
 "I am sure you are very happy in not having 
 children," continued she, as the cries of the little 
 sufferer reached her ear ; " I hope to goodness I shall 
 never have any more. I wonder if anybody ever had 
 twin daughters before, and I, too, who hate girls so ! " 
 
 Mrs Douglas, disgusted with her unfeeling folly, 
 knew not what to reply, and a pause ensued ; but a 
 fresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again 
 called forth its mother's indignation. 
 
 "I wish to goodness that child was gagged," cried 
 she, holding her hands to her ears. "It has done 
 nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it 
 makes me quite sick to hear it." 
 
 "Poor Httle dear!" said Mrs. Douglas compassion- 
 ately, "it appears to suffer a great deal." 
 
 VOL. LP M 
 
210 MARRIAGE. 
 
 "Suffer!" repeated her sister-in-law; "what can 
 it suffer ? I am sure it meets with a great deal more 
 attention than any person in the house. These three 
 old women do nothing hut feed it from morning to 
 night, with everything they can think of, and make 
 such a fuss about it ! " 
 
 "I suspect, my dear sister, you would be very 
 sorry for yourself," said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile, 
 "were you to endure the same treatment as your poor 
 baby; stuffed with improper food and loathsome drugs, 
 and bandied about from one person to another." 
 
 "You may say what you please," retorted Lady 
 Juliana pettishly; "but I know it's nothing but ill 
 temper : nurse says so too ; and it is so ugly with 
 constantly crying that I cannot bear to look at it;" 
 and she turned away her head as Miss Jacky entered 
 with the little culprit in her arms, which she was 
 vainly endeavouring to talJt into sUence, while she 
 dandled it in the most awkward maiderirlike manner 
 imaginable. 
 
 "Good heavens! what a fright!" exclaimed the 
 tender parent, as her child was held up to her. 
 " Why, it is much less than when it was bom, and its 
 skin is as yellow as saffron, and it squints ! Only look 
 what a difference," as the nurse advanced and osten- 
 tatiously displayed her charge, who had just waked 
 out of a long sleep ; its cheeks flushed with heat ; its 
 skin completely filled up ; and its large eyes rolling 
 under its already dark eyelashes. 
 
 "The bonny wean's just her mamma's pickter," 
 
MARRIAGE. 211 
 
 drawled out the nurse, "but the wee missy's unco 
 like her aunties." 
 
 " Take her away," cried Lady Juliana in a tone of 
 despair ; " I wish I could send her out of my hearing 
 altogether, for her noise will be the death of me." 
 
 " Alas ! what would I give to hear the blessed sound 
 of a living child !" exclaimed Mrs. Douglas, taking the 
 infant in her arms. " And how great would be my 
 happiaess could I call the poor rejected one mine !" 
 
 "I'm sure you are welcome to my share of the 
 little plague," said her sister-in-law, with a laugh, " if 
 you can prevail upon Harry to give up his." 
 
 " I would give up a great deal could my poor child 
 find a mother," replied her husband, who just then 
 entered. 
 
 " My dear brother ! " cried Mrs. Douglas, her eyes 
 beaming with dehght, "do you then confirm Lady 
 Juliana's kind promise ? Indeed I will be a mother 
 to your dear baby, and love her as if she were my 
 own ; and in a month — oh ! in much less time — you 
 shall see her as stout as her sister." 
 
 Henry sighed, as he thought, " Why has not my 
 poor babe such a mother of its own?" Then thanking 
 his sister-in-law for her generous intentions, he re- 
 minded her that she must consult her husband, as 
 few men Uked to be troubled with any children but 
 their own. 
 
 "You are in the right," said Mrs. Douglas, blush- 
 ing at the impetuosity of feeling which had made her 
 forget for an instant the deference due to her hus- 
 
212 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 band; "I shall instantly ask his permission, and he is 
 so indulgent to all my wishes that I have little doubt 
 of obtaining his consent;" and, with the chUd in her 
 arms, she hastened to her husband, and made known 
 her request. 
 
 Mr. Douglas received the proposal with consider- 
 able coolness ; wondering what his wife could see in 
 such an ugly squalling thing to plague herseK about 
 it. If it had been a boy, old enough to speak and 
 run about, there might be some amusement in it ; but 
 he could not see the use of a squalling sickly infant — 
 and a girl too ! 
 
 His wife sighed deeply, and the tears stole down 
 her cheeks as she looked on the wan visage and closed 
 eyes of the little sufferer. "God help thee, poor 
 baby!" said she mournfully; "you are rejected on 
 all hands, but your misery will soon be at an. end ;'' 
 and she was slowly leaving the room with her help- 
 less charge when her husband, touched at the sight 
 of her distress, though the feehng that caused it he 
 did not comprehend, called to her, " I am sure, Alicia, 
 if you really wish to take charge of the infant I have 
 no objections ; only I think you will find it a great 
 plague, and the mother is such a fooL" 
 
 " Worse than a fool," said Mrs. Douglas indignantly, 
 " for she hates and abjures this her poor unoffending 
 babe." 
 
 "Does she sol" cried Mr. Douglas, every kindling 
 feeling roused within him at the idea of his blood 
 being hated and abjured ; " then, hang me ! if she 
 
MAEEIAGE. 213 
 
 shall have any child of Harry's to hate as long as I 
 have a house to shelter it and a sixpence to bestow 
 upon it," taking the infant in his arms, and kindly 
 kissing it. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas smiled through her tears as she em 
 braced her husband, and praised his goodness and 
 generosity ; then, full of exultation and delight, she 
 flew to impart the success of her mission to the parents 
 of her proMgie. 
 
 Great was the surprise of the maiden nurses at 
 finding they were to be bereft of their little charge. 
 
 "I declare, I think the child is doing as well as 
 possible," said Miss Grizzy. " To be sure it does 
 yammer constantly — that can't be denied; and it is 
 uncommonly small — nobody can dispute that. At the 
 same time, I am sure, I can't tell what makes it cry, 
 for I've given it two coUc powders every day, and a 
 tea-spoonful of Lady Maclaughlan's carminative every 
 three hours." 
 
 " And I've done nothing but make water-gruel and 
 chop rusks for it," quoth Miss Nicky, " and yet it is 
 never satisfied ; I wonder what it would be at." 
 
 "I know perfectly well what it would be at," said 
 Miss Jacky, with an air of importance. "AU this 
 crying and screaming is for nothing else but a nurse ; 
 but it ought not to be indulged. There is no end of 
 indulging the desires, and 'tis amazing how cunning 
 children are, and how soon they know how to take 
 advantage of people's weakness," glancing an eye of 
 fire at Mrs. Douglas. " Were that my child, I would 
 
214 MAREIAGE. 
 
 feed her on bread and water before I would humour 
 her fancies. A pretty lesson, indeed ! if she's to have 
 her own way before she's a month old." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas knew that it was in vain to attempt 
 arguing vnth her aunts. She therefore allowed them 
 to wonder and declaim over their sucking pots, colic 
 powders, and other instruments of torture, while she 
 sent to the wife of one of her tenants who had lately 
 lain-in, and who wished for the situation of nurse, 
 appointing her to be at Lochmarlie the following day. 
 Having made her arrangements, and collected the 
 scanty portion of clothing Mrs. Nurse chose to allow, 
 Mrs. Douglas repaired to her sister-in-law's apartment, 
 with her httle charge in her arms. She found her 
 stiU in bed, and surrounded with her favourites. 
 
 " So you reaUy are going to torment yourself with 
 that Httle screech-owl?" said she. "Well, I must 
 say it's very good of you ; but I am afraid you will 
 soon tire of her. Children are such plagues ! Are 
 they not, my darKngf added she, kissing her pug. 
 
 " You will not say so when you have seen my 
 little girl a month hence,'' said Mrs. Douglas, trying 
 to conceal her disgust for Henry's sake, who had just 
 then entered the room. " She has promised me never 
 to cry any more ; so give her a kiss, and let us be 
 gone." 
 
 The high-bred mother slightly touched the cheek 
 of her sleeping babe, extended her linger to her sister- 
 in-law, and carelessly bidding them good-bye, returned 
 to her pillow and her pugs. 
 
MARRIAGE. 215 
 
 Henry accompanied Mrs. Douglas to the carriage, 
 and before they parted he promised his brother to 
 ride over to LochmarHe in a few days. He said 
 nothing of his child, but his glistening eye and the 
 ■warm pressure of his hand spoke volumes to the kind 
 heart of his brother, who assured him that Alicia 
 would be very good to his little girl, and that he was 
 sure she would get quite well when she got a nurse. 
 The carriage drove off, and Henry, with a heavy spirit, 
 returned to the house to listen to his father's lectures, 
 his aunts' ejaculations, and his wife's murmurs. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ' ' We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
 Is to come in." 
 
 Henry IV. 
 
 The birth of twin daughters awakened the young 
 father to a still stronger sense of the total dependence 
 and extreme helplessness of his condition. Yet how 
 to remedy it he knew not. To accept of his father's 
 proposal was out of the question, and it was equally 
 impossible for him, were he ever so incHned, to remain 
 much longer a burden on the narrow income of the 
 Laird of Glenfern. One alternative only remained, 
 which was to address the friend and patron of his 
 youth. General Cameron ; and to him he therefore 
 wrote, describing all the misery of his situation, and 
 imploring his forgiveness and assistance. "The old 
 General's passion must have cooled by this time,'' 
 thought he to himself, as he sealed the letter, "and 
 as he has often overlooked former scrapes, I think, 
 after all, he will help me out of this greatest one of 
 all." 
 
 For once Henry was not mistaken. He received 
 an answer to his letter, in which the General, after 
 execrating his folly in marrying a lady of quality. 
 
MARRIAGE. 217 
 
 swearing at the birth of his twin daughters, and giving 
 him some wholesome counsel as to his future mode of 
 hfe, concluded by informing him that he had got him 
 reinstated in his former rank in the army ; that he 
 should settle seven hundred per annum on him till 
 he saw how matters were conducted, and, in the mean- 
 time, enclosed a draught for four hundred pounds, to 
 open the campaign. 
 
 Though this was not, according to Henry's notions, 
 "coming down handsomely,'' still it was better than 
 not coming down at all, and with a mixture of delight 
 and disappointment he flew to communicate the tidings 
 to Lady Juliana. 
 
 "Seven hundred pounds a year!" exclaimed she, 
 in raptures : " Heavens ! what a quantity of money ! 
 why, we shaU be quite rich, and I shall have such a 
 beautiful house, and such pretty carriages, and give 
 such parties, and buy so many fine things. Oh dear, 
 how happy I shall be !" 
 
 "You know little of money, Julia, if you think 
 seven hundred pounds will do all that," replied her 
 husband gravely. "I hardly think we can afford a 
 house in town ; but we may have a pretty cottage at 
 Eichmond or Twickenham, and I can keep a curricle, 
 and drive you about, you know; and we may give 
 famous good dinners." 
 
 A dispute here ensued ; her ladyship hated cot- 
 tages and curricles and good diimera as much as 
 her husband despised fancy balls, opera boxes, and 
 chariots. 
 
218 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 The fact was that the one knew very nearly as 
 much of the real value of money as the other, and 
 Henry's sober scheme was just about as jDracticable as 
 his wife's extravagant one. 
 
 Brought up in the luxurious profusion of a great 
 house ; accustomed to issue her orders and have them 
 obeyed, Lady Juliana, at the time she married, was 
 in the most blissful state of ignorance respecting the 
 value of pounds, shilhngs, and pence. Her maid took 
 care to have her wardrobe supplied with all things 
 needful, and when she wanted a new dress or a 
 fashionable jewel, it was only driving to Madame D.'s, 
 or Mr. Y.'s, and desiring the article to be sent to 
 herself, while the bill went to her papa. 
 
 From never seeing money in its own vulgar form, 
 Lady Juliana had learned to consider it as a mere 
 nominal thing ; while, on the other hand, her husband, 
 from seeing too much of it, had formed almost equally 
 erroneous ideas of its powers. By the mistaken kind- 
 ness of General Cameron he had been indulged in all 
 the fashionable follies of the day, and allowed to use 
 his patron's ample fortune as if it had already been 
 his own ; nor was it until he found himself a prisoner 
 at Glenfern from want of money that he had ever 
 attached the smallest importance to it. In short, both 
 the husband and wife had been accustomed to look 
 upon it in the same light as the air they breathed. 
 They knew it essential to life, and concluded that it 
 would come some way or other ; either from the east 
 or west, north or south. As for the vulgar concerns 
 
MAERIAGE. 219 
 
 of meat and drink, servants' wages, taxes, and so forth, 
 they never found a place in the calculations of either. 
 Birthday dresses, f^tes, operas, equipages, and state 
 liveries whirled in rapid succession through Lady 
 Juliana's brain, while clubs, curricles, horses, and 
 claret, took possession of her husband's mind. 
 
 However much they differed in the proposed 
 modes of showing off in London, both agreed per- 
 fectly in the necessity of going there, and Henry 
 therefore hastened to inform his father of the change 
 in his circumstances, and apprise him of his inten- 
 tion of immediately joining his regiment, the 
 
 Guards. 
 
 "Seven hunder pound a year! " exclaimed the old 
 gentleman ; " Seven hunder pound ! Oo what can ye 
 mak' o' a' that siller 1 Ye'U surely lay by the half o't 
 to tocher your bairns. Seven hunder pound a year 
 for doing naething ! " 
 
 Miss Jacky was afraid, unless they got some person 
 of sense (which would not be an easy matter) to take 
 the management of it, it would perhaps be found 
 little enough in the long-run. 
 
 Miss Grizzy declared it was a very handsome 
 income, nobody could dispute that ; at the same time, 
 everybody must allow that the money could not have 
 been better bestowed. 
 
 Miss Nicky observed "there was a great deal of 
 good eating and drinking in seven hundred a year, if 
 people knew how to manage it.'' 
 
 All was bustle and preparation throughout Glen- 
 
220 JIAEEIA.GE. 
 
 fern Castle, and the young ladies' good-natured 
 activity and muscular powers were again in requi- 
 sition to collect the wardrobe, and pack the trunks, 
 imperial, etc., of their noble sister. 
 
 Glenfern remarked " that fules war fond o' flitting, 
 for they seemed glad to leave the good quarters they 
 were io." 
 
 Miss Grizzy declared there was a great excuse for 
 their being glad, poor things ! young people were 
 always so fond of a change ; at the same time, nobody 
 could deny but that it would have been quite natural 
 for them to feel sorry too. 
 
 Miss Jacky was astonished how any person's mind 
 could be so callous as to think of leaving Glenfern 
 without emotion. 
 
 Miss Nicky wondered what was to become of the 
 christening cake she had ordered from Perth; it 
 might be as old as the hills before there would be 
 another chUd born amongst them. 
 
 The Misses were ready to weep at the disappoiut- 
 ment of the dreaming-bread. 
 
 In the midst of all this agitation, mental and 
 bodily, the long-looked-for moment arrived. The 
 carriage drove round ready packed and loaded, and, 
 absolutely screaming with deUght, Lady Juliana 
 sprang into it. As she nodded and kissed her hand 
 to the assembled group, she impatiently called to 
 Henry to follow. His adieus were, however, not 
 quite so tonish as those of his high-bred lady, for he 
 went duly and severally through all the evolutions of 
 
MAEKIAGE. 221 
 
 kissing, embracing, shaking of hands, and promises to 
 write ; then taking his station by the side of the nurse 
 and child — the rest of the carriage being completely 
 filled by the favourites — he bade a long farewell to 
 his paternal halls and the land of his birth. 
 
CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 " For trifles, why should I displease 
 The man I love ? For trifles such as these 
 To serious mischiefs lead the man I love." 
 
 HoKACE. 
 
 Bright prospects of future happiness and endless 
 plans of expense floated through Lady Juhana's brain, 
 and kept her temper in some degree of serenity during 
 the journey. 
 
 Arrived in London, she expressed herself enrap- 
 tured at being once more in a civilised country, and 
 restored to the society of human creatures. An 
 elegant house and suitable establishment were im- 
 mediately provided; and a thousand dear friends, 
 who had completely forgotten her existence, were now 
 eager to welcome her to her former haunts, and 
 lead her thoughtless and willing steps in the paths 
 of dissipation and extravagance. 
 
 Soon after their arrival they were visited by 
 General Cameron. It was two o'clock, yet Lady 
 Juliana had not appeared ; and Henry, half-stretched 
 upon a sofa, was dawdHng over his breakfast with 
 half-a-dozen newspapers scattered round. 
 
 The first salutations over, the General demanded. 
 
MARRIAGE. 223 
 
 " Am I not to be favoured with a sight of your lady 1 
 Is she afraid that I am one of your country relations, 
 and taken her flight from the breakfast-table in con- 
 sequence 1" 
 
 " She has not yet made her appearance," replied 
 Douglas ; " but I will let her know you are here. I 
 am sure she will be happy to make acquaintance with 
 one to whom I am so much indebted." 
 
 A message was despatched to Lady Juliana, who 
 returned for answer that she would be down imme- 
 diately. Three quarters of an hour, however, elapsed ; 
 and the General, provoked with this inattention and 
 affectation, was preparing to depart when the Lady 
 made her appearance. 
 
 "Juliana, my love," said her husband, "let me 
 present you to General Cameron — the generous friend 
 who has acted the part of a father towards me, and to 
 whom you owe aU the comforts you enjoy." 
 
 Lady Juliana slightly bowed with careless ease, and 
 half uttered a " How d'ye do? — ^very happy indeed," as 
 she ghded on to pull the bell for breakfast. " Cupid, 
 Cupid !" cried she to the dog, who had flown upon the 
 General, and was barking most vehemently. " Poor 
 darhng Cupid ! are you almost starved to death 1 
 Harry, do give him that muffin on your plate." 
 
 "You are very late to-day, my love," cried the 
 mortified husband. 
 
 " I have been pestered for the last hour with Duval 
 and the court dresses, and I could not fix on what I 
 should like." 
 
224 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 " I think you might have deferred the ceremony of 
 choosing to another opportunity. General Cameron 
 has been here above an hour." 
 
 " Dear ! I hope you did not wait for me. I shall 
 be quite shocked ! " drawled out her ladyship in a 
 tone denoting how very indifferent the answer would 
 be to her. 
 
 " I beg your ladyship would be under no uneasi- 
 ness on that account," repKed the General in an 
 ironical tone, which, though lost upon her, was 
 obvious enough to Henry. 
 
 "Have you breakfasted?" asked Lady Juliana, 
 exerting herself to be polite. 
 
 "Absurd, my love ! " cried her husband. " Do you 
 suppose I should have allowed the General to wait 
 for that too all this time, if he had not breakfasted 
 many hours ago 1" 
 
 " How cross you are this morning, my Harry ! I 
 protest my Cupidon is quite ashamed of your gros- 
 siereU I " 
 
 A servant now entered to say Mr. Shagg was come 
 to know her ladyship's final decision about the 
 hammer-cloths; and the new footman was come to 
 be engaged ; and the china merchant was below. 
 
 " Send up one of them at a time ; and as to the 
 footman, you may say I'U have him at once," said 
 Lady JuHana. 
 
 "I thought you had engaged Mrs. D.'s footman 
 last week. She gave him the best character, did she 
 not?" asked her husband. 
 
MAEEIAGE. 225 
 
 " Oh yes ! his character was good enough ; hut he 
 was a horrid cheat for all that. He called himself 
 five feet nine, and when he was measured he turned 
 out to he only five feet seven and a half." 
 
 "Pshaw !" exclaimed Henry angrily. " What the 
 devil did that signify if the man had a good cha- 
 racter?" 
 
 "How absurdly you talk, Harry, as if a man's 
 character signified who has nothing to do but to 
 stand behind my carriage ! A pretty figure he'd 
 made there beside Thomas, who is at least five feet 
 ten!" 
 
 The entrance of Mr. Shagg, bowing and scraping, 
 and laden with cloths, lace, and fringes, interrupted 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Shagg," cried Lady JuUana, " what's to 
 be done with that odious leopard's skin "i You must 
 positively take it ofif my hands. I would rather never 
 go in a carriage again as show myself in the Park with 
 that frightful thing." 
 
 "Certainly, my Lady," replied the obsequious Mr. 
 Shagg, " anything your Ladyship pleases ; your Lady- 
 ship can have any hammer -cloth you like; and I 
 have accordingly brought patterns of the very newest 
 fashions for your Ladyship to make choice. Here 
 are some uncommon elegant articles. At the same 
 time, my Lady, your Ladyship must be sensible that 
 it is impossible that we can take back the leopard's 
 skin. It was not only cut out to fit your Ladyship's 
 coach-box — and consequently your Ladyship under- 
 
 VOL. L Q M. 
 
226 MARRIAGE. 
 
 stands it would not fit any other — but the silver feet 
 and crests have also been affixed quite ready for use, 
 so that the article is quite lost to us. I am confident, 
 therefore, that your Ladyship will consider of this, 
 and allow it to be put down in your bill" 
 
 " Put it anywhere but on my coach-box, and don't 
 bore me 1 " answered Lady Juliana, tossing over the 
 patterns, and humming a tune. 
 
 "What," said her husband, "is that the leopard's 
 skin you were raving about last week, and are you 
 tired of it before it has been usedf 
 
 "And no wonder. Who do you think I saw in 
 the Park yesterday but that old quiz Lady Denham, 
 just come from the country, with her frightful old 
 coach set off with a hammer-cloth precisely like the 
 one I had ordered. Only fancy people saying, Lady 
 Denham sets the fashion for Lady Juliana Douglas ! 
 Oh, there's confusion and despair in the thought!" 
 
 Confusion, at least, if not despair, was painted in 
 Henry's face as he saw the General's glance directed 
 alternately with contempt at Lady Juliana, and at 
 himself, mingled with pity. He continued to fidget 
 about in all directions, while Lady Juliana talked 
 nonsense to Mr. Shagg, and wondered if the General 
 never meant to go away. But he calmly kept his 
 ground till the man was dismissed, and another intro- 
 duced, loaded with china jars, monsters, and distorted 
 teapots, for the capricious fair one's choice and appro- 
 bation. 
 
 "Beg ten thousand pardons, my Lady, for not 
 
MAEEIAGE. 227 
 
 calling yesterday, according to appointment — quite an 
 unforeseen impediment. The Countess of Godolphin 
 had somehow got private intelligence that I had a set 
 of fresh commodities just cleared from the custom- 
 house, and well knowiag such things are not long in 
 hand, her La'ship came up from the country on pur- 
 pose — the Countess has so much taste ! — she drove 
 straight to my warehouse, and kept me a close prisoner 
 tin after your La'ship's hour ; but I hope it may not 
 be taken amiss, seeing that it is not a customary thing 
 with us to be calling on customers, not to mention 
 that this line of goods is not easily transported about. 
 However, I flatter myself the articles now brought 
 for your Ladyship's inspection will not be found be- 
 neath your notice. Please to observe this choice piece 
 — it represents a Chinese cripple squat on the ground, 
 with his legs crossed. Your Ladyship may observe 
 the head and chin advanced forwards, as in the act of 
 begging. The tea pours from the open mouth ; and, 
 till your Ladyship tries, you can have no idea of the 
 elegant effect it produces." 
 
 "That is really droll," cried Lady Juliana, with a 
 laugh of deHght; "and I must have the dear sick 
 beggar; he is so deHciously hideous." 
 
 "And here," continued Mr. Brittle, "is an amaz- 
 ing delicate article, in the way of a jewel — a frog of 
 Turkish agate for burning pastiles in, my Lady ; just 
 such as they use in the seragHo ; and indeed this one 
 I may call invaluable, for it was the favourite toy of 
 one of the widowed Sultanas till she grew devout and 
 
228 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 gave up perfumes. One of her slaves disposed of it 
 to my foreign partner. Here it opens at the tail, 
 where you put in the pastiles, and closing it up, the 
 vapour issues beautifully through the nostrils, eyes, 
 ears, and mouth, all at once. Here, sir," turning to 
 Douglas, " if you are curious in new workmanship, I 
 would have you examine this. I defy any jeweller in 
 London to come up to the fineness of these hinges, 
 and delicacy of the carving " 
 
 "Pshaw, damn it!" said Douglas, turning away, 
 and addressing some remark to the General, who was 
 provokingly attentive to everything that went on. 
 
 " Here," continued Mr. Brittle, " are a set of jars, 
 teapots, mandarins, sea-monsters, and pug-dogs, all of 
 superior beauty, but such as your Ladyship may have 
 seen before." 
 
 " Oh, the dear, dear little puggies ! I must have 
 them to amuse my own darlings. I protest here is 
 one the image of Psyche ; positively I must kiss it !" 
 
 " Oh dear ! I am sure," cried Mr. Brittle, simpering, 
 and making a conceited bow, " your Ladyship does it 
 and me too much honour. But here, as I was going 
 to say, is the phoenix of all porcelain ware — the ne 
 plus ultra of perfection — what I have kept in my back 
 room, concealed from all eyes, until your Ladyship 
 shall pronounce upon it. Somehow one of my shop- 
 men got word of it, and told her Grace of L (who 
 
 has a pretty taste in these things for a young lady) 
 that I had some particular choice article that I was 
 keeping for a lady that was a favourite of mine. Her 
 
MAKEIAGE. 229 
 
 Grace was in the shop the matter of a full hour and a 
 half, trying to wheedle me out of a sight of this rare 
 piece ; and I, pretending not to kaow what her Grace 
 would he after, hut showing her thing after thing, to 
 put it out of her head. But she was not so easily 
 bubbled, and at last went away ill enough pleased. 
 Now, my Lady, prepare all your eyes." He then went 
 to the door, and returned, carrying with difficulty a 
 large basket, which till then had been kept by one of 
 his satellites. After removing coverings of aU de- 
 scriptions, an uncouth group of monstrous size was dis- 
 played, which, on investigation, appeared to be a serpent 
 coiled in regular folds round the body of a tiger placed 
 on end ; and the whole structure, which was intended 
 for a vessel of some kind, was formed of the celebrated 
 green mottled chinar-invaluable to connoisseurs. 
 
 " View that well," exclaimed Mr. Brittle, in a trans- 
 port of enthusiasm, " for such a specimen not one of 
 haK the size has ever been imported to Europe. There 
 is a long story about this my phoenix, as I call it ; but, 
 to be brief, it was secretly procured from one of the 
 temples, where, gigantic as it may seem, and uncouth 
 for the purpose, it was the idol's principal teapot ! " 
 
 "Oh delicious!" cried Lady Juliana, clasping her 
 hands in ecstasy. " I wiU give a party for the sole 
 purpose of drinking tea out of this machine ; and I 
 will have the whole room fitted up like an Indian 
 temple. Oh ! it will be so new ! I die to send out my 
 
 cards. The Duchess of B told me the other day, 
 
 with such a triumphant air, when I was looking at 
 
230 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 her two little green jars, not a quarter the size of this, 
 that there was not a bit more of that china to be had 
 for love or money. Oh, she will be so provoked!" 
 And she absolutely skipped for joy. 
 
 A loud rap at the door now announcing a visitor, 
 Lady Juliana ran to the balcony, crying, " Oh, it must 
 be Lady Gerard, for she promised to call early in the 
 morning, that we might go together to a wonderful 
 sale in some far-off place in the city — at Wapping, for 
 aught I know. Mr, Brittle, Mr. Brittle, for the love 
 of heaven, carry the dragon into the back drawing- 
 room — I purchase it, remember ! — make haste ! — ^Lady 
 Gerard is not to get a ghmpse of it for the world." 
 
 The servant now entered with a message from Lady 
 Gerard, who would not alight, begging that Lady 
 JuHana would make haste down to her, as they had 
 not a moment to lose. She was flying away, without 
 further ceremony than a " Pray, excuse me," to the 
 General, when her husband called after her to know 
 whether the child was gone out, as he wished to show 
 her to the General. 
 
 "I don't know, indeed," replied the fashionable 
 mother ; "I haven't had time to see her to-day ;" and, 
 before Douglas could reply she was downstairs. 
 
 A pause ensued — the General whistled a quick 
 step, and Douglas walked up and down the room in a 
 pitiable state of mind, guessing pretty much what was 
 passing in the mind of his friend, and fully sensible 
 that it must be of a severer nature than anything he 
 could yet allow himself to think of his Juliana. 
 
MAKEIAGE. 231 
 
 "Douglas," said the General, "have you made any 
 step towards a reconciliation with your father-in-law ? 
 I believe it will become shortly necessary for your 
 support." 
 
 " Juliana wrote twice after her marriage,'' replied 
 he ; " but the reception which her letters met with 
 was not such as to encourage perseverance on our part. 
 With regard to myself, it is not an affair in which 
 delicacy will permit me to be very active, as I might 
 be accused of mercenary motives, which I am far from 
 having." 
 
 " Oh, of that I acquit you ; but surely it ought to 
 be a matter of moment, even to a — Lady Juliana. 
 The case is now altered. Time must have accustomed 
 him to the idea of this imaginary affront ; and, on my 
 honour, if he thought like a gentleman and a man of 
 sense, I know where he would think the misfortime 
 lay. Nay, don't interrupt me. The old Earl must 
 now, I say, have cooled in his resentment ; perhaps, 
 too, his grandchildren may soften his heart; this 
 must have occurred to you. Has her Ladyship taken 
 any further steps since her arrival in town ? " 
 
 " I — I believe she has not ; but I will put her in 
 mind." 
 
 "A daughter who requires to have her memory 
 refreshed on such a subject is likely to make a valu- 
 able wife !" said the General drily. 
 
 Douglas felt as if it was incumbent on him to be 
 angry, but remained silent 
 
 "Hark ye, Douglas,'' continued the General, "I 
 
232 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 speak this for your interest. You cannot go on with- 
 out the Earl's help. You know I am not on ceremony 
 with you ; and if I refrain from saying what you see 
 I think about your present ruinous mode of life, it 
 is not to spare your feelings, but from a sense of the 
 uselessness of any such remonstrance. What I do 
 give you is with goodwill ; but all my fortune would 
 not suffice to furnish pug-dogs and deformed teapots 
 for such a vitiated taste ; and if it would, hang me if 
 it should ! But enough on this head. The Earl has 
 been in bad health, and is lately come to town. His 
 son, too, and his lady are to come about the same time, 
 and are to reside with him during the season. I have 
 heard Lord Lindore spoken of as a good-natured easy 
 man, and he would probably enter willingly into any 
 scheme to reinstate his sister into his father's good 
 graces. Think of this, and make what you can of it ; 
 and my particular advice to you personally is, try to 
 exchange into a marching regiment ; for a fellow like 
 you, with such a wife, London is the very devil ! and 
 so good morning to you." He snatched up his hat, 
 and was off in a moment. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " To reckon up a thousand of lier pranks, 
 
 Her pride, her wasteful spending, her unkindness, 
 
 Her scolding, pouting, . . . 
 
 Were to reap an endless catalogue." 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 When Lady Juliana returned from her expedition, it 
 was so late that Douglas had not time to speak to her; 
 and separate engagements carrying them different 
 ways, he had no opportunity to do so until the follow- 
 ing morning at breakfast. He then resolved no longer 
 to defer what he had to say, and began by reproaching 
 her with the cavalier manner in which she had behaved 
 to his good friend the General. 
 
 "Upon my life, Harry, you are grown perfectly 
 savage," cried his Lady. "I was most particularly 
 civil ; I wonder what you would have me to do ? You 
 know very well I cannot have anything to say to old 
 men of that sort." 
 
 "I think," returned Henry, "you might have been 
 gratified by making an acquaintance with my bene- 
 factor, and the man to whom you owe the enjoyment 
 of your favourite pleasures. At any rate, you need 
 not liave made yourself ridiculous. May I perish 
 
234 MAEMAGE. 
 
 if I did not wish myself underground while you 
 were talking nonsense to those sneaking rascals who 
 wheedle you out of your money ! S'death ! I had a 
 good mind to throw them and their trumpery out 
 of the window when I saw you make such a fool of 
 yourself." 
 
 "A fool of myself ! how foolishly you talk ! and as 
 for that vulgar, awkward General, he ought to have 
 been too much flattered. Some of the monsters were 
 so like himself, I am sure he must have thought I 
 took them for the love of his round bare pate." 
 
 " Upon my soul, Julia, I am ashamed of you ! Do 
 leave off this excessive folly, and try to be rational 
 What I particularly wished to say to you is that your 
 father is in town, and it will be proper that you should 
 make another effort to be reconciled to him." 
 
 " I dare say it will," answered Lady Juliana, with 
 a yawn. 
 
 "And you must lose no time. When will you 
 write ? " 
 
 " There's no use in writing, or indeed doing any- 
 thing in the matter. I am sure he won't forgive me." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " Oh, why should he do it now ? He did not for- 
 give me when I asked him before." 
 
 "And do you think, then, for a father's forgiveness 
 it is not worth while to have a little perseverance ? " 
 
 " I am sure he won't do it ; so 'tis in vain to try," 
 repeated she, going to the glass, and singing, " Fapa 
 non dite di no," etc. 
 
MARRIAGE. 235 
 
 "By heavens, Julia!" cried her husband passion- 
 ately, " you are past all endurance ! Can nothing 
 touch you^ — nothing fix your thoughts, and make 
 you serious for a single moment ? Can I not make 
 you understand that you are ruiaing yourself and me; 
 that we have nothing to depend upon but the bounty 
 of that man whom you disgust by your caprice, extra- 
 vagance, and impertinence ; and that if you don't get 
 reconciled to your father what is to become of you ? 
 You already know what you have to expect from my 
 family, and how you like living with them." 
 
 "Heavens, Harry!" exclaimed her Ladyship, "what 
 is all this tirade about? Is it because I said papa 
 wouldn't forgive me? I'm sure I don't mind writ- 
 ing to him; I have no objection, the first leisure 
 moment I have ; but really, in town, one's time is so 
 engrossed." 
 
 At this moment her maid entered in triumph, 
 carrying on her arms a satin dress, embroidered with 
 gold and flowers. 
 
 "See, my Lady," cried she, "your new robe, as 
 Madame has sent home half a day sooner than her 
 word ; and she has disobliged several of the quality 
 by not giving the pattern." 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! charming ! Spread it out. Gage; hold 
 it to the light ; all my own fancy. Only look, Harry; 
 how exquisite ! how divine 1" 
 
 Harry had no time to express his contempt for 
 embroidered robes ; for just then one of his knowing 
 friends came, by appointment, to accompany him to 
 
236 MAERIAGE. 
 
 Tattersal's, where he was to bid for a famous pair of 
 curricle grays. 
 
 Days passed on without Lady Juliana's ever think- 
 ing it worth while to follow her husband's advice 
 about applying to her father; until a week after, 
 Douglas overheard the following conversation between 
 his wife and one of her acquaintance. 
 
 "You are going to this grand fUe, of course," said 
 Mrs. G. "I'm told it is to eclipse everything that 
 has been yet seen or heard of." 
 
 "Of what /^<e do you speak?" demanded Lady 
 Juliana. 
 
 " Lord, my dear creature, how Gothic you are ! 
 Don't you know anything about this grand affair that 
 everybody has been talking of for two days ? Lady 
 Lindore gives, at your father's house, an entertain- 
 ment which is to be a concert, ball, and masquerade 
 at once. All London is asked, of any distinction, c^a 
 s'entend. But, bless me, I beg pardon, I totally forgot 
 that you were not on the best terms possible in that 
 quarter ; but never mind, we must have you go ; there 
 is not a person of fashion that wiU stay away ; I must 
 get you asked ; I shall petition Lady Lindore in your 
 favour." 
 
 "Oh pray don't trouble yourself," cried Lady 
 Juliana, in extreme pique. " I beHeve I can get this 
 done without your obliging interference ; but I don't 
 know whether I shall be in town then." 
 
 From this moment Lady Juliana resolved to make 
 a vigorous effort to regain a footing in her father's 
 
MARRIAGE. 237 
 
 house. Her first action the next morning was to 
 write to her brother, who had hitherto kept aloof, 
 because he could not be at the trouble of having a 
 difference with the Earl, entreating him to use his 
 influence in promoting a reconciliation between her 
 father and herself. 
 
 No answer was returned for four days, at the end 
 of which time Lady Juliana received the following 
 note from her brother : — 
 
 "Dear Julia — I quite agree with you in thinking 
 that you have been kept long enough in the corner, 
 and shall certainly teU Papa that you are ready to 
 become a good girl whenever he shall please to take 
 you out of it. I shall endeavour to see Douglas and 
 you soon, — Yours affectionately, Lindore." 
 
 "Lady Lindore desires me to say you can have 
 tickets for her ball, if you choose to come en masgue." 
 
 Lady Juliana was delighted with this biUet, which 
 she protested was everything that was kind and 
 generous ; but the postscript was the part on which 
 she dwelt with the greatest deUght, as she repeatedly 
 declared it was a great deal more than she expected. 
 " You see, Harry," said she, as she tossed the note to 
 him, "I was in the right. Papa won't forgive me; 
 but Lindore says he will send me a ticket for the 
 fete ; it is vastly attentive of him, for I did not ask 
 it. But I must go disguised, which is monstrous pro- 
 voking, for I'm afraid nobody will know me." 
 
238 MARRIAGE. 
 
 A dispute here ensued. Henry swore she should 
 not steal into her father's house as long as she was 
 his vfiie. The lady insisted that she should go to her 
 brother's fMe when she was invited; and the alter- 
 cation ended as altercations commonly do, leaving 
 both parties more wedded to their own opinion than 
 at first. 
 
 In the evening Lady Juliana went to a large party; 
 and as she was passing from one room into another 
 she was startled, by a little paper pellet thrown at 
 her. Turning round to look for the offender, she 
 saw her brother standing at a little distance, smiling 
 at her surprise. This was the first time she had seen 
 him for two years, and she went up to him with an 
 extended hand, while he gave her a familiar nod, and 
 a "How d'ye do, Julia?" and one finger of his hand, 
 while he turned round to speak to one of his com- 
 panions. Nothing could be more characteristic of 
 both parties than this fraternal meeting ; and from 
 this time they were the best friends imaginable. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Helas ! ou done cheroher ou trouver le bonhewr, 
 Nulle part tout entier, partout aveo mesure ! " 
 
 VOLTAIEB. 
 
 Some days before the expected fUe Lady Juliana, at 
 the instigation of her adviser, Lady Gerard, resolved 
 
 upon taking the field against the Duchess of L . 
 
 Her Grace had issued cards for a concert ; and after 
 mature deliberation it was decided that her rival 
 should strike out something new, and announce a 
 christening for the same night. 
 
 The first intimation Douglas had of the honour 
 intended him by this arrangement was through the 
 medium of the newspaper, for the husband and wife 
 were now much too fashionable to be at aU au fait of 
 each other's schemes. His first emotion was to be 
 extremely surprised ; the next to be exceedingly dis- 
 pleased; and the last to be highly gratified at the 
 6clat with which his child was to be made a Christian. 
 True, he had intended requesting the General to act 
 as godfather upon the occasion; but Lady Juliana 
 protested she would rather the child never should be 
 christened at all (which already seemed nearly to 
 have been the case) than have that cross vulgar-look- 
 
240 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 ing man to stand sponsor. Her Ladyship, however, 
 so far conceded that the General was to have the 
 honour of giving his name to the next, if a boy, for 
 she was now near her second confinement ; and, with 
 this promise Henry was satisfied to slight the only 
 being in the world to whom he looked for support to 
 himself and his children. In the utmost delight the 
 fond mother drove away to consult her confidants 
 upon the name and decorations of the child, whom 
 she had not even looked at for many days. 
 
 Everything succeeded to admiration. Amid crowds 
 of spectators, in all the pomp of lace and satin, sur- 
 rounded by princes and peers, and handed from 
 duchesses to countesses, the twin daughter of Henry 
 Douglas, and the heroine of future story, became a 
 Christian by the names of Adelaide JuHa. 
 
 Some months previous to this event Lady Juliana 
 had received a letter from Mrs. Douglas, informing 
 her of the rapid improvement that had taken place in 
 her little charge, and requesting to know by what 
 name she should have her christened; at the same 
 time gently insinuating her wish that, in comphance 
 with the custom of the country, and as a compliment 
 due to the family, it should be named after its pater- 
 nal grandmother. 
 
 Lady Juliana glanced over the first line of the 
 letter, then looked at the signature, resolved to read 
 the rest as soon as she should have time to answer it ; 
 and in the meantime tossed it into a drawer, amongst 
 old visiting cards and unpaid bills. 
 
MARRIAGE. 241 
 
 After vainly waiting for an answer, much beyond 
 the accustomed time when children are baptized, Mrs. 
 Douglas could no longer refuse to accede to the de- 
 sires of the venerable inmates of Glenfern ; and about 
 a month before her favoured sister received her more 
 elegant appellations, the neglected twin was baptized 
 by the name of Mary. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas's letter had been enclosed in the 
 following one from Miss Grizzy, and as it had not 
 the good fortune to be perused by the person to whom 
 it was addressed, we deem it but justice to the writer 
 to insert it here : — 
 
 "Glenfern Castle, July 3Qth, 17 — . 
 
 "My dearest Niece, Lady Juliana — I am 
 Certain, as indeed we all are, that it will Afford your 
 Ladyship and our dear Nephew the greatest Pleasure 
 to see this letter Franked by our Worthy and Eespect- 
 able Friend Sir Sampson Maclaughlan, Bart., especially 
 as it is the First he has ever franked ; out of compli- 
 ment to you, as I assure you he admires you excess- 
 ively, as indeed we all do. At the same Time, you 
 will of course, I am sure. Sympathise with us all in 
 the distress Occasioned by the melancholy Death of 
 our late Most Obliging Member, Duncan M'Dunsmuir, 
 Esquire, of Dhunacrag and Auchnagoil, who you never 
 have had the Pleasure of seeing. What renders his 
 death Particularly distressing, is, that Lady Mac 
 laughlan is of opinion it was entirely owing to eating 
 
 VOL. I, R M- 
 
242 MAREIAGE. 
 
 Eaw oysters, and damp feet. This ought to be a 
 warning to all Young people to take care of Wet feet, 
 and Especially eating Raw oysters, which are certainly 
 Highly dangerous, particularly where there is any 
 Tendency to Gout. I hope, my dear Niece, you have 
 got a pair of Stout walking shoes, and that both 
 Henry and you remember to Change your feet aiter 
 Walking. I am told Raw Oysters are much the 
 fashion in London at present ; but when this Fatal 
 Event comes to be Known, it will of course Alarm 
 people very much, and put them upon their guard 
 both as to Damp Feet and Raw oysters. Lady 
 Maclaughlan is in High spirits at Sir Sampson's Suc- 
 cess, though, at the Same Time, I assure you, she 
 Felt much for the Distress of poor Mr. MTDunsmuir, 
 and had sent him a Large Box of Pills, and a Bottle 
 of Gout Tincture, only two days before he died. 
 This will be a great Thing for you, and especially for 
 Henry, my dear niece, as Sir Sampson and Lady 
 Maclaughlan are going to London directly to take his 
 Seat in Parliament; and she wiU make a point of 
 Paying you every attention, and wiU Matronise you 
 to the play, and any other Public places you may wish 
 to go ; as both my Sisters and I are of opinion you 
 are rather Young to matronise yourself yet, and you 
 could not get a more Respectable Matron than Lady 
 Maclaughlan. I hope Harry wont take it amiss if 
 Sir Sampson does not pay him so much Attention as 
 he might expect; but he says that he will not be 
 master of a moment of his own Time in London. He 
 
MARRIAGE. 243 
 
 will be so much taken up with the King and the Duke 
 of York, that he is afraid he will Disoblige a great 
 Number of the NobiUty by it, besides injuring his 
 own health by such Constant application to business. 
 He is to make a very fine Speech in ParHament, but 
 it is not yet Fixed what his First Motion is to be upon. 
 He himseH wishes to move for a New Subsidy to the 
 Emperor of Germany; but Lady Maclaughlan is of 
 opinion that it would be better to Bring in a Bill for 
 Building a bridge over the Water of Dlin ; which, to 
 be sure, is very much wanted, as a Horse and Cart 
 were drowned at the Ford last Speat. We are All, I 
 am happy to Say, in excellent Health. Becky is re- 
 covering from the Measles as well as could be Wished, 
 and the Eose^ is quite gone out of Bella's Face. 
 Beennie has been prevented from Finishing a most 
 Beautiful Pair of bottle Sliders for your Ladyship by 
 a whitlow, but it is now Mending, and I hope wiU be 
 done in Time to go with Babby's Vase Carpet, which 
 is extremely elegant, by Sir S. and Lady Maclaughlan. 
 This Place is in great Beauty at present, and the new 
 Byre is completely finished. My Sisters and I regret 
 Excessively that Henry and you should have seen 
 Glenfern to such disadvantage; but when next you 
 favour us with a visit, I hope it will be in Summer, 
 and the New Byre you will think a Prodigious Im- 
 provement. Our dear Little Grand-niece is in great 
 health, and much improved. We reckon her Extremely 
 like our Family, Particularly Becky ; though she has 
 1 Erysipelas, 
 
244 MAEEIAGE, 
 
 a great Look of Bella, at the Same Time, when she 
 Laughs. Excuse the Shortness of this Letter, my 
 dear Niece, as I shall Write a much Longer one by 
 Lady Maclaughlan. 
 
 " Meantime, I remain, my 
 
 " Dear Lady Juliana, yours and 
 
 " Henry's most afifect. aunt, 
 
 " Gkizzel Douglas." 
 
 In spite of her husband's remonstrance Lady Juliana 
 persisted in her resolution of attending her sister-in- 
 laVs masked ball, from which she returned, worn 
 out with amusement and surfeited with pleasure ; pro- 
 testing all the while she dawdled over her eyening 
 breakfast the following day that there was nobody 
 in the world so much to be envied as Lady Lindore. 
 Such jewels ! such dresses ! such a house ! such a 
 husband ! so easy and good-natured, and rich and 
 generous ! She was sure Lindore did not care what 
 his wife did. She might give what parties she pleased, 
 go where she liked, spend as much money as she 
 chose, and he would never_ trouble his head about the 
 matter. She was quite certain Lady Lindore had not 
 a single thing to wish for: ergo, she must be the 
 happiest woman in the world ! All this was addressed 
 to Henry, who had, however, attained the happy art 
 of not hearing above one word out of a hundred that 
 happened to fall from the " angel lips of his adored 
 Julia;" and, having iinished the newspapers, and 
 made himself acquainted with all the blood-horses, 
 
MAERIAGfE. 245 
 
 thorough -bred fillies, and brood mares therein set 
 forth, with a yawn and whistle sauntered away to 
 G 's, to look at the last regulation epaulettes. 
 
 Not long after, as Lady Juliana was stepping into 
 the carriage that was to whirl her to Bond Street she 
 was met by her husband, who, with a solemnity of 
 manner that would have startled any one but his 
 volatile lady, requested she would return with him 
 into the house, as he wished to converse with her 
 upon a subject of some importance. He prevailed on 
 her to return, upon condition that he would not detain 
 her above five minutes. When, shutting the drawing- 
 room doors, he said, with earnestness, " I think, JuUa, 
 you were talking of Lady Lindore this morning: 
 obUge me by repeating what you said, as I was read- 
 ing the papers, and really did not attend much to 
 what passed." 
 
 Her Ladyship, in extreme surprise, wondered how 
 Harry could be so tiresome and absurd as to stop her 
 airing for any such purpose. She really did not 
 know what she said. How could she ? It was more 
 than an hour ago. 
 
 "Well, then, say what you think of her now," 
 cried Douglas impatiently. 
 
 "Think of her! why, what all the world must 
 think — that she is the happiest woman in it. She 
 looked so uncommonly well last night, and was in 
 such spirits, in her fancy dress, before she masked. 
 After that, I quite lost sight of her." 
 
 " As every one else has done. She has not been 
 
246 MAERIAGE. 
 
 seen since. Her favourite St. Leger is missing too, 
 and there is hardly a doubt but that they are gone off 
 together." 
 
 Even Lady Juliana was shocked at this intelligence, 
 though the folly, more than the wickedness, of the 
 thing, seemed to strike her mind ; but Henry was no 
 nice observer, and was therefore completely satisfied 
 with the disapprobation she expressed for her sister- 
 in-law's conduct. 
 
 "I am so sorry for poor dear Lindore," said Lady 
 Juliana after having exhausted herseK in invectives 
 against his wife. "Such a generous creature as he 
 to be used in such a manner — it is quite shocking 
 to think of it ! If he had been an ill-natured stingy 
 wretch it would have been nothing ; but Frederick is 
 such a noble-hearted fellow — I dare say he would give 
 me a thousand pounds if I were to ask him, for he 
 don't care about money." 
 
 "Lord Lindore takes the matter very coolly, I 
 understand," replied her husband; "but — don't be 
 alarmed, dear Julia — your father has suffered a little 
 from the violence of his feelings. He has had a sort 
 of apoplectic fit, but is not considered in immediate 
 danger." 
 
 Lady Juliana burst into tears, desired the carriage 
 might be put up, as she should not go out, and even 
 
 declared her intention of abstaining from Mrs. D 's 
 
 assembly that evening. Henry warmly commended 
 the extreme propriety of these measures ; and, not to 
 be outdone in greatness of mind, most heroically sent 
 
MAEEIAGE. 247 
 
 an apology to a grand military dinner at the Duke of 
 
 Y 's; observing, at the same time, that, in the 
 
 present state of the family, one or two friends to a 
 quiet family dinner was as much as they' should be 
 up to. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIIL 
 
 " I but purpose to embark witli thee 
 On the smooth surface of a summer sea. 
 While gentle zephyrs play in prosp'rous gales, 
 And Fortune's favour fills the swelling sails." 
 
 Henry and Emma. 
 
 How long these voluntary sacrifices to duty and pro- 
 priety might have been made it would not be difficult 
 to guess ; but Lady Juliana's approaching confinement 
 rendered her seclusion more and more a matter of 
 necessity ; and shortly after these events took place 
 she presented her delighted husband with a son. 
 Henry lost no time in announcing the birth of his 
 child to General Cameron, and at the same time 
 requesting he would stand godfather, and give his 
 name to the chUd. The answer was as follows : — 
 
 " HoRT Lodge, Berks. 
 
 " Dear Henry — By this time twelvemonth I hope 
 it will be my turn to communicate to you a similar 
 event in my family to that which your letter an- 
 nounces to me. As a prelimiuary step, I am just 
 about to march into quarters for life with a young 
 woman, daughter to my steward. She is healthy, 
 
MAEEIAGE. 249 
 
 good-humoured, and of course vulgar, since she is no 
 connoisseur in china, and never spoke to a pug-dog in 
 her life. 
 
 " Your allowance will be remitted regularly from 
 my Banker until the day of my death ; you will then 
 succeed to ten thousand pounds, secured to your 
 children, which is all you have to expect from me. 
 If, after this, you think it worth your while, you are 
 very welcome to give your son the name of yours 
 faithfully, William Cameron." 
 
 Henry's consternation at the contents of this epistle 
 was almost equalled by Juliana's indignation. " The 
 daughter of a steward ! — Heavens ! it made her sick 
 to think of it. It was too shocking ! The man ought 
 to be shut up. Henry ought to prevent him from 
 disgracing his connexions in such a manner. There 
 ought to be a law against old men marrying " 
 
 "And young ones too," groaned Douglas, as he 
 thought of the debts he had contracted on the faith 
 and credit of being the General's heir ; for with all 
 the sanguine, presumption of thoughtless youth and 
 buoyant spirits, Henry had no sooner found his fault 
 forgiven than he immediately fancied it forgotten, 
 and himself completely restored to favour. His 
 friends and the world were of the same opinion ; and, 
 as the future possessor of immense wealth, he found 
 nothing so easy as to borrow money and contract 
 debts, which he now saw the impossibility of ever 
 discharging. Still he flattered himself the General 
 
250 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 might only mean to frighten him; or he might re- 
 lent; or the marriage might go off; or he might not 
 have any children; and, with these mighty hopes, 
 things went on as usual for some time longer. Lady 
 JuUana, who, to do her justice, was not of a more 
 desponding character than her husband, had also her 
 stock of hopes and expectations always ready to act 
 upon. She was quite sure that if papa ever came to 
 his senses (for he had remained in a state of stupe- 
 faction since the apoplectic stroke) he would forgive 
 her, and take her to live with him, now that that vile 
 Lady Lindore was gone, or, if he should never recover, 
 she was equally sure of benefiting by his death ; for 
 though he had said he was not to leave her a shilling, 
 she did not believe it. She was sure papa would 
 never do anything so cruel; and at any rate, if he 
 did, Lindore was so generous, he would do something 
 very handsome for, her ; and so forth. 
 
 At length the bubbles burst. The same paper that 
 stated the marriage of General William Cameron to 
 Judith Broadcast, Spinster, announced, in all the 
 dignity of woe, the death of that most revered noble- 
 man and eminent statesman, Augustus, Earl of Court- 
 land. 
 
 In weak minds it has generally been remarked 
 that no medium can be maintained. Where hope 
 holds her dominion she is too buoyant to be accom- 
 panied by her anchor ; and between her and despair 
 there are no gradations. Desperate indeed now 
 became the condition of the misjudging pair. Lady 
 
MARRIAGE. 251 
 
 Juliana's name was not even mentioned in her 
 father's will, and the General's marriage rendered his 
 settlements no longer a secret. In all the horrors 
 of desperation, Henry now found himself daily beset 
 by creditors of every description. At length the fatal 
 blow came. Horses, carriages, everything they could 
 call their own, were seized. The term for which they 
 held the house was expired, and they found them- 
 selves on the point of being turned into the street, 
 when Lady Juliana, who had been for two days, as 
 her woman expressed it, out of one fit into another, 
 suddenly recovered strength to signify her desire of 
 being conveyed to her brother's house. A hackney 
 coach was procured, into which the hapless victim of 
 her own follies was carried. Shuddering with disgust, 
 and accompanied by her children and their attendants, 
 she was set down at the noble mansion from which 
 she had fled two years before. 
 
 Her brother, whom she fortunately found at home, 
 lolling upon a sofa with a new novel in his hand, 
 received her without any marks of surprise ; said those 
 things happened every day ; hoped Captain Douglas 
 would contrive to get himself extricated from this 
 slight embarrassment; and informed his sister that 
 she was welcome to occupy her old apartments, which 
 had been lately fitted up for Lady Lindore. Then 
 ringing the bell, he desired the housekeeper might 
 show Lady Juliana upstairs, and put the children in 
 the nursery; mentioned that he generally dined at 
 eight o'clock ; and, nodding to his sister as she quitted 
 
252 MAERIAGE. 
 
 the room, returned to his book, as if nothing had 
 occurred to disturb him from it. 
 
 In ten minutes after her entrance into Courtland 
 house Lady Juliana had made greater advances in re- 
 ligion and philosophy than she had done in the whole 
 nineteen years of her hf e ; for she not only perceived 
 that "out of evil cometh good," but was perfectly 
 ready to admit that "all is for the best," and that 
 "whatever is, is right." 
 
 " How lucky is it for me," exclaimed she to herself, 
 as she surveyed the splendid suite of apartments that 
 were destined for her accommodation — "how very 
 fortunate that things have turned out as they have 
 done; that Lady Lindore should have rim ofiF, and 
 that the General's marriage should have taken place 
 just at the time of poor papa's death " — and, in short. 
 Lady Juliana set no bounds to her seK-gratulations on 
 the happy turn of affairs which had brought about 
 this change in her situation. 
 
 To a heart not whoUy devoid of feeling, and a 
 mind capable of anything like reflection, the desolate 
 appearance of this magnificent mansion would have 
 excited emotions of a very different nature. The 
 apartments of the late Earl, with their wide extended 
 doors and windows, sheeted furniture, and air of 
 dreary order, exhibited that waste and chilling aspect 
 which marks the chambers of death ; and even Lady 
 JuHana shuddered, she knew not why, as she passed 
 through them. 
 
 Those of Lady Lindore presented a picture not less 
 
MARRIAGE. 253 
 
 striking, could her thoughtless successor have profited 
 by the lesson they ofi'ered. Here was all that the 
 most capricious fancy, the most boundless extrava- 
 gance, the most refined luxury, could wish for or sug- 
 gest. The bedchamber, dressing-room, and boudoir 
 were each fitted up in a style that seemed rather 
 suited for the pleasures of an Eastern sultana or 
 Grecian courtesan than for the domestic comfort of 
 a British matron. 
 
 "I wonder how Lady Lindore could find in her 
 heart to leave this delicious boudoir," observed Lady 
 Juliana to the old housekeeper. 
 
 " I rather wonder, my Lady, how she could find 
 iu her heart to leave these pretty babies," returned 
 the good woman, as a little boy came running into 
 the room, calling, "Mamma, mamma !" Lady Juliana 
 had nothing to say to children beyond a " How d'ye 
 do, love?" and the child, after regarding her for a 
 moment, with a look of disappointment, ran away back 
 to his nursery. 
 
 When Lady Juhana had fairly settled herself in 
 her new apartments, and the tumult of delight began 
 to subside, it occurred to her that something must be 
 done for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands 
 of a brother officer, in a state Httle short of distraction. 
 She accordingly went in search of her brother, to re- 
 quest his advice and assistance, and found him, it be- 
 ing nearly dark, preparing to set out on his morning's 
 ride. Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law 
 he declared himself ready to assist Mr. Douglas as far 
 
254 MARRIAGE. 
 
 as he was able; but he had just learned from his 
 people of business that his own affairs were somewhat 
 involved. The late Earl had expended enormous 
 sums on political purposes; Lady Lindore had run 
 through a prodigious deal of money, he beheved ; and 
 he himself had some debts, amounting, he was told, 
 to seventy thousand pounds. Lady Juliana was all 
 aghast at this information, which was delivered with 
 the most perfect nonchalance by the Earl, while he 
 amused himself with his Newfoundland dog. Unable 
 to conceal her disappointment at these effects of her 
 brother's "liberality and generosity," Lady Juliana 
 burst into tears. 
 
 The Earl's sensibility was akin to his generosity ; 
 he gave money (or rather allowed it to be taken) 
 freely when he had it, from indolence and easiness of 
 temper; he hated the sight of distress in any in- 
 dividual, because it occasioned trouble, and was, in 
 short, a lore. He therefore made haste to reheve his 
 sister's alarm by assuring her that these were mere 
 trifles ; that, as for Douglas's affairs, he would order 
 his agent to arrange everything in his name ; hoped 
 to have the pleasure of seeing him at dinner ; recom- 
 mended to his sister to have some pheasant pies for 
 luncheon ; and, calling Carlo, set out upon his ride. 
 
 However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified 
 and disappointed at learning the state of her brother's 
 finances, she began, by degrees, to extract the greatest 
 consolation from the comparative insignificance of her 
 own debts to those of the Earl ; and accordingly, in 
 
MARRIAGE. 255 
 
 high spirits at this newly discovered and judicious 
 source of comfort, she despatched the following note 
 to her husband : — 
 
 "Dearest Henry — I have been received in the 
 kindest manner imaginable by Frederick, and have 
 been put in possession of my old apartments, which 
 are so much altered, I should never have known them. 
 They were furnished by Lady Lindore, who really has 
 a diArine taste. I long to show you all the delights of 
 this abode. Frederick desired me to say that he ex- 
 pects to see you here at dinner, and that he will take 
 charge of paying all our bills whenever he gets money. 
 Only think of his owing a hundred thousand pounds, 
 besides all papa's and Lady Lindore's debts ! I assure 
 you I was almost ashamed to tell him of ours, they 
 sounded so trifling; but it is quite a relief to find 
 other people so much worse. Indeed, I always thought 
 it quite natural for us to run in debt, considering that 
 we had no money to pay anything, while Courtland, 
 who is as rich as a Jew, is so hampered. I shall 
 expect you at eight, until when, adieu, mio caw, 
 
 "Your Julie. 
 
 " I am quite wretched about you." 
 
 This tender and consolatory billet Henry had not 
 the satisfaction of receiving, having been arrested, 
 shortly after his wife's departure, at the suit of 
 Mr. Shagg, for the sum of two thousand some odd 
 hundreds, for carriages jobbed, bought, exchanged, 
 repaired, returned, etc. 
 
256 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Lady Juliana's horror and dismay at the news of 
 her husband's arrest were excessive. Her only ideas 
 of confinement were taken from those pictures of the 
 Bastile and Inquisition that she had read so much 
 of in French and German novels ; and the idea of a 
 prison was indissolubly united in her mind with bread 
 and water, chains and straw, dungeons and darkness. 
 Callous and selfish, therefore, as she might be, she 
 was not yet so whoUy void of all natural feeling as to 
 think with indifference of the man she had once fondly 
 loved reduced to such a pitiable condition. 
 
 Almost frantic at the phantom of her own creation, 
 she flew to her brother's apartment, and, in the wildest 
 and most incoherent manner, besought him to rescue 
 her poor Henry from chains and a dungeon. 
 
 With some difficulty Lord Courtland at length 
 apprehended the extent of his brother-in-law's mis- 
 fortune j and, with his usual sang froid, smiled at his 
 sister's simplicity, assured her the King's Bench was 
 the pleasantest place in the world ; that some of his 
 own most particular friends were there, who gave 
 capital dinners, and led the most desirable lives ima- 
 ginable. 
 
 " And will he really not be fed on bread and water, 
 and wear chains, and sleep upon straw?" asked the 
 tender wife in the utmost surprise and dehght " Oh, 
 then, he is not so much to be pitied, though I daresay 
 he would rather get out of prison too." 
 
 The Earl promised to obtain his release the follow- 
 ing day, and Lady Juliana returned to her toilet with 
 
MARRIAGE. 257 
 
 a much higher opinion of prisons than she had ever 
 entertained before. 
 
 Lord Courtland, for once in his life, was punctual 
 to his promise; and even interested himseK so 
 thoroughly in Douglas's affairs, though without in- 
 quiring into any particulars, as to take upon himself 
 the discharge of his debts, and to procure leave for 
 him to exchange into a regiment of the line, then 
 under orders for India. 
 
 Upon hearing of this arrangement Lady Juhana's 
 grief and despair, as usual, set all reason at defiance. 
 She would not suffer her dear, dear Harry to leave 
 her. She knew she could not live without him ; she 
 was sure she should die; and Harry would be sea- 
 sick, and grow so yellow and so ugly that when he 
 came back she should never have any comfort in him 
 again. 
 
 Henry, who had never doubted her readiness to 
 accompany him, immediately hastened to assuage her 
 anguish by assuring her that it had always been his 
 intention to take her along with him. 
 
 That was worse and worse : she wondered how he 
 could be so barbarous and absurd as to think of her 
 leaving all her friends and going to Hve amongst 
 savages. She had done a great deal in living so long 
 contentedly with him in Scotland; but she never 
 could nor would make such another sacrifice. Be» 
 sides, she was sure poor Courtland could not do with- 
 out her ; she knew he never would marry again ; and 
 who would take care of his dear children, and educate 
 
 VOL. I. s M. 
 
258 MARRIAGE. 
 
 them properly, if she did not 1 It would be too un- 
 grateful to desert Frederick, after all he had done for 
 them. 
 
 The pride of the man, as much as the affection of 
 the husband, was irritated by this resistance to his 
 will ; and a violent scene of reproach and recrimina- 
 tion terminated in an eternal farewell 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " In age, in infancy, from others' aid 
 Is all our hope ; to teach us to he kind, 
 That nature's first, last lesson. " 
 
 Young. 
 
 The neglected daughter of Lady Juliana Douglas 
 experienced all the advantages naturally to be ex- 
 pected from her change of situation. Her watchful 
 aunt superintended the years of her infancy, and all 
 that a tender and judicious mother could do — all that 
 most mothers think they do — she performed. Mrs. 
 Douglas, though not a woman either of words or 
 systems, possessed a reflecting mind, and a heart 
 warm with benevolence towards everything that had 
 a being ; and all the best feelings of her nature were 
 excited by the little outcast thus abandoned by her 
 unnatural parent. As she pressed the unconscious 
 babe to her bosom she thought how blest she should 
 have been had a child of her own thus filled her 
 arms ; but the reflection called forth no selfish mur- 
 murs from her chastened spirit. While the tear of 
 soft regret trembled in her eye, that eye was yet 
 raised in gratitude to Heaven for having called forth 
 those delightful affections which might otherwise 
 have slumbered in her heart. 
 
260 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas had read much, and reflected more, 
 and many faultless theories of education had floated 
 in her mind. But her good sense soon discovered 
 how unavailing all theories were whose foundations 
 rested upon the inferred wisdom of the teacher, and 
 how intricate and unwieldy must be the machinery 
 for the human mind where the human hand alone is 
 to guide and uphold it. To engraft into her infant 
 soul the purest principles of religion was therefore 
 the chief aim of Mary's preceptress. The fear of God 
 was the only restraint imposed upon her dawning 
 intellect; and from the Bible alone was she taught 
 the duties of morality — not in the form of a dry code 
 of laws, to be read with a solemn face on Sundays, or 
 learned with weeping eyes as a week-day task — but 
 adapted to her youthful capacity by judicious illus- 
 tration, and familiarised to her taste by hearing its 
 stories and precepts from the lips she best loved. 
 Mrs. Douglas was the friend and confidant of her 
 pupil: to her all her hopes and fears, wishes and 
 dreads were confided ; and the first efibrt of her 
 reason was the discovery that to please her aunt she 
 must study to please her Maker. \ 
 
 "L'inutilit6 de la vie des femmes est la premier?^ 
 source de leurs desordres." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas was fully convinced of the truth of 
 this observation, and that the mere selfish cares and 
 vulgar bustle of life are not sufficient to satisfy the 
 immortal soul, however they may serve to engross it 
 
 A portion of Mary's time was therefore devoted to 
 
MAKEIAGE. 261 
 
 the daily practice of the great duties of life ; in admin- 
 istering in some shape or other to the wants and mis- 
 fortunes of her fellow -creatures, without requiring 
 from them that their virtue should have been imma- 
 culate, or expecting that their gratitude should be 
 everlasting. 
 
 "It is better," thought Mrs. Douglas, "that we 
 should sometimes be deceived by others than that we 
 should learn to deceive ourselves; and the charity 
 and goodwill that is suffered to lie dormant, or feed 
 itself on speculative acts of beneficence, for want of 
 proper objects to call it into use, will soon become 
 the corroding rust that vnll destroy the best feelings 
 of our nature." 
 
 But although Mary strenuously applied herself to 
 the uses of Hfe, its embellishments were by no means 
 neglected. She was happily endowed by nature ; and, 
 under the judicious management of her aunt, made 
 rapid though unostentatious progress in the improve- 
 ment of the talents committed to her care. Without 
 having been blessed with the advantages of a dancing- 
 master, her step was hght, and her motions free and 
 graceful ; and if her aunt had not been able to impart 
 to her the favourite graces of the most fashionable 
 singer of the day, neither had she thwarted the efforts 
 of her own natural taste in forming a style full of 
 simplicity and feeHng. In the modern languages she 
 was perfectly skilled ; and if her drawings wanted the 
 enlivening touches of the master to give them effect, 
 as an atonement they displayed a perfect knowledge 
 
262 MARRIAGE. 
 
 of the rules of perspective and the study of the 
 bust. 
 
 All this -was, however, mere leather and prunella 
 to the ladies of Glenfern ; and many were the cogita- 
 tions and consultations that took place on the subject 
 of Mary's mismanagement. According to their ideas 
 there could be but one good system of education ; and 
 that was the one that had been pursued with them, 
 and through them transmitted to their nieces. 
 
 To attend the parish church and remember the 
 text; to observe who was there and who was not 
 there; and to wind up the evening with a sermon 
 stuttered and stammered through by one of the girls 
 (the worst reader always piously selected, for the 
 purpose of improving their reading), and particularly 
 addressed to the Laird, openly and avowedly snoring 
 in his arm-chair, though at every pause starting up 
 with a peevish " Weel?" — this was the sum total of 
 their religious duties. Their moral virtues were much 
 upon the same scale ; to knit stockings, scold servants, 
 cement china, trim bonnets, lecture the poor, and 
 look up to Lady Maclaughlan, comprised nearly their 
 whole code. But these were the virtues of ripened 
 years and enlarged understandings — what their pupils 
 might hope to arrive at, but could not presume to 
 meddle with. Their merits consisted in being com- 
 pelled to sew certain large portions of white-work; 
 learning to read and write in the worst manner; 
 occasionally wearing a collar, and learning the notes on 
 the spinnet. These acquirements, accompanied with 
 
MARRIAGE. 263 
 
 a great deal of lecturing and fault-finding, sufficed for 
 the first fifteen years ; when the two next, passed at 
 a provincial boarding-school, were supposed to impart 
 every graceful accomphshment to which women could 
 attain. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas's method of conveying instruction, it 
 may easily be imagined, did not square with their 
 ideas on that subject. They did nothing themselves 
 without a bustle, and to do a thing quietly was to 
 them the same as not doing it at all — it could not be 
 done, for nobody had ever heard of it. In short, like 
 many other worthy people, their ears were their only 
 organs of intelligence. They beheved everything they 
 were told ; but unless they were told, they believed 
 nothing. They had never heard Mrs. Douglas expati- 
 ate on the importance of the trust reposed in her, or 
 enlarge on the difiiculties of female education ; ergo, 
 Mrs. Douglas could have no idea of the nature of the 
 duties she had undertaken. 
 
 Their visits to LochmarUe only served to confirm 
 the fact. Miss Jacky deponed that during the month 
 she was there she never could discover when or how 
 it was that Mary got her lessons ; luckily the child 
 was quick, and had contrived, poor thing, to pick up 
 things wonderfully, nobody knew how, for it was really 
 astonishing to see how Uttle pains were bestowed upon 
 her ; and the worst of it was, that she seemed to do 
 just as she Hked, for nobody ever heard her reproved, 
 and everybody knew that young people never could 
 have enough said to them. All this differed widely 
 
264 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 from the eclat of their system, and could not fail of 
 causing great disquiet to the sisters. 
 
 " I declare I'm quite confounded at all this ! " said 
 Miss Grizzy, at the conclusion of Miss Jacky's com- 
 munication. "It really appears as if Mary, poor 
 thing, was getting no education at all; and yet she 
 can do things, too. I can't understand it; and it's 
 very odd in Mrs. Douglas to allow her to be so much 
 neglected, for certainly Mary's constantly with herself ; 
 which, to be sure, shows that she is very much spoilt ; 
 for although our girls are as fond of us as I am sure 
 any creatures can be, yet, at the same time, they are 
 always very glad — which is quite natural — to run 
 away from us." 
 
 " I think it's high time Mary had done something 
 fit to be seen," said Miss Nicky ; " she is now sixteen 
 past" 
 
 " Most girls of Mary's time of life that ever / had 
 anything to do with," repHed Jacky, with a certain 
 wave of the head, peculiar to sensible women, " had 
 something to show before her age. Bella had worked 
 the globe long before she was sixteen ; and Baby did 
 her filigree tea-caddy the first quarter she was at 
 Miss Macgowk's," glancing with triumph from the one 
 which hung over the mantelpiece, to the other which 
 stood on the tea-table, shrouded in a green bag. 
 
 "And, to be sure," rejoined Grizzy, "although 
 Betsy's screen did cost a great deal of money — that 
 can't be denied ; and her father certainly grudged it 
 very much at the time — there's no doubt of that ; yet 
 
MAEEIAGE. 265 
 
 certainly it does her the greatest credit, and it is a 
 great satisfaction to us all to have these things to show. 
 I am sure nobody would ever think that ass was made 
 of crape, and how naturally it seems to be eating the 
 beautiful chenille thistle ! I declare, I think the ass 
 is as like an ass as anything can be !" 
 
 "And as to Mary's drawing," continued the nar- 
 rator of her deficiencies, " there is not one of them fit 
 for framing : mere scratches with a chalk pencil — 
 what any child might do." 
 
 "And to think," said Nicky, with indignation, 
 "how Httle Mrs. Douglas seemed to think of the 
 handsome coloured views the girls did at Miss Mac- 
 gowk's." 
 
 " All our girls have the greatest genius for drawing," 
 observed Grizzy; "there can be no doubt of that; 
 but it's a thousand pities, I'm sure, that none of them 
 seem to hke it. To be sure they say — what I dare 
 say is very true — that they can't get such good paper 
 as they got at Miss Macgowk's ; but they have showed 
 that they can do, for their drawings are quite astonish- 
 ing. Somebody lately took them to be Mr. Touchup's 
 own doing ; and I'm sure there couldn't be a greater 
 compliment than that ! I represented all that to Mrs. 
 Douglas, and urged her very strongly to give Mary the 
 benefit of at least a quarter of Miss Macgowk's, were 
 it only for the sake of her carriage ; or, at least, to 
 make her wear our collar." 
 
 This was the tenderest of all themes, and bursts of 
 sorrowful exclamations ensued. The collar had long 
 
266 MARRIAGE. 
 
 been a galKng yoke upon their minds ; its iron had 
 entered into their very souls; for it was a collar 
 presented to the family of Glenfem by the wisest, 
 virtuousest, best of women and of grandmothers, the 
 the good Lady Girnachgowl ; and had been worn in 
 regular rotation by every female of the family till 
 now that Mrs. Douglas positively refused to subject 
 Mary's pliant form to its thraldom. Even the Laird, 
 albeit no connoisseur in any shapes save those of his 
 kine, was of opinion that since the thing was in the 
 house it was a pity it should be lost. Not Venus's 
 girdle even was supposed to confer greater charms 
 than the Girnachgowl collar. 
 
 " It's really most distressing ! " said Miss Grizzy to 
 her friend Lady Maclaughlan. 
 
 "Mary's back won't be worth a farthing; and we 
 have always been quite famous for our backs.'' 
 
 "Humph ! — that's the reason people are always so 
 glad to see them, child." 
 
 With regard to Mary's looks, opinions were not so 
 decided. Mrs. Douglas thought her, what she was, 
 an elegant, interesting-looldng girL The Laird, as he 
 peered at her over his spectacles, pronounced her to 
 be but a shilpit thing, though weel eneugh, consider- 
 ing the ne'er-do-weels that were aught her. Miss 
 Jacky opined that she would have been quite a 
 different creature had she been brought up like any 
 other girL Miss Grizzy did not know what to think ; 
 she certainly was pretty — nobody could dispute that 
 At the same time, many people would prefer Bella's 
 
MAEEIAGE. 267 
 
 looks ; and Baby was certainly uncommonly comely. 
 Miss Nicky thought it was no wonder she looked pale 
 sometimes. She never supped her broth in a wise- 
 Hke way at dinner ; and it was a shame to hear of a 
 girl of Mary's age being set up with tea to her break- 
 fast, and wearing white petticoats in winter — and 
 such roads, too ! 
 
 Lady Maclaughlan pronounced (and that was next 
 to a special revelation) that the girl would be hand- 
 some when she was forty, not a day sooner ; and she 
 would be clever, for her mother was a fool; and 
 foolish mothers had always wise children, and vice 
 versa, "and your mother was a very clever woman, 
 girls— humph ! " 
 
 Thus passed the early years of the almost forgotten 
 twin ; blest in the warm affection and mild authority 
 of her more than mother. Sometimes Mrs. Douglas 
 half formed the wish that her beloved pupil should 
 mix in society and become known to the world ; but 
 when she reflected on the dangers of that world, and 
 on the little soUd happiness its pleasures afford, she 
 repressed the wish, and only prayed she might be 
 allowed to rest secure in the simple pleasures she 
 then enjoyed. "Happiness is not a plant of this 
 earth," said she to herself with a sigh ; " but God 
 gives peace and tranquillity to the virtuous in all 
 situations, and under every trial. Let me then strive 
 to make Mary virtuous, and leave the rest to Him 
 who alone knoweth what is good for us ! " 
 
CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 " Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns, 
 The fortune of the family remains, 
 And gi-andsires' grandsons the long list contains." 
 
 Deydbn's Virgil. 
 
 " We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made on ; and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep." 
 
 Tempest. 
 
 But Mary's back and Mary's complexioii now ceased 
 to be the first objects of interest at Glenfern ; for, to 
 the inexpressible deKght and amazement of the sisters, 
 Mrs. Douglas, after due warning, became the mother 
 of a son. How this event had been brought about 
 without the intervention of Lady Maclaughlan was 
 past the powers of Miss Grizzy's comprehension. To 
 the last moment they had been sceptical, for Lady 
 Maclaughlan had shook her head and humphed when- 
 ever the subject was mentioned. For several months 
 they had therefore vibrated between their own san- 
 guine hopes and their oracle's disheartening doubts ; 
 and even when the truth was manifest, a sort of vague 
 tremor took possession of their mind as to what Lady 
 Maclaughlan would think of it. 
 
 " I declare I don't very well know how to announce 
 
MAEEIAGE. 269 
 
 this happy event to Lady Maclaughlan," said Miss 
 Grizzy, as she sat in a ruminating posture, with her 
 pen in her hand ; " it will give her the greatest plea- 
 sure, I know thatj she has such a regard for our 
 family, she would go any lengths for us. At the 
 same time, everybody must be sensible it is a delicate 
 matter to tell a person of Lady Maclaughlan's skill 
 they have been mistaken. I'm sure I don't know how 
 she may take it : and yet she can't suppose it will 
 make any difference in our sentiments for her. She 
 must be sensible we have all the greatest respect for 
 her opinion." 
 
 "The wisest people are sometimes mistaken," ob- 
 served Miss Jacky. 
 
 "I'm sure, Jacky, that's very true," said Grizzy, 
 brightening up at the brilhancy of this remark. 
 
 "And it's better she should have been mistaken 
 than Mrs. Douglas," foUowed up Miss Nicky. 
 
 "I declare, Nicky, you are perfectly right; and I 
 shall just say so at once to Lady Maclaughlan." 
 
 The epistle was forthwith commenced by the en- 
 hghtened Grizelda. Miss Joan applied herseK to the 
 study of " The Whole Duty of Man," which she was 
 determined to make herseK mistress of for the benefit 
 of her grand-nephew; and Miss Nicholas fell to 
 reckoning all who could, would, or should be at the 
 christening, that she might calculate upon the quan- 
 tity of dreaming-bread that would be required. The 
 younger ladies were busily engaged in divers and 
 sundry disputes regarding the right to succession to a 
 
270 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 once-white lutestring negligee of their mother's, which 
 three of them had laid their accounts with figuring 
 in at the approaching celebration. The old gentleman 
 was the only one in the family who took the least of 
 the general happiness. He had got into a habit of 
 being fretted about everything that happened, and he 
 could not entirely divest himself of it even upon this 
 occasion. His parsimonious turns, too, had consider- 
 ably increased ; and his only criterion of judging of 
 anything was according to what it would bring. 
 
 " Sorra tak me if ane wadnae think, to hear ye, 
 this was the first bairn that e'er was born ! What's 
 a' the f raize aboot, ye gowks?" (to his daughters) — 
 " a whingin get ! that'll tak mair oot o' fowk's pockets 
 than e'er it'll pit into them ! Mony a guid profitable 
 beast's been brought into the warld and ne'er a word 
 in in'ts heed." 
 
 All went on smoothly. Lady Maclaughlan testified 
 no resentment. Miss Jacky had the "The Whole 
 Duty of Man" at her finger-ends; and Miss Nicky 
 was not more severe than could have been expected, 
 considering, as she did, how the servants at Loch- 
 marlie must be living at hack and manger. It had 
 been decided at Glenfern that the infant heir to its 
 consequence could not with propriety be christened 
 anywhere but at the seat of his forefathers. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Douglas had good-humouredly yielded the point ; 
 and, as soon as she was able for the change, the whole 
 family took up their residence for a season under the 
 paternal roof. 
 
MARRIAGE. 271 
 
 Blissful visions floated around the pillows of the 
 happy spinsters the night preceding the christening, 
 which were duly detailed at the breakfast-table the 
 following morning. 
 
 "I declare I don't know what to think of my 
 dream," began Miss Grizzy. "I dreamt that Lady 
 Maclaughlan was upon her knees to you, brother, to 
 get you to take an emetic ; and just as she had mixed it 
 up so nicely in some of our black-currant jelly, little 
 Norman snatched it out of your hand and ran away 
 with it." 
 
 "You're eneugh to turn onybody's stamick wi' 
 your nonsense,'' returned the Laird gruffly. 
 
 "And I," said Miss Jacky, "thought I saw you 
 standing in your shirt, brother, as straight as a rash, 
 and good Lady Girnachgowl buckling her collar upon 
 you with her own hands." 
 
 "I wish ye wadna deive me wi' your havers!" 
 still more indignantly, and turning his shoulder to 
 the fair dreamer, as he continued to con over the 
 newspaper. 
 
 " And I," cried Miss Nicky, eager to get her mystic 
 tale disclosed, " I thought, brother, I saw you take and 
 throw all the good dreaming-bread into the ash-hole." 
 
 " By my troth, an' ye deserve to be thrown af ter't ! " 
 exclaimed the exasperated Laird, as he quitted the 
 room in high wrath, muttering to himself, " Hard case 
 — canna get peace — eat my vittals— fules — tawpies — 
 clavers ! " etc. etc. 
 
 "I declare I can't conceive why Glenf em should 
 
272 MARRIAGE. 
 
 be so ill pleased at our dreams," said Miss Grizzy. 
 " Everybody knows dreams are always contrary ; and 
 even were it otherwise, I'm sure I should think no 
 shame to take an emetic, especially when Lady Mac- 
 laughlan was at the trouble of mixing it up so nicely." 
 
 " And we have all worn good Lady Gimachgowl's 
 collar before now," said Miss Jacky. 
 
 " I think I had the worst of it, that had all my 
 good dreaming-bread destroyed," added Miss Nicky. 
 
 "Nothing could be more natural than your dreams," 
 said Mrs. Douglas, " considering how all these subjects 
 have engrossed you for some time past. You, Aunt 
 Grizzy, may remember how desirous you were of 
 administering one of Lady Maclaughlan's powders to 
 my little boy yesterday ; and you, Aunt Jacky, made 
 a point of trying Lady Gimachgowl's coUar upon 
 Mary, to convince her how pleasant it was; while 
 you. Aunt Nicky, had experienced a great alarm in 
 supposing your cake had been burned in the oven. 
 And these being the most vivid impressions you had 
 received during the day, it was perfectly natural that 
 they should have retained their influence during a 
 portion of the night.'' 
 
 The interpretations were received with high dis- 
 dain. One and aU declared they never dreamed of 
 anything that had occurred ; and therefore the visions 
 of the night portended some extraordinary good for- 
 tune to the family in general, and to httle Norman in 
 particular. 
 
 " The best fortune I can wish for him, and all of 
 
MARRIAGE. 273 
 
 US, for this day is, that he should remain quiet during 
 the ceremony," said his mother, who was not so elated 
 as Lady Macbeth at the predictions of the sisters. 
 
 The christening party mustered strong; and the 
 rites of baptism were duly performed by the Eev. 
 Duncan M 'Drone. The little Christian had been 
 kissed by every lady in company, and pronounced by 
 the matrons to be "a dainty little doug J" and by the 
 misses to be "the sweetest lamb they had ever seen!" 
 The cake and wine was in its progress round the com- 
 pany; when, upon its being tendered to the old 
 gentleman, who was sitting silent in his arm-chair, he 
 abruptly exclaimed, in a most discordant voice, "Hey! 
 what's a' this wastery for?" — and ere an answer 
 could be returned his jaw dropped, his eyes fixed, 
 and the Laird of Glenf ern ceased to breathe ! 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 ' ' They say miracles are past ; and we have our philosophical 
 persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and 
 causeless. Hence it is that we make trifles of ten-ors ; ensconc- 
 ing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit 
 ourselves to an unknown fear." — All's Well that Ends Well. 
 
 All attempts to reanimate the lifeless form proved 
 unavailing; and the horror and consternation that 
 reigned in the castle of Glenfern may be imagined, 
 but cannot be described. There is perhaps no feeling 
 of our nature so vague, so complicated, so mysterious, 
 as that with which we look upon the cold remains 
 of our fellow-mortals. The dignity with which death 
 invests even the meanest of his victims inspires us 
 with an awe no living thing can create. The monarch 
 on his throne is less awful than the beggar in his 
 shroud. The marble features — the powerless hand — 
 tjie stiffened limbs — oh ! who can contemplate these 
 with feelings that can be defined 1 These are the 
 mockery of all our hopes and fears, our fondest love, 
 our fellest hate. Can it be that we now shrink with 
 horror from the touch of that hand which but yester- 
 day was fondly clasped in our own ? Is that tongue, 
 whose accents even now dwell in our ear, for ever 
 
MAEKIAGE. 275 
 
 chained in the silence of death? These black and 
 heavy eyelids, are they for ever to seal up in darkness 
 the eyes whose glance no earthly power could restrain 1 
 And the spirit which animated the clay, where is 
 it now? Is it wrapt in bliss, or dissolved in woe? 
 Does it witness our grief, and share our sorrows ? or 
 is the mysterious tie that linked it with mortality for 
 ever broken ? And the remembrance of earthly scenes, 
 are they indeed to the enfranchised spirit as the morn- 
 ing dream, or the dew upon the early fiower ? Eeflec- 
 tions such as these naturally arise in every breast. 
 Their influence is felt, though their import cannot 
 always be expressed. The principle is in all the same, 
 however it may differ in its operations. 
 
 In the family assembled round the lifeless form 
 that had so long been the centre of their domestic 
 circle, grief showed itself under various forms. The 
 calm and manly sorrow of the son ; the saint-like feel- 
 ings of his wife ; the youthful agitation of Mary ; the 
 weak superstitious wailings of the sisters; and the 
 loud uncontrolled lamentations of the daughters ; all 
 betokened an intensity of suffering that arose from 
 the same source, varied according to the different 
 channels in which it flowed. Even the stem Lady 
 Maclaughlan was subdued to something of kindred 
 feeling ; and though no tears dropped from her eyes, 
 she sat by her friends, and sought, in her own way, 
 to soften their affliction. 
 
 The assembled guests, who had not yet been able 
 to take their departure, remained in the drawing-room 
 
276 MARRIAGE. 
 
 in a sort of restless solemnity peculiar to seasons of 
 collateral affliction, where all seek to heighten the 
 effect upon others, and shift the lesson from them- 
 selves. Various were the surmises and speculations 
 as to the cause of the awful transition that had just 
 taken place. 
 
 " Glenfern was nae like a man that wad hae gaen 
 aff in this gate," said one. 
 
 "I dinna ken," said another; "I've notic'd a 
 chainge on Grlenfem for a gey while noo." 
 
 " I agree wi' you, sir," said a third. " In my mind 
 Glenfern's been droopin' very sair ever since the last 
 tryst." 
 
 "At Glenfern's time o' life it's no surprisin'," 
 remarked a fourth, who felt perfectly secure of being 
 fifteen years his junior. 
 
 "Glenfern was na that auld neither,'' retorted a 
 fifth, whose conscience smote him with being several 
 years his senior. 
 
 " But he had a deal o' vexation frae his faemQy," 
 said an elderly bachelor. 
 
 "Ye offen see a hale stoot man, like cor puir 
 freend, gang like the snuff o' a cannel," coughed up 
 a pthisicky gentleman. 
 
 " He was aye a tume, boss-looking man ever since 
 I mind him," wheezed out a swollen asthmatic figure. 
 
 " An' he took nae care o' himsel'," said the Laird 
 of Pettlechass. "His diet was nae what it should 
 hae been at his time o' life. An' he was oot an' in, 
 up an' doon, in a' wathers, wat an' dry." 
 
MAKEIAGE. 277 
 
 "Glenfern's doings had nae thing to du wi' his 
 death,'' said an ancient gentlewoman with solemnity. 
 " They maun ken little wha ne'er heard the bod-word 
 of the family." And she repeated in Gaelic words 
 to the following effect : — 
 
 " When Lochdow shall turn to a lin/ 
 In Glenfern ye'U hear the din ; 
 When frae Benenck they shool the sna', 
 O'er Glenfern the leaves will fa' ; 
 When foreign geer grows on Benenck tap, 
 Then the fir tree wiU be Glenfern's hap. " 
 
 " An' noo, ma'am, will ye be sae gude as point oot 
 the meanin' o' this freet," said an incrediilous-looking 
 member of the company ; " for when I passed Loch- 
 dow this mornin' I neither saw nor heard o' a lin ; 
 an' frae this window we can a' see Benenck wi' his 
 white night-cap on ; an' he wad hae little to do that 
 wad try to shool it aff." 
 
 " It's neither o' the still water nor the stay brae 
 that the word was spoke," replied the dame, with a 
 disdainful frown ; " they tak' nae part in our doings : 
 but kent ye nae that Lochdow himsel' had tined his 
 sight in a cataract; an' is nae there dule an' din 
 eneuch in Glenfern the day ? An' kent ye nae that 
 Benenck had his auld white pow shaven, an' that 
 he's gettin' a jeezy frae Edinburgh 1 — an' I'se warran' 
 he'll be in his braw wig the very day that Glenfern'll 
 be laid in his deal coffin." 
 
 The company admitted the application was too 
 
 ^ Cataract. 
 
278 MABRIAGE. 
 
 close to be resisted ; but the same sceptic (-who, by- 
 the-bye, was only a low country merchant, elevated 
 by purchase to the dignity of a Highland laird) was 
 seen to shrug his shoulders, and heard to make some 
 sneering remarks on the days of second -sights and 
 such superstitious nonsense being past. This was 
 instantly laid hold of ; and amongst many others of 
 the same sort, the truth of the following story was 
 attested by one of the party, as having actually 
 occurred in his family within his own remembrance. 
 
 " As Duncan M'Crae was one evening descending 
 Benvoilloich, he perceived a funeral procession in the 
 vale beneath. He was greatly surprised, not having 
 heard of any death in the country ; and this appeared 
 to be the burial of some person of consequence, from 
 the number of the attendants. He made all the 
 haste he could to get down; and as he drew near 
 he counted all the lairds of the country except my 
 father. Sir Murdoch. He was astonished at this, till 
 he recollected that he was away to the low country 
 to his cousin's marriage ; but he felt curious to know 
 who it was, though some unaccountable feeling pre- 
 vented him from mixing with the followers. He 
 therefore kept on the ridge of the hill, right over 
 their heads, and near enough to hear them speak; 
 but although he saw them move their lips, no sound 
 reached his ear. He kept along with the procession 
 in this way till it reached the Castle Dochart burying- 
 ground, and there it stopped. The evening was close 
 and warm, and a thick mist had gathered in the glen, 
 
MAEEIAGE. 279 
 
 while the tops of the hills shone like gold. Not a 
 breath of air was stirring, but the trees that grew 
 round the burying -ground waved and soughed, and 
 some withered leaves were swirled round and round, 
 as if by the wind. The company stood a while to 
 rest, and then they proceeded to open the iron gates 
 of the burying-ground ; but the lock was rusted and 
 would not open. Then they began to pull down 
 part of the wall, and Duncan thought how angry his 
 master would be at this, and he raised his voice and 
 shouted and hallooed to them, but to no purpose. 
 Nobody seemed to hear him. At last the wall was 
 taken down, and the coflB.n was Hfted over, and just 
 then the sun broke out, and gliuted on a new-made 
 grave; and as they were laying the coffin in it, it 
 gave way, and disclosed Sir Murdoch himself in his 
 dead clothes ; and then the mist grew so thick, 
 Duncan could see no more, and how to get home he 
 knew not ; but when he entered his own door he was 
 bathed in sweat, and white as any corpse; and all 
 that he could say was, that he had seen Castle 
 Dochart's burying. 
 
 " The following day," continued the narrator, " he 
 was more composed, and gave the account you have 
 now heard ; and three days after came the intelligence 
 of my father's death. He had dropped down in a fit 
 that very evening, when entertaining a large company 
 in honour of his cousin's marriage ; and that day week 
 his funeral passed through Glenvalloch exactly as 
 described by Duncan M'Crae, with all the particulars : 
 
280 MAERIAGE. 
 
 The gates of the burying-ground could not be. opened ; 
 part of the wall was taken down to admit the coflBn, 
 which received some injury, and gave way as they 
 were placing it in the grave." 
 
 Even the low-country infidel was silenced by the 
 solemnity of this story ; and soon after the company 
 dispersed, every one panting to be the first to circu- 
 late the intelligence of Glenfern's death. 
 
 But soon — oh, how soon ! " dies in human hearts 
 the thought of death ! " Even the paltry detail which 
 death creates serves to detach our minds from the 
 cause itself. So it was with the family of Glenfem. 
 Their light did not "shine inward;" and after the 
 first burst of sorrow their ideas fastened with avidity 
 on all the paraphernalia of affliction. Mr. Douglas, 
 indeed, found much to do and to direct to be done. 
 The elder ladies began to calculate how many yards 
 of broad hemming would be required, and to form a 
 muster-roll of the company ; with this improvement, 
 that it was to be ten times as numerous as the one 
 that had assembled at the christening; while the 
 young ones busied their imaginations as to the efiect 
 of new mournings — a luxury to them hitherto un- 
 known. Mrs. Douglas and Mary were diSerently 
 afifected. Eeligion and reflection had taught the 
 former the enviable lesson of possessing her soul in 
 patience under every trial; and while she inwardly 
 mourned the fate of the poor old man who had been 
 thus suddenly snatched from the only world that ever 
 had engaged his thoughts, her outward aspect was 
 
MAEEIAGE. 281 
 
 calm and serene. The impression made upon Mary's 
 feelings was of a more powerful nature. Slie had 
 witnessed suffering, and watched by sick-beds; but 
 death, and death in so terrific a form, was new to her. 
 She had been standing by her grandfather's chair — 
 her head was bent to his — her hand rested upon his, 
 when, by a momentary convulsion, she beheld the last 
 dread change — the living man transformed into the 
 lifeless corpse. The countenance but now fraught 
 with Hfe and human thoughts, in the twinkling of an 
 eye was covered with the shades of death ! It was 
 in vain that Mary prayed and reasoned and strove 
 against the feelings that had been thus powerfully 
 excited. One object alone possessed her imagination 
 —the image of her grandfather dying — dead; his 
 grim features, his ghastly visage, his convulsive grasp, 
 were ever present, by day and by night. Her nervous 
 system had received a shock too powerful for all the 
 strength of her imderstanding to contend with. Mrs. 
 Douglas sought by every means to soothe her feelings 
 and divert her attention ; and flattered herself that a 
 short time would allay the perturbation of her youth- 
 ful emotions. 
 
 Five hundred persons, horse and foot, high and 
 low, male and female, graced the obsequies of the 
 Laird of Glenfern. Benenck was there in his new 
 wig, and the autumnal leaves dropped on the coffin as 
 it was borne slowly along the vale ! 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " It is no diminution, but a recommendation of human nature, 
 that, in some instances, passion gets the better of reason, and 
 all that we can think is impotent against half what we feel." — 
 Spectaior. 
 
 " Life is a mingled yarn ; " few of its afflictions but 
 are accompanied with some alleviation — none of its 
 blessings that do not bring some alloy. like most 
 other events that long have formed the object of 
 yearning and almost hopeless wishes, and on which 
 have been bmlt the fairest structure of human felicity, 
 the arrival of the young heir of Glenfem produced 
 a less extraordinary degree of happiness than had 
 been anticipated. The melancholy event which had 
 marked the first ceremonial of his life had cast its 
 gloom alike on aU nearly connected with him ; and 
 when time had dispelled the clouds of recent mourn- 
 ing, and restored the mourners to their habitual train 
 of thought and action, somewhat of the novelty which 
 had given him such lively interest in the hearts of the 
 sisters had subsided. The distressing conviction, too, 
 more and more forced itself upon them, that their 
 advice and assistance were likely to be whoUy over- 
 looked in the nurture of the infant mind and manage- 
 
MARRIAGE. 283 
 
 ment of the thriving frame of their little nephew. 
 Their active energies, therefore, driven back to the 
 accustomed channels, after many murmurs and severe 
 struggles, again revolved in the same sphere as before. 
 True, they sighed and mourned for a time, but soon 
 found occupation congenial to their nature in the little 
 departments of life — dressing crape ; reviving black 
 silk ; converting narrow hems into broad hems ; and 
 in short, who so busyj who so important, as the ladies 
 of Glenfem 1 As Madame de Stael, or de Something 
 says, "they fulfilled their desl;inies." Their walk lay 
 amongst threads and pickles ; their sphere extended 
 from the garret to the pantry; and often as they 
 sought to diverge from it, their instinct always led 
 them to return to it, as the tract in which they were 
 destined to move. There are creatures of the same 
 sort in the male part of the creation, but it is foreign 
 to my purpose to describe them at present. Neither 
 are the trifling and insignificant of either sex to be 
 treated with contempt, or looked upon as useless by 
 those whom God has gifted with higher powers. In 
 the arrangements of an all-wise Providence there is 
 nothing created in vain. Every link of the vast chain 
 that embraces creation helps to hold together the 
 various relations of life ; and all is beautiful gradation, 
 from the human vegetable to the glorious archangel. 
 
 If patient hope, if unexulting joy, and chastened 
 anticipation, sanctifying a mother's love, could have 
 secured her happiness, Mrs. Douglas would have found, 
 in the smiles of her infant, all the comfort her virtue 
 
284: MARRIAGE. 
 
 deserved. But she still had to drink of that cup of 
 sweet and bitter, which must bathe the lips of all 
 who breathe the breath of life. 
 
 While the instinct of a parent's love wanned her 
 heart, as she pressed her infant to her bosom, the 
 sadness of affectionate and rational solicitude stifled 
 every sentiment of pleasure as she gazed on the 
 altered and drooping form of her adopted daughter — 
 of the child who had already repaid the cares that 
 had been lavished on her, and in whom she descried 
 the promise of a plenteous harvest from the good seed 
 she had sown. Though Mary had been healthy in 
 childhood, her constitution was naturally delicate, and 
 she had latterly outgrown her strength. The shock 
 she had sustained by her grandfather's death, thus 
 operating on a weakened frame, had produced an 
 effect apparently most alarming ; and the efforts she 
 made to exert herself only served to exhaust her. 
 She felt all the watchful solicitude, the tender 
 anxieties of her aunt, and bitterly reproached herself 
 ^vith not better repaying these exertions for her 
 happiness. A thousand times she tried to analyse 
 and extirpate the saddening impression that weighed 
 upon her heart. 
 
 "It is not sorrow,'' reasoned she with herself, 
 " that thus oppresses me ; for though I reverenced my 
 grandfather, yet the loss of his society has scarcely 
 been felt by me. It cannot be fear — the fear of death ; 
 for my soul is not so abject as to confine its desires to 
 this sublunary scene. What, then, is this mysterious 
 
MAEEIAGE. 285 
 
 dread that has taken possession of me 1 Why do I 
 suffer my mind to suggest to me images of horror, 
 instead of visions of bliss? Why can I not, as 
 formerly, picture to myself the beauty and the bright- 
 ness of a soul casting off mortality 1 Why must the 
 convulsed grasp, the stifled groan, the glaring eye, 
 for ever come betwixt heaven and me 1" 
 
 Alas ! Mary was unskilled to answer. Hers was 
 the season for feeling, not for reasoning. She knew 
 not that hers was the struggle of imagination striving 
 to maintain its ascendency over reality. She had heard 
 and read, and thought and talked of death; but it was 
 of death in its fairest form, in its softest transition : 
 and the veil had been abruptly torn from her eyes ; the 
 gloomy pass had suddenly disclosed itself before her, 
 not strewed with flowers but shrouded in horrors. 
 Like all persons of sensibility, Mary had a disposition 
 to view everything in a beau ideal : whether that is a 
 boon most fraught with good or ill it were difficult to 
 ascertain. While the delusion lasts it is productive 
 of pleasure to its possessor ; but oh ! the thousand 
 aches that heart is destined to endure which clings to 
 the stabihty and reHes on the permanency of earthly 
 happiness ! But the youthful heart must ever remain 
 a stranger to this saddening truth. Experience only 
 can convince us that happiness is not a plant of this 
 world ; and that, though many an eye hath beheld its 
 blossoms no mortal hand hath ever gathered its fruits. 
 This, then, was Mary's first lesson in what is called 
 the knowledge of life, as opposed to the beau ideal of 
 
286 MARRIAGE. 
 
 a young and ardent imagination in love with life, 
 and luxuriating in its own happiness. And, upon such 
 a mind it could not fail of producing a powerful 
 impression. 
 
 The anguish Mrs. Douglas experienced as she wit- 
 nessed the changing colour, lifeless step, and forced 
 smile of her darHng dlhe was not mitigated by the 
 good sense or sympathy of those around her. While 
 Mary had prospered under her management, in the 
 consciousness that she was fulfilling her duty to the 
 best of her abilities, she could listen with placid cheer- 
 fulness to the broken hints of disapprobation, or forced 
 good wishes for the success of her new-fangled schemes, 
 that were levelled at her by the sisters. But now, 
 when her cares seemed defeated, it was an additional 
 thorn in her heart to have to endure the commonplace 
 wisdom and seK-gratulations of the almost exult- 
 ing aunts ; not that they had the slightest intention 
 of wounding the feelings of their niece, Tv^hom they 
 really loved, but the temptation was irresistible of 
 proving that they had been in the right and she in 
 the wrong, especially as no such acknowledgment had 
 yet been extorted from her. 
 
 " It is nonsense to ascribe Mary's dwining to her 
 grandfather's death," said Miss Jacky. " We were all 
 nearer to him in propinquity than she was, and none 
 of our healths have suffered." 
 
 "And there's his own daughters," added Miss 
 Grizzy, " who, of course, must have felt a great deal 
 more than anybody else — there can be no doubt of 
 
MAKKIAGE. 287 
 
 that — such sensible creatures as them must feel a 
 great deal; but yet you see how they have got up 
 their spirits — I'm sure it's wonderful !" 
 
 " It shows their sense and the effects of education," 
 said Miss Jacky. 
 
 " Girls that sup their porridge will always cut a 
 good figure," quoth Nicky. 
 
 " With their fine feehngs I'm sure we have all 
 reason to be thankful that they have been blest with 
 such hearty stomachs," observed Miss Grizzy; "if 
 they had been dehcate, Uke poor Mary's, I'm sure I 
 declare I don't know what we would have done ; for 
 certainly they were aU most dreadfully afi'ected at their 
 excellent father's death; which was quite natural, poor 
 things ! I'm sure there's no pacifying poor Baby, and 
 even yet, neither Bella nor Betsey can bear to be left 
 alone in a dark room. Tibby has to sleep with them 
 still every night ; and a lighted candle too — which is 
 much to their credit — and yet I'm sure it's not with 
 reading. I'm certain — indeed, I think there's no doubt 
 of it — ^that reading does young people much harm. It 
 puts things into their heads that never would have 
 been there but for books. I declare, I think reading's 
 a very dangerous thing ; I'm certain aU Mary's bad 
 health is entirely owing to reading. You know we 
 always thought she read a great deal too much for 
 her good." 
 
 "Much depends upon the choice of books," said 
 Jacky, with an air of the most profound wisdom. 
 "Fordyce's Sermons and the History of Scotland are 
 
288 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 two of the very few books I would put into the hands 
 of a young woman. Our girls have read little else," 
 — casting a look at Mrs. Douglas, who was calmly 
 pursuing her work in the midst of this shower of 
 darts aU levelled at her. 
 
 "To be sure," retiu-ned Grizzy, "it is a thousand 
 pities that Mary has been allowed to go on so long ; 
 not, I'm sure, that any of us mean to reflect upon you, 
 my dear Mrs. Douglas ; for of course it was aU owing 
 to your ignorance and inexperience; and that, you 
 know, you could not help ; for it was not your fault ; 
 nobody can blame you. I'm certain you would have 
 done what is right if you had only known better; 
 but of course we must aU know much better than 
 you ; because, you know, we aie aU a great deal older, 
 and especially Lady Maclaughlan, who has the greatest 
 experience in the diseases of old men especially, and 
 infants. Indeed it has been the study of her hfe 
 almost; for, you know, poor Sir Sampson is never 
 well ; and I dare say, if Mary had taken some of her 
 nice worm -lozenges, which certainly cured Duncan 
 M'Nab's wife's daughter's little girl of the jaundice, 
 and used that valuable growing embrocation, which 
 we are aU sensible made Baby a great deal fatter, I 
 dare say there would have been nothing the matter 
 with her to-day." 
 
 "Mary has been too much accustomed to spend 
 both her time and money amongst idle vagrants," 
 said Nicky. 
 
 "Economy of both," subjoined Jacky, with an air 
 
MAKRIAGB. 289 
 
 of humility, " I confess I have ever been accustomed 
 to consider as virtues. These handsome respectable 
 new bonnets" — looking /rom Mrs. Douglas — " that our 
 girls got just before their poor father's death, were 
 entirely the fruits of their own savings. " 
 
 "And I declare," said Grizzy, who did not excel in 
 inuendos, "I declare, for my part — although at the 
 same time, my dear niece, I'm certain you are far from 
 intending it — I really think it's very disrespectful to 
 Sir Sampson and Lady Maclaughlan, in anybody, and 
 especially such near neighbours, to give more in charity 
 than they do ; for you may be sure they give as much 
 as they think proper, and they must be the best judges, 
 and can afford to give what they please; for Sir 
 Sampson could buy and sell all of us a hundred times 
 over if he liked. It's long since the Lochmarlie estate 
 was called seven thousand a year ; and besides that 
 there's the Birkendale property and the Glenmavis 
 estate, and I'm sure I can't tell you all what; but 
 there's no doubt he's a man of immense fortune." 
 
 Well it was known and frequently was it discussed, 
 the iniquity of Mary being allowed to waste her time 
 and squander her money amongst the poor, instead 
 of being taught the practical virtues of making her 
 own gowns, and of hoarding up her pocket-money for 
 some selfish gratification. 
 
 In colloquies such as these day after day passed 
 
 on without any visible improvement taking place in 
 
 her health. Only one remedy suggested itself to 
 
 Mrs. Douglas, and that was to remove her to the 
 
 VOL. I. u «• 
 
290 MARRIAGE. 
 
 south of England for the winter. Milder air and 
 change of scene she had no doubt would prove effica- 
 cious ; and her opinion was confirmed by that of the 
 
 celebrated Dr. , who, having been summoned to 
 
 the Laird of Pettlechass, had paid a visit at Glenfem 
 en passant. How so desirable an event was to be 
 accomplished was the difficulty. By the death of his 
 father a variety of business and an extent of farming 
 had devolved upon Mr. Douglas which obliged biTn 
 to fix his residence at Glenfem, and rendered it im- 
 possible for him to be long absent from it. Mrs. 
 Douglas had engaged in the duties of a nurse to her 
 little boy, and to take him or leave him was equally 
 out of the question. 
 
 In this dilemma the only resource that offered was 
 that of sending Mary for a few months to her mother. 
 True, it was a painful necessity; for Mrs. Douglas 
 seldom heard from her sister-in-law, and when she 
 did, her letters were short and cold. She sometimes 
 desired "a kiss to her (Mrs. Douglas's) little girl," 
 and once, in an extraordinary fit of good humour, 
 had actually sent a locket with her hair in a letter by 
 post, for which Mrs. Douglas had to pay something 
 more than the value of the present. This was all 
 that Mary knew of her mother, and the rest of her 
 family were still greater strangers to her. Her father 
 remained in a distant station in India, and was seldom 
 heard of. Her brother was gone to sea ; and though 
 she had written repeatedly to her sister, her letters 
 remained unnoticed. Under these circumstances 
 
MARRIAGE. 291 
 
 there was something revolting in the idea of obtrud- 
 ing Mary upon the notice of her relations, and trust- 
 ing to their kindness even for a few months ; yet 
 her health, perhaps her life, was at stake, and Mrs. 
 Douglas felt she had scarcely a right to hesitate. 
 
 " Mary has perhaps been too long an alien from 
 her own family," said she to herself ; " this will be a 
 means of her becoming acquainted with them, and of 
 introducing her to that sphere in which she is probably 
 destined to walk. Under her uncle's roof she will 
 surely be safe, and in the society of her mother and 
 sister she cannot be unhappy. New scenes wiU give 
 a stimulus to her mind ; the necessity of exertion will 
 brace the languid faculties of her soul, and a few 
 short months, I trust, will restore her to me such and 
 even superior to what she was. Why, then, should I 
 hesitate to do what my conscience teUs me ought to 
 be done ? Alas ! it is because I selfishly shrink from 
 the pain of separation, and am unwilling to relinquish, 
 even for a season, one of the many blessings Heaven 
 has bestowed upon me." And Mrs. Douglas, noble 
 and disinterested as ever, rose superior to the weak- 
 ness that she felt was besetting her. Mary listened 
 to her communication with a throbbing heart and 
 eyes suffused with tears ; to part from her aunt was 
 agony ; but to behold her mother — she to whom she 
 owed her existence, to embrace a sister too — and one 
 for whom she felt all those mysterious yearnings 
 which twins are said to entertain towards each other 
 — oh, there was rapture in the thought, and Mary's 
 
292 MARRIAGE. 
 
 buoyant heart fluctuated between the extremes of 
 anguish and delight. 
 
 The venerable sisters received the intelligence with 
 much surprise : they did not know very well what to 
 say about it ; there was much to be said both for and 
 against it. Lady Maclaughlan had a high opinion of 
 English air ; but then they had heard the morals of 
 the people were not so good, and there were a great 
 many dissipated young men in England ; though, to 
 be sure, there was no denying but the mineral waters 
 were excellent; and, in short, it ended in Miss Grizzys 
 sitting down to concoct an epistle to Lady Mac- 
 laughlan ; in Miss Jacky's beginning to draw up a 
 code of instructions for a young woman upon her 
 entrance into life; and Miss Nicky hoping that if 
 Mary did go, she would take care not to bring back 
 any extravagant English notions with her. The 
 younger set debated amongst themselves how many 
 of them would be invited to accompany Mary to Eng- 
 land, and from thence fell to disputing the possession 
 of a brown hair trunk, with a flourished D in brass 
 letters on the top. 
 
 Mrs. Douglas, with repressed feehngs, set about 
 offering the sacrifice she had planned, and in a letter 
 to Lady JuUana, descriptive of her daughter's situa- 
 tion, she sought to excite her tenderness without 
 creating an alarm. How far she succeeded will be 
 seen hereafter. In the meantime we must take a 
 retrospective glance at the last seventeen years of her 
 Ladyship's life. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 Her "only labour was to kill the time ; 
 And labour dire it is, and weary woe. " 
 
 CastU of Indolence. 
 
 Years liad rolled on amidst heartless pleasures and joy- 
 less amusements, but Lady Juliana was made neither 
 the wiser nor the better by added years and increased 
 experience. Time had in vain turned his glass before 
 eyes still dazzled with the gaudy allurements of the 
 world, for she took "no note of time" but as the 
 thing that was to take her to the Opera and the Park, 
 and that sometimes hurried her excessively, and some- 
 times bored her to death. At length she was com- 
 pelled to abandon her chase after happiness in the 
 only sphere where she believed it was to be found. 
 Lord Courtland's declining health unfitted him for 
 the dissipation of a London life ; and, by the advice 
 of his physician, he resolved upon retiring to a country 
 seat which he possessed in the vicinity of Bath. Lady 
 Juliana was in despair at the thoughts of this sudden- 
 wrench from what she termed "life;" but she had no 
 resource ; for though her good-natured husband gave 
 her the whole of General Cameron's allowance, that 
 scarcely served to keep her in clothes; and though 
 
294 MABEIAGB. 
 
 her brother was perfectly willing that she and her 
 children should occupy apartments in his house, yet 
 he would have been equally acquiescent had she pro- 
 posed to remove from it. Lady Juliana had a sort of 
 instinctive knowledge of this, which prevented her 
 from breaking out into open remonstrance. She 
 therefore contented herself with being more than 
 usually peevish and irascible to her servants and 
 children, and talking to her friends of the prodigious 
 sacrifice she was about to make for her brother and 
 his family, as if it had been the cutting off of a hand 
 or the plucking out of an eye. To have heard her, 
 any one unaccustomed to the hyperbole of fashionable 
 language would have deemed Botany Bay the nearest 
 possible point of destination. Parting from her 
 fashionable acquaintances was tearing herseK from 
 all she loved ; quitting London was bidding adieu to 
 the world. Of course there could be no society where 
 she was going, but still she would do her duty ; she 
 would not desert dear Frederick and his poor children ! 
 In short, no martyr was ever led to the stake with 
 haK the notions of heroism and self-devotion as those 
 with which Lady Juliana stepped into the barouche 
 that was to conduct her to Beech Park. In the society 
 of piping bullfinches, pink canaries, gray parrots, gold 
 fish, green squirrels, Italian greyhounds, and French 
 poodles, she sought a refuge from despair. But even 
 these varied charms, after a while, failed to please. 
 The bullfinches grew hoarse; the canaries turned 
 brown; the parrots became stupid; the gold fish 
 
MARRIAGE. 295 
 
 would not eat; the squirrels were cross; the dogs 
 fought ; even a shell grotto that was constructing fell 
 down ; and by the time the aviary and conservatory 
 were filled, they had lost their iaterest. The children 
 were the next subjects for her Ladyship's ennui to 
 discharge itseK upon. Lord Courtland had a son 
 some years older, and a daughter nearly of the same 
 age as her own. It suddenly occurred to her that 
 they must be educated, and that she would educate 
 the girls herself. As the first step she engaged two 
 governesses, French and Italian ; modem treatises on 
 the subject of education were ordered from London, 
 looked at, admired, and arranged on gilded shelves 
 and sofa tables ; and could their contents have exhaled 
 with the odours of their Russia leather bindings. Lady 
 JuHana's dressing-room would have been what Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds says every seminary of learning is, 
 " an atmosphere of floating knowledge." But amidst 
 this splendid display of human lore, the book found 
 no place. She had heard of the Bible, however, and 
 even knew it was a book appointed to be read in 
 churches, and given to poor people, along with Eum- 
 f ord soup and flannel shirts ; but as the rule of life, 
 as the book that alone could make wise unto salvation, 
 this Christian parent was ignorant as the Hottentot 
 or Hindoo. 
 
 Three days beheld the rise, progress, and decline 
 of Lady Juliana's- whole system of education ; and it 
 would have been well for the children had the trust 
 been delegated to those better qualified to discharge 
 
296 MARRIAGE. 
 
 it. But neither of the preceptresses was better skilled 
 in the only true knowledge. Signora Cicianai was a 
 bigoted Catholic, whose faith hung upon her beads, 
 and Madame Grrignon was an esprit forte, who had no 
 faith in anything but le plaisir. But the Signora's 
 singing was heavenly, and Madame's dancing was 
 divine, and what lacked there more 1 
 
 So passed the first years of beings training for 
 immortality. The children insensibly ceased to be 
 children, and Lady Juliana would have beheld the 
 increasing height and beauty of her daughter with 
 extreme disapprobation, had not that beauty, by 
 awakening her ambition, also excited her affection, if 
 the term affection could be applied to that heterogene- 
 ous mass of feelings and propensities that " shape had 
 none distinguishable." Lady Juliana had fallen into 
 an error very common with wiser heads than hers — 
 that of mistaking the effect for the cause. She looked 
 no farther than to her union with Henry Douglas for 
 the foundation of all her unhappiness ; it never once 
 occurred to her that her marriage was only the com- 
 sequence of something previously wrong ; she saw not 
 the headstrong passions that had impelled her to 
 please herself — no matter at what price. She thought 
 not of the want of principle, she blushed not at the ' 
 want of delicacy, that had led her to deceive a parent 
 and elope with a man to whose character she was 
 a total stranger. She therefore considered herself as 
 having fallen a victim to love ; and could she only 
 save her daughter from a similar error she might yet 
 
MAEEIAGE. 297 
 
 by her means retrieve her fallen fortune. To implant 
 principles of religion and virtue in her mind was not 
 within the compass of her own ; but she could scoff at 
 every pure and generous affection ; she could ridicule 
 every disinterested attachment ; and she could expa- 
 tiate on the never-fading joys that attend on wealth 
 and titles, jewels and equipages ; and all this she did 
 in the belief that she was acting the part of a most 
 wise and tender parent ! The seed, thus carefully 
 sown, promised to bring forth an abundant harvest. 
 At eighteen Adelaide Douglas was as heartless and 
 ambitious as she was beautiful and accompUshed ; but 
 the surface was covered with flowers, and who would 
 have thought of analysing the soil ? 
 
 It sometimes happens that the very means used 
 with success in the formation of one character pro- 
 duce a totally opposite effect upon another. The 
 mind of Lady Emily Lindore had undergone exactly 
 the same process in its formation as that of her cousin ; 
 yet in all things they differed. Whether it were the 
 independence of high birth, or the pride of a mind 
 conscious of its own powers, she had hitherto resisted 
 the sophistry of her governesses and the solecisms of 
 her aunt. But her notions of right and wrong were 
 too crude to influence the general tenor of her life, or 
 operate as restraints upon a naturally high spirit and 
 impetuous temper. Not all the united efforts of her 
 preceptresses had been able to form a manner for 
 their pupil; nor could their authority restrain her 
 from sajdng what she thought, and doing what she 
 
298 MARRIAGE, 
 
 pleased ; and, in spite of both precept and example, 
 Lady Emily remained as insupportably natural and 
 sincere as she was beautiful and piguante. At six 
 years old she had declared her intention of marrying 
 her cousin Edward Douglas, and at eighteen her words 
 were little less equivocal. Lord Courtland, who never 
 disturbed himself about anything, was rather diverted 
 with this juvenile attachment ; and Lady Juliana, who 
 cared little for her son, and still less for her niece, 
 only wondered how people could be such fools as to 
 think of marrying for love, after she had told them 
 how miserable it would make them. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ' ' Untlionght of frailties cheat us in the wise ; 
 The fool lies hid in inconsistencies." 
 
 Pope. 
 
 Such were the female members of the family to whom 
 Mary was ahout to be introduced. In her mother's 
 heart she had no place, for of her absent husband and 
 neglected daughter she seldom thought; and their 
 letters were scarcely read, and rarely answered. Even 
 good Miss Grrizzy's elaborate epistle, in which were 
 curiously entwined the death of her brother and the 
 birth and christening of her grand-nephew, in a truly 
 Grordian manner, remained disentangled. Had her 
 Ladyship only read to the middle of the seventh page 
 she would have learned the indisposition of her 
 daughter, with the various opinions thereupon; but 
 poor Miss Grizzy's labours were vain, for her letter 
 remains a dead letter to this day. Mrs. Douglas was 
 therefore the first to convey the unwelcome intelHgence, 
 and to suggest to the mind of the mother that her 
 alienated daughter still retained some claims upon her 
 care and affection ; and although this was done with 
 all the tenderness and delicacy of a gentle and enlight- 
 
300 MARRIAGE. 
 
 ened mind, it called forth the most bitter indignation 
 from Lady Juliana. 
 
 She almost raved at what she termed the base 
 ingratitude and hypocrisy of her sister-in-law. After 
 the sacrifice she had made in giving up her child to 
 her when she had none of her own, it was a pretty 
 return to send her back only to die. But she saw 
 through it. She did not believe a word of the girl's 
 illness ; that was a trick to get rid of her. Now they 
 had a child of their own, they had no use for hers ; 
 but she was not to be made a fool of in such a way, 
 and by such people, etc. etc. 
 
 "If Mrs. Douglas is so vile a woman," said the 
 provoking Lady Emily, "the sooner my cousiu is 
 taken from her the better." 
 
 "You don't understand these thiugs, EmUy,'' re- 
 turned her aimt impatiently. 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 " The trouble and annoyance it wUl occasion me 
 to take charge of the girl at this time." 
 
 " Why at this time more than at any other 1 " 
 
 " Absurd, my dear ! how can you ask so foolish a 
 question ? Don't you know that you and Adelaide are 
 both to bring out this winter, and how can I possibly 
 do you justice with a dyiag girl upon my hands 1 " 
 
 " I thought you suspected it was all a trick,'' con- 
 tinued the persecuting Lady Emily. 
 
 "So I do ; I haven't the least doubt of it. The 
 whole story is the most improbable stuff I ever 
 heard." 
 
MAEEIAGE. 301 
 
 "Then you will have less trouble than you 
 expect.'' 
 
 " But I hate to be made a dupe of, and imposed 
 upon by low cunning. If Mrs. Douglas had told me 
 candidly she wished me to take the girl, I would have 
 thought nothing of it ; but I can't bear to be treated 
 like a fool." 
 
 " I don't see anything at all unbecomiag in Mrs. 
 Douglas's treatment." 
 
 " Then what can I do with a girl who has been 
 educated in Scotland? She must be vulgar — all 
 Scotchwomen are so. They have red hands and 
 rough voices ; they yawn, and blow their noses, and 
 talk, and laugh loud, and do a thousand shocking 
 things. Then, to hear the Scotch brogue — oh, 
 heavens ! I should expire every time she opened her 
 mouth ! " 
 
 " Perhaps my sister may not speak so very broad," 
 kindly suggested Adelaide in her sweetest accents. 
 
 "You are very good, my love, to think so; but 
 nobody can hve in that odious country without being 
 infected with its paiois. I really thought I should 
 have caught it myself ; and Mr. Douglas " (no longer 
 Henry) "became quite gross in his language after 
 living amongst his relations." 
 
 "This is really too bad," cried Lady Emily indig- 
 nantly. "If a person speaks sense and truth, what 
 does it signify how it is spoken ? And whether your 
 Ladyship chooses to receive your daughter here or 
 not, I shall at any rate invite my cousin to my 
 
302 MABKUGE. 
 
 father's house." And, snatching up a pen, she in- 
 stantly began a letter to Mary. 
 
 Lady Juliana was highly incensed at this freedom 
 of her niece ; but she was a little afraid of her, and 
 therefore, after some sharp altercation, and with in- 
 finite violence done to her feehngs, she was prevailed 
 upon to write a decently civU sort of a letter to Mrs. 
 Douglas, consenting to receive her daughter for a few 
 months ; firmly resolving in her own mind to conceal 
 her from aU eyes and ears while she remained, and to 
 return her to her Scotch relations early in the summer. 
 
 This worthy resolution formed, she became more 
 serene and awaited the arrival of her daughter 
 with as much firmness as could reasonably have been 
 erpected. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 ' ' And for uafelt imaginationa 
 They often feel a world of restless cares." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Little -weened the good ladies of Glenfern the un- 
 gracious reception their proUgie was likely to experi- 
 ence from her mother ; for, in spite of the defects of 
 her education, Mary was a general favourite in the 
 family; and however they might solace themselves 
 by depreciating her to Mrs. Douglas, to the world in 
 general, and their young female acquaintances in par- 
 ticular, she was upheld as an epitome of every perfec- 
 tion above and below the sun. Had it been possible 
 for them to conceive that Mary could have been re- 
 ceived with anything short of rapture. Lady Juliana's 
 letter might in some measure have opened the eyes 
 of their understanding ; but to the guileless sisters it 
 seemed everything that was proper. Sorry for the 
 necessity Mrs. Douglas felt under of parting with her 
 adopted daughter, was "prettily expressed;" had no 
 doubt it was merely a slight nervous affection, " was 
 kind and soothing;" and the assurance, more than 
 once repeated, that her friends might rely upon her 
 being returned to them in the course of a very few 
 
304 MABEIAGE. 
 
 months, "showed a great deal of feeling and con- 
 sideration." But as their minds never maintained a 
 just equilibrium long upon any subject, but, like falsely- 
 adjusted scales, were ever hovering and vibrating at 
 either extreme, so they could not rest satisfied in the 
 belief that Mary was to be happy; there must be 
 something to counteract that stilling sentiment ; and 
 that was the apprehension that Mary would be spoilt 
 This, for the present, was the pendulum of their 
 imaginations. 
 
 "I declare, Mary, my sisters and I could get no 
 sleep last night for thinking of you," said Miss Grizzy ; 
 " we are aU certain that Lady Juliana especially, but 
 indeed all your English relations, will think so much 
 of you — from not knowing you, you know — which 
 will be quite natural I'm sure that my sisters and I 
 have taken it into our heads — but I hope it won't be 
 the case, as you have a great deal of good sense of 
 your own — that they wiU quite turn your head." 
 
 " Mary's head is on her shoulders to little purpose," 
 followed up Miss Jacky, "if she can't stand being 
 made of when she goes amongst strangers ; and she 
 ought to know by this time that a mother's partiality 
 is no proof of a child's merit.'' 
 
 "You hear that, Mary," rejoined Miss Grizzyj "so 
 I'm sure I hope you won't mind a word that your 
 mother says to you, I mean about yourself; for of 
 course you know she can't be such a good judge of 
 you as us, who have known you all your life. As to 
 other things, I daresay she is very well informed 
 
MARRIAGE. 305 
 
 about the country, and politics, and these sort of 
 things — I'm certain Lady Juliana knows a great deal." 
 
 "And I hope, Mary, you will take care and not 
 get into the daadlin' handless ways of the English 
 women," said Miss Nicky ; " I wouldn't give a pin for 
 an Englishwoman." 
 
 " And I hope you will never look at an English- 
 man, Mary," said Miss Grizzy, with equal earnestness ; 
 "take my word for it they are a very dissipated, 
 unprincipled set. They all drink, and game, and 
 keep race-horses ; and many of them, I'm told, even 
 keep play-actresses ; so you may think what it would 
 be for aU of us if you were to marry any of them,"— 
 and tears streamed from the good spinster's eyes at 
 the bare supposition of such a calamity. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, my dear aunt," said Mary, with 
 a kind caress ; " I shall come back to you your own 
 'Highland Mary.' No Englishman with his round face 
 and trim meadows shall ever captivate me. Heath- 
 covered hills and high cheek-bones are the charms that 
 must win my heart." 
 
 " I'm dehghted to hear you say so, my dear Mary," 
 said the literal-minded Grizzy. "Certainly nothing 
 can be prettier than the heather when it's in flower ; 
 and there is something very manly — nobody can dis- 
 pute that — in high cheek-bones ; and besides, to tell 
 you a secret, Lady Maclaughlan has a husband in her 
 eye for you. We none of us can conceive who it is, 
 but of course he must be suitable in every respect; for 
 you know Lady Maclaughlan has had three husbands 
 
 VOL. I. X ji 
 
306 MAHRIAGE. 
 
 herself ; so of course she must be an excellent judge 
 of a good husband." 
 
 "Or a bad one," said Mary, "which is the same 
 thing. Warning is as good as example." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas's ideas and those of her aunts did not 
 coincide upon this occasion more than upon most others. 
 In her sister-in-law's letter she flattered herself she saw 
 only fashionable indifference ; and she fondly hoped 
 that would soon give way to a tenderer sentiment, as 
 her daughter became known to her. At any rate it 
 was proper that Mary should make the trial, and 
 whichever way it ended, it must be for her advantage. 
 
 " Mary has already lived too long in these moun- 
 tain solitudes," thought she ; " her ideas will become 
 romantic, and her taste fastidious. If it is dangerous 
 to be too early initiated into the ways of the world, 
 it is perhaps equally so to live too long secluded from 
 it. Should she make herself a place in the heart of 
 her mother and sister it wiU be so much happiness 
 gained; and should it prove otherwise, it will be a 
 lesson learnt — a hard one indeed ! but hard are the 
 lessons we must all learn in the school of life !" Yet 
 Mrs. Douglas's fortitude almost failed her as the 
 period of separation approached. 
 
 It had been arranged by Lady Emily that a carriage 
 and servants should meet Mary at Edinburgh, whither 
 Mr. Douglas was to convey her. The cruel moment 
 came; and mother, sister, relations, friends, — all the 
 bright visions which Mary's sanguine spirit had con- 
 jured up to soften the parting pang, all were absorbed 
 
MAEEIAGE. 307 
 
 in one agonising feeling, one overwhelming thought. 
 Oh, who that for the first time has parted from the 
 parent whose tenderness and love were entwined with 
 our earliest recollections, whose sympathy had soothed 
 our infant sufferings, whose fondness had brightened 
 our infant felicity ; — who that has a heart, but must 
 have felt it sink beneath the anguish of a first fare- 
 well ! Yet bitterer still must be the feelings of the 
 parent upon committing the cherished object of their 
 cares and affections to the stormy ocean of life. 
 When experience points to the gathering cloud and 
 rising surge which soon may assail their defenceless 
 child, what can support the mother's heart but trust 
 in Him whose eye slumbereth not, and whose power 
 extendeth over aU ? It was this pious hope, this holy 
 confidence, that enabled this more than mother to 
 part from her adopted child with a resignation which 
 no earthly motive could have imparted to her mind. 
 It seems almost profanation to mingle with her ele- 
 vated feelings the coarse yet simple sorrows of the 
 aunts, old and young, as they clung around the nearly 
 lifeless Mary, each tendering the parting gift they had 
 kept as a solace for the last. 
 
 Poor Miss Grizzy was more than usually incoherent, 
 as she displayed " a nice new umbrella that could be 
 turned into a nice walking-stick, or anything ;" and a 
 dressing-box, with a little of everything in it ; and, 
 with a fresh burst of tears, Mary was directed where 
 she would not find eye-ointment, and where she was 
 not to look for sticking'plaister. 
 
308 MAEKIAGE. 
 
 Miss Jacky was more composed as she presented a 
 flaming copy of Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women, 
 with a few suitable observations; but Miss Nicky could 
 scarcely find voice to tell that the housewife she now 
 tendered had once been Lady Gimachgowl's, and that 
 it contained Whitechapel needles of every size and 
 number. The younger ladies had clubbed for the 
 purchase of a large locket, in which was enshrined a 
 lock from each subscriber, tastefully arranged by the 
 
 jeweller, in the form of a wheat sheaf upon a 
 
 blue ground. Even old Donald had his offering, and, 
 as he stood tottering at the chaise door, he contrived 
 to get a " bit snishin mull " laid on Mary's lap, with a 
 " Grod bless her bonny face, an' may she ne'er want a 
 good sneesh ! " 
 
 The carriage drove off, and for a while Mary's 
 eyes were closed in despair. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " Farewell to the mountains, higli covered with snow ; 
 Farewell to the straths, and green valleys below ; 
 Farewell to the forests, and wild hanging woods. 
 Farewell to the torrents, and loud roaring floods ! " 
 
 Scotch Song. 
 
 Happily in the moral world as in the material one the 
 warring elements have their prescribed bounds, and 
 "the flood of grief decreaseth when it can swell no 
 higher ;" but it is only by retrospection we can bring 
 ourselves to believe in this obvious truth. The young 
 and untried heart hugs itself in the bitterness of its 
 emotions, and takes a pride in believing that its 
 anguish can end but with its existence ; and it is not 
 till time hath almost steeped our senses in forgetful- 
 ness that we discover the mutability of all human 
 passions. 
 
 But Mary left it not to the slow hand of time to 
 subdue in some measure the grief that swelled her 
 heart. Had she given way to selfishness, she would 
 have sought the free indulgence of her sorrow as the 
 only mitigation of it ; but she felt also for her uncle. 
 He was depressed at parting with his wife and child, 
 and he was taking a long and dreary journey entirely 
 
310 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 upon her account. Could she therefore he so selfish 
 as to add to his uneasiness by a display of her suffer- 
 ings 1 No — she would strive to conceal it from his 
 observation, though to overcome it was impossible. 
 Her feelings must ever remain the same, but she would 
 confine them to her own breast; and she began to 
 converse with and even strove to amuse, her kind- 
 hearted companion. Ever and anon indeed a rush of 
 tender recollections came across her mind, and the 
 soft voice and the bland countenance of her maternal 
 friend seemed for a moment present to her senses; 
 and then the dreariness and desolation that succeeded 
 as the delusion vanished, and aU was stiUness and 
 vacuity! Even self-reproach shot its piercing sting 
 into her ingenuous heart ; levities on which, in her 
 usual gaiety of spirit, she had never bestowed a 
 thought, now appeared to her as crimes of the deepest 
 dye. She thought how often she had slighted the 
 counsels and neglected the wishes of her gentle moni- 
 tress; how she had wearied of her good old aunts, 
 their cracked voices, and the everlasting tic-a-tic of 
 their knitting needles; how coarse and vulgar she 
 had sometimes deemed the younger ones; how she 
 had mimicked Lady Maclaughlan, and caricatured 
 Sir Sampson, and " even poor dear old Donald," said 
 she, as she summed up the catalogue of her crimes, 
 "could not escape my insolence and Hi-nature." How 
 clever I thought it to sing ' Hand awa frae me, Donald,' 
 and how affectedly I shuddered at everything he 
 touched;" and the "sneeshin mull" was bedewed 
 
MARRIAGE. 311 
 
 with tears of affectionate contrition. But every pain- 
 ful sentiment was for a while suspended in admiration 
 of the magnificent scenery that was spread around 
 them. Though summer had fled, and few even of 
 autumn's graces remained, yet over the august features 
 of mountain scenery the seasons have little control. 
 Their charms depend not upon richness of verdure, or 
 luxuriance of foliage, or any of the mere prettinesses 
 of nature; but whether wrapped in snow, or veiled 
 in mist, or glowing in sunshine, their lonely grandeur 
 remains the same ; and the same feehngs fill and 
 elevate the soul in contemplating these mighty works 
 of an Almighty hand. The eye is never weary in 
 watching the thousand varieties of light and shade, 
 as they flit over the mountain and gleam upon the 
 lake ; and the ear is satisfied with the awful stillness 
 of nature in her solitude. 
 
 Others besides Mary seemed to have taken a fanci- 
 ful pleasure in combining the ideas of the mental and 
 elemental world, for in the dreary dwelHng where they 
 were destined to pass the night she found inscribed 
 the following lines : — • 
 
 " The busy winds war mid the waving boughs, 
 And darkly rolls the heaving surge to land ; 
 Among the flying clouds the moonbeam glows 
 With colours foreign to its softness bland. 
 
 " Here, one dark shadow melts, in gloom profound, 
 The towering Alps — the guardians of the Lake ; 
 There, one bright gleam sheds silver light around, 
 And shows the threat'ning strife that tempests wake. 
 
312 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 " Thus o'er my mind a busy memory plays, 
 
 That shakes the feelings to their inmost core ; 
 ThuS;beams the light of Hope's fallacious rays, 
 When simple confidence can trust no more. 
 
 " So one dark shadow shrouds each bygone hour, 
 So one bright gleam the coming tempest shows ; 
 That tells of sorrows, which, though past, still lower. 
 And this reveals th' approach of future woes. " 
 
 While Mary was trying to decipher these somewhat 
 mystic lines, her uncle was carrying on a colloquy in 
 Gaelic with their hostess. The consequences of the 
 consultation were not of the choicest description, con- 
 sisting of braxy ^ mutton, raw potatoes, wet bannocks, 
 hard cheese, and whisky. Very dififerently would the 
 travellers have fared had the good Nicky's intentions 
 been fulfilled. She had prepared with her own hands 
 a moorfowl pie and potted nowt's head, besides a pro- 
 fusion of what she termed "trifles, just for Mary, 
 poor thing, to divert herself with upon the road." 
 But alas ! in the anguish of separation, the covered 
 basket had been forgot, and the labour of Miss Nicky's 
 hands fell to be consumed by; the family, though Miss 
 Grizzy protested, with tears in her eyes, " that it went 
 to her heart like a knife to eat poor Mary's pufis and 
 
 Change of air and variety of scene failed not to 
 produce the happiest effects upon Mary's languid 
 frame and drooping spirits. Her cheek already 
 glowed with health, and was sometimes dimpled with 
 smiles. She still wept, indeed, as she thought of 
 
 ' Sheep that have died a natural death and been salted. 
 
MAERIAGE. 313 
 
 those she had left ; but often, while the tear trembled 
 in her eye, its course was arrested by wonder, or 
 admiration, or delight ; for every object had its charms 
 for her. Her cultivated taste and unsophisticated 
 mind could descry beauty in the form of a hill, and 
 grandeur in the foam of the wave, and elegance in 
 the weeping birch, as it dipped its now almost leafless 
 boughs in the mountain stream. These simple plea- 
 sures, unknown alike to the sordid mind and vitiated 
 taste, are ever exquisitely enjoyed by the refined yet 
 unsophisticated child of nature. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIL 
 
 " Her native sense improved by reading, 
 Her native sweetness by good breeding." 
 
 During their progress through the Highlands the 
 travellers were hospitably entertaiaed at the mansions 
 of the country gentlemen, where old-fashioned courtesy 
 and modem comfort combined to cheer the stranger 
 guest But upon coming out, as it is significantly ex- 
 pressed by the natives of these mountain regions, viz. 
 entering the low country, they found they had only 
 made a change of difficulties. In the Highlands they 
 were always sure that wherever there was a house 
 that house would be to them a home ; but on a fair- 
 day in the little town of G they found themselves 
 
 in the midst of houses, and surrounded by people, yet 
 unable to procure rest or shelter. 
 
 At the only inn the place afforded they were in- 
 formed " the horses were baith oot, an' the ludgin' a' 
 tane up, an' mair tu ;'' while the driver asserted, what 
 indeed was apparent, " that his beasts war nae fit to 
 gang the length o' their tae farrer — no for the king 
 himsel'." 
 
 At this moment a stout, florid, good-humoured- 
 looking man passed, whistling "Roy's Wife" with all 
 
MABKIAGE. 315 
 
 his heart ; and just as Mr. Douglas was stepping out 
 of the carriage to try what could be done, the same 
 person, evidently attracted by curiosity, repassed, 
 changing his tune to " There's cauld kail in Aberdeen." 
 
 He started at sight of Mr. Douglas ; then eagerly 
 grasping his hand, "Ah ! Archie Douglas, is this you?" 
 exclaimed he with a loud laugh and hearty shake. 
 " What ! you haven't forgot your old schoolfellow 
 BobGawffawf 
 
 A mutual recognition now took place, and much 
 pleasure was manifested on both sides at this unex- 
 pected rencontre. No time was allowed to explain 
 their embarrassments, for Mr. Gawffaw had aheady 
 tipped the post-boy the wink (which he seemed easily 
 to comprehend) ; and forcing Mr. Douglas to resume 
 his seat in the carriage, he jumped in himself. 
 
 " Now for Howffend and Mrs. Gawffaw ! ha, ha, 
 ha ! This will be a surprise upon her. She thinks 
 I'm in my bam all this time — ^ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 Mr. Douglas here began to express his astonishment 
 at his friend's precipitation, and his apprehensions as 
 to the trouble they might occasion Mrs. Gawffaw ; but 
 bursts of laughter and broken expressions of delight 
 were the only replies he could procure from his friend. 
 
 After jolting over half a mile of very bad road, the 
 carriage stopped at a mean vulgar-looking mansion, 
 with dirty windows, ruinous thatched offices, and 
 broken fences. 
 
 Such was the picture of still life. That of animated 
 nature was not less picturesque. Cows bellowed, and 
 
316 MAKEIAGE. 
 
 cart-horses neighed, and pigs grunted, and geese 
 gabbled, and ducks quacked, and cocks and hens 
 flapped and fluttered promiscuously, as they mingled 
 in a sort of yard divided from the house by a low- 
 dyke, possessing the accommodation of a crazy gate, 
 which was bestrode by a parcel of bare-legged boys. 
 
 "What are you about, you confounded rascals?" 
 called Mr. GawfTaw to them. 
 
 "Naething," answered one. 
 
 " We're just takin' a heize on the yett," answered 
 another. 
 
 " I'll heize ye, ye scoundrels ! " exclaimed the in- 
 censed Mr. Gawfiaw, as he burst from the carriage ; 
 and, snatching the driver's whip from his hand, flew 
 after the more nimble-footed culprits. 
 
 Finding his efi'orts to overtake them in vain, he 
 returned to the door of his mansion, where stood his 
 guests, waiting to be ushered in. He opened the door 
 himself, and led the way to a parlour which was quite 
 of a piece with the exterior of the dwelling. A dim 
 dusty table stood in the middle of the floor, heaped 
 with a variety of heterogeneous articles of dress ; an 
 exceeding dirty volume of a novel lay open amongst 
 them. The floor was littered with shapings of flannel, 
 and shreds of gauzes, ribbons, etc. The fire was 
 almost out, and the hearth was covered with ashes. 
 
 After insisting upon his guests being seated, Mr. 
 Gawffaw walked to the door of the apartment, and 
 hallooed out, " Mrs. Gawfi'aw, — ho ! May, my dear ! 
 —I say, Mrs. Gawffaw ! " 
 
MARRIAGE. 317 
 
 A low, croaking, querulous voice was now heard in 
 reply, "For heaven's sake, Mr. Gawffaw, make less 
 noise ! For God's sake, have mercy on the walls of 
 your house, if you've none on my poor head ! " And 
 thereupon entered Mrs. Gawffaw, a cap in one hand, 
 which she appeared to have been tying on — a smell- 
 jing-bottle in the other. 
 
 She possessed a considerable share of insipid and 
 somewhat faded beauty, but disguised by a tawdry 
 trumpery style of dress, and rendered almost disgust- 
 ing by the air of afTectation, foUy, and peevishness 
 that overspread her whole person and deportment. 
 She testified the utmost surprise and coldness at sight 
 of her guests; and, as she entered, Mr. Gawffaw 
 rushed out, having descried something passing in 
 the yard that called for his interposition. Mr. Douglas 
 was therefore under the necessity of introducing him- 
 self and Mary to their ungracious hostess; briefly 
 stating the circumstances that had led them to be her 
 guests, and dwelling, with much warmth, on the kind- 
 ness and hospitality of her husband in having relieved 
 them from their embarrassment. A gracious smile, 
 or what was intended as such, beamed over Mrs. 
 Gawffaw's face at first mention of their names. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Douglas," said she, making a 
 profound reverence to him, and another to Mary, 
 while she waved her hand for them to be seated. 
 "Excuse me. Miss Douglas; but situated as I am, I 
 find it necessary to be very distant to Mr. Gawffaw's 
 friends sometimes. He is a thoughtless man, Mr. 
 
318 MAERIAGE. 
 
 Douglas — a very thoughtless man. He makes a 
 perfect inn. of his house. He never lies out of the 
 town, trying who he can pick up and bring home 
 with him. It is seldom I am so fortunate as to see 
 such guests as Mr. and Miss Douglas of Glenfern 
 Castle in my house," with an elegant bow to each, 
 which of course was duly returned. "But Mr. 
 Gawffaw would have shown more consideration, both 
 for you and me, had he apprised me of the honour 
 of your visit, instead of bringing you here in this ill- 
 bred, unceremonious manner. As for me, I am too 
 well accustomed to him to be hurt at these thiags 
 now. He has kept me in hot water, I may say, since 
 the day I married him ! " 
 
 In spite of the conciUatory manner ia which 
 this agreeable address was made, Mr. Douglas felt 
 considerably disconcerted, and again renewed his 
 apologies, adding something about hopes of being 
 able to proceed. 
 
 "Make no apologies, my dear sir," said the lady, 
 with what she deemed a most bewitching manner; 
 "it affords me the greatest pleasure to see any of 
 your family under my roof. I meant no reflection on 
 you ; it is entirely Mr. Gawfiaw that is to blame, in 
 not having apprised me of the honour of this visit, 
 that I might not have been caught in this deshabille ; 
 but I was really so engaged by my studies — " pointing 
 to the dirty novel — " that I was quite unconscious of 
 the lapse of time." The guests felt more and more 
 at a loss what to say ; but the lady was at none. 
 
MAERIAGE. 319 
 
 Seeing Mr. Douglas still standing with his hat in his 
 hand, and his eye directed towards the door, she re- 
 sumed her discourse. 
 
 "Pray be seated, Mr. Douglas; I beg you will sit 
 off the door. Miss Douglas, I entreat you will walk 
 into the fire ; I hope you wiU consider yourself as 
 quite at home " — another elegant bend to each. " I 
 only regret that Mr. Gawfiaw's foUy and iU-breeding 
 should have brought you into this disagreeable situa- 
 tion, Mr. Douglas. He is a weU-meaning man, Mr. 
 Douglas, and a good-hearted man; but he is very 
 deficient in other respects, Mr. Douglas." 
 
 Mr. Douglas, happy to find anything to which he 
 could assent, warmly joined in the eulogium on the 
 excellence of his friend's heart. It did not appear, 
 however, to give the satisfaction he expected. The 
 lady resumed Tvith a sigh, "Noboby can know Mr. 
 Grawffaw's heart better than I do, Mr. Douglas. It is 
 a good one, but it is far from being an elegant one ; 
 it is one in which I find no congeniality of sentiment 
 with my own. Indeed, Mr. Gawfi'aw is no companion 
 for me, nor I for him, Mr. Douglas ; he is never happy 
 in my society, and I really believe he would rather sit 
 down with the tinklers on the roadside as spend a 
 day in my company." 
 
 A deep sigh followed ; but its pathos was drowned 
 in the obstreperous ha, ha, ha! of her joyous help- 
 mate, as he bounced into the room, wiping his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Why, May, my dear, what have you been about 
 
320 MAHRIAQE. 
 
 to-day? Things have been all going to the deuce. 
 Why didn't you hinder these boys from sweein' the 
 gate off its hinges, and " 
 
 " Me hinder boys from sweein' gates, Mr. Gawffaw ! 
 Do I look like as if I was capable of hindering boys 
 from sweein' gates, Miss Douglas?" 
 
 " Well, my dear, you ought to look after your pigs 
 a little better. That jade, black Jess, has trod a 
 parcel of them to death, ha, ha, ha ! and " 
 
 "Me look after pigs, Mr. Gawffaw! I am really 
 astonished at you ! " again interrupted the ladj', turn- 
 ing pale with vexation. Then, with an affected giggle, 
 appealing to Mary, "I leave you to judge. Miss 
 Douglas, if I look like a person made for running 
 after pigs !" 
 
 "Indeed," thought Mary, "you don't look hke as 
 if you could do anything half so useful." 
 
 " Well, never mind the pigs, my dear ; only don't 
 give us any of them for dinner — ha, ha, ha ! — and, 
 May, when wUl you let us have it ?" 
 
 "Me let you have it, Mr. Gawffaw! I'm sure I 
 don't hinder you from having it when you please, 
 only you know I prefer late hours myself. I was 
 always accustomed to them in my poor father's life- 
 time. He never dined before four o'clock; and I 
 seldom knew what it was to be in my bed before 
 twelve o'clock at night. Miss Douglas, tiU I married 
 Mr. Gawffaw !" 
 
 Mary tried to look sorrowful, to hide the smile 
 that was dimpling her cheek. 
 
MAEKIAGE. 321 
 
 "Come, let us have something to eat in the mean- 
 time, my dear.'' 
 
 " I'm sure you may eat the house, if you please, 
 for me, Mr. Gawffaw ! What would you take. Miss 
 Douglas? But pull the bell — softly, Mr. Gawffaw! 
 You do everything so violently." 
 
 A dirty maid-servant, with bare feet, answered the 
 summons. 
 
 " Where's Tomi" demanded the lady, well knowing 
 that Tom was afar oiF at some of the farm operations. 
 
 " I ken nae whar he's. He'll be aether at the 
 patatees, or the horses, I'se warran. Div ye want 
 him?" 
 
 "Bring some glasses," said her mistress, with an 
 air of great dignity. "Mr. Gawffaw, you must see 
 about the wine yourself since you have sent Tom out 
 of the way." 
 
 Mr. Gawffaw and his handmaid were soon heard 
 in an adjoining closet ; the one wondering where the 
 screw was, the other vociferating for a knife to cut 
 the bread; whUe the mistress of this well-regulated 
 mansion sought to divert her guests' attention from 
 what was passing by entertaining them with com- 
 plaints of Mr. Gawflfaw's noise and her maid's inso- 
 lence till the parties appeared to speak for themselves. 
 
 After being refreshed with some very bad wine 
 and old baked bread, the gentlemen set off on a 
 survey of the farm, and the ladies repaired to their 
 toilets. Mary's simple dress was quickly adjusted ; 
 and upon descending she found her uncle alone in 
 
 VOL. I. Y M 
 
322 MABRIAGB. 
 
 what Mrs. Gawffaw had shown to her as the drawing- 
 room. He guessed her curiosity to know something 
 of her hosts, and therefore briefly informed her that 
 Mrs. Grawffaw was the daughter of a trader in some 
 manufacturing town, who had lived in opulence and 
 died insolvent. During his life his daughter had 
 eloped with Bob Grawffaw, then a gay lieutenant in a 
 marching regiment, who had been esteemed a very 
 lucky fellow in getting the pretty Miss Croaker, with 
 the prospect of ten thousand pounds. None thought 
 more highly of her husband's good fortune than the 
 lady herself ; and though her fortune never was 
 realised, she gave herself all the airs of having been 
 the makiag of his. At this time Mr. Gawfiaw was 
 a reduced lieutenant, living upon a small paternal 
 property, which he pretended to farm ; but the habits 
 of a military life, joined to a naturally social disposi- 
 tion, were rather inimical to the pursuits of agri- 
 culture, and most of his time was spent ia loitering 
 about the village of G , where he generally con- 
 tinued either to pick up a guest or procure a dinner. 
 
 Mrs. Gawfiaw despised her husband ; had weak 
 nerves and headaches — was above managing her 
 house — read novels — dyed ribbons — and altered her 
 gowns according to every pattern she could see or 
 hear of. 
 
 Such were Mr. and Mrs. Gawifaw — one of the 
 many ill-assorted couples in this world — joined, not 
 matched. A sensible man would have curbed her 
 folly and peevishness ; a good-tempered woman would 
 
MARRIAGE. 323 
 
 have made his home comfortable, and rendered him 
 more domestic. 
 
 The dinner was such as might have been expected 
 from the previous specimens — bad of its kind, cold, 
 ill-dressed, and slovenly set down ; but Mrs. GawfFaw 
 seemed satisfied with herself and it. 
 
 " This is very fine mutton, Mr. Douglas, and not 
 underdone to most people's tastes; and this fowl, I 
 have no doubt will eat well. Miss Douglas, though it 
 is not so white as some I have seen." 
 
 "The fowl, my dear, looks as if it had been the 
 great-grandmother of this sheep, ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Mr. Gawfi'aw, make less noise, 
 or my head will split in a thousand pieces !" putting 
 her hands to it, as if to hold the frail tenement 
 together. This was always her refuge when at a loss 
 for a reply. 
 
 A very ill-concocted pudding next called forth her 
 approbation. 
 
 " This pudding should be good ; for it is the same 
 I used to be so partial to in my poor father's lifetime, 
 when I was used to every dehcacy, Miss Douglas, that 
 money could purchase." 
 
 " But you thought me the greatest delicacy of all, 
 my dear, ha, ha, ha ! for you left all your other deli- 
 cacies for me, ha, ha, ha ! — what do yov^ say to that. 
 May? ha, ha, ha!" ' 
 
 May's reply consisted in putting her hands to her 
 head, with an air of inexpressible vexation ; and find- 
 ing all her endeavours to be elegant frustrated by the 
 
324 MAERIAGE. 
 
 overpowering vulgarity of her husband, she remained 
 silent during the remainder of the repast ; solacing 
 herself with complacent glances at her yeUow silk 
 gown, and adjusting the gold chains and necklaces 
 that adorned her bosom. 
 
 Poor Mary was doomed to a tUe^hrtUe with her 
 during the whole evening ; for Mr. Gawffaw was too 
 happy with his friend, and without his wife, to quit 
 the dining-room tiU a late hour ; and then he was so 
 much exhilarated, that she could almost have joined 
 Mrs. Gawffaw in her exclamation of "For heaven's 
 sake, Mr. Gawffaw, have mercy on my head ! " 
 
 The night, however, like all other nights, had a 
 close ; and Mrs. Gawffaw, having once more enjoyed 
 the felicity of finding herseK in company at twelve 
 o'clock at night, at length withdrew; and having 
 apologised, and hoped, and feared, for another hour 
 in Mary's apartment, she finally left her to the bless- 
 ings of solitude and repose. 
 
 As Mr. Douglas was desirous of reaching Edin- 
 burgh the following day, he had, in spite of the urgent 
 remonstrances of his friendly host and the elegant 
 importunities of his lady, ordered the carriage at an 
 early hour ; and Mary was too eager to quit Howffend 
 to keep it waiting. Mr. Gawffaw was in readiness to 
 hand her in, but fortunately Mrs. Gawffaw's head did 
 not permit of her rising. With much the same hearty 
 laugh that had welcomed their meeting, honest Gawf- 
 faw now saluted the departure of his friend ; and as 
 he went whistling over his gate, he ruminated sweet 
 
MARRIAGE. 325 
 
 and bitter thoughts as to the destinies of the day — 
 whether he should solace himself with a good dinner 
 and the company of Bailie Merrythought at the Cross 
 
 Keys in G- , or put up with cold mutton, and May, 
 
 at home. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXIIL 
 
 " Edina ! Scotia's darling seat ! 
 All hail thy palaces and toVrs, 
 Where once, beneath a monarch's feet, 
 Sat legislation's sov'reign poVrs ! " 
 
 Burns. 
 
 Ail Mary's sensations of admiration were faint 
 compared to those she experienced as she viewed the 
 Scottish metropolis. It was associated in her mind 
 with all the local prepossessions to which youth and 
 enthusiasm love to give "a local habitation and a 
 name;" and visions of older times floated o'er her 
 mind as she gazed on its rocky battlements, and tra- 
 versed the lonely arcades of its deserted palace. 
 
 "And this was once a gay court !" thought she, as 
 she hstened to the dreary echo of her own footsteps ; 
 "and this very ground on which I now stand was 
 trod by the hapless Mary Stuart ! Her eye beheld 
 the same objects that mine now rests upon ; her hand 
 has touched the draperies I now hold in mine. These 
 frail memorials remain; but what remains of Scot- 
 land's Queen but a blighted name !" 
 
 Even the blood-stained chamber possessed a 
 nameless charm for Mary's vivid imagination. She 
 
MAERIAGE. 327 
 
 had not entirely escaped the superstitions of the 
 country in which she had lived; and she readily 
 yielded her assent to the asseverations of her guide 
 as to its being the hona fide blood of David Rizzio, 
 ■which for nearly three hundred years had resisted 
 all human efforts to eiface. 
 
 "My creduhty is so harmless," said she in answer 
 to her uncle's attempt to laugh her out of her beUef, 
 "that I surely may be permitted to indulge it — 
 especially since I confess I feel a sort of indescribable 
 pleasure in it.'' 
 
 " You take a pleasure in the sight of blood ! " ex- 
 claimed Mr. Douglas in astonishment, " you who turn 
 pale at sight of a cut linger, and shudder at a leg of 
 mutton with the juice in it !" 
 
 " Oh ! mere modern vulgar blood is very shocking," 
 answered Mary, with a smile ; " but observe how this 
 is mellowed by time into a tint that could not offend 
 the most fastidious fine lady ; besides," added she in 
 a graver tone, "I own I love to believe in things 
 supernatural; it seems to connect us more with another 
 world than when everything is seen to proceed in the 
 mere ordinary course of nature, as it is called. I 
 cannot bear to imagine a dreary chasm betwixt the 
 inhabitants of this world and beings of a higher 
 sphere ; I love to fancy myself surrounded by " 
 
 " I wish to heaven you would remember you are 
 surrounded by rational beings, and not fall into such 
 rhapsodies," said her uncle, glancing at a party who 
 stood near them, jesting upon all the objects which 
 
328 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 Mary had been regarding with so much veneration. 
 "But come, you have been long enough here. Let 
 us try whether a breeze on the Calton Hill will not 
 dispel these cobwebs from your brain." 
 
 The day, though cold, was clear and simny; and 
 the lovely spectacle before them shone forth in all its 
 gay magnificence. The blue waters lay calm and 
 motionless. The opposite shores glowed in a thousand 
 varied tints of wood and plain, rock and mountain, 
 cultured field and purple moor. Beneath, the old 
 town reared its dark brow, and the new one stretched 
 its golden Hues ; while aU around the varied charms 
 of nature lay scattered in that profusion which nature's 
 hand alone can bestow. 
 
 "Oh! this is exquisite!" exclaimed Mary after a 
 long pause, in which she had been riveted in admira- 
 tion of the scene before her. " And you are in the 
 right, my dear uncle. The ideas which are inspired 
 by the contemplation of such a spectacle as this are 
 far — oh, how far ! — superior to those excited by the 
 mere works of art. There I can, at best, thint but 
 of the inferior agents of Providence ; here the soul 
 rises from nature up to nature's God." 
 
 " Upon my soul, you will be taken for a Methodist, 
 Mary, if you talk in this manner," said Mr. Douglas, 
 with some marks of disquiet, as he turned round at 
 the salutation of a fat elderly gentleman, whom he 
 presently recognised as Baihe Broadfoot. 
 
 The first salutations over, Mr. Douglas's fears of 
 Mary having been overheard recurred, and he felt 
 
MARRIAGE. 329 
 
 anxious to remove any unfavourable impression with 
 regard to his own principles, at least, from the mind 
 of the enlightened magistrate. 
 
 " Your fine views here have set my niece absolutely 
 raving," said he, with a smile ; " but I tell her it is only 
 in romantic minds that fine scenery inspires romantic 
 ideas. I daresay many of the worthy inhabitants of 
 Edinburgh walk here with no other idea than that of 
 sharpening their appetites for dinner." 
 
 "Nae doot," said the Bailie, "it's a most capital 
 place for that. Were it no' for that I ken nae muckle 
 use it would be of." 
 
 " You speak from experience of its virtues in that 
 respect, I suppose?" said Mr. Douglas gravely. 
 
 " 'Deed, as to that I canna compleen. At times, 
 to be sure, I am troubled with a little kind of a 
 squeamishness after our public interteenments ; but 
 three rounds o' the hill sets a' to rights.'' 
 
 Then observing Mary's eyes exploring, as he sup- 
 posed, the town of Leith, " You see that prospeck to 
 nae advantage the day, miss," said he. " If the glass- 
 houses had been workin', it would have looked as weel 
 again. Ye hae nae glass-houses in the Highlands ; 
 na, na." 
 
 The Baihe had a share in the concern; and the 
 volcanic clouds of smoke that issued from thence were 
 far more interesting subjects of spectdation to him 
 than all the eruptions of Vesuvius or Etna. But there 
 was nothing to charm the lingering view to-day ; and 
 he therefore proposed their taking a look at Bridewell, 
 
330 MAEEIAGE. 
 
 which, next to the smoke from the glass-houses, he 
 reckoned the object most worthy of notice. It was 
 indeed deserving of the praises bestowed upon it; 
 and Mary was giving her whole attention to the 
 details of it when she was suddenly startled by hear- 
 ing her own name wailed in piteous accents from one 
 of the lower cells, and, upon turning round, she dis- 
 covered in the prisoner the son of one of the tenants 
 of Glenfem. Duncan MTree had been always looked 
 upon as a very honest lad in the Highlands, but he 
 had left home to push his fortune as a pedlar ; and 
 the temptations of the low country having proved too 
 much for his virtue, poor Duncan was now expiating 
 his offence in durance vile. 
 
 " I shall have a pretty account of you to carry to 
 Glenfem," said Mr. Douglas, regarding the culprit 
 with his sternest look. 
 
 " Oh 'deed, sir, it's no' my faut !" answered Duncan, 
 blubbering bitterly ; " but there's nae freedom at a' 
 in this country. Lord, an' I war oot o't ! Ane canna 
 ca' their head their ain in't; for ye canna lift the 
 bouk o' a prin but they're a' upon ye." And a fresh 
 burst of sorrow ensued. 
 
 Finding the peccadillo was of a venial nature, Mr. 
 Douglas besought the Bailie to use his interest to 
 procure the enfranchisement of this his vassal, which 
 Mr. Broadfoot, happy to oblige a good customer, 
 promised should be obtained on the following day; 
 and Duncan's emotions being rather clamorous, the 
 party found it necessary to withdraw. 
 
MARRIAGE. 331 
 
 " And noo," said the Bailie, as they emerged from 
 this place of dole and durance, "will ye step up to the 
 monument, and tak a rest and some refreshment?" 
 
 " Eest and refreshment in a monument!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Douglas. " Excuse me, my good friend, but we 
 are not inclined to bait there yet a while." 
 
 The Bailie did not comprehend the joke ; and he 
 proceeded in his own drawhng humdrum accent to 
 assure them that the monument was a most conveni- 
 ent place. 
 
 "It was erected in honour of Lord Neilson's 
 memory," said he, " and is let aff to a pastrycook and 
 confectioner, where you can always find some trifles 
 to treat the ladies, such as pies and custards, and 
 berries, and these sort of things; but we passed an 
 order in the cooncil that there should be naething of 
 a spirituous nature introduced ; for if ance spirits got 
 admittance there's no saying what might happen." 
 
 This was a fact which none of the party were dis- 
 posed to dispute ; and the Bailie, triumphing in his 
 dominion over the spirits, shufiBed on before to do 
 the honours of this place, appropriated at one and the 
 same time to the manes of a hero and the making of 
 minced pies. The regale was admirable, and Mary 
 could not help thinking times were improved, and 
 that it was a better thing to eat tarts in Lord Nelson's 
 Monument than to have been poisoned in Juhus 
 Caesar's. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXIV. 
 
 "Having a tongue rougli as a cat, and biting like an adder, 
 and all their reproofs are direct scoldings, their common inter- 
 course is open contumely." — Jeebmt Tatloe. 
 
 "Thotjgh last, not least of nature's works, I must 
 now introduce you to a friend of mine," said Mr. 
 Douglas, as, the Bailie having made his bow, they 
 bent their steps towards the Castle HUL "Mrs. 
 Violet Macshake is an aunt of my mother's, whom 
 you must often have heard of, and the last remaining 
 branch of the noble race of Girnachgowl." 
 
 "I am afraid she is rather a formidable person, 
 then?" said Mary. 
 
 Her uncle hesitated. "No, not formidable — only 
 rather particular, as all old people are; but she is 
 very good-hearted." 
 
 " I understand, in other words, she is very disagree- 
 able. All Ul-tempered people, I observe, have the 
 character of being good -hearted; or else all good 
 people are ill-tempered, I can't teU which." 
 
 "It is more than reputation with her," said Mr. 
 Douglas, somewhat angrily : " for she is, in reality, 
 a very good-hearted woman, as I experienced when a 
 boy at coUege. Many a crown piece and half-guinea 
 
MAEKIAGE. 333 
 
 I used to get from her. Many a scold, to be sure, 
 went along with them; but that, I daresay, I deserved. 
 Besides, she is very rich, and I am her reputed heir ; 
 therefore gratitude and self-interest combine to render 
 her extremely amiable in my estimation." 
 
 They had now reached the airy dwelling where 
 Mrs. Macshake resided, and having rung, the door 
 was at length most deliberately opened by an ancient, 
 sour-visaged, long-waisted female, who ushered them 
 into an apartment, the coup d'ceil of which struck a 
 chiU to Mary's heart. It was a good-sized room, with 
 a bare sufficiency of small-legged diaing-tables, and 
 lank haircloth chairs, ranged in high order round the 
 walls. Although the season was advanced, and the 
 air piercing cold, the grate stood smiling in all the 
 charms of polished steel ; and the mistress of the 
 mansion was seated by the side of it in an arm-chair, 
 still in its summer position. She appeared to have 
 no other occupation than what her own meditations 
 afforded ; for a single glance sufficed to show that not a 
 vestige of book or work was harboured there. She was 
 a taU, large-boned woman, whom even Time's iron hand 
 scarcely bent, as she merely stooped at the shoulders. 
 She had a drooping snuffy nose, a long turned-up chin, 
 small quick gray eyes, and her face projected far 
 beyond her figure, with an expression of shrewd rest- 
 less curiosity. She wore a mode (not h-la-mode) 
 bonnet, and cardinal of the same, a pair of clogs over 
 her shoes, and black silk mittens on her arms. 
 
 As soon as she recognised Mr. Douglas she wel- 
 
334 MARRIAGE. 
 
 corned him with much cordiaHty, shook him long and 
 heartily by the hand, patted him on the back, looked 
 into his face with much seeming satisfaction ; and, in 
 short, gave all the demonstrations of gladness usual 
 with gentlewomen of a certain age. Her pleasure, 
 however, appeared to be rather an impromptu than 
 an habitual feeling ; for as the surprise wore off her 
 visage resumed its harsh and sarcastic expression, and 
 she seemed eager to efface any agreeable impression 
 her reception might have excited. 
 
 "An' wha thought o' seein ye enow?" said she, in 
 a quick gabbling voice. "What's brought you to the 
 toon? Are ye come to spend your honest faither's 
 siller ere he's weel cauld in his grave, puir man V 
 
 Mr. Douglas explained that it was upon account of 
 his niece's health. 
 
 "Health!" repeated she, with a sardonic snule; 
 "it wad mak' an ool laugh to hear the wark that's 
 made aboot young fowk's health noo-a-days. I wonder 
 what ye're aw made o' " — grasping Mary's arm in her 
 great bony hand — " a wheen puir feckless windlestraes ; 
 ye maun awa' to Ingland for ye're healths. Set ye up ! 
 I wonder what cam' o' the lasses i' my time, that bute 
 to bide at hame? And whilk o' ye, I sude like to 
 ken, '11 ere leive to see ninety-sax, like me 1 Health ! 
 —he, he!" 
 
 Mary, glad of a pretence to indulge the mirth the 
 old lady's manner and appearance had excited, joined 
 most heartily in the laugh. 
 
 "Tak aff ye're bannet, bairn, an' let me see ye're 
 
MARRIAGE. 335 
 
 face. Wha can tell what like ye are wi' that snule o' 
 a thing on ye're headf Then after taking an accurate 
 survey of her face, she pushed aside her pehsse. 
 "Weel, it's ae mercy, I see ye hae neither the red 
 heed nor the muckle cuits o' the Douglases. I ken 
 nae whuther ye're faither had them or no. I ne'er set 
 een on him ; neither him nor his braw leddie thought 
 it worth their whUe to speer after me ; but I was at 
 nae loss, by aw accounts." 
 
 " You have not asked after any of your Glenfern 
 friends," said Mr. Douglas, hoping to touch a more 
 sympathetic chord. 
 
 " Time eneugh. WuU ye let me draw my breath, 
 man? Fowk canna say awthing at ance. An' ye 
 bute to hae an Inglish wife tu ; a Scotch lass wad nae 
 serr ye. An' ye're wean, I'se warran', it's ane o' the 
 warld's wonders ; it's been unco lang o' cummin — he, 
 he!" 
 
 " He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, 
 poor fellow!" said Mr. Douglas, in allusion to his 
 father's death. 
 
 " An' wha's faut was that t I ne'er heard tell the 
 like o't ; to hae the bairn kirsened an' its grandfather 
 deein ! But fowk are naither born, nor kirsened, nor 
 do they wad or dee as they used to du — awthing's 
 changed." 
 
 "You must, indeed, have witnessed many changes," 
 observed Mr. Douglas, rather at a loss how to utter 
 anything of a conciliatory nature. 
 
 "Changes! — weel a wat, I sometimes wonder if 
 
336 MABRIAGE. 
 
 it's the same warld, an' if it's my ain heed that's 
 upon my shoothers." 
 
 "But with these changes you must also have 
 seen many improvements?" said Mary, in a tone of 
 diffidence. 
 
 " Impruvements !" turning sharply round upon her; 
 "what ken ye about impruvements, bairn? A bony 
 impruvement or ens no, to see tyleyors and sclaters 
 leavin whar I mind jewks an yerls. An' that great 
 glowrin' new toon there " — pointing out of her windows 
 —"whar I used to sit an' luck oot at bonny green parks, 
 and see the coos milket, and the bits o' baimies row- 
 in' an' tummlin,' an' the lasses trampin i' their tubs — 
 what see I noo, but stane an' lime, an' stoor an' dirt, 
 an' idle cheels, an' dinket-oot madams prancin'. Im- 
 pruvements, indeed !" 
 
 Mary found she was not Hkely to advance her 
 imcle's fortune by the judiciousness of her remarks, 
 therefore prudently resolved to hazard no more. Mr. 
 Douglas, who was more au faii to the prejudices of 
 old age, and who was always amused with her bitter 
 remarks when they did not touch himself, encouraged 
 her to continue the conversation by some observation 
 on the prevaiUng manners. 
 
 "Mainers!" repeated she, with a contemptuous 
 laugh, " what caw ye mainers noo, for I dinna ken ? 
 nk ane gangs bang in tiU their neebor's hoose, and 
 bang oot o't as it war a chynge-hoose ; an' as for the 
 maister o't, he's no o' sae muckle vaalu as the flunky 
 ahynt his chyre. I' my grandfather's time, as I hae 
 
MARRIAGE. 337 
 
 heard him tell, ilka maister o' a faamily had his ain 
 sate in his ain hoose aye, an' sat wi' his hat on his 
 heed afore the best o' the land, an' had his ain dish, 
 an' was aye helpit first, an' keepit up his owthority as 
 a man sude du. Paurents war paurents then ; bairnes 
 dardna set up their gabs afore them than as they du 
 noo. They ne'er presumed to say their heeds war 
 their ain i' thae days — wife an' servants, reteeners an' 
 childer, aw trummelt i' the presence o' their heed." 
 
 Here a long pinch of snuff caused a pause in the 
 old lady's harangue ; but after having duly wiped her 
 nose with her coloured handkerchief, and shook off 
 all the particles that might be presumed to have 
 lodged upon her cardinal, she resumed — 
 
 "An' nae word o' ony o' your sisters gaun to get 
 husbands yet ? They tell me they're but coorse lasses : 
 an' wha'll tak ill-farred tocherless queans whan there's 
 walth o' bonny faces an' lang purses i' the market — 
 he, he ! " Then resuming her scrutiny of Mary — 
 " An' I'se warran' ye'll be lucken for an Inglish sweet- 
 heart tu; that'll be what's takin' ye awa' to Ingland." 
 " On the contrary," said Mr. Douglas, seeing Mary 
 was too much frightened to answer for herself — " on 
 the contrary, Mary declares she will never marry any 
 but a true Highlander — one who wears the dirk and 
 plaid, and has the second -sight. And the nuptials 
 are to be celebrated with all the pomp of feudal 
 times; with bagpipes, and bonfires, and gatherings 
 of clans, and roasted sheep, and barrels of whisky, 
 and " 
 
 VOL. I. Z M. 
 
338 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Weel a wat, an' she's i' the right there," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Macshake, with more complacency than 
 she had yet shown. " They may caw them what they 
 like, but there's nae waddins noo. Wha's the better o' 
 them but innkeepers and chise- drivers ? I wud nae 
 count mysel' married i' the hiddhns way they gang 
 aboot it noo.'' 
 
 " I daresay you remember these things done in a 
 very different style 1" said Mr. Douglas. 
 
 " I dinna mind them whan they war at the best ; 
 but I hae heard my mither tell what a bomiy ploy 
 was at her waddin. I canna teU ye hoo mony was at 
 it ; mair nor the room wad haud, ye may be sure, for 
 every relation an' freend o' baith sides war there, as 
 well they sude ; an' aw in full dress : the leddies in 
 their hoops round them, an' some o' them had sutten 
 up aw night tiU hae their heeds drest; for they hadnae 
 thae pooket-Uke taps ye hae noo," looking with con- 
 tempt at Mary's Grecian contour. "An' the bride's 
 goon was aw shewed ow'r wi' favours, frae the tap doon 
 to the tail, an' aw roond the neck, an' aboot the sleeves; 
 and, as soon as the ceremony was ow'r, ilk ane ran tiU 
 her, an' rugget an' rave at her for the favours, till they 
 hardly left • the claise upon her back. Than they did 
 nae run awa as they du noo, but sax an' thretty o' 
 them sat doon tiU a graund denner, and there was a 
 ball at night, an' ilka night till Sabbath cam' roond ; 
 an' than the bride an' the bridegroom, drest in their 
 waddin suits, an' aw their freends in theirs, wi' their 
 favours on their breests, walkit in procession till the 
 
MABRIAGE. 339 
 
 kirk. An' was nae that something like a waddin 1 It 
 was worth while to be married i' thae days — he, he!" 
 
 " The wedding seems to have been admirably con- 
 ducted," said Mr. Douglas, with much solemnity. 
 " The christening, I presume, would be the next dis- 
 tinguished event in the family 1 " 
 
 "Troth, Archie — an' ye sude keep your thoomb 
 upon kirsnins as lang's ye leeve ; yours was a bonnie 
 kirsnin or ens no ! I hae heard o' mony things, but 
 a bairn kirsened whan its grandfaither was i' the 
 deed-thraw, I ne'er heard tell o' before." Then 
 observing the indignation that spread over Mr. 
 Douglas's face, she quickly resumed, " An' so ye think 
 the kirsnin was the neist ploy 1 — He, he ! Na ; the 
 cryin was a ploy, for the leddies did nae keep them- 
 sels up than as they do noo ; but the day after the 
 baim was bom, the leddy sat up i' her bed, wi' her 
 fan intiU her hand ; an' aw her freends cam' an' stud 
 roond her, an' drank her health an' the bairti's. 
 Than at the leddy's recovery there was a graund 
 supper gien that they caw'd the cummerfealls, an' 
 there was a great pyramid o' hens at the tap o' the 
 table, an' anither pyramid o' ducks at the fit, an' a 
 muckle stoup fu' o' posset i' the middle, an' aw kinds 
 o' sweeties doon the sides ; an' as sune as ilk ane had 
 eatin their fill they aw flew till the sweeties, an' fought, 
 an' strave, an' wrastled for them, leddies an' gentle- 
 men an' aw ; for the brag was wha could pocket maist ; 
 an' whiles they wad hae the claith aff the table, an' aw 
 thing i' the middle i' the floor, an' the chyres upside 
 
340 MAREIAGE. 
 
 doon. Oo ! muckle gude diversion, I'se warran,' was 
 at the cummerfealls. Than whan they had drank the 
 stoup dry, that ended the ploy. As for the kirsnin, 
 that was aye whar it sude be — i' the hoose o' God, 
 an' aw the kith an' kin bye in full dress, an' a band o' 
 maiden cimmers aw in white ; an' a bonny sight it was, 
 as I've heard my mither telL" 
 
 Mr. Douglas, who was now rather tired of the old 
 lady's reminiscences, availed himself of the opportunity 
 of a fresh pinch to rise and take leave. 
 
 "Oo, what's takin' ye awa, Archie, in sic a hurry? 
 Sit doon there," laying her hand upon his arm, " an' 
 rest ye, an' tak a glass o' wine, an' a bit breed ; or 
 may be,'' turning to Mary, "ye wad rather hae a drap 
 broth to warm ye. What gars ye luck sae blae, bairn 1 
 I'm sure it's no cauld ; but ye're juste like the lave ; ye 
 gang aw skiltin aboot the streets half naked, an' than ye 
 maun sit an' birsle yoursels afore the fire at hame." 
 
 She had now shuffled along to the farther end of 
 the room, and opening a press, took out wine, and a 
 plateful of various-shaped articles of bread, which she 
 handed to Mary. 
 
 " Hae, bairn — tak a cookie ; tak it up — ^what are 
 you f ear'd for 1 It'U no bite ye. Here's t'ye. Glen- 
 fern, an' your wife, an' your wean, puir tead ; it's no 
 had a very chancy ootset, weel a wat." 
 
 The wine being drunk, and the cookies discussed, 
 Mr. Douglas made another attempt to withdraw, but 
 in vain. 
 
 " Canna ye sit still a wee, man, an' let me spear 
 
MARRIAGE. 341 
 
 after my auld freens at Glenf ern 1 Hoo's Grizzy, an' 
 Jacky, and Nicky 1 Aye workin awa at the pills an' 
 the drogs 1 — he, he ! I ne'er swallowed a pill, nor gied 
 a doit for drogs aw my days, an' see an ony of them'Il 
 rin a race wi' me whan they're naur five score." 
 
 Mr. Douglas here paid her some compliments upon 
 her appearance, which were pretty graciously received; 
 and added that he was the bearer of a letter from his 
 Aunt Grizzy, which he would send along with a roe- 
 buck and brace of moor-game. 
 
 "Gin your roebuck's nae better than your last, 
 atweel it's no worth the sendin' — poor dry fisinless 
 dirt, no worth the chowing ; weel a wat I begrudged 
 my teeth on't. Your muirfowl was na that ill, but 
 they're no worth the carryin ; they're dong cheap i' 
 the market enoo, so it's nae great compHment. Gin 
 ye had brought me a leg o' gude mutton, or a cauler 
 sawmont, there would hae been some sense ia't ; but 
 ye're ane o' the fowk that'll ne'er harry yoursel' wi' 
 your presents ; it's but the pickle poother they cost 
 you, an' I'se warran' ye're thinkin mair o' your ain 
 diversion than o' my stamick, when ye're at the 
 shootin' o' them, puir beasts." 
 
 Mr. Douglas had borne the various indignities 
 levelled against himself and his family with a philo- 
 sophy that had no parallel in his life before ; but to 
 this attack upon his game he was not proof. His 
 colour rose, his eyes flashed fire, and something re- 
 sembling an oath burst from his Ups as he strode 
 indignantly towards the door. 
 
342 MARRIAGE. 
 
 His friend, however, was too nimble for him. She 
 stepped before him, and, breaking into a discordant 
 laugh, as she patted him on the back, " So I see ye're 
 just the auld man, Archie, — aye ready to tak the 
 strums, an' ye dinna get a' thing yer ain wye. Mony 
 a time I had to fleech ye oot o' the dorts whan ye was 
 a callant. Div ye mind hoo ye was aflEronted because 
 I set ye doon to a cauld pigeon-pie, an' a tanker o' 
 tippenny, ae night to ye're fowerhoors, afore some 
 leddies — he, he, he ! Weel a wat, yer wife maun hae 
 her ain adoos to manage ye, for ye're a cumstairy 
 chield, Archie." 
 
 Mr. Douglas still looked as if he was irresolute 
 whether to laugh or be angry. 
 
 " Come, come, sit ye doon there till I speak to this 
 bairn," said she, as she pulled Mary into an adjoining 
 bedchamber, which wore the same aspect of chiUy 
 neatness as the one they had quitted. Then pulling 
 a huge bunch of keys from her pocket, she opened a 
 drawer, out of which she took a pair of diamond ear- 
 rings. "Hae, bairn," said she as she stuffed them 
 into Mary's hand ; " they belanged to your faither's 
 grandmother. She was a gude woman, an' had four- 
 an'-twenty sons an' dochters, an' I wiss ye nae war 
 fortin than just to hae as mony. But mind ye," with 
 a shake of her bony finger, " they maun a' be Scots. 
 Gin I thought ye wad mairry ony pock-puddin', fient 
 haed wad ye hae gotten frae me. " Noo, had ye're 
 tongue, and dinna deive me wi' thanks," almost push- 
 ing her into the parlour again ; " and sin ye're gaun 
 
MAEEUGE. 343 
 
 awa the morn, I'll see nae mair o' ye enoo — so fare ye 
 weel. But, Archie, ye maun come an' tak your break- 
 fast wi' me. I hae muckle to say to you; but ye 
 manna be sae hard upon my baps as ye used to be," 
 with a facetious grin to her mollified favourite, as they 
 shook hands and parted. 
 
 "Well, how do you like Mrs. Macshake, Mary?" 
 asked her uncle as they walked home. 
 
 "That is a cruel question, uncle," answered she, 
 with a smile. " My gratitude and my taste are at 
 such variance," displaying her splendid gift, "that I 
 know not how to reconcile them." 
 
 " That is always the case with those whom Mrs. 
 Macshake has obliged," returned Mr. Douglas. " She 
 does many liberal things, but in so ungracious a 
 manner that people are never sure whether they are 
 obliged or insulted by her. But the way in which 
 she receives kindness is still worse. Could anything 
 equal her impertinence about my roebuck? Faith, 
 I've a good mind never to enter her door again !" 
 
 Mary could scarcely preserve her gravity at her 
 uncle's indignation, which seemed so disproportioned 
 to the cause. But, to turn the current of his ideas, 
 she remarked that he had certainly been at pains to 
 select two admirable specimens of her countrywomen 
 for her. 
 
 "I don't think I shall soon forget either Mrs. 
 Gawffaw or Mrs Macshake," said she, laughing. 
 
 "I hope you won't carry away the impression that 
 these two lusus naturce are specimens of Scotchwomen, " 
 
344 MARRIAGE. 
 
 said her uncle. " The former, indeed, is rather a sort 
 of weed that infests every soil ; the latter, to be sure, 
 is an indigenous plant. I question if she would have 
 arrived at such perfection in a more cultivated field 
 or genial clime. She was bom at a time when 
 Scotland was very different from what it is now. 
 Female education was little attended to, even in 
 families of the highest rank ; consequently, the ladies 
 of those days possess a raciness in their manners and 
 ideas that we should vainly seek for in this age of 
 cultivation and refinement Had your time permitted, 
 you could have seen much good society here; superior, 
 perhaps, to what is to be found anywhere else, as far 
 as mental cultivation is concerned. But j'ou will 
 have leisure for that when you return." 
 
 Mary acquiesced with a sigh. Beturn was to her 
 still a melancholy -sounding word. It reminded her 
 of all she had left — of the anguish of separation — the 
 dreariness of absence ; and aU these painful feelings 
 were renewed in their utmost bitterness when the 
 time approached for her to bid adieu to her imcle. 
 Lord Courtland's carriage and two respectable-looking 
 servants awaited her ; and the following morning she 
 commenced her journey in aU the agony of a heart, 
 that fondly clings to its native homo. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.