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 FAIR TO SEE
 
 ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN BLACKWOOD's MAGAZINE
 
 F A I R T SEE 
 
 A N (J V E L 
 
 BY 
 
 LAUKENCE W. :\r. LOCKHART 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'doubled AND QUITS* 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXI 
 
 The Right of Translation is reserved
 
 
 F A I E TO SEE. 
 
 CHAP TEE L 
 
 The shooting season of the year 18 6-, — the 
 great and glorious " Twelfth," — was drawing 
 near, and the prospects and the hopes there- 
 w^ith connected were one w^et Sunday after- 
 noon the subject of deep discussion in the 
 mess-room of the — th, then quartered in the 
 New Barracks at Gosport. The regiment had 
 very lately returned from a tour of foreign 
 service ; and this circumstance entitled the 
 officers to two months' extra leave of absence, 
 as soon and in such proportions as they could 
 be spared from " duty." About half of their 
 number, made up of those who did not speci- 
 ally affect sport, and of those whose juniority 
 deprived them of a voice in the matter, were 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 already availing themselves of this privilege ; 
 and thus the approaching months of August 
 and September were left open to those who 
 remained behind — gentlemen for whom the 
 crow of the " muir-cock '' and the whirr of the 
 partridge were that very soul of music for 
 which they had been yearning all the last four 
 years in a tropical station. 
 
 The company, therefore, lounging in the 
 mess-room after church-parade and luncheon 
 on the Sunday in question, being mostly of 
 one persuasion as to sport — with one faith, 
 one hope, and, for the present at least, one 
 idea — formed a harmonious and happy assem- 
 blage, and the common idea was very thor- 
 oughly ventilated. The special qualities of 
 the old " muzzier,'^ the various modifications 
 of the "pin^' breech-loader and the "central- 
 fire,^' the rival merits of Henry, and Dickson, 
 and Purdey & Dougall, were gone into at full 
 length ; pointers and setters, retrievers and 
 terriers — dogs of all degrees — had their due 
 share of attention ; nor, in the exhaustive 
 treatment of the subject, was a place denied 
 to the minor equipments of the " shikari," 
 which were all laid on the tapis, and sat upon
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 3 
 
 with the solemnity befitting subjects of such 
 grave importance. 
 
 Sportsmen — or, as we should perhaps rather 
 say, men talking about sport — are apt to 
 repeat themselves ; and undoubtedly this ten- 
 dency to iteration is one of the deadliest 
 nuisances to which flesh, in club and smoking 
 room, is heir. Who does not tremble when 
 the hunting Munchausen gets into his saddle ? 
 when the nautical proser clears out of harbour ? 
 when the shooting Bore plants his foot upon 
 his native heath, and opens fire with his monot- 
 onous barrels ? 
 
 But here, all being of the same mind, none 
 were dissatisfied; and though every one who 
 had an idea or an opinion repeated it empha- 
 tically not less than seventeen or eighteen 
 times, the hearing vouchsafed to each successive 
 utterance was perfectly patient and respectful. 
 Why not '? Here all interests were respected, 
 here perfect reciprocity was established; and 
 under such circumstances, this conversational 
 method has the very tangible advantage of 
 killing a wet afternoon with a minimum tear 
 and wear of cerebral tissue, of which we can 
 never be too sa^ing. By degrees the conver-
 
 4 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 sation passed to the plans and prospects of 
 individuals for the next two months. 
 
 "What lucky fellows are going north for 
 the ' Twelfth ' ? " asked one of the party. 
 
 " I am/' and " I am," and " I am " rose from 
 several voices. 
 
 "AND I AM!" cried Fuskisson, a little 
 white ensign, speaking in large capitals with a 
 voice like a Jew's harp. 
 
 " And I am NOT ! " shouted M'Niven, the 
 adjutant — a large, loud, red, portentous-look- 
 ing Scot, whose nationality, combined with 
 certain peculiarities of diction, had procured 
 for him the sobriquet of " Ossian." 
 
 "But I AM," persisted Fuskisson, as if in 
 that fact M'Niven ought to find ample com- 
 pensation. " Old Gosset, my father's partner, 
 has again come to the front ; and this will be 
 my second innings at Braxy. Luck for me, 
 isn't it ? Braxy is something like a billet. 
 You can bag your five-and-twenty brace there 
 any day, don't you know? besides hooking 
 your salmon in Kelt water in the morning, 
 don't you see ? and then the feeding and the 
 liquor, mind you ! Pass that bottle of sherry, 
 some one, that I may drink old Gosset's health."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Pearls cast unto the swine ! '' thundered 
 M'Niven. " Pearls cast utterly to a very foul 
 sort of swine, pale-faced descendant of the 
 Fuski ! It has now come to this, that huck- 
 stering aldermen, — bloated, gouty -hooved, 
 asthmatic, turtle-eating aldermen, — with their 
 puny brood of alderm.anikins like you, dese- 
 crate the heather, demoralise the game, and 
 suck up all the ozone from Scotia's violated 
 breezes ; while I, Niven, sad son of Xiven 
 and of the mountain, pine grouseless in this 
 southern cell.'' 
 
 " Are you really going to pine all the leave- 
 season in your southern cell, Ossian i " asked 
 Fuskisson, who took the adjutant's magnilo- 
 quent personalities with perfect composure. 
 
 " ' My poverty, but not my will, consents.' " 
 
 " Neither my poverty nor my will consents," 
 said Bertrand Cameron, a handsome, smart- 
 looking subaltern ; " but, all the same, it seems 
 as if I were doomed to share Ossian's cell with 
 him. Here am I with the frup^al sa\Tno"s of 
 two years, saved for the very purpose of get- 
 ting: some shootino^ in Scotland when we came 
 home ; here am I, author of seven advertise- 
 ments on the subject, still unprovided with a
 
 6 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 moor ; that is, Pigott and I — for, of course, I 
 could not go in for the whole thing by myself; 
 so as Pigott is in the same boat with me, he 
 will make a third for the cell, if something 
 doesn't turn up soon." 
 
 " Have you looked in to-day's ' Field ' ? " 
 asked one of the party. 
 
 "No, I haven't. Has it come ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and I heard some of the fellows at 
 breakfast reading and laughing over an adver- 
 tisement of a Scotch shooting in it.'' 
 
 " Oh ! a * Tommiebeg,' I suppose." . 
 
 " I don't know : you'd better have a look 
 at it." 
 
 " I wonder where it is." 
 
 " Dent took it to his room after breakfast," 
 said Fuskisson. " I saw him going away with 
 it." 
 
 "Well, as he's your captain, you're respon- 
 sible for him ; go and bring it, and tell him 
 he's fined." 
 
 '' I daren't go near him just now ; he's 
 awfully savage at me. Fancy his cheek ! he 
 ordered me to come and load cartridges for 
 him till luncheon ; and when I told him it 
 was against my principles to labour on Sun-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 7 
 
 day, lie said, ' All right ; it's against my prin- 
 ciples to pay the company for the next fort- 
 night, so you must do it, my boy/ And 
 when I said, ' Hang it, that's fagging,' he said, 
 ' Mr Fuskisson, vou mustn't use insubordinate 
 language on the Sabbath-day in your captain's 
 quarters ; leave them, sir, and pay the men 
 for the next three weeks ; another such ex- 
 pression and I'll make it a month, and cut you 
 out of Braxy altogether.' The beast ! why 
 did you post me to his company, Ossian \ " 
 
 " Dent is wise ! " thundered M'Niven — 
 " Dent is a philosopher ; Dent, by the Mass, 
 is Scriptural ! he spares not the rod, lest he 
 spoil this Cockney bantling." 
 
 " I'll send a mess-waiter for it, then," said 
 Cameron ; and in due time the paper was 
 brought and examined by one of the party. 
 
 " Here it is," he cried, with a laugh, after 
 scanning the columns for a minute or two. 
 " Here it is — and the very thing, Bertrand, for 
 you and Pigott. Shootings in the bosom of 
 a family of distinction ; a happy hunting- 
 ground, combined with a happy home ! Every- 
 thing extra ; all questions to be asked by the 
 advertiser, and none answered by him; veri-
 
 8 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 fied copy of pedigree to be forwarded, and 
 sketch of armorial bearings. Capital ! capital ! " 
 " What does the fellow mean 1 " 
 " Listen " — and he read as follows : 
 
 " TO SPOETSMEK — Shootings in the Highlands. 
 — A gentleman of fortune and position, having rented for 
 the ensuing season the celebrated shootings of Cairnarvoch, 
 
 in the county of , which are too extensive for his 
 
 requirements, in consequence of his having been disap- 
 pointed of the partnership of his son and another gentle- 
 man, is willing to sublet shooting for two guns at .£100 
 per gun. The Mansion-House of Cairnarvoch is large 
 and commodious, and having more accommodation than is 
 required by the advertiser, he would be prepared to admit 
 gentlemen sharing the shooting to a share also of the 
 house ; and as his establishment is on the handsomest 
 scale, an arrangement might be made whereby the gentle- 
 men (on terms hereafter to be agreed upon) should, to 
 obviate the inconvenience of separate establishments, join 
 his family circle ; but in this case, as there are ladies of 
 refinement in the family, the most satisfactory references 
 as to position and character would be required. Applica- 
 tion to be made to Messrs Buncombe & M'JSfab, Solicitors, 
 Gray's Inn, London." 
 
 " That sounds an odd sort of proposal," said 
 Bertrand. 
 
 "To me it sounds very eligible," said an- 
 other. 
 
 " How about the family circle, though ? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 9 
 
 " Oh ! that would be the best of it. Only 
 read that advertisement ; mark the suggested 
 glories of the advertiser — his wealth, his social 
 position, the size of his household, the refine- 
 ment of his ladies — and say if it escapes your 
 eagle eye that this man would be a mine of 
 fun ? and the ladies, Bertrand, think of them ; 
 if the shooting is only passable, qiie voulez- 
 vous ? " 
 
 "You seem to forget," said Pigott, "that 
 my object is the shooting, not to trot out 
 ridiculous old gentlemen, or to flirt with their 
 daughters. One can do that here, — anywhere, 
 — without the trouble and expense of a jour- 
 ney to the Highlands. The shooting must be 
 much more than passable to satisfy me, I can 
 tell you. Now I should not expect this shoot- 
 ing to be much ; the man is in a hole, and 
 wants to get out of it as cheaply as possible, 
 small blame to him — but the whole thing 
 smacks of ' Tommiebeg.' Does any one know 
 anything about Cairnarvoch ? " 
 
 " Ejiow Cairnarvoch 1 " thundered M'Mven. 
 " Ay, well I know it — paradise of sport ; look 
 you, a paradise. Grouse, capercailzie, ptarmi- 
 gan, blue hares, black-game, and rabbits, wood-
 
 10 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 cock, snipe, and roe, swarm on its hills and 
 make the welkin black." 
 
 " Which being interpreted means that the 
 shooting is first-rate ? '* 
 
 *' All that the sporting heart desires. Too 
 good, alack ! if gouty hooves of pampered 
 aldermen and the be-turtled " 
 
 " Oh ! spare us, spare us, Ossian : you can 
 recommend the shooting, seriously '? " 
 
 " On soul and conscience, Cameron, I can." 
 
 " Come, that alters the case," said Cameron. 
 
 " What do you think of it, Pigott 1 After all, 
 the people won't matter much, if they give us 
 plenty to eat and drink ; open air all day and 
 early hours at night ; what do you say, Pigott '? " 
 
 " I can't say anything about it till IVe 
 thought it over, talked it over, and smoked 
 over it. Pm going to my quarters now : you 
 can come if you like, and well do all three to- 
 gether." Whereupon the two friends left the 
 mess-room. 
 
 As these two gentlemen are to play conspic- 
 uous parts in our story, it may here be as well 
 to say something of them by way of introduc- 
 tion — albeit it is far from our intention to act 
 the part of the master of ceremonies in the un-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 11 
 
 sophisticated days of the drama, shouting, at 
 each new entrance, " Here cometh in ' Spotless- 
 Modesty M " " Enter the * Soul of Honour ' ! " 
 "Listen to ' Eefinement- of- Manners,' " — and 
 so on. It is no part of our plan to thrust upon 
 readers an inventory of all the vices and vir- 
 tues, graces, adornments, specks, and flaws of 
 each character at the outset, and so to send 
 each character " on " with his raison cVetre 
 hunor as a foreorone conclusion about his neck. 
 Our dramatis personce shall speak and act 
 for themselves ; and every one shall be at 
 liberty to refer the deeds and words reported 
 to such springs as may appear to each to be 
 their legitimate sources. In this way the 
 reader's right of private judgment shall not 
 be filched from him, and this one reproach, at 
 least, be avoided by the writer, 
 
 " Amphora coepit 
 Institui ; currente rota cur urceus exit ? " 
 
 But as in everyday life, before presenting 
 one person to another, we commonly, when we 
 have the opportunity, furnish each with some 
 ^\^\t renseignements of the other; so it will 
 be convenient that we should say something 
 by way of introduction to the personages who
 
 12 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 from time to time make their appearance on 
 our little stage. 
 
 On this principle, let us introduce the two 
 gentlemen who have retired for consultation ; 
 and first, Lieutenant Bertrand Cameron, of 
 H.M.'s — th Eegiment of Infantry. He was 
 the only son of a gentleman of very ancient 
 and distinguished family in the Scottish High- 
 lands, who, in addition to a long yet authentic 
 pedigree, had inherited a property not only 
 magnificent in territorial extent, but yielding 
 a revenue which, even according to Low- 
 country standards, was magnificent. These 
 combined advantages made the Laird some- 
 what of a rara avis in the Highlands ; and 
 it would have been well for him if he had been 
 satisfied with that distinction ; but it was not 
 so. If his fortune was large, his ideas were on 
 a much more extensive scale. He aspired to 
 be a rara avis wherever he went. The pres- 
 tige of his feudal grandeur in the north he 
 supported in London and in Paris wdth a 
 splendid recklessness ; and what with that and 
 the turf, and play, and an extravagant wife, 
 and that ktissez-aller easiness of disposition as 
 to the state of his affairs, which marks its pos-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 13 
 
 sessor as a sure prey for every class of mar- 
 auder, a very few years had reduced the Laird 
 to a state of desperate embarrassment. The 
 nursing and retrenchment which might in time 
 have restored the property was impossible to 
 him ; a run of luck at the tables, a fortunate 
 coup on the turf, — such are the only resources 
 which aj)pear available to men of his disposi- 
 tion and training ; and just at this time rail- 
 way speculation, which was at its most fren- 
 zied heio^ht, offered him an obvious sandbank 
 wherein to drop the mangled remains of his 
 fortune. Of course he availed himself of it, 
 and six months thereafter his property was 
 brought to the hammer, and, followed by sin- 
 cere regret, JVIr Cameron disappeared from the 
 social orbit in which he had been some time a 
 particular star. 
 
 From a rental of £20,000 a-year nothing 
 was saved — absolutely nothing. It was, in- 
 deed, fortunate that his wife had a few hun- 
 dreds a-year in her own right; for on this 
 pittance they had to depend entirely for sub- 
 sistence, and on this they settled down in an 
 obscure little town in France — to '' make the 
 best of it." When calamities of this sort come
 
 14 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 upon people well advanced in years, they have 
 some consolation in feeling that they have had 
 a long spell of the brighter side of life, and 
 that, if the evil days have come at last, their 
 dm^ation cannot be very protracted ; but here 
 was a couple not yet near middle life, with a 
 very short and very brilliant past behind them, 
 and a very long and very dreary future in front, 
 quite without hope of a change for the better. 
 The prospect was too much for Mr Cameron. 
 He " made the best of it " by declining to face 
 the situation, and died in a few months of that 
 mixture of regret, disgust, ennui, and despair 
 which constitutes a very real and fatal disease, 
 however much it may be sneered at when 
 described as " a broken heart." His widow 
 settled at Brussels with her only child Bertrand ; 
 but she did not very long survive her husband 
 and her fortunes ; and before he was ten years 
 old Bertrand was an orphan, left to the guar- 
 dianship of his uncle. This uncle was Eoland 
 Cameron, who, though the younger brother of 
 his ward's father, had also inherited a very 
 good property in the Highlands. The estate 
 in question had been for centuries possessed 
 by the Camerons ; and though it was not en-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 15 
 
 tailed, it had been the family custom, by a 
 system not uncommon in Scotland (which has 
 been a fruitful source of litigation and hard- 
 ship), that it should be held by him who, for 
 the time being, was next in succession to the 
 principal estate. 
 
 This system had, however, been abolished by 
 Eoland's father in his favour ; he, in consider- 
 ation, it was supposed, of the greatly-enhanced 
 value of the first property, having devised to 
 his second son absolutely the fee-simple of the 
 second. Koland, although thus free from the 
 usual hard conditions of younger sonship, had 
 been endowed by nature with those qualities 
 which frequently seem to compensate the cadet 
 for the narrowness of his patrimony. He had 
 intelligence, activity, perseverance, and energy 
 — o^ifts which might have been allowed to 
 waste themselves in inaction, wanting the spur 
 of necessity, had it not been for his ambition, 
 which was indomitable. This moved him to 
 look about for a career with a wide horizon 
 and large possibilities of eventual distinction, 
 and he selected diplomacy as the profession in 
 which he believed his talents would be most 
 likely to find a suitable and congenial sphere.
 
 16 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Nor was lie mistaken. His progress was more 
 than usually rapid ; and in consequence of a 
 contribution which he made to the literature 
 of an important international question, at a 
 time when it was dividing political parties in 
 England, he attracted the attention of the lead- 
 ers of that party whose views he advocated. 
 A seat was before long found for him in the 
 House, and, once there, he soon talked himself 
 — as so many have done before and since — 
 into office. An under-secretaryship in a hard- 
 w^orked department probably looks more desir- 
 able at a distance than from the point of view 
 of an incumbent. Eoland certainly found it 
 so ; and scarcely appreciated, as of the nature 
 of a reward, the incessant application to labori- 
 ous duties of routine which it imposed, or the 
 official muzzle which forbade the free use of 
 his versatile and discursive powers of talk. He 
 gladly, therefore, when it came his way, ac- 
 cepted promotion to the governorship of a Brit- 
 ish dependency, which, although unimportant 
 and not very remunerative, was the first step 
 on the ladder by which he aspired to climb. 
 Others were reached in due succession. He 
 knew how to keep himself in the recollection
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 17 
 
 of the Government and before the eyes of the 
 public. If there was nothing stirring in his 
 own particular colony, he was always ready 
 with letters, articles, and pamphlets on the 
 affairs of others. Sometimes his energy was 
 of use, sometimes it was a bore ; but either 
 alternative conduces to advancement in the 
 public service ; and as each term of office 
 expired, Eoland was, as a matter of course, 
 re-employed and promoted. At the time this 
 story opens, he was governor of a most import- 
 ant colony in " Greater Britain ; " he had been 
 made a K.C.B. ; and the value of his property 
 in Scotland had been nearly trebled since his 
 succession to it. Thus prosperity had hitherto 
 shone upon him from every quarter. Up to 
 this time there had been no check in his career ; 
 and if it came now, as come it did, he had the 
 melancholy satisfaction of feeling that he him- 
 self, and no such intangibility as Fortune, Fate, 
 or the like, was to blame. 
 
 We all have our weak points, and it was in 
 the point of morality that Sir Eoland displayed 
 a somewhat deplorable feebleness. The most 
 servile of colonial courtiers could not have 
 otherwise averred; and in the fierce light 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 wliicli beats not merely on tlie throne, but on 
 all governmental eminences, bis Excellency's 
 failings were conspicuously visible. Even in 
 communities wbere the moral tone is not high, 
 morality is exacted by public opinion from 
 those who are set in authority — the reverse, at 
 least, is always unpopular ; and as Sir Koland, 
 by successive promotions, came under the criti- 
 cism of a larger and more civilised, and there- 
 fore more exacting, public opinion, his per- 
 sonal unpopularity increased. All his acts of 
 government were accordingly criticised with 
 an animus personally unfavourable to the 
 Governor ; and such as were unpopular in 
 themselves were assailed with a vehemence 
 and bitterness more than half-inspired by 
 dislike to their originator. There was a tur- 
 bulent legislature in Sir Eoland's last and most 
 important colony ; a strong and vigorous party 
 offered him a relentless opposition. Difficult 
 questions of policy arose ; and the good of the 
 colony seemed at times a minor consideration 
 with the Opposition compared with the defeat 
 and humiliation of the Governor. His disposi- 
 tion, which was naturally haughty and auto- 
 cratic, would not stoop to conciliation. He
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 19 
 
 met the animosity of his opponents with fierce 
 resentment ; and in his measures of retaliation 
 at last permitted himself to overstep constitu- 
 tional limits. This at once embroiled him 
 with friend and foe alike. The Imperial 
 Legislature was appealed to, and Sir Eoland 
 found himself in danger of impeachment or of 
 enforced retirement into private life. Thus 
 matters stood with him at the opening of our 
 tale ; but we must not further anticipate his 
 history. 
 
 At the time when young Bertrand was left 
 to his guardianship he was still in a very 
 minor colony, in a very remote part of the 
 empire ; and he at once arranged that the 
 child's education should in the mean time be 
 continued at Brussels ; and having instructed 
 his agent to select a suitable jpensionnat, and 
 establish his nephew at it, he troubled himself 
 little more about his charge. Once annually 
 he wrote the boy a letter, and once annually 
 he received an answer — so that twice a-year 
 he was certainly reminded that he possessed a 
 nephew. Sir Koland (having been for many 
 consecutive years absent from Europe) did not 
 see Bertrand till he was fifteen years of age —
 
 20 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 his last year having been spent at a military 
 school in Germany. " The boy is growing up 
 a confounded foreigner/' was the verdict he 
 pronounced on his young charge, in a tone 
 of somewhat unreasonable displeasure. " We 
 must get you home at once, youngster ; and, 
 by the by, what do you think of in the way 
 of a profession?" Bertrand gave the answer 
 which ninety young Britons out of a hundred 
 would give at the same age. He unhesitat- 
 ingly declared for the army; and his uncle 
 making no objection, his future lot in life was 
 thus summarily determined. He was at once 
 transferred to Sandhurst, whence he was in 
 due time gazetted to the — th Kegiment, in 
 which he had now served for five years — the 
 two first with the depot of his corps in 
 England and Ireland, and the remainder in 
 that tropical station from which they had just 
 returned at the opening of our story. It is 
 only farther necessary to say something of 
 Bertrand's personal appearance, which was ex- 
 tremely handsome and prepossessing ; of that 
 dark Celtic type which, with a clear com- 
 plexion and grey hazel eyes, unites hair of 
 the deepest and glossiest black. His features
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 21 
 
 were refined and regular, tlie upper part of 
 his face indicatincr bris^ht intellio-ence ; thougjli 
 perhaps the physiognomist might doubt, from 
 symptoms of irresolution in the contour of the 
 lower part of his face, and from the pattern of 
 his mouth, whether this intelligence would not 
 at times be scantily interpreted by his actions. 
 A tall, lithe, active figure, the strength and 
 symmetry of which were denoted by a singular 
 grace, either in action or repose, completed a 
 tout ensemble that would alike have delighted 
 the eye of the artist and of the recruiting- 
 sergeant. He was a favourite in his regiment; 
 he had been a favourite at Sandhurst ; and we 
 need only farther add that we trust the reader's 
 opinion of him may not altogether differ from 
 that of his school-fellows and comrades. His 
 friend Captain Watson Pigott was nobody's 
 son in particular, and did not regret the cir- 
 cumstance in the least. If a man has a thor- 
 ough respect for and appreciation of his own 
 personal qualities, he is apt to undervalue 
 family antecedents, particularly in these demo- 
 cratic days. He was four or five years older 
 than Bertrand, and his personal appearance 
 was neutral — eyes, mouth, hair, complexion.
 
 22 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 and height — all were neutral. Everything 
 about him seemed to be devised to escape 
 special remark ; and, indeed, the only idea 
 that occurred to one on first seeing him was, 
 " What a clean-looking fellow ! " But when 
 you came to examine him more closely, from 
 the cut of his hair and its faultless partition, 
 down to his blameless boots, there was a quiet 
 harmony in all his appointments that might 
 lead one given to judge by externals to expect 
 to find him a self-contained man, with a well- 
 regulated mind. 
 
 His habits were not gregarious; indeed 
 there was a certain retenue about his manner 
 which was rarely laid aside, except in a tete-d- 
 tSte — and in tetes-d-tetes he almost never in- 
 dulged except with Bertrand Cameron. His 
 friendship for Bertrand, and his constant asso- 
 ciation with him, were perhaps the most salient 
 points in his character in the judgment of his 
 brother officers. They voted him a good- 
 natured fellow, but suspected him of being 
 intensely selfish, which may have arisen from 
 the fact that he was rich, and yet not extra- 
 vagant — a combination singularly grovelling 
 and unlovely in the eyes of gentlemen whose
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 23 
 
 meagreness of fortune was, as a rule, compen- 
 sated for by a noble breadtb of view as to tbe 
 paternal relation in a pecuniary sense. 
 
 This will be sufficient as an introduction to 
 the two young men whom we left retiring to 
 consult on the Cairnarvoch question in Captain 
 Pigott's quarters. 
 
 Bertrand Cameron, comfortably established 
 in an arm-chair, with a cigar in his mouth, un- 
 folded ' The Field ' with solemn deliberation, 
 and began to re-read the advertisement lately 
 under discussion in the mess-room, approach- 
 ing it with the air of one who has a knotty 
 question to solve. 
 
 " ril read it first, Pigott," he said ; " then 
 you shall read it, and then we'll compare notes 
 and talk it over. It ivill require a deal of con- 
 sideration, you know ; we must do nothing in 
 a hurry.'' 
 
 Bertrand's processes of thought must have 
 been singularly rapid on this occasion, or his 
 judgment arrived at altogether per saltiim ; 
 for no sooner had he concluded the reperusal, 
 than he jumped up with great vivacity, and 
 thumping * The Field ' down on the table 
 before Pigott, cried, " It's the very thing for
 
 24 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 US, Pigott — made for us, contrived for us — if 
 we have only the luck to secure it. Let us 
 write at once to these London lawyers and 
 book it." 
 
 " I thought you had just said that it would 
 require a deal of consideration ? " 
 
 " So I thought, but I was mistaken. The 
 second reading is everything : it gives one 
 new lights, it opens fresh points of view; I 
 see all the advantages of the plan now. Let's 
 cry ' agreed,' and write to the lawyers." 
 
 " You forget I haven't had the advantage of 
 a second reading yet." 
 
 " What a slow-coach you are ! listen, then," 
 — and Bertrand again seized the paper and 
 read the paragraph aloud, sonorously, enthusi- 
 astically, dwelling upon the points which he 
 took to be most seductive, with the emphasis 
 of a partisan. 
 
 *' Now, what do you say, Pigott ? " he cried, 
 the reading concluded. 
 
 " My good man, what a hurry you're in ! " 
 replied his friend. ''You may have inspira- 
 tions — I haven't : give a fellow time to 
 think." 
 
 "Well, well, what's your prima facie view
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 25 
 
 of it ? Hang it ! You must have a iJrimd 
 facie view of some sort ; what is it I " 
 
 " Some one in the mess-room said it sounded 
 like a *Tommiebeg;' perhaps he was right. I 
 shouldn't wonder if that was my primd facie 
 view, if I had time to discover it/' 
 
 " Tommiebeo: ! humbuo; ! It's well known 
 to be one of the finest shootings in Scotland." 
 
 " So the advertisement says, of course ; just 
 as I, if I was advertising for a brigadiership in 
 the American army, would likely describe my- 
 self as ' well known to be one of the finest 
 soldiers in the British army.' Of course I 
 should be speaking the truth ; but the Yankees 
 would scarcely engage me upon my own certi- 
 ficate, w^ould they '? " 
 
 " Well, M'Niven says it is true." 
 " M'Niven is an Ossian, not a Solomon." 
 " The game-book would show, at all events." 
 " Precisely ; the first sensible words you've 
 spoken in the matter, Bertrand. In the first 
 instance, we should require to see the game- 
 book." 
 
 " Well, let us write and ask for it, and en- 
 gage the shooting conditionally on the book 
 giving a satisfactory account."
 
 26 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Ah ! but there are other questions — the 
 domestic, the financial." 
 
 "Well, what's your "prima facie view about 
 them?'' 
 
 ^'Mj prima facie view about them is, that 
 we have no means of taking any view of them 
 whatsoever. Who is this ' gentleman of posi- 
 tion ' ? who are his ladies of refinement ? what 
 does he define ' position ' to be ? and what is 
 his notion of refinement ? I confess to a cer- 
 tain inquisitiveness on these points — weak of 
 me, perhaps, but I am a frail mortal. Then 
 w^hat is the entrance to his dress-circle to cost 
 us ? I am not a bloated aristocrat, as you 
 know, and I don't think I'm a screw (though 
 some asses say I am) ; but I must say I like to 
 know my company, and I prefer to estimate the 
 expense of a campaign before plunging into it." 
 
 " What a cautious old bloater you are ! 
 Talk of Scotchmen being ' canny ' ! Now look 
 at yourself an Englishman, and at me a Scot ; 
 which of us two is the * canny ' one ? " 
 
 " I sincerely believe and hope I am, Ber- 
 trand ; but heaven forbid I should insult most 
 grave and reverend Caledonia by considering 
 a hare-brained lunatic like you a typical Scot !
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 27 
 
 but that isn't tlie question. I am a practical 
 man, and I want to know what youVe got to 
 say to my questions/' 
 
 *' Oh ! I detest a practical fellow ; you Ve 
 got no go, no dash, no spirit of adventure about 
 you ; but I know you're a mule, so pray take 
 your own way, only take action of some sort 
 at once. Eemember this day fortnight is the 
 'Twelfth.'" 
 
 " Very well, Bertrand, 111 meet you in that, 
 at all events. I'll write to Buncombe & M'Nab, 
 and make them disgorge aU essential particu- 
 lars. You needn't be in such a state of mind 
 — there's lots of time ; aU the world is not so 
 impetuous." 
 
 " Sit down then, at once, and write." 
 
 And down Pigott sat and wrote accordingly; 
 and, after some days, particulars were obtained 
 sufficient to enable him to form at least " a 
 primd facie view " of the matter. Bertrand's 
 fears were not realised. The shootings were 
 still to be had. Nor were Pigott's " Tom- 
 miebeg " surmises substantiated, for the game- 
 book showed a really splendid average over 
 the last five years. 
 
 The consideration to be paid for an entrance
 
 28 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 to, and residence in, the domestic circle of 
 Cairnarvoch, was pretty stiff — an " eye-opener," 
 Pigott said ; but Buncombe & M'Nab pledged 
 their professional reputation that there would 
 be ample equivalents, and Pigott thought he 
 might surmount that objection. As to the 
 social question, the lawyers said that the ad- 
 vertiser was a most esteemed client, a most 
 respectable and wealthy gentleman — M'Killop 
 by name, a native Scot, but who had spent all 
 his life in the colonies, whence he had recently 
 returned with a large fortune. 
 
 It was his intention to purchase a landed 
 property in the north, for which he was on 
 the look-out, and in the mean time he rented 
 Cairnarvoch Castle. In reply to a half-ex- 
 pressed indication of surprise on Pigott's part 
 that a gentleman of wealth and position should 
 care to sublet his shootings, and admit total 
 strangers into his family as a kind of boarders, 
 the lawyers admitted that, though by no means 
 without precedent, it might appear strange ; 
 but Mr M'Killop was a mercantile man, and 
 mercantile men were apt to prefer the utilita- 
 rian to the conventional view of matters. Owing 
 to the unexpected departure of his son and a
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 29 
 
 friend for the colonies, he found himself with 
 shootinor on his hands three times as extensive 
 as his requirements, and, as a man of business, 
 he had resorted to the expedient in question. 
 But it was not altogether by business motives 
 that he was actuated. It would be a real 
 benefit to him to have the society of some 
 pleasant gentleman-like inmates; for a man, 
 all his life in the colonies, found but few 
 friends on his return home, and the district 
 around Cairnarvoch had few residents, and at 
 such distances as to render their society but 
 little available. 
 
 The ladies of the family were three in num- 
 ber. Mrs ]\['Killop, her daughter by a former 
 marriage, and Mr M'Killop's daughter, also by 
 a former marriage, constituting, in the opinion 
 of Messrs Buncombe & M'Nab, as truly charm- 
 ing a family circle as any gentleman could 
 desire to be admitted to. 
 
 " It is something of a leap in the dark, Ber- 
 trand," said Pigott at last, after mature con- 
 sideration of all these particulars ; " but as 
 there are a few streaks of light about it — the 
 game average, for instance — I am prepared on 
 the whole to take it. What say you ? "
 
 30 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 '' What say I *? wliat I said from tlie first ; 
 it*s the very thing for us. We get rid of all 
 the nuisance of servants and housekeeping, 
 and stores and keepers and ghillies to look 
 after, and a hundred other worries. We are 
 certain of good sport, and if the society is 
 not all we could wish, we can keep ourselves 
 pretty much to ourselves. So it's agreed. 
 Vive Cairnarvoch ! Vive M'Killop ! Vive 
 Buncombe! Vive M'Nab! Vive everybody!" 
 
 All the arrangements were quickly com- 
 pleted, and ratified by an autograph letter 
 from M'Killop, expressing his satisfaction, and 
 describing their route ; and on the morning of 
 the 9th of August, behold our sportsmen start- 
 ing from Euston Square by the Scotch mail, 
 accompanied by Pigott's valet, a nondescript 
 lad, in charge of the dogs, quite a small pack 
 of setters, pointers, and retrievers, and all the 
 usual impedimenta of sporting youths of con- 
 dition.
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 The route by which Cairnarvoch was to be 
 reached is one of the most delightful that can 
 well be conceived — that is, after leaving Green- 
 ock, in which fetid and whiskyfied town our 
 travellers found themselves at the close of their 
 first day's journey. Here, rather than in Glas- 
 gow, they had resolved to sleep, so as to avoid 
 an inconveniently early start on the morrow, 
 when their journey was to be continued to 
 Oban, in the far-famed steamer lona. 
 
 Happy he or she who has yet to experience 
 the first delights of that delectable voyage ! 
 and happier he or she who can look forward 
 to repeating it, year by year, when summer 
 days are fine ! Given bright weather and a 
 bright companion, the pleasure of that passage 
 is something unique. The melange of delights 
 of which that steamer forms the nucleus is
 
 32 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 decidedly by itself, — and in this respect among 
 others, that here almost every sort and con- 
 dition of men must find some source of 
 gratification and amusement. 
 
 " How ? '' " Why ? " " What is there to 
 dor' 
 
 You ask this, miseras hominum menteisf 
 — you ask this, pectora cceca, that have never 
 thrilled in unison with the pulsing of the 
 Ionian paddle-wheels ? 
 
 What is there to do ? What is there not to 
 do ? and to see '? First, if you have ever so 
 little of an artist's eye or an artist's soul — that 
 is to say, if you love nature at all — very surely 
 you will find that love stirred and quickened 
 within you all the live-long day — if you only 
 keep your eyes open — while threading with 
 the lona the wondrous labyrinth of her beau- 
 tiful course. The mountain panorama which 
 greets you as you start, noble though it be, 
 is but the noble promise of still better things ; 
 for it cannot show you the exquisite variety, 
 the contrasts, the combinations, the marvel- 
 lous chiaroscuro, the subtle harmonies, the 
 sublime discords, that meet you and thrill you 
 at every turn, passing through the inner pene-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 33 
 
 tralia of all that is most glorious in the land of 
 mountain and of flood. 
 
 Glidinor throuo^h those stranore sounds and 
 estuaries, with their infinite sinuosities, traced 
 about peninsula and cape and island — traced 
 as it were with a design of delighting the eye 
 with sudden presentments of scenic surprises, 
 as it were with a desig^n of furnishino: not one, 
 but twenty points of view, wherefrom to con- 
 sider each salient wonder and beauty round 
 which they seem to conduct you proudly on 
 their glittering paths — there must be some- 
 thing far wrong with you if you find no de- 
 light in all this. For here, indeed, you have a 
 succession of the noblest pictures, — no mere 
 iteration of rugged mountains, monotonous in 
 their grim severity and sublime desolation, — 
 no mere sleepy tracts of unbroken forest, nor 
 blank heaths losing themselves vaguely in the 
 horizon, nor undulating expanses of lawn-like 
 pasture-land, but with something of all these 
 features blending in each of the splendid series; 
 every feature in turn claiming its predomi- 
 nance, when all the others seem to pose them- 
 selves about the one central object, sinking for 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 the moment their own individualities that it 
 may be glorified. 
 
 Something of this sort you may see at 
 almost any point of the voyage ; and then — 
 as to what you may do — inspired by such 
 scenes, you may well address yourself to 
 
 " Feed on thoughts that voluntary move 
 Harmonious numbers." 
 
 Or if inclined for a grosser sustenance, down 
 below you will find the best and amplest 
 means of satisfying such requirements. Or if 
 tired awhile of ministering to the hunger of 
 the soul, and of quelling the more sordid rage 
 of carnal wants, you may look about you on 
 the decks and cabins, and there find a rare 
 opportunity of considering your kind in right 
 humorous aspects. 
 
 We once heard a fellow-passenger remark, 
 " This lona is far better than most plays ; " 
 and he was very right. You won't often meet 
 with a quainter assortment of human units. 
 The steamer is a moving stage, on which you 
 can see going on, side by side, no end of little 
 dramas ; and as for the dramatis personce, 
 who are they '? or rather, who are they not ?
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 35 
 
 Honeymooning couples huddled together under 
 umbrellas to screen them from the sun, and 
 from the world's garish eye ; inevitable read- 
 ing-parties from Oxford and Cambridge ; indi- 
 gestive blue-stockings, "inverted" philosophers, 
 smug parsons, and leathery-looking lawyers ; 
 sportsmen en route for their shootings, yacht- 
 ing men for their yachts, gamekeepers, ghillies, 
 and figure footmen ; bleary Germans, and dys- 
 peptic Yankees, calculating the exact number 
 of cocked -hats into which the Mississippi 
 knocks the Clyde ; jocund schoolboys, bread- 
 and-butter misses, " cock - lairds," and Cock- 
 neys ; Highlanders and Mile-Enders ; ladies 
 and gentlemen, — all sorts and conditions of 
 men, natural and artificial, shamming and 
 detective, bragging and counter-bragging, ap- 
 preciative and depreciative, a farrago, a pot- 
 pourri, an olla j^odrida — a dainty dish to set 
 before Democritus. 
 
 As these personce shift about and interchange 
 and intermingle, the scenes and acts of separ- 
 ate dramas get confused and entangled in the 
 quaintest way. The hero of one walks into 
 another and becomes its zany ; and the high- 
 life of a third suddenly appears cockaded and
 
 36 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 obsequious in a fourth. Look at two groups 
 that are always to be seen on the lona. 
 
 The first is ubiquitous — we meet it every- 
 where — the central figure being our old friend 
 paterfamilias, with his semi-clerical look, his 
 umbrageous " wide-awake,'' natty waterproof, 
 guide-book, and eternal telescope. He is sur- 
 rounded by his troop of rosy girls and smug 
 youths, whom he dominates fussily. One of 
 the boys has a contraband taste for tobacco, 
 and preventive stratagems are in perpetual 
 requisition. Another has an inquiring mind, 
 and lurks dangerously about the engine-room. 
 Then there is the wasfSiish dauc^hter — the 
 female pickle — who never can see the particu- 
 lar point on which her papa desires to lecture; 
 and the lackadaisical daughter, who requires 
 constant rousing from her novel to contemplate 
 the book of nature ; and the mysterious female 
 friend with a look of chronic sea-sickness ; and 
 the limp mamma, with a headache and slight 
 infirmity of temper which requires coaxing. 
 All these cares and troubles are on the shoulders 
 of poor paterfamilias, and yet he contrives 
 to explain everything to everybody who ap- 
 proaches. Who has not met this group at all
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 37 
 
 sorts of places ? Who has not seen this typical 
 family tourist, with his fussy look of abnormal 
 relaxation 1 But does any one " know him at 
 home " ? What is he ? What does he do, 
 and where does he do it, when he is not pant- 
 ing up the Righi, or expatiating at Ramsgate, 
 or ogling the Rhineland ? Does any one know 
 him ? or will ]\Ir Pollaky undertake to run him 
 to earth 1 
 
 Down below in the cabin we have another 
 group inevitable in the lona, but not much 
 met with elsewhere. It is a small tradesman's 
 family from Glasgow " oot for a bit jant." 
 
 In this case the head of the family separates 
 himself from his kith and kin, and keeps holi- 
 day independently in the fore-cabin. How he 
 has amused himself we have a fair opportunity 
 of judging at the conclusion of the voyage, 
 when (but not till then) he emerges from his 
 lair, solemn, sodden, staggery, with imbecile 
 up-liftings of the arms and monotonous inar- 
 ticulate murmurs, as who would preach — and 
 without doubt that is what he is attempting 
 to do ; for, say what they like of " our own 
 flesh and blood '' in Scotland, their festal pro- 
 gramme, simple though it be, is not absolutely
 
 38 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 fulfilled by whisky — a little theology is sup- 
 posed to give " bite " and relish to the " barley 
 bree/' His " sonsy " wife remains mistress of 
 the group in the saloon. It is large enough, 
 luckily, to contain many groups, but hers is 
 the most notable. She sits there in company 
 with seven children, two quart bottles of milk, 
 a soda-water bottle filled with a pellucid liquor, 
 a paper containing some glutinous sweetmeat, 
 a basket of gooseberries, another basket which 
 is covered with a cloth, but emits pungent 
 odours as of cheese. The youngest child is, of 
 course, in arms ; it is teething before our very 
 eyes, and is obviously the victim of intestinal 
 pangs. It cries incessantly when it is not 
 being nourished, and when it is nourished (in 
 open court) it chokes. The other children, 
 who appear to be all about five years old, play, 
 romp, fight, scream, yell, finally are whipped 
 in the oJd-fashioned style, with much prelimi- 
 nary untrussing of points. 
 
 Certain spinsters flounce from the saloon, a 
 nervous fellow is agafe and swears, a coarse 
 fellow laughs aloud. What does she care, this 
 notable woman 1 She has paid her fare and 
 will take her ease : " The baby canna dee o'
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 39 
 
 hunger, and the bairns maun hae their skelps. 
 Afore folk 1 Whatna folk '? Cock them up." 
 Accept these specimens, and then call up how 
 whimsically in contrast all this sort of thing 
 is to the scenery through which the steamer 
 is gliding — scenery ever varying, unchanging 
 only in its one fidelity to the beautiful and the 
 sublime. 
 
 Oh, dear reader, we have ridden thus long 
 on our Ionian hobby, and very likely we have 
 bored you. But if you, too, are an Ionian, 
 forgive our tediousness, appreciating our zeal ; 
 whereas if the lona is still an untasted joy, 
 accept our prolixity as a chastening and penal 
 visitation, and next summer supply the miss- 
 ing experience. 
 
 On board this steamer, and surrounded by 
 some such accessories as those above sketched, 
 behold our two travellers embarked on the 
 tenth morning of August — the brightest month 
 of the Scottish year. Pigott's tastes as a de- 
 voted sportsman had frequently brought him 
 to Scotland before, but it was Bertrand's first 
 visit to the land of his sires. This (unacknow- 
 ledged) circumstance was a secret and rankling 
 source of grief and shame to him — that he,
 
 40 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 the scion of a thousand sons of the heather 
 (not to speak of the mist), should never yet 
 have planted his chieftain foot upon his ances- 
 tral hills, seemed to him to be indeed a woe 
 and a disgrace to be carefully concealed ; and 
 his desire on this occasion to guard the secret 
 from his companion cost him no small efforts 
 of self-restraint and of finesse. Sore, indeed, 
 was the trial to curb manifestations of exces- 
 sive enthusiasm, which might suggest non- 
 familiarity with Scottish scenery, and to repress 
 eager questions which were for ever rising to 
 his lips. Had his companion been as demon- 
 strative a man as himself, his task would have 
 been simpler ; but Pigott was essentially of the 
 ^^nil-admirari" school — surprise, admiration, 
 excitement of any sort, appeared to be contra- 
 band of his mental laws, insomuch that any 
 commendatory remarks elicited from him by a 
 first view of ISIiagara or the Matterhorn would 
 have differed but little in form and tone from 
 his favourable verdict on the freshness of his 
 egg at breakfast, or some extra radiance in the 
 polish of his boots. Bertrand's secret had, of 
 course, been fathomed by him, and he circled 
 round and round it in his conversation, to the
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 41 
 
 confusion of his friend and his own cynical 
 amusement at the boyish absurdity. 
 
 But Bertrand had another cause of disquiet. 
 With some palpitations of the heart he had 
 that morning determined to array himself for 
 the first time in the " garb of Old Gaul : " 
 when, however, he had laid out the different 
 parts of the dress (which had been supplied by 
 a London tailor), a difficulty arose. A South- 
 Sea islander of average intelligence might pro- 
 bably enough contrive without instruction to 
 get himself inside a pair of trousers ; but any 
 one of us would find it a hard task to array 
 himself in the beads, paint, feathers, and other 
 paraphernalia of the savage, so as to pass 
 muster as a gentleman-like, well-dressed can- 
 nibal of fashion : and so in a minor degree is 
 it with the Highland dress. Poor Bertrand 
 looked at the kilt and could find no visible 
 means of fastening it. In despair he essayed 
 to gird it on with a portmanteau-strap worn 
 en ceinture ; but its dimensions were hopelessly 
 voluminous, and he came to the mournful con- 
 clusion that he must have been accidentally 
 supplied with a dress intended for some mas- 
 querading London alderman of especial obesity.
 
 42 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 What was to be done ? Time was flying. 
 Must he relinquish his intention of entering 
 the Highlands as a Cameron, glittering in the 
 proud plumage of a mountain bird 1 Perish 
 the thought ! He would try very diplomati- 
 cally to get a wrinkle from the waiter, whom 
 he summoned accordingly. " Oh, waiter, I 
 find I've got some one else's kilt sent with me 
 by mistake ; it's miles too large, and I wanted 
 to see if you could contrive any dodge for 
 tucking it in, so that I might wear it for the 
 day. I hate travelling in trousers ; and, by 
 the by, there's nothing to fasten it with. I 
 never saw such a kilt in my life." 
 
 The waiter, a stolid -looking West -High- 
 lander, examined the garment, and then gave 
 an inquisitive semi-comical glance at its would- 
 be wearer. " I'll sort it for you, sir," he said ; 
 and in a twinkling the refractory garment was 
 wrapped round Bertrand's loins and pinned 
 with two big pins about the haunch and hip- 
 joint. " There, sir, it'll no be getting lowse 
 noo," he promised, when the investiture was 
 completed. He then helped Bertrand to "do 
 on " the sporran, hose, brogues, skien-dhu, &c. 
 &c., to which our Celtic novice, in his inno-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 43 
 
 cence, added a belted plaid, brooch, and dirk. 
 All that was metallic in his appointments was 
 of silver, freely incrusted with rampagious 
 cairngorms ; and altogether his appearance was 
 as gorgeous as the most Horid taste could desire. 
 
 Thus equipped, with his bonnet (bearing a 
 huge silver platter of armorial devices, and an 
 eagle's plume) cocked jauntily on his right ear, 
 Bertrand descended in mingled pride and per- 
 turbation to the coflfee-room, where Pigott was 
 alreaded seated at breakfast. He posed him- 
 self serio-comically at the door to disarm the 
 cynic by meeting him half-way. His friend 
 looked at him and munched, and looking and 
 munching, his eyes got a trifle larger, and at 
 last, with a ghost of a grin, he remarked, " In 
 the name of the Prophet, how did you get into 
 that thing ? " 
 
 " If you mean the Highland dress," said Ber- 
 trand, flaring up at once, " I got into it, I sup- 
 pose, as other Highlanders have done." 
 
 " One can conceive no limits to the eccen- 
 tricities which other Celts may have performed, 
 especially in their cups. Brian O'Lynn, for 
 instance, had his coat buttoned behind, and 
 turned inside out."
 
 44 FATE, TO SEE. 
 
 " And pray what has that got to do with me 
 and my dress ? " 
 
 "Only that youVe been following in the 
 Irish Celt's wake in putting your kilt on hind- 
 side in front." 
 
 " Pshaw ! nonsense ! " 
 
 " 111 prove it ; sit down." 
 
 Bertrand flounced himself down on a chair, 
 and the heavy sporran swinging aside, up 
 sprang the kilt in front, the plaits that should 
 have been behind fanning themselves out like 
 a peacock's tail. Up started Bertrand. " There 
 must be something wrong, I suspect." 
 
 " I have something more than a suspicion 
 to the same effect," rejoined Pigott. " Go 
 and take it off; I wouldn't run the gauntlet 
 of the lona with a fellow rigged like that for 
 a trifle." 
 
 " It's a new kind of kilt," faltered Bertrand ; 
 " but I'll get accustomed to it. I won't take 
 it off." 
 
 " Oh, if you're obstinate, at least let me put 
 it on right for you. I flatter myself I know 
 all the eccentricities of the garment. I used 
 to wear it deer-stalking when I was young and 
 foolish."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 45 
 
 Here was a humiliation for the de jure 
 mountaineer ; but it ^Yas obviously necessary 
 to get on a better understanding with his gar- 
 ments before starting, so he crept meekly up- 
 stairs with Pigott, remarking, " It's wonderful 
 how soon one gets out of the trick of a dress 
 of that sort." 
 
 Two chamber-maids and the waiter looked 
 out of a room as they passed, and retired snig- 
 gering violently, and Bertrand ground his teeth 
 with rage as he recognised, and promised him- 
 self a future revenge for, the trick which the 
 rascal had played him. After the kilt had 
 been adjusted, Pigott persuaded him to tone 
 down the rest of his appearance by suppressing 
 plaid, brooch, dirk, and other superfluities ; so 
 that when he appeared on the quarter-deck of 
 the lona, barring that his unsunned knees were 
 of a dazzling whiteness, that his jacket was 
 velvet, and his kilt of full-dress tartan, there 
 was nothing radically amiss with him in his 
 quality of montagnarcl. 
 
 He was, as we have said, a very handsome 
 fellow ; and as he and his friend commenced 
 their promenade on deck, he was quite a cen-
 
 46 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 tral object of observation, which was rather 
 embarrassing at first, and every now and then 
 suggested grave suspicions of the conduct of 
 his kilt, which he felt to be a garment of ter- 
 rible possibilities. But by degrees his self- 
 consciousness was quieted down, and he was 
 able to look the world boldly enough in the 
 face. Of course the steamer contained the 
 usual quaint groups and outre individuals; 
 and as our travellers moved about among 
 them, they found ample sources of amusement. 
 Pigott, walking up and down with that ab- 
 stracted air which seems to imply a conscious- 
 ness of no other presence than the wearer's 
 own, contrived, by a few rapid, sidelong glances, 
 to take in the various humours of the scene, 
 and fell to expounding sotto voce to his com- 
 panion the conditions and characteristics of 
 their fellow- voyagers, telling them off in short 
 epigrammatic sentences. " Why, Pigott," he 
 exclaimed, when a temporary cessation took 
 place on their arrival at one of the numerous 
 landing-stages, " you would make your fortune 
 as a showman ; but what an ill-conditioned 
 ruffian you must be ! you haven't got a good 
 word to say for any of them."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 47 
 
 "Why should I ? I don t know any good 
 of any of them ; and even if I had said any- 
 thing bad of any of them — which I deny — in 
 groping for the truth it is always best to err 
 on the safe side." 
 
 " And the safe side is to make them all out 
 bad?" 
 
 " Well, for choice, I should say so decidedly ; 
 but I have done nothing of the sort ; I have 
 only pointed out their actual or possible absur- 
 dities." 
 
 " How would you like to be laughed at 
 yourself? " 
 
 " Like it ? of course I like it. I am laughed 
 at, so are you, so is everybody, by some one or 
 other. I laugh at a man for what I consider 
 his absurdities ; he believes in himself, and is 
 all the while laughing at me for my ridiculous 
 deficiency of the very qualities I deride in him. 
 We are both pleased. We are all Ishmaelites 
 in the matter of mirth. The doctrine is a 
 great comfort to me. It teaches me that I 
 violate no Christian precept — at all events, I 
 do as I know I am done by." 
 
 " Yes, but every one doesn't think as you 
 do. I don't go in for laughing at people my-
 
 48 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 self, and I know I should hate beinor laus^hed 
 at — not that I suppose there is much to laugh 
 at about me, and I don t suppose I am laughed 
 at. Should you 1 '^ 
 
 " Candidly, I should certainly say you are ; 
 and still more candidly, I should say you de- 
 serve it ; that kilt, for instance " 
 
 Bertrand stopped abruptly, and hurriedly 
 examined the hinder portion of the garment, 
 with a renewed terror that it was repeating its 
 peacock manoeuvre in rear. 
 
 " Oh ! bother the kilt. Don't let us prose ! 
 What a charming place ! What a crush of 
 people ! but half your oddities are going out. 
 Why, they're all leaving ; look ! " 
 
 " Never mind, they will be replaced : the 
 tide has just done ebbing, and here it comes 
 flowing again." And truly the departing 
 crowd were soon replaced by one similar in 
 quantity and quality. 
 
 On they came, crushing breathless and eager 
 along the gangway, with a brandished forest 
 of walking-sticks, umbrellas, camp-stools, bas- 
 kets, and so on — the Captain on the paddle-box 
 looking like Noah passing his cargo into the 
 ark.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 49 
 
 " Holloa ! " cried Bertrand, suddenly. "AYliat's 
 this?" 
 
 " Where ? " asked Pigott. 
 
 " Why, there, on the pier, just coming in." 
 
 " Oh," said Pigott, " that's a very nice point 
 for consideration ; don't hurry me. Not Helen 
 M'Gregor — she's too old for that ; nor j\Iadge 
 Wildfire, nor Meg Merrilies, nor Noma of 
 the Fitful Head ; she has a dash of all four, 
 but No, I give her up." 
 
 The subject of these remarks was a tall, 
 plethoric, elderly lady, in whose attire and 
 complexion all the colours of the rainbow, and 
 a good many more, met in a blaze of inhar- 
 monious combinations. A bright silk-tartan 
 dress, involving stripes of the most contradic- 
 tory tints, was surmounted by a black velvet 
 tunic, over which was draped a shawl of an- 
 other tartan — differing in all, save its varie- 
 gated brilliancy, from the dress. A huge 
 cairnoform brooch fastened the shawl under her 
 chin, but its lustre paled before the superior 
 brilliancy of the ample round red face, which 
 wibbled and wobbled in its billowy fatness 
 above. 
 
 Great ogreish teeth flashed from a ravine 
 
 VOL. 1. D
 
 50 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 bisecting the lower part of this ruddy orb. 
 Two pale twinkling eyes, seeming for ever about 
 to set behind high but full-fleshed cheek-bones, 
 peered over a short up-turned nose; while 
 above, a profusion of grizzled flaxen hair 
 towered in fantastic coils, detaching one per- 
 fectly inauthentic ringlet to patrol the capa- 
 cious shoulders. The whole edifice was crowned 
 by a perky white bonnet, from which, as from 
 a festive May-pole, streamed many a banneret 
 of tartan ribbon. 
 
 This wondrous creature, posed in an atti- 
 tude of command, stood looking down on the 
 quarter-deck and its inhabitants, as if doubt- 
 ing their worthiness to be admitted to a closer 
 contact with herself, and probably to give them 
 an unobstructed view of the glory which was 
 about to descend into their midst. But the 
 steamer had embarked its passengers, the 
 "dreadful bell" had jangled thrice, and the 
 Captain, in that state of normal fuss and " boil- 
 over" which belongs to his tribe, having 
 shouted irreverently to the lady to "come 
 along if she was coming," the paddle-wheels 
 began to make some premonitory revolutions. 
 Thus stimulated, and followed by a young
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 51 
 
 lady and a maid of spectral aspect, who looked 
 as if her substance and colour had been ab- 
 sorbed into the luminary of which she was the 
 satellite, the great being moved heavily across 
 the gangway, sending Parthian shafts back to 
 a couple of porters, who were staring with in- 
 credulous contempt at certain minute coins in 
 their extended palms with which she had just 
 failed to satisfy them. 
 
 Leaning on the maid, she sailed up the 
 quarter-deck with a backward rake of the 
 head ; and, after a world of fussy arrange- 
 ments of rug and shawl, came to an anchor in 
 a prominent situation, and proceeded to " take 
 stock '' of her fellow - passengers haughtily, 
 through a massive double eye-glass. 
 
 The effect upon them of this entree was 
 varied. 
 
 " Mair like a muckle plei-actress nur a 
 dacent wummin," soliloquised an acid Glasgow 
 matron, withdrawing her teeth from the re- 
 cesses of a bun to make the remark. 
 
 " Oh, goot life ! '' snivelled a delighted Celt 
 at her elbow, " but she put the fear o' deas on 
 the pit porter podies." 
 
 "Whew!" whistled Pigott, "Solomon in 
 
 ^miRs\j^( OF 
 
 ^lUmiS L/BRARy
 
 52 FAIR TO. SEE. 
 
 all his glory could have been nothing to 
 this." 
 
 " I rather think, sir," said an ever-hovering 
 paterfamilias who overheard the remark, and 
 was, as usual, ready to supply information of 
 the most dilapidated description, — " I rather 
 think she is a chieftainess." 
 
 " She looks like one, don't she ? " said 
 Pigott. 
 
 *' She does indeed, sir ; and if my memory 
 carries me aright — a relative of the Duke of 
 Argyll's." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder : he has a few relatives 
 in these parts, I believe." 
 
 " Yes, and I really believe she must be the 
 lady who owns several of the Hebrides ; a very 
 noble-looking person ; so national, eh ? " 
 
 '' Oh ! decidedly so," &c. &c. &c. 
 
 There was as strong as possible a contrast 
 between the appearance and equipments of the 
 chieftainess and those of the young lady who 
 accompanied her. The only bright colours 
 which adorned the latter were to be found in 
 the rosy bloom of her cheek, and in the golden 
 sheen which rippled through the deep masses 
 of her auburn hair. Her face was a most
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 53 
 
 pleasing one ; and if it was deficient in that 
 severe regularity of feature which painters 
 and sculptors are perversely supposed to de- 
 siderate, there was a frank, fresh, joyous sim- 
 plicity looking out of her bright hazel eyes, 
 and a genial kindliness about her whole ex- 
 pression, which might perhaps be more likely 
 to win hearts worth winning than the most 
 chiselled perfection of outline and proportion. 
 Her heio'ht, though lookingr insio:nificant be- 
 side the colossal dimensions of her companion, 
 was in reality above the average ; and her 
 figure, light, active, and graceful, was set ofi" 
 to advantage in a close-fitting tunic and simple 
 skirt of a neutral colour. 
 
 The course of the great woman's inspection 
 soon brouo;ht her to Pio^ott and Cameron, and 
 she favoured them with a very protracted 
 scrutiny, dwelling chiefly upon Bertrand, over 
 whose equipments her eyes promenaded with 
 looks of curious disapprobation. That foolish 
 fellow found himself getting very red and 
 uncomfortable. To be narrowly inspected by 
 any one would have been embarrassing enough 
 at the moment; but to be weighed in the 
 balance and found Celtically wanting by a
 
 54 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 chieftainess "to the Highlands bound" was 
 woe indeed. 
 
 Presently she turned to her companion and 
 made some remark which caused the young 
 lady to glance quickly in the direction of the 
 two young men ; and then a short conversa- 
 tion followed which they partially overheard. 
 
 " Fm certain it's them/' said the elder lady. 
 " Go and find out." 
 
 " Find out ! " laughed the girl. " How ? 
 am I to go and ask them ? " 
 
 " Ask the Captain." 
 
 " But the Captain is not the least likely to 
 know." 
 
 ^' Go and ask him." 
 
 "Oh, please don't ask me to go. I should 
 never be able to struggle through all these 
 dreadful men on the paddle-boxes. And surely 
 there is no serious hurry : if these are the gen- 
 tlemen, we are sure to know in plenty of time ; 
 and if not, it won't signify who they are." 
 
 " Salfish ! parvarse ! as usual I must go my- 
 salf ; " whereupon she rose and moved down 
 the quarter-deck. 
 
 Presently she had got hold of one of the men 
 of the steamer ; and after some conversation, of
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 55 
 
 which Bertrand and Pigott could perceive that 
 they were the subjects, they saw her conducted 
 to the stack of luo^s^afye, saw her halted in front 
 of theirs, saw her deliberately read the labels 
 thereon, and return in triumph to her com- 
 panion, remarking, " I was right — it is them ; 
 I'll go and speak to them." 
 
 " Oh, please not," said the younger lady. 
 
 ''Why not, pray?" 
 
 " It looks so forward and inquisitive ; and 
 they must have seen you reading their ad- 
 dresses." 
 
 " Affectation ! I have no patience with you;" 
 and she turned and advanced upon Bertrand 
 and Pigott. But Pigott, divining her inten- 
 tion, and remarking to his friend, " Without 
 doubt a Highland kinswoman of yours, who 
 recognises the family knee, and is coming to 
 rend us," they broke and fled to the paddle- 
 boxes, and there remained in safety till the 
 vessel reached Ardrishaig, where disembarka- 
 tion is necessary to cross by the Crinan Canal 
 to the lona's sister on Loch Crinan. 
 
 On their walk up to the Canal they overtook 
 and passed the ladies. "Now, then," they 
 heard the elder say, " I've got them ; ahem ! "
 
 56 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " No, no ! " whispered the younger lady. 
 
 " I will ; ahem ! ahem ! ahem ! " and the 
 latter sounds being obviously intended to 
 attract their attention, Bertrand and Pigott 
 turned round and were at once accosted by 
 their pursuer. Her accent was extremely 
 Scotch, and a grotesque attempt to veneer it 
 with the tones of the Southron, and to gild it 
 with a few French phrases, made her all but 
 unintelligible. We shall only attempt in her 
 first few sentences to represent the hideous 
 sounds of which she was guilty. 
 
 "Meal perdong, jontlemen ! " she exclaimed 
 — " dee meal perdong ! a little burrd has whis- 
 pered to me that you are ong root for Cairnar- 
 voch ; was the little burrd correct ? " 
 
 Pigott replied that the bird's intelligence 
 was accurate, with an involuntary glance in 
 the direction of the younger lady, as if sur- 
 mising that she was alluded to under the 
 metaphor. 
 
 " Let me," continued the chieftainess, " Jon- 
 tlemen, let me introjooce you to my daughter, 
 Miss Grant." 
 
 The two young men made their obeisances 
 in great bewilderment.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 57 
 
 " The little burrd," continued the chieftainess, 
 archly, " has told me something else." 
 
 *^ Indeed 1 " 
 
 " Yes, indeed — your names. '^ 
 
 " The little bird seems to take a very flatter- 
 ing interest in us.'' 
 
 " Yes : you are Captain Pigott, neyspau ? " 
 
 " I am indeed." 
 
 " And you," turning to Bertrand, '* are Mr 
 Cameron, neyspau ? " 
 
 " The bird seems to be infallible." 
 
 " I could tell that you were intended to be 
 a Cameron by your tartans, of course. Well, 
 jontlemen, Fm deloited to make your acquoint- 
 ance, I'm shaw." The party then moved on 
 together, the two young men much puzzled as 
 to who this oracle might be who stopped them 
 on the Queen's highway to tell them who they 
 were and whither they were going. 
 
 "We are most fortunate in our weather," 
 remarked Bertrand. 
 
 " We are," replied the lady, eyeing him 
 grimly all over ; " and that, let me say, is very 
 fortunate for your jacket — a velvet jacket — a 
 silk-velvet jacket ! — you must excuse me for say- 
 ing that it has a peculiar look in the morning."
 
 58 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," said Bertrand, blush- 
 ing painfully. 
 
 " Yes," continued the lady, " out of all taste. 
 How would I look in a silk-velvet gown on 
 board a steamer 1 " 
 
 " There can be no question that the effect 
 would be superb in any situation," said Pigott, 
 gravely, coming to the rescue of his friend. 
 
 " Which shows that you know nothing about 
 it," rejoined the chieftainess, ignoring the com- 
 pliment. '' Full-dress tartan, too ! it is very 
 suspicious — very." 
 
 ** I trust you don't suspect me of being an 
 accomplice, madam," said Pigott, gravely. 
 
 " I know nothing about you, but my suspi- 
 cion is that he is only a Cockney Highlander 
 after all." 
 
 " No, I'm not, indeed ; I'm as Highland as 
 — as — anything. " 
 
 " As a peat, you would have said, if you had 
 been jpure song J' 
 
 " To confess the truth, then, though I am 
 pur sang a Highlander, I know nothing of the 
 language, I am ashamed to say." 
 
 '* That's honest, at all events ; and, if you 
 are a Highlander, we must teach you up at
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 59 
 
 Cairnarvocli to look like one, and to speak the 
 language, and how to dance strathspeys and 
 reels and Ghillie Galium, and toss the caber, 
 and throw the hammer, and eat haggis, and 
 drink whisky and Athole brose, and- '"' 
 
 " I am afraid it would take too long to teach 
 me so many desirable accomplishments — that 
 is, if I am to shoot any grouse ; but am I to 
 understand that we are to have the happiness 
 of being your neighbours at Cairnarvoch ? " 
 
 " Neighbours 1 why, aren't you coming to 
 stay with us V 
 
 " Ah ! really— too kind— but " 
 
 " Mamma, you quite forget that these gen- 
 tlemen can't possibly know who you are," said 
 Morna. 
 
 " And why not, pray ? " 
 
 " Unless they have the ' second-sight.' " 
 
 *' You are forgetting yourself, Morna. Is 
 this so, jontlemen '? Am I not known to 
 you ? " 
 
 " A little bird," said Pigott, " has whispered 
 to me that you are !Mrs Grant." 
 
 " That's right and wrong." 
 
 " She must have been diinking before she 
 came on board," thought both the men.
 
 60 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Eight, because I was Mrs Grant ; wrong 
 because I'm not." 
 
 " Fearfully intoxicated," thought Pigott and 
 Bertrand — " a painful spectacle." 
 
 ** I see, in introjoocing my daughter I forgot 
 myself. She is Miss Grant, my daughter by 
 m.j first, Captain Grant ; but I am now Mrs 
 M'Killop, to whose house you are going." The 
 young men expressed due satisfaction at the 
 discovery, and she went on loftily : " The mis- 
 take is tickling ; but one is so accustomed to 
 be known in one's own country by every one, 
 that it does not occur to one that one is not 
 known by any one." 
 
 " It was deplorable stupidity on our part," 
 said Pigott, " and we beg to apologise." 
 
 " We'll say no more about it," said the lady, 
 with magnanimity; "we were staying with 
 some friends on a visit at Port Maikie ; but I 
 harrd two days ago from M'Killop that you 
 were to arrive to-day, so we have returned to 
 receive you ; and here we are at the Canal 
 and the steamer. Captain Pigott, kindly give 
 me your hand up the ladder ; JMorna, take my 
 parasol; M'Kenzie (to the spectre), run up 
 and prepare a seat. Let me give you a hint,
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 61 
 
 Mr Cameron, in ascending the ladder to be 
 very careful. You look like a fish out of 
 water in that dress; and an Englishman 
 in a kilt is usually a shocking, indecent 
 si^ht." 
 
 *' I shall certainly spare you such an inflic- 
 tion," said Bertrand, in a rage. " I shall stay 
 below. Pigott, you will find me in the cabin 
 when you come down again." 
 
 *' It is a wise plan," rejoined the matron, 
 "for the sun will soon have blistered these 
 poor white knees of yours — I can see that ; 
 and you will avoid impertinent remarks at the 
 same time, which your appearance provocks. 
 It would be unpleasant to have every one 
 saying, * Who in the world is this with Mrs 
 M'Killop ? ^— would it not ? " 
 
 " Very much so indeed ; but you need have 
 no fear of my compromising you — or myself." 
 And Bertrand, torn with rage and mortifica- 
 tion, increased by the tittering of some by- 
 standers who overheard Mrs M'Killop's loud 
 remarks, flounced into the little cabin and sat 
 down in a corner, thankful for the small mercy 
 of finding it empty. 
 
 Presently he was joined by his friend.
 
 62 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 *' Well, Bertrancl," said he, " even you are 
 laughed at sometimes, it seems." 
 
 "Yes," roared Bertrand, starting up; "but 
 it's the last time I shall be laughed at for 
 this infamous dress. It is a savage dress, an 
 abominable contrivance of the foul fiend. Til 
 change it directly I get to Oban ; and as for 
 that she-savage, I wish she was overboard." 
 
 "I think she is rather a trump — mad, of 
 course, but a trump." 
 
 " I admire your taste. This is one of your 
 ' ladies of refinement ' youVe let me in for." 
 
 " Come, come, Bertrand, you're unreason- 
 able." 
 
 " Not a bit of it ; it was all your doing. 
 You brought me here, but hang me if I stay 
 here ! I'll give up my leave and go back 
 to-night — I tell you, to-night." 
 
 " In trousers, of course ? " suggested Pigott. 
 
 " In trousers ! I should rather think so." 
 
 While Bertrand was indulging in this child- 
 ish ebullition below, the cause of his ire was 
 being taken to task on deck. " Mamma," said 
 Miss Grant, when Pigott left them, " what 
 could induce you to be so rude to Mr 
 Cameron "? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 63 
 
 " I protest I don't understand you, gurl ; 
 I never was rude in my life." 
 
 " You told Mm lie was a Cockney, that his 
 dress was out of taste and ridiculous, and 
 that it was unpleasant to you to be seen with 
 him. It has hurt his feelings, at all events, 
 whether it was rude or not, and made me 
 feel— feel " 
 
 " Oh, out with it ; say it at once. You're 
 ashamed of your mother — that's it ; and this 
 is what comes of your fine education, and liv- 
 ing with your mother's enemies ; this is the 
 Grant spirit — quite the Grant spirit — most 
 undutiful ! " 
 
 "Mamma, you know I would rather be any- 
 thing than undutiful ; but surely you can't 
 wish to say unkind things to people, or to 
 hurt their feelings intentionally ; and if I see 
 you doing it without being aware, it can't be 
 undutiful of me to tell you." 
 
 ** You are far too fond of lecturing. I saw 
 this young man had a high look and a con- 
 ceited manner, and I thought it my duty to 
 put him in his place at once. Who is he ? 
 Some beggarly subaltern, who thinks, because 
 he pays us a rent, that we are to be the dust
 
 64 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 under his feet ! No, no ; IVe put him in his 
 place, and in his place 111 keep him. He 
 may be the son of a London shopkeeper for all 
 we know.'' 
 
 " Well, mamma, I declare I saw nothing 
 the least assuming or impertinent about either 
 of these two gentlemen ; and surely it would 
 be time enough to put them in their places 
 when they become so." 
 
 "I beg your pardon. We have too many 
 of these sham Highlanders nowadays. It is 
 most offensive to the old blood." 
 
 " You don't know that this gentleman is not 
 of the old blood." 
 
 " What ! and travel in a silk-velvet jacket 
 and full-dress tartan 1 — preposterous ! " 
 
 "At any rate, whoever he is, he certainly 
 did nothing to offend you, and I am afraid you 
 have certainly offended him. Is this Highland 
 hospitality '? " 
 
 " No one can say a word against my hospi- 
 tality ; and if you really think the poor crea- 
 ture takes to heart so much what I said, I'll 
 put him at his ease again in a moment. I 
 have tact." 
 
 This valuable quality she put in requisition
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 65 
 
 on Bertrand's reappearance, which, however, 
 did not take place till they were approaching 
 the end of the voyage. Then advancing to 
 him with a subtle smile in her pig's eyes, she 
 peered into his dark countenance, and re- 
 marked mincingly, " Gloomy, gloomy face ! " 
 — an exhibition of tact which, though twice 
 repeated, had not the instantaneous effect 
 expected ; on the contrary, Bertrand showed 
 symptoms of retreat. 
 
 ** A high temper is a sad curse, Mr Cam- 
 eron," she continued. "I see you suffer from 
 it; but if I had known its violence, my play- 
 ful rub would have been spared. No person 
 of tact would wantonly infuriate such a dis- 
 position." 
 
 To be grossly insulted, and then accused of 
 having a furious temper because he had simply 
 avoided his insulter, struck Bertrand as rather 
 strong, and he replied with a dignified false- 
 hood, " You must pardon me if I am quite at 
 a loss to understand your allusions." 
 
 "Oh, don't attempt to deny it. In my 
 playful way (Fm a sad joker) I rallied you 
 about your dress, which is, you must feel, a 
 little hazarre^ and about your white limbs, and 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 SO forth, and you must needs fly into a tantrum 
 and shut yourself up in the cabin, foaming and 
 swearing, I've no doubt. It's choildish, choild- 
 ish ; we must all bear rubs, and to show tem- 
 per to a lady is not, let me tell you, commy 
 faw in a Highland gentleman, which seems to 
 be the character you aim at ! ! "' 
 
 '' I flatter myself, madam, it is the charac- 
 ter which I have the honour to possess," said 
 Bertrand, loftily. 
 
 " Ah 1 perhaps, perhaps ; but silk velvet in 
 \hQ morning, and a dress tartan — you must see 
 that these are very suspicious." 
 
 " I don't really know what you suspect me 
 of,'' cried Bertrand, bursting, in spite of him- 
 self, into a laugh at this singular moral and 
 social criterion. 
 
 " That's right ; another laugh, and the black 
 dog will be off" your back. It is suspicious, 
 as I said. You see we have many London 
 Cockneys coming down here dressed out like 
 you, and we dont like it; the old blood 
 doesn't like it : right or w^rong, it is insulting 
 to the old blood." 
 
 *' You imply that I am one of the London 
 Cockneys 1 "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 67 
 
 " No, I didn't say imply. I said that there 
 was a suspicious look about the whole thing." 
 
 " Then let me relieve you by saying that I 
 believe in this very district there is no blood 
 older than mine." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, it's common to say that, and be- 
 lieve it too, I daresay ; but when one comes to 
 investigate, — to say, ' Show me your ruins, 
 your tombs, your castles passed away to 
 strangers and Sassenachs,' — there is often a 
 hitch — a hitch." 
 
 " I daresay we can show tombs and ruins 
 with our neighbours ; as to castles passed 
 away to Sassenachs, I am glad to say there is 
 a hitch ; but there is a castle in this county 
 belonging to us, and I believe it has been some 
 five hundred years in our possession. I had 
 a notion that that made us a pretty old fam- 
 ily ; but if it is necessary to sell it before we 
 can be recognised as 'the old blood,' I hope 
 we shall continue 'parvenus of the fourteenth 
 century." 
 
 *' It is a fair age, certainly," said the lady, 
 '* though nothing to the M'Whannels, my 
 maternal ancestors ; but there is no family 
 answering to all this except the Camerons of
 
 68 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Aberlorna, and there is only one old man 
 in it." 
 
 " There you are mistaken ; there is also a 
 young one, and I am the individual/' 
 
 " The relationship will be pretty distant, Fm 
 thinkino-." 
 
 "Not so very far off; I am Sir Roland 
 Cameron's nephew." 
 
 " His nephew ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! how stupid of me ! Then 
 you must have been an orphan ^. " 
 
 " I still am, unfortunately." 
 
 "And you didn't die, as was said, at the 
 same time as your parents ? " 
 
 " So it would seem." 
 
 " Oh ! this is all very different — gratifying, 
 indeed," exclaimed Mrs M'Killop, with enthu- 
 siasm ; " well shake hands, if you please, and 
 think no more of my little rub, which could 
 never apply to a Cameron of Aberlorna. Sa- 
 tirical people like me are often led away into 
 saying things they don't mean ; and if your 
 dress is a little fine, his most sacred Majesty 
 George the Fourth landed at Leith in full 
 dress, Avhicli ouffht to be a setting of the
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 69 
 
 fashion ; and it will be a pleasure to me to 
 receive you into our house. Indeed it's a kind 
 of revival of old times, for there is a connection 
 between us." 
 
 "Eeally?" 
 
 "Yes; although there has been no inter- 
 course and something more than a coolness 
 between the families for generations, there is 
 a connection. You must have heard of Tork 
 M'Ouanall, who received thirty-seven wounds 
 — all mortal — at the battle of Inverlochy ? " 
 
 " Tm afraid not." 
 
 " No ? how droll ! well, he was my ancestor, 
 and he married a Cameron (it was a great 
 match for the Camerons, although I say it), 
 and that makes the connection." 
 
 " It is the proudest moment of my existence," 
 said Bertrand, his ill-humour vanishing at the 
 absurdity of the whole scene. 
 
 "Morna, you must shake hands with Mr 
 Cameron," said her mother. 
 
 Morna gave a look of half-annoyance, with 
 which, however, fun was struggling, and held 
 out her hand to Bertrand, who gallantly re- 
 marked, " Let the vendetta of generations die 
 from this hour."
 
 70 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " A most extraordinary coincidence, I must 
 say," continued Mrs M'Killop, " that we should 
 become acquainted in this way. We are very 
 clannish, we Highlanders, Captain Pigott ; and 
 I daresay you can scarcely understand the 
 feelings of delight which Mr Cameron and I 
 are enjoying just now 1" 
 
 Pigott confessed that, though enviable, they 
 were a trifle beyond his depth ; and here the 
 voyage, like the vendetta, came to a close, and 
 any hope our travellers might have cherished 
 of escaping from the toils of their hostess were 
 at once dispelled by her remarking, " M'Killop 
 has arranged that we are all to dine here to- 
 gether, and drive home in the evening. He 
 was to bespeak all necessary conveyances for 
 the joint party.'' 
 
 " A charming plan," said Pigott ; " and 
 wh^t is the length of the drive 1 " 
 
 *' From three to four hours ; but it is never 
 dark at this season, and we shall all be re- 
 freshed by the cool jews." 
 
 Before long they were seated at an excellent 
 dinner in the hotel, and its soothing influence 
 very soon told upon the party. Bertrand for- 
 got his sulks, his annoyances, even his kilt ;
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 7l 
 
 and his heart was merry within him, as he sat 
 amicably vis-d-vis to the descendant of the 
 ill-fated Tork. 
 
 As for that lady, after a glass or two of 
 champao^ne, she became more than ever com- 
 municative, pouring forth, in an unbroken 
 stream, choice extracts from her personal and 
 family history. 
 
 It was thus that our travellers became aware 
 that her maiden name had been M'Kechnie 
 (which was not to be confounded with M'Kech- 
 ran or M'Fechnie, these being inferior 'septs), 
 a clan of unusual antiquity and power, but 
 which, surprising as it might seem, was not to 
 her so great a source of pride as her descent 
 maternally from the M'Whannels. Pigott 
 gravely assented that he was scarcely prepared 
 for that. It was true, however, she averred ; 
 but all their grand days were over. Clans and 
 clansmanship were at an end. Their proper- 
 ties had passed to aliens. The M'Kechnies 
 were landless as the Gregarach ; and, to his 
 undying disgrace, the titular chief of the 
 M'Whannels was content to supervise the 
 excise department of his native district for the 
 meanest of stipends.
 
 72 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Washing away ancestral sorrows with a 
 glass of champagne, Mrs M'Killop came to her 
 own personal history, and explained that in 
 their reduced state the daughters of her clan 
 could not afibrd to be fastidious in matrimo- 
 nial matters. Hence her marriage, contracted 
 in spite of personal advantages which she need 
 not dwell upon (but did, however, at great 
 length), with Grant, a worthy man, and a cadet 
 of a good house, but only a " marching cap- 
 tain." He died, and she had sorrowed for him 
 — honestly and conscientiously mourned him — 
 as long as was fit and proper, whatever a set 
 of stuck-up vinegar old maids might say to the 
 contrary; "after whom" (with a fierce glance at 
 Morna) " she hoped no daughter of hers would 
 take,'' — a remark which brought the young 
 lady into action, her annoyance at her mother's 
 absurdity being no longer repressible, and she 
 said : " Mamma, I don't think our family mat- 
 ters can be very amusing to these gentlemen, 
 and I do beg of you, at all events, to say no- 
 thing against my dear, kind aunts ; you know 
 how it vexes me." 
 
 " There ! " said Mrs M'Killop, looking round 
 at the two gentlemen, — ''there it is. This
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 73 
 
 comes of living with aunts. Poor Grant had 
 a fancy that this child should spend half her 
 time with his sisters, and this is what comes of 
 it — temper and insubordination which only a 
 mother s tact and tuition could control. I will 
 say nothing more of your friends, Morna, since 
 it is unpleasant to you ; but I will go on with 
 my little story, as I take leave to think it will 
 interest these gentlemen, both of whom are to 
 be our inmates, and one of whom is in a man- 
 ner connected." And this brought her to her 
 marriage with M'Killop, a gentleman who had, 
 a few years before, returned from the colonies. 
 He had realised ever}i;hing there, and resolved 
 upon the purchase of an estate in Scotland, 
 where, by a strange coincidence, his clan had 
 also become as landless as any M'Kechnie or 
 M'Whannel of them all. By another coinci- 
 dence, M'Killop was a widower, with one son 
 and one daughter. When he had urged his 
 suit, which he had done with a very proper 
 importunity, she had carefully weighed every- 
 thing ; and her daughter's interests being para- 
 mount, the circumstance that he, too, had a 
 daughter, had told in his favour. " The com- 
 panionship will be good for my child," she had
 
 74 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 said ; '* I will be a mother to his girl, he a 
 father to mine ; " and so had yielded. '' I 
 have not repented my decision/' she continued ; 
 " like Auld Robin Gray, M'Killop has been ' a 
 kind man to me.' " And she spoke as though 
 the wedding had involved sacrifices on her 
 part equivalent to those of the heroine of that 
 tearful ballad. " My only regret is that we 
 cannot suit ourselves with an estate. The 
 M'Killop country has passed entirely into the 
 hands of an English Duke " (the probabili- 
 ties are that his Grace did not find it a very 
 heavy handful), " and there is no other appro- 
 priate settlement open at present. Cairnarvoch 
 is a sadly dull place — the neighbours distant, 
 and not to our mind ; and so this plan of 
 takinof in our shootino^ tenants does not seem 
 amiss. I am sure we shall get on very happily 
 together. M'Killop has reserve, but he is quite 
 the jontleman. My daughter is as you see 
 her — too brusk — too outspoken. I wish she 
 could take a little of the polish of her step- 
 sister, keeping her own heart, which is a kind 
 one, although she does her best to conceal it. 
 But you will make allowances for her ; it is all 
 the wild M'Whannel blood, which is not tamed
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 75 
 
 in a day, as I daresay you know, Mr Caroeron." 
 Thus appealed to, Bertrand gave a knowing 
 look, intended to signify that any one who 
 attempted to tackle a M'Whannel, would, in 
 his opinion, find tough work cut out for him ; 
 and Morn a, jumping up, cried out, " Mamma, 
 if you give such a dreadful account of me, 
 these poor gentlemen will be afraid to drive 
 home with us in the dark ; and if we stay here 
 much longer, it will be dark before we get home. 
 Do order the carriages." 
 
 The order was given, and two large unco- 
 vered omnibuses were speedily at the door. 
 In the foremost the ladies and gentlemen and 
 the lighter baggage were bestowed ; and the 
 other being loaded with the servants, dogs, and 
 heavier impedimenta, a start was effected. 
 
 It will not do to indicate their exact route. 
 The Celtic imagination is highly pitched, and 
 the temper of the race sometimes a little stiff; 
 and if we were to particularise, who can say 
 what might come of it ? Who can say how 
 many Mornas, and M'Killops, and M'Kechnies, 
 not to mention untamable M'Whannels, might 
 swoop upon us, terrible as the army of "the 
 Phairshon," and strident as the overwhelming
 
 76 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 music of that celebrated host ? Far from us 
 be any such indiscretion. We may safely say, 
 however, that the route was a beautiful one, 
 though the road was hilly, and its engineering 
 reflected more credit on the aesthetic, than on 
 the practical, turn of its contriver. 
 
 The sun had just set behind the distant hills 
 of Mull, but the sky was without a cloud, and 
 glorious with that warm and mellow tint 
 which comes not often on the northern sky, 
 but coming casts on it a beauty unknown to 
 the heavens of the South, where Night usurps 
 with indecent haste the kingdom of the Sun, 
 allowing no brief courtesy of twilight. Yet 
 not to twilight does this mellow tint belong, 
 but to a certain benign middle light between 
 it and the sun's departure. Lacking the glory 
 of the sun, yet lacking the mystery of the 
 dusk, it withholds the ruder revelations of the 
 one and the weird transformations of the other. 
 Seen by it, every object retains its identity, 
 but with each harsher detail refined and soft- 
 ened. Seen by it, the purple hills, though 
 their outlines are severe as against a moonlit 
 sky, may indeed be said to bloom; and the 
 wild cataract, leaping in its glory, to cast itself
 
 FAIE TO SEE. 77 
 
 down in softlier falling sheets of silvery tissue 
 from the height ; and the thousand variations 
 of the forest folia s^e to blend into the one 
 excellence of an ideal verdure ; and the sunset 
 breeze rippling the bosoms of quiet mountain- 
 tarns, to lay on them a chastened lustre — the 
 pathetic impress, as it were, of the sun's pure 
 *^ good -night." " The stars of earth," as 
 Schiller calls the flowers, may pensively veil 
 somewhat of their brio'htness — a fittino: tribute 
 to him who is away, their glory and their life ; 
 yet from them, in their sweet eclipse, a com- 
 pensating fragrance rises, and fresher than the 
 incense offered to their present lord are the 
 odorous sighs they breathe when he is gone — 
 waiting for the sympathetic light of their 
 sister stars above. 
 
 It was a delicious evening, and its soft influ- 
 ence, and the great beauty all around, and the 
 stillness — the sudden hush which falls upon 
 the world when the sun disappears, as if 
 Nature paused a moment and muttered the 
 breathless question — *' Will he return ? " — all 
 the deep influences of the hour and scene 
 might well make speech a profanation, and 
 silence praise ; and silence fell upon the party.
 
 78 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 It must be admitted that Pigott's taciturnity 
 was probal^ly due to a constitutional bias in 
 that direction, and Mrs M'Killop's, without 
 doubt, to the more sublunary influence of an 
 after-dinner sleep. But Bertrand was in a 
 seventh heaven. Nature and Beauty were 
 revealing themselves to him in their most 
 benignant aspects, touching his heart with the 
 fire of a hundred enthusiasms, and stirring all 
 the romance and poetry of his soul into a sort 
 of rapturous life. 
 
 Looking over the splendid hills, his spirit 
 swelled with a patriotic joy, and he thought, 
 " At last ! Scotland ! my country ! " Here he 
 was living and moving amid scenes that 
 hitherto had been but the shadowy accessories 
 of a thousand day-dreams. On these very 
 hills, the mighty king of Morven had mustered 
 his hosts to go forth to the battle with Loch- 
 lin ; in these hollow glens they had gathered 
 to the joyous " feast of shells ; " across these 
 shimmering waters they had sped their dark 
 prows, burning to reap harvests of death Avith 
 biting brands that "never gave a second 
 wound" — Fingal, Ossian, and Oscar, and Gaul, 
 the peerless son of Morni ! The wild strains
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 79 
 
 of ecstatic minstrels, the clash of armour, the 
 battle-crj, the wailing dirge, seemed to live in 
 his ears ; the sheen of beamy spears, the wav- 
 ing of banners, the streaming locks of heroes 
 rushing to the maelstrom of the fray, rose to 
 his mental vision. The clear sky-line of the 
 mountains seemed thronged with shadowy 
 hosts, and, on the margin of the sea, stood the 
 fair forms of other years — Bragela, and Eviral- 
 lin, and white-armed Strina-Dona. And who 
 were these that came like the mists, hoveriner, 
 
 slow 
 
 "What a delicious curd there was on that 
 salmon at dinner ! " here broke in the rasping 
 voice of Mrs M'Killop; and though the remark 
 (no doubt from the depths of slumber) was not 
 followed by another, but tapered oflf into a 
 succession of snores, snorts, gasps, and wheezes, 
 it acted as " a word of power.^' The shadowy 
 hosts halted in their rush, when the salmon 
 rose in its material curdiness ; at the sound of 
 the earthy artillery which followed, they fled 
 quaking back to Valhalla ;• and Bertrand, 
 tumbling headlong out of cloudland, shocked 
 against the cold earth, as the eagle falls pierced 
 by the bullet of prosaic man.
 
 80 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 He glanced rapidly round at his compan- 
 ions, as if half fearing that they might be 
 conscious of his fanciful excursion, and half 
 indignant at his rude recall. Mrs M'Killop's 
 eyes were closed, her head moved in a suave 
 rhythm with the sound of her snoring ; she 
 was beyond suspicion and the reach of wrath, 
 and a well-pleased smile on her full lips sug- 
 gested that her late repast was being re-enacted 
 in a succulent dream. 
 
 Pigott, cold and wooden, was fixedly staring 
 at the rug upon his knees ; but Bertrand found 
 that Morna was curiously looking at him. 
 
 " I — I was admiring that mountain," he 
 said, in an apologetic tone ; *' what is its 
 name i 
 
 " That is Ben Scarrig," replied Morna. 
 
 " It is magnificent." 
 
 " Yes, it is a very fine hill." 
 
 " And how beautifully clear the outline is ! " 
 
 " Yes, but I prefer it with some mist. It is 
 wonderful sometimes to see the mist marchinor 
 up from the sea, stealing through these woods 
 below, and creeping along the ridges, just as if 
 it had started to reach the top, like something 
 living — with a purpose."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 81 
 
 " Like an army of phantom sea-kings storm- 
 ing the height," cried Bertrand, suspecting a 
 congenial spirit. 
 
 " It moves too gently for that," said Morna ; 
 '^ more like a procession of phantom pilgrims 
 visiting the cairn of some great soldier who 
 had died a hermit and a saint, and been buried 
 in his cell far away up there on the top of the 
 mountain." 
 
 " Miss Grant, you are quite a poetess." 
 
 *'No, no, I was only following your idea — only 
 an imitator ; it is the story of Columbus's egg." 
 
 " I wonder what Pigott's simile would be 1 " 
 said Bertrand ; " what is it like, Pigott ? " 
 
 " Which 1 the egg, or the hermit, or the 
 mountain, or what ? " 
 
 " The mist." 
 
 " Produce the mist, and I may be able to 
 tell you." 
 
 "There vrouldn't be half the imagination, 
 you wouldn't have half the credit, Captain 
 Pigott, if you saw it before your eyes." 
 
 " Oh, I'm a prose author ; but, if it must 
 be a procession of some sort, I should say a 
 string of phantom tourists, headed by the ad- 
 venturous Cook." 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "Doesn't he deserve to be among them, 
 Miss Grant ? '' 
 
 "Yes, I don't really think he is half ethereal 
 enough for our society." 
 
 " You should let me sleep, then, if I am not 
 to be among the prophets ; or, better still, will 
 you let me smoke. Miss Grant 1 " 
 
 '' Of course, pray do." 
 
 " Then I will, and listen dreamily to your 
 sweet discourse." 
 
 " Oh, but we shall be too shy to say any- 
 thing worth listening to, when we know that 
 you are sneering at us all the time." 
 
 " Bertrand is too conceited to be silenced by 
 anything," said Pigott. 
 
 " But perhaps I am not." 
 
 " Smokers never sneer." 
 
 " I won't trust you ; you had better go to 
 sleep." 
 
 " Until Mrs M'Killop awakes, I must watch 
 over my young friend." 
 
 " Why, what can you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that, after Mrs M'Killop's formid- 
 able account of your ancestors, whose fierce 
 disposition you are said to inherit, I couldn't 
 conscientiously close an eye upon the lad's
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 83 
 
 safety. I once read a ballad — perhaps you 
 know it — ' Glenfinlas ' by name. I have a 
 shocking memory, but I think it tells how a 
 gallant sportsman, Lord Eonald, went out to 
 hunt the dun deer, and in his forest-hut was 
 visited by just such a young lady as yourself, 
 who, however, presently turned into a colossal 
 lady-fiend, and made a light supper of the 
 unhappy young nobleman." 
 
 " Pray, smoke. Captain Pigott." 
 
 " But listen. Your ancestors, the Mac- 
 Wanels " 
 
 *' MacHoo-annel ! MacHoo-annel ! " cried 
 Mrs M'Killop, waking up, and shouting the 
 words like a slogan. 
 
 " The application I reserve to a future diet, 
 as your ministers say," remarked Pigott. 
 " Yes, Mrs M'Killop, I admit that my pronun- 
 ciation is feeble : it is one of the many failings 
 of the Saxon." 
 
 " They are a miserable race," said Mrs 
 M'Killop, relapsing at once into slumber. 
 
 " Instead of listening to Pigott's nonsense," 
 said Bertrand, " suppose you sing us a song. 
 Miss Grant 1 " 
 
 " But suppose I can't sing 1 "
 
 84 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " I know you can." 
 
 *^Howr^ 
 
 " By tlie sound of your voice." 
 
 " That is very flattering. Well, I will ad- 
 mit that I do sing sometimes." 
 
 " Gaelic songs ? " 
 
 *' Sometimes." 
 
 " Will you, now '? " 
 
 " I am afraid Captain Pigott would laugh, 
 and if he did I should be angry, because I love 
 these songs ; I like my other songs, but I love 
 the Gaelic." 
 
 " Pigott is a heathen and a Saxon, but he 
 won't laugh at anything you sing ; Fll answer 
 for him." 
 
 " Even if he were ill-bred enough to think 
 of such a thing," said Pigott, " fear would 
 deter him ; the blood of your untamed ances- 
 tors " 
 
 "Now, Captain Pigott, Fm not going to be 
 teased about my ancestors ; they are mamma's 
 hobby, not mine — pray let them rest in peace." 
 
 *^Amen! but do sing a verse or two of a 
 
 pibroch or a coronach " 
 
 ** You are laughing at me already, and that 
 settles the matter. Mr Cameron, I will sing
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 85 
 
 you a Gaelic song some other time when Cap- 
 tain Pigott is out of the way. I won't profane 
 my repertoire by singing one to him." 
 
 " I belong to an oppressed nationality, and 
 I kiss the rod/' said Pigott ; " but at least 
 you will let us have a song in the vulgar 
 tongue 1 " 
 
 " You don't deserve it, but I will be gener- 
 ous. You must light your cigar first, though ; 
 I'm sure it will make you more civil." 
 
 " Thus coerced, I yield," said Pigott, light- 
 ing up ; and Morna sang. 
 
 Bertrand had rightly surmised — she could 
 sing. Moreover, she chose a song to which 
 her voice was exactly suited, one of the sweet- 
 est of those Lowland melodies w^hich the 
 genius of the country and the sympathy of 
 the heart can teach a true, pure, Scottish voice 
 to sing to a perfection seldom reached by any 
 alien with all the advantages of artistic cul- 
 ture. Morna's voice was very true and pure, 
 and with frequent tones of genuine pathos in 
 its large compass. 
 
 " I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 I see her sweet and fair ; 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 
 I hear her charm the air.
 
 86 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 There's not a bonnie flower that springs 
 
 By fountain, shaw, or green — 
 There's not a bonnie bird that sings, 
 
 But minds me o' my Jean. 
 
 blaw, ye westlin winds, blaw saft, 
 
 Amang the leafy trees, 
 Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale, 
 
 Bring liame the laden bees ; 
 And bring the lassie back to me, 
 
 Wi' her twa glancin' een ; 
 Ae blink o' her wad banish care, 
 
 Sae lovely is my Jean." 
 
 The air and the words, and the voice that 
 sans: them, seemed all to be the natural out- 
 come of the scenery and the hour ; and Ber- 
 trand felt that, if then and there the voice of 
 singing was to be heard, that was the voice 
 and that the song he would have chosen. 
 There were the dewy flowers she sang of — the 
 blue-bell and the fox-glove, the wild-rose and 
 the heather — and there the tinkling chime of 
 mountain springs — and the hills, and the dales, 
 and the pensive light, and the darkening shaws, 
 and the plaintive murmur of the night-breeze 
 stealing across the moorlands, balmy with the 
 breath of pine and gorse, and all manner of 
 delightful thymy fragrance. It seemed to Ber- 
 trand that Morna's fresh voice set to music all 
 these gracious surroundings, and infused their
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 8T 
 
 spirit into the tender passion of her "wood- 
 notes wild." 
 
 " Beautiful ! Miss Grant — perfectly beauti- 
 ful ! " he cried, with enthusiasm ; "a thousand 
 thanks." 
 
 "Such a voice," said Pigott, *' might even 
 sing the songs of the Ojibbaway, and achieve 
 a triumph." 
 
 " Even sing them , Captain Pigott ? " gobbled 
 Mrs M'Killop, who was again awake ; " indeed! 
 if my girl is not competent to sing them, or 
 anything else, I don't know who should be, 
 after all the Signors and the Herrs that have 
 been drilling at her." 
 
 " I don't think my masters would quite take 
 that as a compliment, mamma," laughed Mor- 
 na ; " but the less I say about them the better. 
 And now, Mr Cameron, it is my turn to ask 
 for a song." 
 
 " If I begin to think how badly my perform- 
 ance will sound after yours, I shall get nerv- 
 ous ; so I won't think, but sing without a 
 preface." 
 
 And so Bertrand contributed his mite to the 
 concert, singing in a pleasant, capable baritone, 
 one of the English ballads of the day, which
 
 88 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Mrs M'Killop pronounced to be "mawkish," 
 although the singer's voice seemed to her to 
 have promise. Then Pigott was called upon, 
 but laughed the notion to scorn, and named 
 the driver as his substitute, who declined the 
 office ; but, being peremptorily ordered by Mrs 
 M'Killop to perform on the instant and in 
 Gaelic, eventually did so, and at great length, 
 letting loose a flood of low, dolorous, guttural 
 sounds, which seemed always on the point of 
 dying out, but were perpetually rallied back to 
 life by a sort of hiccupy cry of "hinyo." 
 
 " Did he die 1 " asked Pigott, when the man 
 came at last to a close. 
 
 "Diel who?" said Mrs M'Killop. 
 
 " The gentleman in the ballad," said Pigott. 
 
 " There was nothing about death or a gentle- 
 man in the man's song ; it was quite a funny 
 little tale of love, and about a cow, and a shep- 
 herd, and three crows — full of wit and merri- 
 ment." 
 
 "But some one groaned in the chorus, surely '?" 
 
 " No, no; that was an exclamation of joyful 
 surprise." 
 
 " It must be a wonderfully expressive lan- 
 guage."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 89 
 
 " It is incleecl : we'll make liini sins: an- 
 other." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs M'Killop, that ayouIcI be taxing 
 the poor fellow too much ; and, by the by, we 
 are not going to let you off. We must insist — 
 and indeed, it is my call — upon a song from you.'' 
 
 Pigott found he had got from the frying- 
 pan into the fire. His request was instantly 
 complied with, and Mrs M'Killop, in a high, 
 reedy voice, full of cracks and fissures, plunged 
 straight into an intricate ballad, in which some 
 Scottish maid tested her true love, as Rosalind 
 did in the forest of Arden. It involved a series 
 of lengthy dialogues between the lover and his 
 disguised mistress, which Mrs M'Killop gave 
 with great dramatic spirit, gruffening her voice 
 for the male part, and reducing it to a sort of 
 asthmatic whistle for the arch utterances of the 
 fair beguiler. 
 
 " Yes, it is full of pathos," she remarked, in 
 accepting the applause which followed ; " and 
 it is said to be founded on an event in the life 
 of my great-grandmother, Mrs M'Kechnie of 
 Tilly wheesle — in Prince Charlie's time." 
 
 *' Did the Prince play Orlando on the occa- 
 sion T'
 
 90 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "Fie! Captain Pigott, fie! fie! fie! The 
 M'Kechnie was the lover, of course ; although 
 there is a naughty idea in Scotland, such as 
 you hint at. She was beautiful, you see — 
 (indeed, it belongs to the race to be beautiful) 
 ■ — and the Prince, dancing with her at Holy- 
 rood, is said to have made a point of it, that 
 from that hour she should be called ' The White 
 Eose of Tillywheesle ' — but that was all. And 
 now I must give you a song about dear Prince 
 Charlie ; " and she did — several, in fact, and 
 kept pretty steadily " in possession of the floor " 
 for the rest of the journey, only suffering one 
 song by Morna and one by Bertrand to be 
 edged in between her performances, which she 
 accompanied by stifflsh notes of explanation, 
 and not a few strange genealogies. 
 
 It was with much satisfaction, therefore, that 
 the rest of the party found themselves at last 
 entering the avenue. 
 
 The twilight had deepened, for it was past 
 eleven o'clock, but still our travellers had light 
 enough to see that the place was one of great 
 beauty. The house was large, old, and irregular. 
 Probably it had originally been in the old Scot- 
 tish style ; but a succession of additions had
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 91 
 
 developed it into a very picturesque nonde- 
 script, the general result of which was a square 
 battlemented tower, rising in state among tall 
 gables with their '' corbj-stairs," supported on 
 either flank by wings of a lower and lighter 
 class of building, ornamented Avith a profusion 
 of turrets and pinnacles. The situation of the 
 house was very striking. It stood on a broad- 
 ish plateau, which sloped away to the front in 
 gentle declivities and undulations, but de- 
 scended at the back of the house in a sheer 
 rocky precipice, the base of which was lashed 
 by the tumultuous waters of a cascade, roaring 
 down a steep glen which here expanded into a 
 valley, the waters widening themselves into a 
 river, and winding round one flank of the 
 plateau so as to run for half a mile parallel 
 with, but far below, the avenue. In front of 
 the house, beyond an acre or two of lawn, 
 there was no attempt at a park. The natural 
 wood had been cut out, indeed, in divers places, 
 so as to give expanse and variety, and, here 
 and there, to uncover the full proportions of 
 some giant of the forest ; but underneath, the 
 heather and the bracken had it all their own 
 way, — at least they did their best to dispute
 
 92 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 supremacy witli those unsightly boulders and 
 protruding rocks which bring grief to the hearts 
 of reclaiming landowners. At the distance of 
 a mile from the front of the house, the ground 
 rose again into hills, backed in the distance by 
 veritable mountains. Behind the house, the 
 glen divided the lowest spur of another range, 
 and, on the left flank, a narrow cultivated 
 valley, already whitening to the harvest, ran 
 for half a mile or so, when it was hemmed in 
 and stopped by formidable banks of boulder, 
 the outposts of the mountains that rose behind. 
 Mountains, mountains everywhere. 
 
 " Glorious ! " exclaimed Bertrand. 
 
 " What a trap for black game ! " muttered 
 Pigott, indicating the bright little bit of corn- 
 land. 
 
 "I hope to goodness they haven t forgot 
 supper," suggested Mrs M'Killop. 
 
 " They're awake, at all events," said Morna, as 
 with a mighty clangour the great iron-studded 
 doors were thrown open, letting loose some 
 half-a-dozen terriers, who barked and pranced 
 and ramped on the steps, as if prepared to do 
 battle against all comers. 
 *" " Down, Bodach ! For shame, Frioch ! Bob,
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 93 
 
 you little viper ! " exclaimed Morna, jumping 
 lightly from the carriage, and plunging in 
 amonor the canine rabble, who forthwith 
 changed their ^Tathful clamour into yells 
 and screams of affection and delight. " Down, 
 dogs all ! " 
 
 " The noise of the dogs," said Mrs Mlvillop, 
 as she slowly descended, " is a little trying ; 
 but the effect is baronial and commy faw, so I 
 encourage it. None of them bite except Wasp, 
 which is a mercy. Ts supper ready, Jinky- 
 sonr^ 
 
 '' Supper is ready, ma'am,'' said an austere- 
 looking butler, who, with two liveried satel- 
 lites, had appeared at the entrance. 
 
 " Let us go in, then, gentlemen ; you are 
 welcome to Cairnarvoch." And with a gra- 
 cious flourish she waved them into the hall, all 
 the dogs strenuously flattening their baronial 
 noses against Bertrand's calves, which, how- 
 ever, remained unbitten, the truculent Wasp 
 being probably off duty for the evening.
 
 94 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Under Mrs M'Killop's guidance, Bertrand and 
 Pigott traversed an ancient and lofty octagonal 
 hall, its far-away ceiling lost in mysterious 
 shadows, which the lights below could not 
 dispel, and its dark pannelled walls displaying, 
 every here and there, some memorial of the 
 olden time. Relics of the olden time, in such 
 a mansion, and in such a district, are synony- 
 mous with relics of war or the chase ; and 
 here they were in abundance — claymore, pistol, 
 dirk, pike, targe, and gun, royal antlered heads 
 and outspread wings ; and, amid numberless 
 other native exuvice, some of a more perilous 
 sport from Eastern jungles and the primeval 
 Western forests. Bertrand, struck with the 
 coup d'oeil, paused involuntarily for inspection ; 
 but Mrs M'Killop was far too hungry to play 
 cicerone, and, briefly introducing the apart- 
 ment as " the Armoury,'' preceded them into a
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 95 
 
 room on the other side of the hall ; and here 
 they found their host. Like may draw to like 
 in other matters, but it is almost a truism to 
 say that by the law of contrast, rather than of 
 similarity, people appear to guide themselves 
 in their matrimonial selections. So much so, 
 that if a matron of extra volume and self- 
 assertion enters a drawing-room, we are disap- 
 pointed if her announced husband does not 
 prove to be a meek and shambling homuncu- 
 lus ; and in like manner, from a husband's 
 bigness of bone, voice, manner, and general 
 amplitude, do we not reason down directly to 
 a crumpled and depressed little wife at home 'i 
 If Mrs M'Killop had been entirely subject 
 to this general law, her husband should have 
 combined the stature of Tom Thumb with the 
 humility of Uriah Heep ; but, though he was 
 as unlike her as possible, the principle of con- 
 trast was not thoroughly carried out, for Mr 
 M*Killop was ordinary-looking and well-sized, 
 and had no special abasement of manner, 
 though his manner w^as unobtrusive, and his 
 voice was quiet. He was elderly, almost old ; 
 his square, massive head, thatched with a 
 close-growing crop of white hair ; his features
 
 96 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 decidedly coarse and heavy, but his grey eyes 
 were very keen and full of intelligence. If he 
 had given his eyes anything like fair-play, no 
 one could have said that he was a stolid-look- 
 ing man ; but he had a trick of averting them 
 and casting them down — particularly in con- 
 versation — and thus, his light being hid under 
 a bushel, people missed it, and did say that he 
 looked like an owl. 
 
 His manner was formal and his speech was 
 slow, suggesting caution, however, rather than 
 pompousness ; and his accent did not, as his 
 wife's did, at once betray his nationality. 
 
 " Here we are, M'Killop ! " cried that lady, 
 bouncing into the room ; '' Captain Pigott and 
 Mr Cameron, this is my husband ; " and she 
 pointed towards him with one finger, as who 
 should say, "an appanage of our own royal 
 state.'' 
 
 " I am glad to see you back again, Eliza- 
 beth,'' said her husband, quietly ; " and " 
 (shaking hands cordially with the strangers) 
 " you are very welcome to Cairnarvoch, gentle- 
 men : you have come a long way for sport, 
 and I hope we shall find plenty of it for you. 
 Where did you join parties ? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 97 
 
 " We rongdavood at Ardrishaig ; we had a 
 little refreshment at Carrimorag; vre have 
 driven twenty-five miles since ; and we're all 
 starving. Now, that's all we're going to tell 
 you till you give us supper. Jinkyson says it 
 is ready, so come along ; there's a flimsiness 
 about all hotel diet, and I protest I feel as if I 
 had tasted neither black nor white since morn- 
 ing ; " with which remark, so creditable to her 
 digestive organs, she led the way into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 The supper was undeniably good ; too good, 
 seemingly, to admit of any rival subject in 
 ]\Irs M'Killop's thoughts, as, ^yit]l a fixed eye, 
 and a velocity approaching voraciousness, she 
 ministered to her obstreperous appetite, with 
 never a word or a look to cast at those 
 around her. Her husband, thouorh he ate 
 nothing, was equally silent; so was Morna; 
 and as Pigott and Bertrand were both tired 
 and hungry, they felt no call to make conver- 
 sation ; so the meal was almost a silent one 
 for a considerable time. Pace, however, and 
 concentration, will tell. By degrees, the half- 
 satisfied, half- wistful look of the after-dinner 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98: FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 vulture stole over Mrs M'Killop's face; she 
 laid down her knife and fork definitively at 
 last, and then there was no longer silence, we 
 may be pretty sure. 
 
 " Well 'I " she commenced, looking at her 
 husband, who, however, made no response. 
 " Well "? " she reiterated, in a sharper key ; 
 whereupon her husband looked up, and said 
 "Wein^oo. 
 
 " You eat nothing, and yet you say nothing," 
 went on his wife ; " one would think you might 
 try to be a little more sociable.'^ 
 
 ^' To tell you the truth, nothing occurred to 
 me that seemed likely to be of interest to you, 
 Elizabeth." 
 
 " Well, you might ask a question or two, at 
 all events, if it was only to show your interest 
 in us." 
 
 " Eeally, I don't think I have anything of 
 moment to ask." 
 
 " That's flattering, that's complimentary," 
 snapped his better half : ^' I've been away for 
 a fortnight, and he has nothing particular to 
 ask me ! " 
 
 '' Yes, by the by," amended M^Killop ; " how 
 is old Mr M'Dougal's gout V
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 99 
 
 " Pshaw ! Gout ! That is not a subject for 
 the table, M'Killop." 
 
 " It is often connected with the dinner-table, 
 they say. Eh, gentlemen '? " 
 
 " Is that a joke '? " asked his wife. 
 
 " No, I'm not aware that it is ; but I shall 
 be glad if it amuses you," replied M'KiUop, 
 stolidly. 
 
 " There ! that is exactly like you — yourself 
 all over ! " 
 
 It is notoriously seldom, in a complimentary 
 sense, that a man is told by his wife that he 
 reaches his own standard ; and to allay symp- 
 toms of stormy weather, and stop the bicker- 
 inor of his hosts, Bertrand struck in and turned 
 the subject. Glancing round the dark- wain- 
 scoted room, he remarked upon its venerable 
 aspect, and asked if the pictures on the walls 
 represented ancestors of the host or hostess. 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! " replied the latter — " modern 
 daubs belonging to the people of the house. 
 Ours were all burned in the ' forty-five/ " 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Pigott : " how unlucky ! 
 May I ask who burned them % " 
 
 " Who ? why, bless the man ! why, the enemy, 
 of course."
 
 100 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Oh, of course ! " said Pigott, wondering, 
 however, as so many others have wondered, 
 what made that epoch so specially fatal to so 
 many families, there being no historical record 
 of burning and sacking. Who burned or car- 
 ried off the pictures, mutilated the pedigrees, 
 tore up the patents, and generally obliterated 
 all evidence of age and dignity 1 It is almost 
 as mysterious as Sir Bernard Burke's ingenuity 
 in resuscitating, for families thus bereft, their 
 historical prestige, or the providential care 
 with which Wardour Street seems to have 
 guarded so many of the authentic relics of 
 their past. 
 
 " Yes," reiterated Mrs M'Killop, " burned in 
 the ' forty-five.' " 
 
 " Your people were out in the ' forty-five,' I 
 suppose, Mrs M'Killop ? " inquired Bertrand. 
 
 " To a boy." 
 
 " And Mr M'Killop's also ? " 
 
 " To tell you the truth," said the host, " I 
 don't know ; I never interested myself much 
 in these subjects. I suspect, if they were out, 
 they had no pictures to burn, or I should know 
 more about them, perhaps." 
 
 " It seems so strange to me not to take an
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 101 
 
 interest in one's ancestors,'^ said Bertrand, 
 simply. " If mine had not been out in the 
 'forty-five/ I would have disowned them — I 
 would have changed my name." 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; but there is most likely a dif- 
 ference between our cases ; when a man has 
 really had ancestors of position and distinc- 
 tion " 
 
 " M'Killop is a very prosy man," interrupted 
 his wife ; "he thinks of nothing but the pre- 
 sent generation. It is the way of this vile 
 money-making age to laugh at the past." 
 
 " No, no," said M'Killop, '' I don't. If I 
 had had a grandfather " 
 
 "No one would suppose you had, to hear 
 you talk ; one would say you had come off the 
 parish." 
 
 " There is no good pretending " 
 
 " Some people are so conceited they would 
 go the length of denying their own ' forbears/ 
 just that the world might say, ' How clever he 
 is ! He is a self-made man ! ' — all miserable 
 vanity." 
 
 "I don't pretend to be cleverer than my 
 neighbours, but I am, such as I am, a self- 
 made man."
 
 102 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Vanity, vanity ! — all miserable vanity ! " 
 
 " It is no discredit to my father " 
 
 " Vanity ! vanity ! Say grace after meat, 
 M^KiUop/' 
 
 The host complied, and by this devotional 
 device his wife got rid of a topic which did not 
 seem to be to her mind. 
 
 "You are a Scotchman, I presume, Mr 
 Cameron, from your name and your allu- 
 sions ? '' said Mr M'Killop. 
 
 " Yes, I am/* replied Bertrand. 
 
 " Yes," burst in Mrs M'KiUop ; " and if 
 you would ever give one a chance of getting 
 in a word, instead of for ever spouting your 
 Eadicalism, I would have told you that Mr 
 Cameron ought to be jparticularly welcome 
 here." 
 
 " I am sure, Elizabeth, he is particularly 
 welcome. I hope he is quite satisfied of that." 
 
 "Blood is thicker than water, M'Killop; 
 Mr Cameron is a kinsman." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, distant indeed, but countable, where 
 there is no objection on either side ; and I am 
 sure I have none," with a suave bow of inter- 
 rogation to Bertrand.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 103 
 
 He, however, had thought this kinsmanship 
 all very well for once, as a joke, but did 
 not relish its becoming accepted as a fact 
 in sober earnest. So his reply was a very 
 slight, very stiff inclination, stiffened, no doubt, 
 by a sly glance which Pigott shot across the 
 table at him. 
 
 " But there is another reason," continued Mrs 
 M'Killop, " why he ought to be especially wel- 
 come here ; and that is, that he is a neighbour." 
 
 " I don't quite understand that," replied her 
 husband. 
 
 "Oh ! Mrs M'Killop,'' said Bertrand, "you 
 state my claim too strongly, as I am only the 
 kinsman of a neighbour ; if, indeed, Aberlorna 
 is near this." 
 
 " Oh yes, it is ; M*Killop, he is a Cameron 
 of Aberlorna." 
 
 " A Cameron of Aberlorna ! " exclaimed the 
 host, in a tone of unaccountable astonishment, 
 his eyes opening wide upon Bertrand, and his 
 whole manner and expression galvanised, as it 
 were, by some sudden and even painful inte- 
 rest. " A CameroD of Aberlorna," he repeated, 
 after a pause ; and then, as if mechanically — 
 "how?"
 
 104 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Why, simply enough," replied Bertrand ; 
 " I am Sir Eoland Cameron's nephew — the 
 son of his elder brother." 
 
 " Sir Eoland Cameron's nephew — the 
 nephew of Sir Roland Cameron 1 " repeated 
 M'Killop, as if by transposing the sentence to 
 familiarise himself with a difficult idea, and 
 keeping his fixed gaze steadily on the young 
 man. 
 
 "Yes, his nephew," repeated Bertrand, with 
 a puzzled look. " Is he a friend of yours '? " 
 
 " And the son of his elder brother 1 " con- 
 tinued the host, disregarding the question. 
 " Yes ; it seems to surprise you 1 " 
 " And how do you come to be here ? " asked 
 M'Killop, in an absent voice, but with the 
 same intense look in his face. 
 
 " Pardon me," said Bertrand, " I scarcely 
 understand." 
 
 " M'Killop ! " cried his wife, " what has 
 come over you ? What are you staring at ? 
 Where are your manners 1 How does Mr 
 Cameron come to be here ! a nice question to 
 ask ! You'd better go to bed at once ; you 
 seem to be talking in your sleep." 
 
 Hereupon Mr M'Killop seemed, with an
 
 FAIR TO SEK 105 
 
 effort, to retire into his usual manner, and said 
 apologetically, dropping his eyes into their 
 normal position, " I meant, of course, that 
 with Sir Roland's shooting lying idle, it 
 seemed curious that ]\Ir Cameron should care 
 to be a tenant here/' 
 
 "Ah! you see, Mr M'Killop, my uncle 
 doesn't take the same view ; he has not offered 
 me the shooting of Aberlorna." 
 
 " Did you not suggest it to him ? " 
 
 " I would rather go without shooting for the 
 rest of my life than ask a favour." 
 
 "That's carrying pride a long way; with 
 an uncle too, and when the property will be 
 your own, under Providence, some day," said 
 M'Killop. 
 
 *' I like it," cried the hostess ; " it is the old 
 spirit, the real old spirit." 
 
 " Do you think you always act on it, Eliza- 
 beth ? " asked her husband. 
 
 " Tut ! you are talking in your sleep, and 
 I must set you the example of going to bed. 
 Come away, Morna. Good-night, gentlemen ; 
 I hope you'll sleep sound after your journey. 
 Make my husband show you your rooms at 
 once ; he's not fit company for the parish idiot
 
 106 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 — staring and talking like a perfect gomeril. 
 Good-night." 
 
 '*My wife is a little hard upon me," said 
 M'Killop, with a smile ; " but perhaps her 
 hint is a good one. I daresay you are ready 
 for bed ; but perhaps you would like to go to 
 the smoking-room first ? " 
 
 '^ Thanks," said Pigott ; " I think we have 
 done enough in that way already, eh, Ber- 
 trand '? " 
 
 "Yes, Fm all for bed. By the by, Mr 
 M'Killop, did you say you were intimately 
 acquainted with my uncle ? " 
 
 Again there was the same strange look in 
 M^Killop's eyes as he lifted them to Bertrand's 
 face, and replied, — 
 
 " No, I did not say so — no." 
 
 " You know him, of course ? I thought you 
 seemed interested about " 
 
 *' Only an old association — an old recollec- 
 tion that came across me — nothing more. I 
 have no acquaintance with Sir Eoland ; I 
 never saw him even. Now I'll show you your 
 rooms." 
 
 So saying he conducted them by corkscrew 
 stairs and winding passages to their destina-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 107 
 
 tion, and left them with a hearty "good- 
 night." 
 
 Our two travellers were delighted with their 
 quarters. The suite consisted of a sitting- 
 room and two bedrooms opening off it on 
 opposite sides. The sitting-room was a per- 
 fect hijoUy circular in form, and high and 
 roomy in its dimensions. The wainscoting was 
 of black oak, the floor was of black oak, and 
 the antique furniture was of the same material ; 
 but the sombre eflect was relieved by the cur- 
 tains and coverings, which were all of a bril- 
 liant tartan. A fine collection of roebucks' 
 heads ornamented the walls, running round 
 them, about a yard from the ceiling, in a circle 
 only broken over each door by the substitution 
 of a royal stag's head. For other decoration, 
 there were one or two proof engravings of 
 Landseer s masterpieces. A vase of fresh 
 flowers was on the central table, and a loung- 
 ing-chair on either side of the fireplace, in 
 which an aromatic fire of peat and pine spar- 
 kled cheerily. Their bedrooms proved to be 
 as neat and comfortable, and with the same 
 picturesque quaintness in all the details. 
 
 " It is an undeniable billet," said Pigott, as,
 
 108 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 emerging from their dormitories, eacli subsided 
 into a seductive " fire - sider." " I pass the 
 M'Killop establishment. I give it an A 1 
 register for three calendar months. There is 
 no nonsense about the cook who turned out 
 that supper to-night, mind you. As for the 
 liquor, it struck me as strangely palatable, and 
 there seems to be no tightness in that depart- 
 ment. We shall not have to fall back upon 
 whisky-toddy if the butler is half as gentle- 
 manlike as he looks. He beats his master in 
 that respect; but that is a mere matter of 
 detail. This room is really a gem, and this 
 chair. Thank goodness the beds are not 
 feather-beds ! Touch up the fire, Bertrand ; 
 what a jolly smell it has ! AVe'll smoke in 
 this room when it rains ; or at nights, if the 
 natives are a bore. Talking of them, did you 
 ever see old Alec Eeed the prize-fighter ? No 1 
 — ah, I daresay he was dead before your time. 
 Well, M'Killop is wonderfully like him; he 
 has more teeth, and the full complement of 
 eyes, but otherwise his very image. How the 
 old fellow stared when he heard who you were ! 
 did you notice ? and with such a queer, misty 
 look in his eyes — softening of the brain evi-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 109 
 
 dently; but I believe they^re never violent 
 with that disease, so perhaps we have no great 
 right to complain. As for his wife, an appli- 
 cation of galvanism to a very large ill-finished 
 
 "Aunt -Sally" would ; but, by the by, 
 
 she is your relative, so let her pass with the 
 rest." 
 
 *' Not as my relative, please," cried Ber- 
 trand. 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons ; your ' count- 
 able connection.' " 
 
 " Countable connection ! why, the woman 
 must be crazy. It is the most confounded 
 piece of impudence I ever heard of ! " 
 
 " What ! you disown the kinship ? " 
 
 " I should rather think I do ; and, what's 
 more. Til tell her so if she ever mentions it 
 again." 
 
 " Ah ! Bertrand, you re not half a Celt ; 
 you don't understand the patriarchal system, 
 — how wide the family branches spread, how 
 deep the roots strike, how closely they inter- 
 lace ever so far away from the parent stem — 
 when there is anything to be made by it, of 
 course." 
 
 " One thing, however, I do know, and that
 
 110 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 is, that I'm not going to allow this old harri- 
 dan to interlace herself with me as a relation, 
 root or branch. Don't speak of her ; she's the 
 only black spot in the business." 
 
 *' Oh ! you're pleased, then ? " 
 
 '* I am indeed : what a splendid country 1 
 what air ! what hills ! what a sky that was to- 
 night ! and what a jolly old place this is ! It's 
 like coming into a new world ; I declare it is. 
 Do you remember when we were driving 
 through that gorge to-night where there was 
 an old tower hanging over the waterfall ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so." 
 
 " Ah, Pigott ! what did you feel then ? " 
 
 "As far as I can remember, I felt that if 
 Mrs M'Killop s head remained another minute 
 on my shoulder, I must strike it with my 
 clenched fist." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you — really you are too abomin- 
 ably prosaic." 
 
 "All very well for you who were sitting 
 beside a pretty little light-weight : if her head 
 had dropped on to your shoulder by accident, 
 it wouldn't have greatly signified ; but to have 
 a thing like a 6 4 -pound shot w^obbling about 
 on your shoulder, gurgling and snorting like a
 
 FAIR TO SEE. Ill 
 
 grampus ! — why, it would crush the poetry out 
 of the Poet-Laureate himself. Do you know 
 your countable — I mean Mrs M'Killop's head 
 is really a thing quite by itself." 
 
 " Oh ! bother Mrs M'KiUop's head ! What 
 a charming song that was of Miss Grant's — 
 the first one ! " 
 
 " Yes, it was ; and she is a very nice gii-1, I 
 think." 
 
 " Very ; her song will haunt me all night." 
 
 " I wish I could believe it would haunt me, 
 but no such luck. I shall be haunted by some- 
 thing very diflferent." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Oh 1 that poignant song of her mother's, 
 where the steam-saw movement came out so 
 strong in the high notes. Don't you remember 
 
 itr' 
 
 " I scarcely heard her ; her voice did not 
 afieet me more than the rumblino; of the wheels 
 or the creaking of the springs. The fact is, 
 Miss Grant's sonsj sent me off into a sort of 
 reverie ; I was in di-eamland." 
 
 "Oh! you were?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And— and— weU?"
 
 112 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " It seemed to me that in Miss Grant's songr 
 I heard the voice of the genius loci!' 
 
 " Who is he ^ " 
 
 " Who ? '' 
 
 " The genius loci, of course." 
 
 " What an ass I am to talk to you about 
 anything — about anything worth talking of." 
 
 "It's* an indiscretion you don't often com- 
 mit, ril say that for you." 
 
 " Good-night, Pigott," cried Bertraud, jump- 
 ing up. " Fm too satisfied with everything to 
 let you get a rise out of me to-night, much as 
 you would like it, I see. Good-night! sleep 
 sound. 
 
 " ' I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 Sae lovely and sae fair ; 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds,' " &c. ; 
 
 and so he retired singing to his roost, well filled 
 the measure of his heart's content. 
 
 " Now that's what they call a mercurial fel- 
 low, impulsive, expansive, et cetera," growled 
 Pigott to himself. " He goes through as many 
 emotions in an hour as I do in a month. Well, 
 well, variety is charming, perhaps, but that sort 
 of thing would kill me in no time. And now 
 to bed, to bed. A glorious night ! " (looking
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 113 
 
 out of window) ; " what a grousey bit of hill- 
 side ! and oh ! what a trap for black-game ! 
 Confound that fellow Wilson, he has forgotten 
 my slippers, I believe ! what am I to do '? " 
 And so to bed the two friends, one with his 
 head among the stars, the other with all the 
 sympathies of his soul accompanying his feet 
 as they grope about for the missing slippers. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 114 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " In the name of everytliing hideous, Wilson, 
 what is that intolerable row 1 " cried Pigott, 
 starting from a half-sleep as his servant entered 
 his room next morning. " Has rinderpest 
 broken out among all the cats of the clan, or 
 has Mrs M'Killop caught bronchitis, or what is 
 it "? it has been going on for hours, I believe." 
 
 " It's them bagpipes, sir," said Wilson, with 
 grim contempt. " That there piper was a 
 toonin' of them for breakfast, as they say, just 
 down below here ; and Mr Cameron, he came 
 up and took them, and he's been workin' at 
 them for ten minutes; but the piper's got 
 them again, I see, so maybe the noise won't 
 be quite so bad, sir." 
 
 ** And what o'clock does this mean ? " 
 
 " Nine o'clock, sir." 
 
 " And Kow long will this noise last ? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 115 
 
 " I can't say, sir ; I did ask the piper, but 
 all he would say was, * Till she was finished/ 
 I expect he'll go on for a good bit, though. I 
 don't think he's quite all there, sir." 
 
 " No more sleep for me, then ; I'll get up. 
 Mr Cameron is up, you say *? " 
 
 "Oh yes, sir; up and out and about, hours 
 ago." 
 
 " What a maniac ! " growled Pigott, regret- 
 fully unearthing himself. 
 
 Bertrand had awakened early, fresh from 
 slumbers sound and roseate dreams, and the 
 view of the jDurple hills blooming in the morn- 
 ing sun that burst on him through his open 
 window, had drawn him instantly from bed. 
 Hastily dressing himself, he had sallied forth 
 towel in hand, and following the river up to 
 where a minor section of the cascade fell quietly 
 into a clear pebbly basin, there enjoyed a bath 
 worthy of the gods, curtained in with drooping 
 boughs and foliage of the weeping birch, and 
 with a carpet to step out on bright with a 
 myriad " wildings of the wood." Returning to 
 the house, he had fallen in with the piper, and 
 instantly struck up the alliance with results so 
 fatal to his friend's repose.
 
 116 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " There is one advantage about these abom- 
 inable pipes," soliloquised Pigott as he de- 
 scended to the breakfast-room musing upon 
 the hidden uses of things, "that they must 
 insure punctuality at breakfast. I don't be- 
 lieve the seven sleepers of Ephesus, or Eip 
 Van Winkle, or any historical sleeper, would 
 have been proof against that fellow's din. Ah, 
 Bertrand ! here you are ! good morning ! I 
 thought you were out." 
 
 " Out ! so I have been : such a morning ! 
 how could you lie in bed '? I've just been 
 putting myself to rights after my bath — a bath 
 in a natural bath-room, all among the woods 
 and rocks — a bath-room for an oread or a 
 dryad ; and since then I have been fraternising 
 with that glorious fellow outside." 
 
 " What did you call him ? " 
 
 " A glorious fellow — so he is — wdth such a 
 jolly name, Hamish M'Erracher ! I'm enrolled 
 as his pupil, and begin the day after to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "And pray where are the lessons to come off?" 
 
 " Oh, all about the place ; on the terraces 
 likely ; one has to learn to march with them, 
 you see."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 117 
 
 " In that case," said Pigott, " I'll tell Wilson 
 to have my things packed the day after to- 
 morrow; *the glorious fellow' has already 
 given me a compound fracture of the right 
 tympanum, and I'd be sorry to discover prac- 
 tically the effect of a duet between you and 
 him. So off I go unless your education is to 
 be carried on on the top of some faiiiy distant 
 mountain." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! better join the class. We 
 mustn't let Hamish know you're a Sassenach, 
 though ; he mightn't like it ; I suspect he 
 might mutiny." 
 
 " I sincerely wish he would, and desert into 
 the bargain. Here we are at the bottom of 
 the corkscrew ; where's the dining - room ? 
 Scotch breakfasts are never bad, that's one 
 comfort — even Dr Johnson admits it ; but this 
 will require to be something extra to atone for 
 the infernal prelude. Where on earth is the 
 door ? " 
 
 "Here, under the star of claymores; but 
 stop, stop, Pigott, you mustn't go in without 
 seeing Fin Ericsen's enchanted spear. Hamish 
 says it worked a miracle once. It's a capital 
 yarn. I'll tell it you. You must know that a
 
 118 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 certain Jarl Ergill — a sea-king, I suppose — 
 cruising about among the isles, landed once 
 upon a time at Skye " 
 
 " And I don't think the Jarl will take much 
 harm if we leave him there till after break- 
 fast," said Pigott, coolly dismissing the legend 
 and entering the breakfast-room. 
 
 The family party were already assembled ; 
 M'Killop poring over the papers ; Morna fresh 
 and bright, the very incarnation of health and 
 good-humour; and Mrs M'Killop, with her 
 tawdry splendour somewhat toned down, but 
 still very gorgeous. '^ Wonderful punctual- 
 ity ! " she exclaimed as the two young men 
 entered ; " and I hope it means that you both 
 slept well ? " 
 
 " Thanks ; I never slept sounder in my life," 
 said Bertrand, " the proof of which is that I was 
 up and out, three hours ago. The Spirit of 
 the glens looked in at my window and called 
 me. 
 
 " My sleep was also of the soundest," said 
 Pigott, "the proof of which is that it would 
 have lasted for three hours to come, but the 
 Demon of the Storm shrieked in at my window 
 and called me."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 119 
 
 " Storm r' said Mrs LrKillop; "there was 
 ^o storm/' 
 
 " I speak of a dream, as I presume my 
 friend does." 
 
 " Oh, do tell us about it, Captain Pigott ; I 
 delight in wonderful dreams,'' cried Morna. 
 
 " I dreamt, then, that a mighty wind came 
 rushing out of — out of some place or another 
 — straight at me where I lay, and I saw, car- 
 ried on its awful wings, what seemed at first a 
 jet-black cloud. Anon (mark the word), as it 
 drew nearer, it put on the guise of a gigantic 
 kettle of sinister aspect — steam coming out of 
 its spout with horrible sibilations, and I seemed 
 to say to myself, ' Lo ! the Demon of the 
 Storm 1 ' but it drew nearer and nearer, and 
 now it was a swarm of bees clustered together 
 in a mass bigger than many hay-stacks, and it 
 made a booming, whizzing, shrieking, snarling 
 sound, altogether indescribable, yet very alarm- 
 ing, and then I felt positive it teas the Demon 
 of the Storm, but was too frightened to say so, 
 and tried to put my head under the blankets. 
 But it was too late; the swarm was down 
 upon me — it overwhelmed me. I received a 
 frightful sting in the right ear^ and woke up
 
 120 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 with a cry of agony to find my servant quietly 
 telling me that it was nearly breakfast-time — - 
 because the bagpipes were playing." 
 
 " Oh, an allegory ! " cried Morna ; "a most 
 poetical way of snubbing poor Hamish, and 
 very ungrateful of you, too, because he was 
 performing his very choicest morceaux in your 
 honour. I heard him; he gave us twice as 
 much as usual. He always likes to make an 
 impression upon new-comers." 
 
 " It is very good of him," said Pigott ; " he 
 achieved a complete success this morning." 
 
 " Poor Hamish will be in raptures," said 
 Mrs M'Killop, who was rather mystified by the 
 allegory. 
 
 " Apropos of spirits and demons, I hope 
 you were not troubled by the ghost. Captain 
 Pigott r' said Morna. 
 
 " I'm sorry to say I wasn't, Miss Grant ; 
 I'm getting very impatient to see one." 
 
 " Ah 1 you don't know Scotland." 
 
 *' Indeed I do ; and I've lived in many a 
 house supposed to ]3ossess such a treasure, and 
 yet always passed serene andghostless nights." 
 
 " Perhaps you are not spiritual enough. A 
 spirit-seer, they say, must be spiritual, mag-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 121 
 
 netic, sympathetic, and all sorts of things, — 
 which I am afraid you are not." 
 
 " Quite right, Miss Grant ; he isn't," said 
 Bertrand. " Pio-ott would never have seen the 
 Holy Grail, for instance." 
 
 " Having a decided objection to heavy sup- 
 pers, I don't think I could have qualified. 
 They gormandised horribly at the Round Table, 
 and the Holy Grail was an obvious result." 
 
 " There, Miss Grant, that shows you what 
 he is." 
 
 "It is a shocking case of depravity," said 
 Morna, '' and I fear he is irreclaimable ; but 
 I am glad to see you are properly scandal- 
 ised." 
 
 "Oh, I am perfectly orthodox — the High- 
 land creed is my creed, — ghost, wraith, vision, 
 water-kelpie, — I believe in them all ; but have 
 you really got a ghost here ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, really and truly. Hamish saw 
 him one night standing outside the square 
 tower, all in white, drinking out of a long tum- 
 bler ; and he heard him whistle, and then give 
 a kind of sob or yawn ; and then he stretched 
 out his arms and disappeared in at the trap- 
 door in a puff of smoke, right into a room
 
 122 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 which an English gentleman was occupying, 
 who never saw him — which shows you that 
 everybody can't see ghosts, Captain Pigott ; 
 and then Mary saw him, and Peter, and " 
 
 "My dear Morna," said her mother, "how 
 can you be so absurd 1 No modern family 
 like the proprietors of this house are entitled 
 to have a ghost/' 
 
 " The ghost might belong to the previous 
 set,'' objected Pigott. 
 
 " Certainly not ; no ghost of family would 
 stay snociong jMrvenus.'^ 
 
 " But still, knowing you were here, he might 
 have ventured back, just for a' flying visit. 
 You see I am trying to make the best case for 
 your spiritual friend, Miss Grant." 
 
 "I'm afraid we're all talking terrible non- 
 sense," said Morna. 
 
 " Well, Morna, my dear, I think that's not 
 to be denied. You and your mother are both 
 first-rate hands at it," said M'Killop, looking 
 up from the newspaper. 
 
 "Any news this morning, Mr M'Killop T' 
 asked Pigott. 
 
 " Well, there appears to be a great awaken- 
 ing in the Australian preserved-meat trade^
 
 FAIR TO SEE. l23 
 
 and that is great ne'^s for people colonially 
 interested.'^ 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Yes, for the successful establishment of 
 that trade must have a prodigious eflfect on 
 more than one colony. In fact, if this report 
 is true, we are very near a crisis." 
 
 " A commercial crisis in more than one 
 colony 1 " 
 
 " Clearly so," said M'Killop, warming with 
 his theme — '' clearly so; just tell me, in the 
 first place, how would wool be permanently 
 afiected 1 that's a cardinal point ; and, in the 
 second place, what will be the eflfect of the first 
 blush of the matter on that sensitive market 1 
 And, in the third place, as to tallow; that's 
 another cardinal point ; and " 
 
 " In the fourth place, JVIr M'Killop," cried 
 his wife, " if that's your notion of sensible 
 conversation, commend me to our nonsense. 
 Wool, forsooth ! and tallow ! outrageous ! these 
 are nice subjects for a lady's breakfast-table." 
 
 It is a woeful thing for a man with one 
 subject to have it summarily snubbed, and, 
 poor M'Killop was evidently in this predica- 
 ment. He bore it meekly, however, and let
 
 124 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 the conversation flow on uninterrupted till it 
 gi;avitated inevitably to liis wife's one subject 
 — her fatal pedigree — and then he interfered. 
 If his speciality was distasteful to her, hers 
 was evidently a red rag to him ; so he rose 
 and rescued his guests. 
 
 " I think," he said, " well be wasting too 
 much of a fine morning, if we stay any longer 
 in the house. Come away, gentlemen ; and 
 how would you like to kill the time to-day? 
 for the 11th of August is always a weary day 
 for young sportsmen." 
 
 '' We must see the dogs first," said Pigott, 
 *' and by-and-by I would like to take a stretch 
 on the hill, just to break in a bit for to-morrow ; 
 what say you, Bertrand ? " 
 
 "Oh, I can't stand constitutional walking, 
 and besides, I've rather set my affections on the 
 river ; I saw some splendid trout this morning." 
 
 " You must ask Morna to be your guide, 
 then," said Mrs M'Killop ; " she is our fisher- 
 man : she will show you the best pools, and do 
 the honours of the river, and I'll come and see 
 you fill your baskets." 
 
 " Will you really take charge of me. Miss 
 Grant 1 " asked Bertrand.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 125 
 
 " Oil yes, I will, if you'll promise to be obe- 
 dient, to be quiet when I want you to be quiet, 
 and to take the pools exactly as I wish. My 
 discipline is very strict, for you see it is my 
 only sport, and so I am in earnest about it.'' 
 
 " I will do my best to be docile, particularly 
 as I am rather a poor hand at the sport." 
 
 " After luncheon, then ? " said Morna. 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 " Come away, then, gentlemen, and we'll 
 have a look at the kennels," said M'Killop, 
 and the ladies were left alone. 
 
 " What a fine-looking young man he is ! " 
 murmured Mrs M'Killop, as the three gentle- 
 men passed the window ; ** what a very fine- 
 looking young man he is ! " she repeated, ad- 
 dressing Morna. 
 
 " Which of them, mammal " 
 
 '' How can you ask 1 Mr Cameron, of 
 course ; the very picture of a chief" 
 
 "It is better than looking like a London 
 shopkeeper, as you thought he did yesterday, 
 mamma ; but if he had seen as many chiefs as 
 I have, I don't think he would thank you for 
 the compliment." 
 
 *' And why not, pray 1 "
 
 126 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Because I suppose he is what people call 
 good-looking, and the others, poor people, are 
 not beautiful as a rule/' 
 
 '^ Some people can see no good near home. 
 Then Mr Cameron is so pleasant, and bright, 
 and intelligent, and refined/' 
 
 " He is certainly a gentleman — they both 
 are — and pleasant, too, I think/' 
 
 "It is a splendid j)roperty, too ; ten thou- 
 sand a-year at the least" 
 
 " His uncle's ? " 
 
 " Yes, but it will be his/' 
 
 " Onl}^ under Providence, as Mr M'Killop 
 says/' 
 
 " Don't be profane, Morna. There is a great 
 deal to be done in a day's fishing/' 
 
 " To-day I'm afraid not ; the wind is not 
 what I like : and just look at these white 
 clouds — only look at them, — more coming up, 
 too/' 
 
 " Don't be perverse, child, and tease me/' 
 
 " Tease ! mamma ! " exclaimed Morna, with 
 much innocent astonishment. 
 
 "You know what I mean, you ungrateful 
 monkey. I've arranged the opportunity for 
 you, and you pretend not to see it."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 127 
 
 " I was going to fish at any rate," said 
 Morna, showing a very decided front to her 
 mother ; " and if you mean the opportunity of 
 fishing with Mr Cameron, why, that tntII only 
 spoil my sport ; if you mean — if you mean 
 anything else, he shan^t go ^T.th me at all. 
 Opportunity ! What do you mean, mamma ? " 
 
 *' Oh, you silly, ridiculous girl ! you take 
 fun in earnest, and earnest in fun, always. I 
 thought it would be a fine change for you to 
 get a gentleman ghillie to manage your hooks 
 and carry the basket, and be more amusing 
 company than old Donald ; but of course I'm 
 misunderstood, and you fly out at your poor 
 mother like — like — so unkind ! " 
 
 "Fm sorry I misunderstood you, mamma," 
 said Morna, and left the room. 
 
 " I wish that monkey Eila would stay away 
 for a month ! " soliloquised Mrs M'Killop ; 
 " she would never throw away a chance, and 
 she'll be back again before — before any good 
 can be done. This brat Morna with her high- 
 mindedness is too as^orravatino:." 
 
 The visit to the kennels pretty well con- 
 sumed the interval between breakfast and 
 luncheon — a somewhat inordinate time, it may.
 
 128 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 seem ; but, on the eve of sucli a festival as 
 the 12th of August, a visit to the kennels is 
 like the general inspection of an army, and the 
 interview with the keepers as serious a busi- 
 ness as a council of war on the eve of a general 
 action. Considering all they had to do, and 
 the method of doing it, the time was not un- 
 reasonable. M'Killop had a very good show 
 of dogs ; then dogs must have pedigrees, and 
 pedigrees will have complicated strains; and 
 dogs have performances always more or less 
 barnacled with fiction; but complicated strains 
 become more complicated when handled by a 
 garrulous old keeper, and fiction breeds like a 
 rabbit under the inspiration of a Celtic fancy. 
 So that, to get through a score of dogs — to 
 learn how this terrier, in a perfectly Homeric 
 combat, with a hundred episodes, had slain an 
 otter — and how that retriever had retrieved 
 " a cawf " from a flood, and was then and 
 there " able and willint to retrieve a ailiphant," 
 with other similar histories, — was by no means 
 the work of a moment. The keeper, indeed, 
 could have spent much more time over it, 
 although he monopolised almost every instant, 
 and shouldered out of siglit, twenty times at
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 129 
 
 least, an anecdote of Mr M'Killop's, which was 
 perpetually hovering on the edge of the con- 
 versation, about a certain bleary old setter 
 named " Smut ; " so that Smut's exploits re- 
 mained in the obscurity which envelops those 
 of " old Grouse in the gun-room." Mr Camp- 
 bell, the keeper, it must be explained, was the 
 retainer of the absentee proprietor of Cairnar- 
 voch, and felt it incumbent upon him to con- 
 temn, snub, and generally sit upon, Mr M'Kil- 
 lop in his quality of locum tenens and inter- 
 loper. Most of us have had a taste of the 
 flagrant tyranny of old-serv^antism, either in 
 our own establishments or, reflectively, in those 
 of our friends; but Mr CampbelFs tyranny 
 was something beyond common experience ; he 
 quite out-heroded Herod in this line. Having 
 long ago mastered his master, who was a limp 
 spendthrift, and having weighed Mr M'Kil- 
 lop in the balance and found him wanting 
 as sportsman and as gentleman, he had from 
 the commencement assumed a double-distilled 
 tone of superiority and dictation; and his 
 temporary master having succumbed without 
 a struggle, their relations were entirely re- 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 130 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 versed, and Mr CampbelFs despotism was as 
 complete as it was severe. His feelings on 
 the arrival of the two sub-tenants were of a 
 mixed character. On the one hand there was 
 prospective gain, but on the other there was 
 the fear that they might introduce revolution- 
 ary ideas. There was also a certain increase 
 of work ; how much of an increase depended 
 a good deal on the ground he could maintain 
 with the new-comers; so to-day his manner 
 was more domineering and impudent than 
 usual — it was tentative; he was seeing how 
 far he could go. 
 
 "You have a capital lot of dogs, Mr Ml^il- 
 lop," said Bertrand, when the inspection was 
 completed. 
 
 "Fm no jist sae weel afF as IVe seen me," 
 instantly replied the keeper. " A year or twa 
 back ye micht hae said sae, but I hinna the 
 encouragement I ance had " 
 
 " I'm sure, Campbell, you have all you ask," 
 said his master. 
 
 " Oo ay — it's no that, of coorse ; but a body 
 hasna the same speerit 'workin' wi' a stranger 
 like, espaicially when ae dug's as gude as 
 anither til him."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 131 
 
 "Come, come, Campbell,'"' said M'Killop, 
 with a deprecating laugh, " you're a little too 
 hard upon me ; but, talking of that, I want to 
 settle the dogs for to-morrow ; I think I know 
 the dogs for the ' Twelfth ' at all events. The 
 Doctor has just given me his orders not to 
 shoot this season, so I won't take a gun ; but 
 there are two gentlemen coming, and I want 
 to give them the best of the kennel ; so I was 
 thinking we had better say Juno for one, and 
 Pet for another, and then Dandy and EoUo, of 
 course." 
 
 " Juno ! Pat ! Dandy ! Eowley ! " exclaimed 
 the keeper, crescendo — " Eowley " being the 
 climax of impossible selections. " Naither the 
 tane nor the tither, nor the tither, nor the 
 tither to the back o' that, ]\Ir M'Killop." 
 
 " And why not, Campbell ? " 
 
 "Because ye're gaun to tak' Lomond, and 
 Boz, and Flora, and Wee Peter." 
 
 " And why not the others \ " 
 
 " Because they're no gauin oot till the day 
 after — maybe no till the day after that," 
 replied the old rascal, dogmatically, filling his 
 pipe. 
 
 ''I would have liked Juno for them, and
 
 132 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 EoUo," said Mr M'Killop, meekly feeling his 
 way to a compromise. 
 
 "Weel, ye see, they canna hae Juno and 
 Rowley; it's a' planned and ready, and Tve 
 teirt ye afore there canna be twa folk to 
 manaofe sic matters." 
 
 " Oh, of course you know best, Campbell," 
 and M'Killop struck his colours. 
 
 " Where are our dogs, keeper '? " said Ber- 
 trand, who felt that he would like to brain the 
 miscreant. 
 
 *' Weel, I dinna richtly ken." 
 
 " Have the goodness to find out." 
 
 *' Here, Sandy ! " (to an underling) — " whaur 
 was thae Inglish beests pitten '? " 
 
 " In the auld kennel," replied Sandy. 
 
 " Round by, here," said old Campbell, slowly 
 leading the way, and puffing volumes of smoke 
 in the faces of the gentlemen. " There ! " he 
 said, when the kennel was reached, and four 
 or five couple of well-bred, work-like setters 
 and pointers dashed themselves against the 
 railings, slobbering and yelping and barking, 
 as dogs delight to do. " There ! " and there 
 was a world of concentrated depreciation in 
 the keeper's tone.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 133 
 
 " They look fit enough," said Pigott. 
 
 "Nice-looking dogs," said M'Killop— "eh, 
 CampbeU ? " 
 
 The keeper removed his pipe, spat sardoni- 
 cally, and slowly shook his head with a sickly 
 smile, but said nothing. 
 
 '' You don't seem to think much of them ? " 
 said Bertrand. 
 
 "Weel, sir, to be oanest wi' ye, I maun 
 say that Tm no jist that unco taen up wi' 
 them." 
 
 "I can assure you the dogs are all of the 
 best breeds." 
 
 " Belike sir, belike ; I'd be sweered to say 
 the contrar, but ye see there's a gae wheen 
 best breeds, and there's no jist exacklee the 
 same hestness in them a'. " 
 
 " I'll venture to say that any real judge 
 would pronounce these dogs to be first-rate, at 
 any rate." 
 
 " It's no for me to say that I ken better 
 than a'body else aboot dugs, but I think I 
 micht ken something. I've been w^arkin' 
 amang them fifty year, ony way." 
 
 " Oh, Campbell has great experience," said 
 M'Killop, trying to throw oil upon the wave,
 
 134 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 but retreating in the direction of the other 
 kennel. 
 
 " Well, Campbell," said Bertrand, with a 
 laugh, though in a towering passion, "you 
 have your opinion, and I have mine, and I 
 hope if I have fifty years' experience I shan't 
 change mine as to what makes a good dog." 
 
 *' There's a wheen pints aboot thae dugs, 
 sir," persisted Campbell, "that's no to my 
 likin' ava. There's a want o' shouther in ane 
 (to my een ony way, sir), and a want o' gird 
 in anither ; and that yally ane's nigh aboot 
 kannel lame, I doot; and if ye lift the feet 
 o' twa or three mair, ye'll see, I'm muckle 
 afeared, that they're no a'thegither fit to 
 traivel oor hills — and then they'll be a' clean 
 strange to the grouse ? " 
 
 " No, no," said Pigott ; " that they're not. 
 Most of them have been two seasons worked 
 in Yorkshire, and some of them in Scotland. 
 Show them birds enough, Campbell, and I'll 
 be bound they'll do their work. Wait till you 
 see the bag I make over a brace of them 
 to-morrow, and you'll change your opinion. 
 You'll find the shoulders, and the girths, and 
 the feet all right, never fear."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 135 
 
 " I never had nae consate o' Yorkshire dugs 
 myser ; but it may be as ye say, sir : still and 
 with a', there's a gae hantle sheep on thae 
 hills ; and when a dug's no acquent wi' the 
 grouse, and no that weel broken, into the 
 bargain, and " 
 
 "Tut! tut! Campbell," interrupted Ber- 
 trand, " you re determined to find fault ; but 
 you can't make us believe all these dismal 
 things about the dogs, so it's no good jawing 
 about it. Tell our lad I shall want the big 
 black dog and the black-and-tan for to-morrow 
 —Jet and Tom." 
 
 " And tell him I shall take Nell and Fan," 
 said Pigott : and they walked away, leaving 
 Campbell sorely crest-fallen. He gazed after 
 them for a few minutes in silence : there was 
 no mistake whatever about the tone of the 
 two gentlemen ; he would have, as he himself 
 expressed it, to " pu' in his harns ; " so he 
 shook his head, and, knocking the ashes out 
 of his pipe, summed up as he turned away, 
 — " But jist let me catch auld M'Killop at 
 ony o' his deevil's pliskies ; if the young cock 
 craws, the auld ane disna larn, or my name's 
 no Duncan Campbell."
 
 136 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " How Mr M'Killop can put up with that 
 old savage, I cant understand; he ought to 
 be sacked on the spot/' said Bertrand, when 
 they were out of ear-shot. 
 
 " He certainly is an old sweep," said Pigott. 
 
 "M'Killop must be an old cad to stand 
 him." 
 
 " Yes ; it must be confessed * the gentleman 
 of position' doesn't take a very high one in 
 his own establishment." 
 
 *' Doesn't his wife sit upon him too "? " 
 
 " She is rather down on him at times ; but 
 I doubt, after all, if she's the master. "With 
 all his quietness, I've seen him give her a look 
 now and then with that queer eye of his that 
 seemed rather to shut her up." 
 
 " He doesn't seem to be much taken up 
 with her pedigree '? " 
 
 " Well, you know, he is rather old to enjoy 
 works of fiction ; but talking of his eye, he 
 seems to take a singular interest in you ; every 
 now and then I noticed him look up from his 
 paper at breakfast this morning, and favour 
 you with a very close inspection. Did you 
 observe '? " 
 
 "No, I didn't."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 137 
 
 " You ueedn't take it as a compliment, I'm 
 certain of that ; there was a very queer look 
 in his eye, but it wasn't admiration ; I'll be 
 hanged if I know what it was. He looked at 
 you in the same way last night when he heard 
 who you were. You noticed it then 1 " 
 
 " Pooh ! the man was sleepy." 
 
 " Yes ; but he couldn't be sleepy at break- 
 fast, so I suppose it must be softening of the 
 brain." 
 
 " Hush ! here he is." 
 
 " I was afraid," laughed M'Killop, who here 
 joined them, " that you and old Campbell 
 would come to blows. You mustn't be too 
 hard upon him, though ; his manner is rather 
 abrupt, but he has many sterling qualities — a 
 very old and valuable servant." 
 
 " Oh, I've no doubt we shall be excellent 
 friends," said Pigott, "when we understand 
 each other. I'm sorry to hear you're not going 
 to shoot to-morrow." 
 
 " No ; the Doctor has quite decided that ; 
 I have a little weakness of the heart, and he 
 is strong against hill-walking. I never was 
 much of a shot, though, so the disappointment 
 is not very great ; but it is an ill wind that
 
 138 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 blows nobody good, and it will give you all 
 the larger range.'^ 
 
 " I am sure we are both very sorry for the 
 cause/' said Bertrand. 
 
 *^ IVe asked a couple of friends, however, to 
 shoot here for a day or two, and, under the 
 circumstances, Fm sure you won't think it a 
 breach of contract. By the by, Mr Cameron, 
 one of them will be interested to see you — Mr 
 Tainsh — he is your uncle's factor for the 
 Aberlorna estate." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to see him, Fm sure," 
 said Bertrand. 
 
 "Tainsh is quite the man of the district," 
 continued M^Killop ; " a great favourite. He 
 does business for half the county, and Til be 
 bound to say he gets more shooting and more 
 good dinners than most of us." 
 
 " Are you really going to fish this afternoon, 
 Bertrand ? " inquired Pigott. 
 
 " Yes, of course — and you '? " 
 
 " Fm going to constitutionalise. Holloa ! 
 there are the pipes again ! Lunch already ! 
 as I live by bread and certain addenda."
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 When luncheon was over, Pigott started for 
 his constitutional ; and Morna, equipped for 
 fishing, soon after appeared in the drawing- 
 room, where were her mother and Bertrand. 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! " she exclaimed, " how lazy 
 of you ! Not begun to get ready yet ! You're 
 robbing us of half our day." 
 
 " Bless me ! I had forgotten all about it," 
 exclaimed Mrs M'Killop, jumping up with 
 great energy ; " how stupid of me, to be sure ! 
 What part of the river are you going to '? " 
 
 " To the Blue Rock pool first," said Morna. 
 
 " Very well, pray go on without me ; I won't 
 promise to overtake you young walkers, but Til 
 be there to see the first trout caught ; and now 
 Fm off to dress." 
 
 If Morna had been a little older or less 
 ingenuous, or if she had had more previous
 
 140 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 experience of lier motlier s powers as a strate- 
 gist, she would have coupled that lady's hints 
 of the morning with her obliviousness of her 
 appointment, and perfectly understood that the 
 " Blue Eock pool " was rather more likely to 
 come to Mrs M'Killop than to receive a visit 
 from that lady on that afternoon, in which case 
 Bertrand would certainly have had to fish by 
 himself; but Morna suspected nothing, and 
 went forth in her innocence to a lono; uncha- 
 peroned afternoon. Avoiding the upper waters, 
 where the trees that everywhere overhung the 
 stream rendered wading indispensable, she led 
 the way to a point in the river where it ran 
 through the little tract of corn-land rapturously 
 noted by Pigott the night before as " a trap for 
 black-game." 
 
 The afternoon was intensely hot ; there was 
 not a cloud — black, white, or grey — in all the 
 sky; the sun blazed relentlessly; the limpid 
 heat-vapour quivered on the moorlands, and not 
 a breath of wind stirred the surface of the 
 stream, woefully shrunk by the summer drought. 
 A most unfortunate day for the sport, it seemed, 
 and Bertrand remarked it. Morna differed, 
 however.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 141 
 
 " My idea," she said, " is, that where there 
 is no difficulty there is no skill required, and 
 where there is no skill there is no sport. When 
 everything exactly suits — water, clouds, wind 
 — any one can fill a basket ; but in a day like 
 this it requires fine fishing — the finest — high 
 art ; so this is the sort of day I like. Here we 
 are at mamma's rendezvous ; you can begin 
 here, and I will go a little lower down, and we 
 can pass each other in turn." 
 
 " Isn't that rather an unsociable arrange- 
 ment 1 " said Bertrand. 
 
 " There is no help for it, I'm afraid," replied 
 Morna. 
 
 So Bertrand sat himself down and selected 
 his fi[ies, adjusted his rod, and began to whip 
 away manfully, if hopelessly. Morna went 
 down to her station, concealed from Bertrand 
 by the Blue Eock, a large isolated boulder ly- 
 ing amphibiously, half in the meadow and half 
 in the river. In some ten minutes the fishers 
 found themselves vis-d-vis at this point. 
 
 " Oh, Mr Cameron ! Mr Cameron ! " ex- 
 claimed Morna, aU aghast, " can this possibly 
 be you 1 Do you really mean to say you've 
 fished down-stream I "
 
 142 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Conscientiously ; every yard of the water," 
 said Bertrand. 
 
 " Oh dear ! oh dear ! how distressing ! " 
 " Distressing, Miss Grant ! why 1 " 
 " Now, Mr Cameron, I told you my disci- 
 pline was strict, and I really must scold you ; 
 it is for your good, besides. You could never 
 expect, surely, to catch trout fishing down- 
 stream in a day like this 1 " 
 
 " I confess I was far from sanguine." 
 " Of course not. Don t you know they lie 
 with their heads up-stream ? and, with eyes in 
 their heads, don't you think they can see you ? 
 Put yourself in his (the trout's) place, and think 
 what you would do if you saw a gigantic engine 
 like a windmill bearing down upon you, flap- 
 ping its enormous wings; you wouldn't lie 
 quietly still, certainly. You must stalk the 
 trout and let the fly drop before his nose, with- 
 out any previous hint. So consider yourself 
 scolded for spoiling two of my best pools, and 
 show your penitence by running away back and 
 beginning to fish up-stream." 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't know how ; I'm not 
 much of a fisher, as I told you." 
 
 " Oh, there's nothing simpler ; please let me
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 143 
 
 look at your fly first. Oh, Mr Cameron ! how- 
 cow^ you ? " exclaimed Morna, in a tone of 
 pathetic reproach, as she examined Bertrand's 
 tackle ; " this tackle would do for a river in 
 Norway — an autumn loch-fly too ! Oh ! how 
 could you ? Look at mine ; " and she displayed 
 a fly of the tiniest dimensions, and a line half 
 invisible terminating in an almost invisible 
 cast. " And you have no other tackle ? " 
 
 " Nothing finer, I fear," said Bertrand. 
 
 " That is very sad. I'm afraid I can't help 
 you either." 
 
 '* I had better go on fishing down-stream, I 
 suspect," said Bertrand, *' and trust to coming 
 across some strong-minded trout who takes a 
 line of his own and lies with his head down- 
 stream." 
 
 " Oh no ; I'm very sorry, but I really can't 
 allow you ; it would demoralise all my trout. 
 Scotch trout, you know, are exactly the reverse 
 of Scotchmen — the farther north you get, the 
 less cunning they are. That is because we 
 haven't got so many clumsy fishers to disturb 
 our rivers up here, and we have more weak- 
 minded English tourists to beguile than the 
 Lowlanders have. So I'm afraid I must be
 
 144 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 firm, and not allow you to fish down or even 
 up, with that tackle ; but, in the mean time, 
 I'll give you a lesson, and then you can take 
 my rod and try the up-stream system." 
 
 " You're very kind.'' 
 
 So Morna began from Bertrand's original 
 starting-place, deftly wielding her limber rod, 
 and deftly throwing her unerring line, so that 
 the fly fell vertically, soft as thistle-down, on 
 the likeliest bits of water. Trout after trout 
 of goodly size and experience rose, and, rising, 
 sank no more. The genius of sport took 
 possession of Morna — an abstraction from all 
 other sublunary matters. Her eye, her atti- 
 tude, her motions, suggested the concentration 
 of the Indian hunter. Very clearly she had 
 no thoughts to spare for a more apostolic class 
 of capture. She had, indeed, evidently for- 
 gotten all about Bertrand ; and he, after watch- 
 ing her in silence and with some admiration for 
 a time, began to find it so, and didn't like it. 
 
 " Why, you're a regular professor. Miss 
 Grant!" he cried at last, to initiate a con- 
 versation. 
 
 " Oh, please, hush ! " said Morna, holding 
 up one hand without looking round.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 145 
 
 " Do you see one '? " asked Bertrand, in a 
 powerful whisper. 
 
 " Oh, hush ! please. 
 
 " Why, the fish can't hear that, surely ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes; hush!'' 
 
 ^^What a quaint girl!" thought Bertrand, 
 beginning to whistle for distraction; where- 
 upon Morn a looked round with such solemn 
 rebuke in her eyes that Bertrand's music in- 
 stantly ceased; but, taking out his cigar-case, 
 and holding it up, he mouthed the voiceless 
 question, ''May I smoke V whereon Morna's 
 gravity at last relaxed, and she reeled up. 
 
 " I see you are burning to begin," she said, 
 *' so I will stop here." 
 
 " A fisherman ought to be a Trappist, ac- 
 cording to you. Miss Grant," said Bertrand. 
 
 " Oh, Mr Cameron ! adding to all your 
 other crimes by a pun! Well, I know Fm 
 rather tyrannical, but I warned you fairly. 
 And now you try. I promise you I shan't 
 speak a word. I have — let me see — eleven 
 fair trouts ; see if you can beat me. You 
 have the best of the water here, so you ought 
 to, particularly if you wade." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 So Bertrand took the water, and began the 
 new system, clumsily enough. 
 
 " Less line, Mr Cameron ! " cried Morna 
 from the bank. 
 
 " Hush ! " replied Bertrand, reeling up and 
 making another ineffectual attempt to lodge 
 his fly neatly, and then another, and another, 
 and another, and many more after that, all 
 without success. The system was evidently 
 not to be mastered in a moment; and Ber- 
 trand, finding this, began to play all sorts of 
 tomfooleries, throwing lines of fabulous length, 
 stumbling about in the water like a hippopo- 
 tamus, rebuking Morna out of her own mouth 
 when she remonstrated, and making noise 
 enough to startle the grouse far away up the 
 neighbouring hill. At last his fly caught on 
 a tree, and there was an end of all things. 
 
 " If you break my rod, or lose that fly, Mr 
 Cameron, TU never forgive you!" cried Morna; 
 but after a tremendous amount of stretching 
 and scrambling and shaking of branches, the 
 fly was retrieved, and the rod restored intact 
 to its mistress. " Are you tired of it "? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Quite," panted Bertrand. " I've done
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 147 
 
 very well, I think, for a first lesson. Let us 
 sit down and rest here under this delightful 
 tree, and you shall give me a lecture on the 
 theory of your art, if you will." 
 
 " Eead Mr Stewart's book on angling ; that 
 will teach you better than I can ; besides, it is 
 too hot to lecture to-day. But seriously, Mr 
 Cameron, your fishing has been sadly neglect- 
 ed; I hope it is not the same with your 
 shooting, otherwise I fear you will be bored 
 up here." 
 
 " That would be impossible," said Bertrand, 
 with the gallant empressement of his age and 
 profession. 
 
 " Some people have found it very awfully 
 possible." 
 
 " I never could be bored here ; the air is 
 the elixir of life ; the scenery is Elysian ; and 
 with company such as — such as the present, 
 for instance, the idea of Paradise is realised." 
 
 " But perhaps if Adam and Eve hadn't been 
 a little tired, even in Paradise, we shouldn't 
 have been here." 
 
 " Then," said Bertrand, with unthinking irre- 
 verence, " I am glad that our first parents were 
 bored in the garden of Eden."
 
 148 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! hush ! you are wicked to 
 say so ; and besides " (with deep solemnity) 
 " you are making fine speeches to me, and 
 you mustn t/' 
 
 " I only spoke the truth." 
 
 " Now, Mr Cameron, that is a second offence; 
 after warning too. I'll tell you why I dislike 
 fine speeches — it is because I notice that the 
 people who make them are always the people 
 who laugh most at other people behind their 
 backs." 
 
 " Then you prefer silent worship ? Always 
 the same mania for silence, I see." 
 
 " Why do you suppose I want worship at 
 all 'i The idea of any one worshipping me ! — 
 me ! How ridiculous you are ! " and Morna 
 laughed with the heartiest glee at the notion. 
 " Another reason," she went on, " why I don't 
 like fine speeches is, because whoever makes 
 them to me must consider me very weak- 
 minded if he fancies I believe them ; but then 
 I don't think myself weak-minded (not in that 
 way, at least), so I am apt to think him weak- 
 minded for not seeing that / am not ; and so, 
 if you went on making them, and I went on 
 gravely accepting them, you would always be
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 149 
 
 thinking, ' here is a foolish creature ! ' and I 
 would be thinking of you, ' there is a foolish 
 creature ! ' which might be very wTong and 
 unjust if the real truth were known ; and so 
 we should never know each other properly ; 
 and I don't think that is so nice when people 
 are living in the same house for a good while : 
 do you 1 " 
 
 " I perfectly agree with you, particularly 
 when such inducements — no, I forgot, I won't 
 say it ; I never was so scolded in all my life/' 
 
 " Perhaps you are afraid of losing your skill 
 in the art ; but I will comfort you. My step- 
 sister, Eila, is coming home soon, and then 
 you will have an opportunity, and a good one ; 
 because, in the first place, she is beautiful and 
 — and — charming ; and, in the second place, I 
 don't think she will consider any one very 
 foolish for thinking or even saying so. Have 
 a little patience, then." 
 
 " No, I shall never make any more hand- 
 some speeches ; you have frozen the genial 
 current of my soul. I shall take the opposite 
 line, and be abusive. I shall say to your step- 
 sister confidentially, on the earliest opjDortunity, 
 'Let us, my dear Miss M'Killop, put things
 
 150 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 on a proper footing at once. Your sister tells 
 me you expect worship. Now, if you think 
 any one can possibly think you beautiful, in 
 your secret heart you must think him idiotic, 
 .because you well know that you are in fact 
 plain ; and if I went on making fine speeches 
 to you, and you went on accepting them, you 
 would always be thinking, '^ here is a foolish 
 creature ! " and I would be saying of you, 
 " there is a foolish creature ! " most likely you 
 are, but I know / am not ; and therefore there 
 would be injustice to me, and you would never 
 have the respect for me to which I am entitled, 
 which would not be half so nice if I am to be 
 for some time in the same house with you ; so, 
 I beseech you, let there be no misunderstand- 
 ing.' " 
 
 "What fun it would be," laughed Morna, 
 " to see Eila's face if you said all this ; but I 
 really believe you are angry at my lecture." 
 
 " So far from it that I hasten to atone for 
 everything by saying that I quite see you are 
 a strong-minded female." 
 
 " Thank you very much ; but I don't take 
 that as a compliment." 
 
 " Of course not, but then you abjure com-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 151 
 
 pliments. You're getting awfully prosy, Miss 
 Grant, do you know ? " 
 
 " I had better go home, then." 
 
 " It would be such a favour — you have no 
 idea how you bore me." 
 
 " Good-bye, then," said Morna, springing up. 
 
 " Ah ! " laughed Bertrand, " }'ou see the 
 fine-speech system acts the best, after all ; the 
 reverse drives you away at once. I really 
 must go back to the original plan, because 
 (only Fm afraid I can't express it brutally 
 enough) I should be sincerely " sorry if you 
 went away just now ; your society — any 
 society, I mean, of course — is pleasant under 
 the greenwood tree. Do, pray, sit down, and 
 I will be as docile or as ferocious, as compli- 
 mentary or as abusive, as you please." 
 
 " But what has become of mamma '? she 
 ought to have been here ages ago. We ought 
 to go and look for her." 
 
 " If we did we should break our tryst at the 
 Blue Eock pool, and inevitably miss her. Let 
 us steel ourselves to endure the misery of a 
 tete - cl- tete for a few minutes more. Mrs 
 M'Killop cannot be much longer in making 
 her appearance."
 
 152 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "By the by," said Morna, as she resumed 
 her seat, "you will see to-day another reason 
 why I dislike fine speeches." 
 
 " And that is ^ " 
 
 " In the shape of a gentleman who is com- 
 ing here, and who is never tired of saying 
 handsome things to me." 
 
 " What a foolish creature he must be ! " 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Because any one who makes fine speeches 
 to you must think you weak-minded, and so 
 forth, and so forth, you know." 
 
 " Oh, how tiresome this is becoming ! do, 
 pray, let us change the subject." 
 
 " No, no ; let us go on about the gentleman 
 who is coming here to-day." 
 
 " Well, his name is Mr Duncanson, and he 
 is coming." 
 
 " So you said ; and he says handsome 
 things 1 " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And why don't you stop him ? " 
 
 " Never mind." 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon ; of course there must 
 be an exception in such a case." 
 
 " Well, I don't stop him, because it isn't
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 153 
 
 worth while ; I don't see much of him, and it 
 would " 
 
 " Make him so unhappy 1 '^ 
 
 " How very absurd you are ! No ; because 
 it would do him no good — he is too hopelessly 
 a goose." 
 
 " Then you have some hope for me ? " 
 
 " I had, but I scarcely think I have now." 
 
 " I am all impatience to see Mr Duncan- 
 son." 
 
 " I don't think you will like him ; he is 
 very conceited and purse-proud. I don't be- 
 lieve you will think him a gentleman. / don't 
 think him one ; but then I have seen so few 
 people. At all events I know he is quite 
 different from you and Captain Pigott, and 
 gentlemen always abuse other gentlemen who 
 are not in their own style, don't they ? People 
 say he is clever, but I think him rather stupid 
 and pompous, and very prosy." 
 
 "Is he old?" 
 
 " Oh no — quite young. He only left Cam- 
 bridge two years ago. His father lives near 
 this — at Glen Yrechin ; he is immensely rich, 
 and bought the place some years ago — and this 
 is the young laird."
 
 154 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " How long will he stay ? " 
 
 "A week, perhaps." 
 
 " Then I shall have no more fishing-lessons 
 for a week, at least *? " 
 
 " Why not '? You may, if you like." 
 
 " Because the ' young laird,' when not 
 shooting, will be naturally anxious to air his 
 handsome observations." 
 
 " He shall not go fishing with me, at all 
 events. One has quite enough of him in the 
 evenings — too much." 
 
 " Well, I must be attentive while he is here, 
 and try to improve my style. Our next 
 quarter is to be Manchester, and I must pre- 
 pare my weapons for a campaign among the 
 cotton heiresses." 
 
 " Do you believe in mercenary marriages, 
 then?" 
 
 " I am a Highlander." 
 
 " If you were a true one you would despise 
 them. A true Highlander is too proud for 
 such meanness — you ought to be ashamed." 
 
 " Miss Grant, you won't let me finish my 
 sentences.. I said ' I am a true Highlander,' 
 and, of course, I was going to add, and * there- 
 fore too proud for such meanness.' "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 155 
 
 " But why prepare your weapons for the 
 Manchester heiresses, then ? " 
 
 "Only to be able to parry gracefully all 
 matrimonial attacks." 
 
 " Oh ! You expect to be run after '? " 
 
 " Horribly. There is a tremendous run 
 upon nice officers in the manufacturing dis- 
 tricts just now. Trade is so depressed, traders 
 are at a discount. The colonel says he won't 
 let any of the young officers go out without a 
 steady old chaperon — a major or a married 
 captain at least." 
 
 " Come away, Mr Cameron, I despair of 
 mamma; let us go home." 
 
 " No, no ; not yet. I'm going to be serious ; 
 and oh, how could I be so stupid as to forget ? 
 You promised last night that you would sing 
 me a Gaelic song. Do, pray, sing it now 
 before we go home." 
 
 " Oh no, I don't think I can ; you are in 
 too light a mood to be sung to. Music always 
 makes me feel serious ; and though I may not 
 be able to make music by my singing, still I 
 dim feeling music when I sing. I am possessed 
 by a musical spirit, and so if I saw you looking 
 as if you were thinking absurd thoughts, and
 
 156 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 ready to say sometliing absurd the moment 
 I finished, the spell would be broken, and I 
 couldn't sing at all/' 
 
 " No, but I promise to think no absurd 
 thoughts, or do anything to break the spell. 
 Perhaps I am as earnest, in my own way, 
 about music as you are yourself. I know it 
 sobers me at once. Your voice is beautiful 
 (scold me if you like), — it is beautiful ; I would 
 he anything or do anything you pleased for a 
 century, if you would only sing all the time. 
 / should be under a spell, like Merlin in his 
 oak, only I should be happy." 
 
 " In spite of the compliment, I will take 
 your promise as sincere ; but if you prove false, 
 my musical spirit will be a grieved and angry 
 spirit, and never reveal itself to you again. 
 On second thoughts I won't sing in Gaelic this 
 time ; but I will sing you a song which has 
 just come from the Gaelic — a new translation 
 — and it is a Gaelic air ; will that satisfy you?" 
 
 " It will enchant me," said Bertrand : and 
 then Morna sang " The Lament of the Water- 
 Spirit." The legend tells how the summer sun 
 has drunk up a mountain stream, and how the 
 spirit that dwelt in it has fled away to a hiding
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 157 
 
 in the clouds ; and how the spirit of a neigh- 
 bour stream, mourning his lost love, goes roam- 
 ing desolately over all the hills and glens 
 whither the mists of evening used to bring 
 them to their "trystes of delight; " and how, 
 wandering, he utters his lament to all the hills 
 and woods and glens and streams, and to the 
 winds and all flying birds, crying to them for 
 hope and consolation ; and how they reply, in 
 sorrowful compassion, that they too mourn and 
 lament, but that until the sky also weeps, the 
 spirit's love can never come again. Then in 
 the refrain the spirit calls passionately on the 
 heavens to weep. The air was wild, but beau- 
 tiful. It followed the spirit of the words, and 
 gave a second interpretation to their common 
 theme : it found a voice in its wide compass 
 for every phase of the sorrowful passion re- 
 hearsed, sweeping up from the subdued ca- 
 dences of despairing love to the tumult and 
 energy of grief distraught. Morna's voice was 
 equal to it ; the theme was evidently one that 
 inspired her, and she rendered every ray and 
 shade with a vividness and intensity that made 
 the performance almost dramatic ; so that when 
 she ceased, it almost seemed to Bertrand, who
 
 158 • FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 had been carried along in sympathy with the 
 singer's enthusiasm, that the scene had been 
 enacted before his eyes, that those trees around 
 him were the trees that had muttered consola- 
 tion, and that the stream in whose murmurs 
 the spirit's last pathetic accents had been ab- 
 sorbed. With Morna's first note, the spirit of 
 badinage had left Bertrand, and when she had 
 finished, he said, after a pause, — 
 
 " You need have given me no caution. Miss 
 Grant ; I never felt a song so much." 
 
 " I am very glad you do feel it : it is an 
 immense favourite of mine — perhaps my great- 
 est. One does feel so sorry for the poor spirit. 
 The air tells the story without the words ; you 
 might almost have understood it with the 
 Gaelic words, if I could only sing it as it ought 
 to be sung." 
 
 " It could not have been better sung." 
 
 " Oh yes, it could — far, far better ; it 
 sounds so tame when I sing it compared with 
 what it appears to my mind when I oxAjfeel it." 
 
 ** Even I have often felt the same myself ; 
 but you have less reason than most people to 
 do so." 
 
 " I don't think so. Now we are serious, I
 
 FAIE TO SEE. 159 
 
 won't be so silly as to afifect to think that I 
 can't sing — a little — and that I improve, but 
 the more I improve mechanically (if that is 
 the right word), the farther I seem to get from 
 expressing what I feel in music — that is, from 
 satisfying myself. Why is it 1 The standard 
 always seems to rise as one tries to approach 
 it. It is very distressing. The musical idea 
 in one's mind seems to be a sort of Will-o'-the- 
 wisp, and leaves the power of expression, la- 
 bour as it will, to scramble in despair behind 
 it, never a bit nearer. I can't explain what I 
 mean, even in words, I know." 
 
 *' Oh, I understand what you mean ; but 
 these are rather the feelings of a composer. 
 You might satisfy yourself, if you were a com- 
 poser, by fixing your conceptions in writing, 
 and leaving professional artists to interpret 
 them — you finding the idea, and they supply- 
 ing the mechanical expression." 
 
 Morna laughed very heartily at this idea. 
 
 "I a composer ! " she exclaimed. " You 
 must think me very conceited : my aspiration 
 is much humbler : it is only to interpret other 
 people's conceptions so as to satisfy my own 
 sympathy with them."
 
 160 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 And so the conversation flowed on in this 
 altered vein, and the two musical enthusiasts 
 soon found that they had many mutual enthu- 
 siasms, and, all about art and the beautiful, and 
 the imaginative, and the transcendental, many 
 conceptions and speculations in common — 
 wild, hazy, half-formed, and only half-consci- 
 ously entertained, and never before expressed 
 by either, till now that the friction of sympa- 
 thy slowly kindled the power of shaping them 
 into words. There is an exquisite pleasure 
 in these first essays of the dreamer to fix in 
 words the vague and fugitive thoughts that 
 long have haunted him, to puzzle or delight ; 
 and an access of self-appreciation generally 
 accompanies our first efibrts to unriddle to 
 sympathising ears our portion of those dreams 
 which engage the soul of youth " ere fancy 
 has been quelled ; " and no matter how much 
 nonsense is talked — the more perhaps the 
 better. Thus no doubt Morna and Bertrand 
 were highly satisfied with themselves ; and 
 that of course made the afternoon pass pleas- 
 antly, and therefore swiftly; and it is to be 
 feared that Mrs M'Killop's breach of contract, 
 and consequent absence, was, if not altogether
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 161 
 
 forgotten, neither missed nor commented 
 upon. 
 
 But at last the sun gave warning that the 
 day was far spent, and their seance was broken 
 up, Morna protesting that she could never 
 have believed that Bertrand cared for such 
 things, or indeed that any one else in the 
 world indulged in such fancies, of which she 
 had been hitherto ashamed ; and then she 
 wondered how she had ventured to express 
 them, and feared she had talked a good deal 
 of nonsense, and hoped, with a sudden pause 
 of apprehension, that Bertrand had not been 
 laughinor at her all the time : and then Ber- 
 trand reassured her, and they went home con- 
 tent ; and it is quite certain that Morna never 
 upbraided her mother for not having come to 
 the river. A tete-d-tete with a handsome 
 young gallant who talked easily, appreciated 
 at least one of her gifts, and sympathised with 
 the mysteries of her dreamland — who had 
 sympathy with her — there was the newly 
 found, the great delight ! — all this was surely 
 better than her usual bill of fare — a garrulous 
 mamma, a stolid step-father, the woes of the 
 M'Whannels, and the palpitations of the Stock 
 
 VOL. I, L
 
 162 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Exchange. It must have been a pleasant 
 variety. Yet when Morna looked at her 
 comely face in the mirror as she was dressing 
 for dinner, she did not seem pleased, for she 
 spoke to it with mingled asperity and sadness, 
 and said — "Oh, how blowsy and common- 
 looking ! Could any one ever detect ^ the 
 subtle essence of beauty ' in you 1 " The last 
 expression was evidently a quotation from 
 Bertrand, who had got through a deal of fine 
 language in the course of the day ; but 
 whether he had anything else to do with the 
 apostrophe, who can tell ? Still we know that 
 much may happen and be done in one day's 
 fishing, as Mrs M'Killop said in the morning.
 
 163 
 
 CHAPTEE VL 
 
 Ox descending to the drawing-room, Pigott 
 and Bertrand found that the party had received 
 its promised augmentation : there was Mr 
 Duncanson, " the young laird " of Glen 
 Vrechin; and there was Mr Tainsh, whom 
 Mr M'Killop had alluded to in the morning. 
 The former gentleman was, as Morna had said, 
 the son of an immensely rich man, a Bomba}^ 
 parvenu, to whom, however. Fortune had come 
 late in life by a sudden gigantic coup made by 
 his firm "in connection with^' cotton. To 
 buy land and found a family is a common 
 aspiration among Scotchmen in his position ; 
 it had been Mr Duncanson's life-long ambition, 
 and he betook himself with alacrity to realise 
 it, the moment fortune came. 
 
 So he became the Laird of Glen Vrechin — a 
 vast Highland territory, with a princely rental
 
 164 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 — and set to work " to make a gentleman '' of 
 his son. Unhappily this youth had attained 
 the age of twenty, before the necessity that he 
 should be a gentleman had arisen. He was 
 supposed to have completed his education at 
 a middle-class Scotch school, and was, at the 
 time of his father's access of fortune, perched 
 upon a three-legged stool in a Manchester 
 office, qualifying for "business.'' These ante- 
 cedents were untoward ; but combined with a 
 deeply-ingrained vulgarity of mind, and an 
 inordinate vanity and natural arrogance, they 
 produced as unpromising as possible a raw 
 material from which to turn out the required 
 article. Old Duncanson, however, had a hazy 
 notion that the thing was to be done by one 
 of two very simple processes. His son must 
 either go into the army or take his degree at 
 the university. These he believed to be infal- 
 lible manufactories for the article in question ; 
 and so he placed the alternatives before his 
 son, who, preferring the gown to the sword, 
 was, after a short probation with a crammer, 
 established accordingly at Trinity College, 
 Cambridge. The son's choice was unfortu- 
 nate for the object his father had in view.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 165 
 
 The army miglit have done something for 
 him, but, in the little world of the university, 
 like gravitates inexorably to like, and young 
 Duncanson fell naturally into a vulgar, tiger- 
 ish set, in which his wealth and blustering 
 assumption soon made him a leader ; so that 
 all his faults were aggravated, and the last 
 end of that young snob was worse than the 
 first. He had sufficient intelligence to make 
 his degree a simple enough matter ; and, it 
 being taken, he had settled down at Glen 
 Vrechin as its future lord, regarded by himself 
 and his father as the glass of fashion and the 
 mould of form. 
 
 Mr Tainsh was of a totally diflferent species : 
 he was still a young man, and had inherited 
 from his father an excellent business, that of 
 a solicitor and land-agent or " factor " in the 
 
 town of A . The latter, and larger, part 
 
 of the business was the management of the 
 affairs of country gentlemen — a mysteriously 
 lucrative employment — and by his acuteness 
 and knowledge of the kind of human nature 
 with which he had principally to do, Mr 
 Tainsh had managed to secure pretty nearly a 
 monopoly of the " country-side." He had a
 
 166 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 hearty manner, a jovial way of doing business, 
 and a popular habit of allowing his clients to 
 become considerably indebted to him ; and 
 what with this, and the fact that he was rich, 
 a good sportsman, and not without some rough 
 after-dinner humour, the shrewd fellow had 
 secured an e7itree almost everywhere — even 
 into houses where his manners might very 
 well have excluded him. The fact that he 
 was unmarried greatly diminished his social 
 disabilities in some quarters, and the fact that 
 he was known to be matrimonially inclined 
 made him doubly welcome in others. Mr 
 Tainsh was conversing with Mr and Mrs 
 M'Killop when Bertrand and his friend 
 entered, and Mr Duncanson, posed on the 
 hearth-rug in an attitude of graceful familiar- 
 ity, was entertaining Morna. His right elbow, 
 resting on the chimney-piece, permitted his 
 right hand to toy with a clustering whisker, 
 while his left was plunged in his breeches- 
 pocket; his rather splay feet, attired in red 
 silk stockings and shiny shoes, sprawled about 
 in the same spirit of abandon ; his appoint- 
 ments were quite in advance of the fashion, — 
 all glossy, glittering, and splendid, from the
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 167 
 
 silver buckles on his shoes to the solitary ruby 
 which blazed like " Pendragon " in the foamy 
 fretwork of his marvellous shirt-front. Now 
 he had heard, with the savage's instinctive 
 jealousy, of the arrival of the strangers, and 
 having resolved that "these fellows must be 
 put in their proper place at once, and taught 
 ' who's who,' " he turned to confront them, on 
 their entrance, with a carefully rehearsed mien, 
 in which haughty surprise was supposed to 
 struggle with aristocratic apathy. Mrs M'Kil- 
 lop rose fussily to do the honours, presenting 
 the new-comers first to the young laird, 
 whose bow was a gauche impertinence, and 
 then to the factor, who greeted them with 
 rattling familiarity. 
 
 " I am delighted to make your acquaintance, 
 gentlemen," he said, "and I hope we'll have 
 some prime sport together. I'm always glad 
 to get hold of oiEcers to shoot with, — you 
 army men are mostly good shots — practice, I 
 suppose — and Mr Cameron, I'm specially 
 happy to meet you. We ought to be friends ; 
 there's an old connection — a business one — 
 between our families, as you know, I suppose. 
 And when did you hear from His Excellency I "
 
 168 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Not very lately ; lie doesn't write much, 
 you know," said Bertrand. 
 
 " You're right there — kept busy, you see — 
 affairs of state — penalty of greatness. It's a 
 pity, though, that he doesn't come home and 
 settle among us ; he's had enough of these 
 colonies, you would say : and a fine place and 
 property lying idle — just clean wasted — at 
 home. You ought to suggest it to him, Mr 
 Cameron ; or you might hint that you 
 wouldn't mind looking after the place for him 
 — keeping the house aired and the game in 
 order, ha ! ha ! ha ! You and I would have 
 some fine days there ; the game's just spoiled 
 for want of shooting ; and there's a cellar, sir 
 — my father used to say- — and he had helped 
 your grandfather through many a ' tappit hen ' 
 — he used to say of that cellar, ' If you want 
 wine, real wine, the juice of the grape and the 
 best grape, go to Aberlorna, and no call to 
 choose your bin.' " And so on rattled the 
 factor. Pigott meanwhile went up to Morna. 
 
 " I hope you had great sport this afternoon, 
 Miss Grant," he said. 
 
 " Oh no — very bad ; Mr Cameron, you know, 
 is really deplorably backward in his fishing."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 169 
 
 "Is he?" 
 
 " Oh yes — sadly so ; but it was great fun. 
 I was trying to teach him how to fish * up- 
 stream/ and you've no idea how clumsy and 
 absurd he was." 
 
 " 1 thouo^ht fishing down-stream had been 
 exploded in the year ' One/ " remarked Dun- 
 canson. 
 
 " I suspect Bertrand is too impatient a fel- 
 low to be a good fisherman/' said Pigott. 
 
 " Patience is the sportsman's A B C/' said 
 the young laird, dogmatically. 
 
 "And I confess/' continued Pigott, — "I 
 confess I do think fishing a bore — except, of 
 course, under the auspices of a lady fair ; that 
 is another matter." 
 
 " Well, I would be very sorry if any kind of 
 sport bored me," growled Duncanson. 
 
 " Perhaps if I was a man, and could shoot 
 and hunt, I wouldn't care for fishing," said 
 Morna. 
 
 " Of course you wouldn't. Miss Grant ; it's 
 quite a pis-aUer, and a very dreary one too," 
 replied Pigott. 
 
 " What the deuce is a pea's alley 1 " thought 
 Duncanson, among whose acquirements a
 
 170 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 knowledge of modern tongues was not in- 
 cluded. Then finding he could make no 
 impression by words, he stuck his eye-glass in 
 his eye and began a minute and petrifying 
 inspection of Pigott's personal appearance, 
 commencing with the division of his hair, 
 travelling down his nose, over his shirt-front, 
 and so on to his boots, in the vain hope of 
 finding some weak point on which to rest his 
 gaze wdth scathing emphasis. Pigott, per- 
 fectly aware of the operation, and amused, 
 chatted away with Morna as if Mr Duncanson 
 was a grimacing automaton. Dinner being 
 announced, Mrs M'Killop displayed some hesi- 
 tation as to who should have the privilege of 
 conducting Morna; (who can tell what contra- 
 dictory schemes were distracting her maternal 
 brain ?) but the young laird had no doubt 
 whatever on the subject, and, swaggering up 
 to the young lady, simplified the matter by 
 coolly appro23riating her. But on the whole 
 Mr Duncanson felt discomfited. His first 
 efi'orts to impress the new-comers had not been 
 satisfactory : neither his loud voice, nor his 
 gorgeous apparel, nor his provincial import- 
 ance, had had any legitimate efiect upon them.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. l7l 
 
 On the contrary, he had a painful feeling that 
 something in the quiet, simple style of the 
 young men had impressed him. He resolved, 
 therefore, to ignore them, to devote himself, 
 with the grace on which he prided himself, to 
 Morna, and — just show them. The conversa- 
 tion flowed easily among the other five. Ber- 
 trand was a capital talker ; so was Mr Tainsh ; 
 and Pigott, though reserved, spoke to the 
 purpose when he chose. There was a good 
 deal of talk about military affairs, then about 
 the colonies, which gave M'Killop an innings 
 about wool and tallow, and then followed 
 amusing stories of life in foreign parts, wherein 
 Bertrand shone from his lively skill as a racon- 
 teur, and the humorous turn which he gave to 
 things in general. All went pleasantly and 
 mirthfully, and Mr Duncanson became sulkier 
 and sulkier, as he saw how well his assistance 
 could be dispensed with. But still he per- 
 sisted in plying Morna sometimes with clumsy 
 badinage, sometimes with anecdotes of his own 
 personal adventures, wherein bargees, proctors, 
 and " bulldogs '' of unrivalled speed and fero- 
 city, had invariably succumbed to his prowess 
 or finesse. In the midst of one of his dreary
 
 172 FAIR TO SEE, 
 
 legends, loud laughter following one of Ber- 
 trand's stories was joined in by Morna with 
 a vivacity which told Duncanson her atten- 
 tion had been with Bertrand and not with 
 him, there being nothing to call for special 
 mirth in the passage, "And so old Whewell 
 said to me, ' The next time this occurs, Mr 
 Duncanson, I'll convene you and have you 
 sent down."' 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr Duncanson," said 
 Morna, when she had recovered her gravity. 
 " I really do ; Mr Cameron's story was so 
 absurd, I couldn't help listening to it. And 
 so Doctor Whewell confined you ? " 
 
 "No, I was just going to tell you that he 
 didn't, but you seem better amused, so I had 
 better put off my story ,'^ growled Duncanson. 
 Morna, catching Bertrand's eye, indicated, by 
 a comical look, that her neighbour was not 
 indulging her with any fine speeches. Ber- 
 trand glanced at his lowering face, and thought, 
 " What a sulky-looking ruffian ! " Then he said 
 mischievously, across the table, to Morna, — • 
 
 " Miss Grant, you are looking terribly de- 
 pressed, even cross ; is my break-down as a 
 fisherman still preying upon your mind ? It
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 173 
 
 is too bad, though, to visit my sins upon so- 
 ciety at large ; banish this gloom, I pray you." 
 
 ** Perhaps," said Duncanson, *' if you tell her 
 another of these funny yarns of yours, she will 
 cheer up. The conversation of a poor mortal 
 like me has no effect upon her." 
 
 *' For shame, Mr Duncanson ! " said Ber- 
 trand ; *' sitting beside Miss Grant the mortal 
 should forget his mortality ; you should feel 
 like the poet when he sang, — 
 
 * Blessed as the immortal gods is he, 
 The 3'outh who gaily sits by thee.' " 
 
 "I don't think you quote it correctly." 
 
 " Very likely not ; but the sense, you know 
 — the sense is everything." 
 
 " Or the nonsense," muttered Duncanson. 
 
 *' Champagne to Mr Duncanson, Jenkinson ; 
 a glass of wine with you, Duncanson ! " cried 
 M'Killop, noticing the failure of that gentle- 
 man's temper ; and then, to change the sub- 
 ject, " What is your father going to do about 
 Craigyewkie's lease 1 " 
 
 ''I've quite decided that Craigyewkie is not 
 to have it." 
 
 " But what does the laird sayT'
 
 174 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " The laird does as he's bid, Mr M'Killop ; " 
 and the arbiter of Craigyewkie's destiny glared 
 round the table as who should say, " You see 
 Fm a devil of a fellow, and not to be come 
 over by any white man ; so look out." 
 
 " Fm sorry the old man's to lose the farm," 
 said Tainsh, who, as not " doing " for the Dun- 
 canson family, had an opinion of his own in 
 the matter. 
 
 " You'd better give him one of your vacan- 
 cies then; I daresay he might suit some of 
 your employers ; he's not the sort for us," said 
 Duncanson, with emphasis on the word " em- 
 ployers." 
 
 "I daresay he's not," said Tainsh; ''new 
 systems require new men; and a man who's 
 been brought up like Craigyewkie, in the old- 
 fashioned ways that have been going on just 
 the same, time out of mind, in an old-estab- 
 lished family, takes ill with the sweeping of a 
 new broom in the old place. I'll take a note 
 of him, though. Thanks to you for the hint. 
 He was a great favourite with the old laird of 
 Glen Vrechin when we were factors on the pro- 
 perty." These allusions of the audacious factor 
 did not improve Mr Duncanson's temper, and
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 175 
 
 he remained silent till dinner was over and the 
 ladies had left. 
 
 " What was the matter with young Duncan- 
 son, Morna ? '' asked Mrs M'Killop, when they 
 reached the drawing-room. 
 
 " I think he was sulky." 
 
 " I never saw him so before ; had you said 
 anything to him ? " 
 
 ** No ; I think he came in a bad temper." 
 
 " He used to seem so pleased with you ! " 
 
 " I can assure you that he was neither pleased 
 nor pleasant to-night." 
 
 " You must smoothe him down, Morna." 
 
 " Mamma ! " 
 
 " The best match in the county, child." 
 
 " And the very worst temper, Fm sure." 
 
 " Pooh ! nonsense ; we're all cross at times. 
 Do you know I've often thought he had quite 
 2^ pongshong for you." 
 
 "It is very much misplaced, if he has ; I 
 think he is quite odious, and so underbred. 
 Just compare him with Captain Pigott or Mr 
 Cameron, for instance." 
 
 "You should never let yourself speak in 
 that way of a person of fortune. The Captain 
 is very gentleman-like indeed, but we know
 
 176 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 nothing about him. By the by, how did you 
 get on with the other? with young Cam- 
 eron 1" 
 
 " Oh, very well ; why did you never come, 
 by the by ? " 
 
 " Oh, that tiresome M'Kenzie had business 
 for me. Well, was there much conversation ? '' 
 
 " Oh, we talked a little.'' 
 
 " Was he— was he— eh ? " said Mrs M^Kil- 
 lop, archly. 
 
 " What do you mean, mamma ? " 
 
 " Provoking creature ! was he attentive ? " 
 
 " Oh, very ! he carried the basket up and 
 my rod." 
 
 "Was that all?'' 
 
 " Well, you know there was nothing else to 
 carry, except myself — and that didn't seem to 
 occur to him." 
 
 " Flippant, bad-toned girl ! " 
 
 "My dear mother, how cross you are to- 
 night! — nearly as bad as Mr Duncanson;" 
 and Morna retreated laughing to the balcony. 
 
 "Yes," murmured Mrs M'Killop, sinking 
 into an easy- chair for her after-dinner nap — 
 " Eila would have had any of them she pleased 
 at her feet by this time. I wish the brat would
 
 FAIR TO SEE. l77 
 
 stay away for a month. But, after all, tlie 
 uncle might marry. Duncanson never took to 
 Eila. Duncanson is a bird in the hand. Dun- 
 canson must be smoothed. Acres against 
 blood. Fine things — both the two — but acres 
 best of all." And so she went on, slumber 
 gently stealing o'er her, till her last utter- 
 ances " acres," " Duncanson," " minx," " blood," 
 " M'Whannel," shaded themselves into a gentle 
 snoring, leaving us, however, no longer in any 
 doubt as to the dominant ideas of the sleeper. 
 The orentlemen came late to the drawino^-room. 
 Probably the host had exerted himself to soothe 
 Duncanson s dark spirit, or the claret had had 
 a remedial effect on him ; for when the party 
 entered, much of the gloom had vanished from 
 his brow, and he was conversing quite affably 
 with M'Killop upon such parochial themes as 
 make the boldest of us tremble, once fairly 
 lodged upon the tajpis in a country conclave. 
 
 In this altered mood, he at once joined 
 himself to Morna, who sat by the window 
 looking out on the glorious summer evening, 
 and began in an apologetic vein, " I'm afraid 
 I was a little silent and sulky at dinner. Miss 
 Morna." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Were you ? I never noticed it." 
 
 " Oh, Fm sure you did ; and Fm very sorry 
 for it. The fact is, I had a headache, and the 
 chattering of that — that ofl&cer on the other 
 side of the table was rather irritating under 
 the circumstances ; but my headache is better 
 now, and I offer my apologies." 
 
 " Fm sorry you had a headache ; but sit 
 down here by the open window ; the fresh air 
 will do you good." 
 
 " Thanks," said Duncanson, in high good- 
 humour ; " the happiness of sitting beside you 
 will very soon cure me." 
 
 ''You are very kind, but I must go and 
 make tea ; besides, my chattering might inter- 
 fere with your recovery ; there is nothing like 
 perfect quiet and fresh air for a headache ; " and, 
 so saying, she left him boiling over anew. 
 
 In this mood, he rejected the offer of tea 
 with such loud rudeness that every one in the 
 room observed it. 
 
 " Why, your friend is one of the dangerous 
 classes. Miss Grant," said Bertrand, who stood 
 beside her. 
 
 " Is that fellow mad ? " inquired Pigott of 
 Tainsh.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 179 
 
 " He's got the black dog on his back, any 
 way," said the factor. 
 
 " Morna has been teasing him," thought ]\Irs 
 M'Killop, " the perverse monkey ! I must 
 bring him round." And, intent upon the 
 soothing system, she rose and sailed up to the 
 window where the fellow sat sulking. " You're 
 thinking so much of to-morrow," she said, jocu- 
 larly, seating herself, " that you're quite absent. 
 Away among the grouse, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of the grouse," was the 
 short reply. 
 
 "It is a beautiful night. You'll have a 
 charming ' Twelfth,' I think." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, I don't expect it." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure you will ; and we expect 
 such a splendid bag from you." 
 
 " I advise you not to count upon the bag 
 too much." 
 
 " Oh, but we do ; we know what you and 
 Mr Tainsh can do ; and I believe Captain Pigott 
 and Mr Cameron are both splendid shots." 
 
 "Oh, they say they're splendid shots, I 
 daresay ; but you'll hear a different story to- 
 morrow night. I never saw men of that style 
 who could shoot."
 
 180 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "Jealous!" thought Mrs M'Killop. "Good!" 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! so you don't think the military 
 can shoot '? Well, Morna does say that Mr 
 Cameron can't fish. She laughed a good deal 
 at him after dinner ; but then I don't think 
 either of them is much in her style." 
 
 " She seems to listen with a good deal 
 of interest to that tallow-faced gentleman, I 
 think." 
 
 " Tallow - faced ! ha ! ha ! what ideas you 
 have, to be sure ! Well, perhaj^s he is a leetle 
 to the tallowy side. As to Morna, do you 
 know I fear she is making game of him. The 
 dear child's spirits run away with her. The 
 stories she luill tell of him after ! dear ! dear ! 
 but it isn't right, Mr Duncanson ; it is not 
 hospitable, and I tell her so, but she doesn't 
 mind me. Now, if you, as an old friend, and 
 more of her own age, were to take a quiet 
 opportunity, and give her a hint, I am sure it 
 would do good, for I'm certain your opinion 
 has weight with her. You see these men are 
 sure to find out she is making fun of them, 
 and then we shall have a disturbance. Will 
 you promise me, now '? " 
 
 " Eeally, Mrs M'Killop," re^Dlied Duncanson,
 
 FAIE TO SEE. 181 
 
 much mollified by this new view of the matter, 
 " I don't think your daughter would mind 
 what I said." 
 
 " Oh, you don't know, or you pretend not 
 to know, your influence, you sly creature 1 " 
 and she smote Duncanson playfully with her 
 fan ; " but 111 leave it to you and your delicate 
 tact ; " and so she went on blarneying the 
 young laird till he rose to the happy thought 
 which Mrs M'Killop had suggested, and em- 
 braced it. 
 
 " But I'll not interfere," he thought. " Til 
 let them have their swing of her ; that snob 
 Cameron thinks she's spoony on him, I dare- 
 say ! ha ! ha ! I'll let him find out his mis- 
 take. The confounded supercilious puppy, he 
 thinks he's only got to come down to the High- 
 lands and say, ' Look, and die ! ' for all the 
 girls to fall down and worship him. Just wait 
 a bit." In which frame of spirit, which did 
 infinite credit to Mrs M'Killop, he forgave 
 Morna, and tacitly vowed himself her ally for 
 the annihilation of the two oflScers. " I'll just 
 give them a turn of chafi" now, to show her I'm 
 up to the game," he thought, and rose to carry 
 out his benign purpose.
 
 182 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 The victims were, however, spared on this 
 occasion, for M'Killop remarking that they 
 must be early afoot to-morrow, and that early 
 hours were advisable, the ladies said " good- 
 night," and the gentlemen retired to the smok- 
 for "just one."
 
 183 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mr M'Killop did not join the smoking-room 
 party, so Duncanson was brought unavoidably 
 into association with his co-inmates. He felt 
 a little awkward and surprised that the others 
 should display perfect unconsciousness on the 
 occasion ; forgetting that they were happily 
 innocent of the dark workings of his spirit with 
 regard to them. Their sociable frankness sur- 
 prised him, therefore, but the indifference it im- 
 plied made the surprise not altogether agreeable. 
 
 " Mr Tainsh," said Bertrand, who had become 
 friendly with the factor, " I can offer you the 
 best cigar you ever smoked in your life.'' 
 
 " Thanks," said Tainsh, selecting one. 
 
 " ]\Ir Duncanson, may I offer you one ? " 
 
 " No, I thank you ; I find I prefer my own 
 to any I ever meet. I pay any price for them, 
 you see."
 
 184 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " All ! you have tlie pull of me there. I 
 don't think I could afford to smoke cigars if I 
 hadn't a little back-door to get them in by/' 
 
 " Kelations in the trade ? " asked Duncan- 
 son. 
 
 " No, I'm in the trade myself — a sleeping 
 partner in a large firm. Pigott there is one of 
 the principals. We import as a regiment, for 
 the mess, you know." 
 
 " Have you a licence ? " 
 
 " I'll be hanged if I know ; perhaps we're 
 smugglers. Are we smugglers, Pigott ? " 
 
 " You're too rash, Bertrand ; the reward is 
 a heavy temptation. What is the reward, Mr 
 Duncanson 1 " 
 
 " How should I know '( " 
 
 " Oh, you seemed to take a strong interest 
 in the matter." 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! is he trying to draw 
 me ? " thought Duncanson. 
 
 " What is our bag to be to-morrow '? " said 
 Tainsh. 
 
 " I would be sorry to brag about it till I see 
 it," replied Duncanson. 
 
 " I thought there was a great show of birds," 
 said Bertrand ; " the keeper says so."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 185 
 
 " It's not the birds I'm uneasy about/' said 
 Duncanson. 
 
 " No ! what then ^ '' 
 
 " The guns." 
 
 " Oh ! why so ? I suppose you are both 
 good shots, you and j\Ir Tainsh." 
 
 " Oh yes, we're pretty tidy, eh, Tainsh ? but 
 we don't know about you." 
 
 " I think you may be easy about us," said 
 Pigott. 
 
 " Time will show," grunted Duncanson. 
 
 " Why shouldn't Captain Pigott be a good 
 shot 1 " flashed out Bertrand, irritated by the 
 fellow's consistent churlishness. " Most people 
 who know anything about sport beyond their 
 own parish, know that he's among the best of 
 them at Hornsey Wood. As for me, if you 
 don't think I can shoot, back your opinion. 
 I'll back my bag against yours for to-morrow." 
 
 " Done," said Duncanson, a good deal sur- 
 prised by Bertrand's attack. 
 
 " What shall it be for r' asked Bertrand ; " a 
 fiver?" 
 
 " I would prefer a tenner, or a pony still 
 better." 
 
 " Oh, a pony if you like."
 
 186 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " A pony, then, done," said Duncanson, and 
 the bet was booked. 
 
 " Bertrand, the bet should be for a smaller 
 sum to begin with," said Pigott. " I don't 
 know Mr Duncanson s shooting, of course, but 
 you re a crack." 
 
 " Hang it ! " cried Bertrand, " I don't want 
 to take advantage of him ; if he likes to be off, 
 he can be off, or if he likes to shoot for a 
 sovereign, it's all one to me." 
 
 " I'm not accustomed to cry off," said Dun- 
 canson ; " it's more my way to double. I'll 
 double this, if you re not afraid." 
 
 " You shall — we'll say two ponies ? " 
 
 "Done." 
 
 "What would his Excellency say to these 
 big sums, Mr Cameron '? " said the factor. 
 
 " As his Excellency won't have to pay, it 
 don't signify to him. You mustn't tell him, 
 though, Mr Tainsli ; besides, I mean to win," 
 laughed Bertrand. And Tainsh, who cordially 
 detested Duncanson, heartily hoped he might. 
 
 " Are we to shoot in couples 1 " asked 
 Tainsh. 
 
 " Oh yes, it's much pleasanter ; and if both 
 the betting guns do, it will make no differ-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 18V 
 
 ence ; besides, we shouldn't have men enough 
 for four parties/' said Pigott ; " and I suppose 
 it will be you, Mr Tainsh, with Mr Duncanson, 
 and Cameron with me ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose that will be it ; Mr M'Kil- 
 lop doesn't go out himself." 
 
 The divan broke up very soon, and the long 
 11th of August came to an end. 
 
 " I think you're sure to win, Bertrand," said 
 Pigott, as they separated for the night ; '' and 
 I'll be glad of it beyond measure ; for of all 
 cantankerous, impossible snobs, your antagonist 
 is the worst." 
 
 " Well, I hope I may win. A couple of 
 ponies is more than I can afford to lose, but 
 the fellow's manner riled me so, I would have 
 bet a thousand. Good-night." 
 
 The Twelfth of August broke most auspici- 
 ously ; a thin mist rested at dawn on the hills, 
 down to their very bases ; but, when the sun 
 got up, it rose with him, and, as if to temper 
 the heat in the interests of the sportsmen, 
 hung like a thin veil across the sky. Only 
 now and then was there a flash of the sun's 
 unvisored presence, now and then a glimpse 
 of the summer sky's unfathomed blue, as the
 
 188 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 light tissue of vapour, touched by some cur- 
 rent of the upper air, curled away for an 
 instant, to recoil wave-like on the next. The 
 lightest of breezes wavered over the moor- 
 lands, not strong enough to shake the dew- 
 dro23S from the blue-bells nestling in the corries, 
 but greeting the spent climber, as he crested 
 the higher ridges, with a pleasant invigorating 
 breath, and, to pass to the practical, every- 
 where enough for the pleasant working of the 
 dogs. It was the " very moral of a Twelfth," 
 as Mr Tainsh remarked ; and we take leave to 
 think a fine " Twelfth " is the finest and plea- 
 santest day in all the year : clustered round 
 with bright memories of " auld lang syne,'' 
 and all manner of happy, holiday associations, 
 and still redolent of one early joy that has not 
 departed with the " merry, merry days v/hen 
 we were young," but is still for us while we 
 can stem the brae and tread the heather with 
 the spirit of a sportsman, and with the eye to 
 see, and the heart to feel, the great Avorld of 
 beauty lying among the mountains as nowhere 
 else it lies. " Let the huntsman praise his 
 hounds " and stick to his grass country ; give 
 us the heather hills and mountain breeze I
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 189 
 
 The house was a mile or two distant from 
 the point where the shooting was arranged to 
 commence, so the Cairnarvoch party drove 
 thither, starting at 6.30 a.m. It was a day, if 
 ever there was one, to smoothe Care's wrinkled 
 front and soften the asperities of the roughest 
 temper. All the sportsmen were in the high- 
 est spirits, for there was every prognostic of a 
 most successful day. Even the young laird 
 laid aside something of his splenetic temper ; 
 perhaps the day was too sacred, even in his 
 eyes, not to be celebrated by an armistice, or 
 perhaps the pleasant certainty of winning his 
 bet had something to do with it. Of defeat 
 he never dreamed, for was he not the redoubted 
 shot of the district ? and was it likely that he 
 was going to be beat by a muff like this '? 
 Why, the walking alone would beat such a 
 lathe of a fellow ! He would " collar the 
 swag,'' as he gracefully expressed it, and he 
 would take Bertrand down a peg at the same 
 time. 
 
 " I won't spare him to-night, I can tell 
 him," thus ran his pleasant reflections ; " I'll 
 OTve it him hot and strono^, and I'll set Morn a 
 on to him ; and whether mother Mac likes it
 
 190 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 or not, lie shall have it. It's not likely he can 
 afford to pay. These army fellows, with all 
 their swagger, are as poor as rats. Perhaps 
 he'll ask for time ! ha ! ha ! what a lark ! and 
 then I might say, ' Oh, by all means ! you can 
 settle it by monthly instalments out of your 
 wages ' — I'd call it wages — ' but I won't press 
 you ; I can afford to wait.' It would be 
 royal ! " These benevolent meditations were 
 broken in upon with an apropos by Bertrand. 
 
 *' By the by, Mr Duncanson, I've been think- 
 ing about that bet of ours." 
 
 " So have I." 
 
 " Well, if you are not quite satisfied about 
 it — that is, if you would like any alteration — 
 I'm quite prepared to meet you : what Pigott 
 said about my shooting last night makes me 
 suggest it." 
 
 " It's a little too late in the day, I think. I 
 can't alter the arrangement; it's against all 
 rule." 
 
 " Delighted to hear you say so, I'm sure ; 
 and now my mind is quite easy about it." 
 
 The point of commencement being reached, 
 and a rendezvous for luncheon fixed, and an 
 understanding come to that the bet was to be
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 191 
 
 decided by the shooting between eight o'clock 
 A.K and six o'clock p.m., the parties separated, 
 and our two friends, attended by the second 
 keeper (the amiable Mr Campbell fought shy 
 of them), and with the usual ghillie and pony 
 retinue, set to work to breast the mountain on 
 the reverse side of which operations were to 
 begin. The dogs, though a little wild and un- 
 steady at first, soon settled down to their work, 
 and quite vindicated themselves against the 
 old keeper's aspersions. The birds proved to 
 be plentiful, and sat in a satisfactory manner, 
 and Pigott's deadly certainty quite astonished 
 the keeper and the ghillies. Bertrand was not 
 so successful ; luck seemed to be against him. 
 The birds would rise to Pigott's side, and per- 
 haps he was a little flurried, as the game was 
 somewhat new to him. 
 
 " Bertrand, this wiU never do ! " cried his 
 friend, after a succession of bad shots, and two 
 " clane and clever " misses ; " what's come over 
 you 1 It will never do to let that fellow win 
 the bet." 
 
 " The time hasn't begun yet," said Bertrand; 
 " but somehow I can't get my eye in ; and yet 
 you remember what my pigeon-shooting has
 
 192 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 been since Ave came home ? Would you mind 
 changing sides V The change was made ac- 
 cordingly, but still the luck remained with 
 Pigott, and still Bertrand was flurried, " tailor- 
 ing" his birds, and altogether shooting exe- 
 crably, for him. It was not till well on in the 
 forenoon, about an hour before they reached 
 the rendezvous, that he steadied to his work. 
 In that hour, however, he did great execution, 
 as they traversed a long sunward slope, with 
 the little breeze dancing towards them over 
 coveys of fine size, that sat well and rose nicely 
 — not all in one big brown clump, but right, 
 left, here, there, and everywhere, one by one, 
 two by two — affording shots at all sorts of de- 
 lightful fancy angles. The last hour Bertrand 
 shot quite up to Pigott's mark; but there had 
 been a lot of lee-way to make up, and when 
 they reached their halting-ground, where the 
 others had not yet arrived, and their respective 
 scores were made up, Bertrand's fell short of 
 Pigott's by a good many brace — the latter 
 attaining the goodly dimensions of twenty- 
 seven brace of grouse, and a few odds and ends, 
 while all that had fallen to Bertrand's gun in 
 the limit of time was twenty brace.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 193 
 
 " He must have beat me hollow," said Ber- 
 trand. " You know Mr Duncanson's shooting, 
 keeper ; and what do you say 1 " 
 
 The keeper was of opinion that the last hour's 
 shooting was quite beyond Mr Duncanson's 
 standard, but that if he had "keepit his temper" 
 he must have walked away from Bertrand's 
 previous performance ; " and here they come 
 to speak for thirsells," he added, as the others 
 Jiove in sight. 
 
 " Well, Captain, what have you done ? " cried 
 Mr Tainsh. 
 
 " I've done very fairly — twenty-seven brace 
 and a blue hare or two ; and you V 
 
 " Oh, well enough for me ; but that's a tre- 
 mendous bag of yours ; and Mr Cameron — his 
 is the interestinor bao[ — what has he done ? " 
 
 " Broken down altogether," said Bertrand. 
 
 " No ? Then you've lost, for Mr Duncanson 
 has shot his best." 
 
 " No, no, Tainsh ; not up to myself at all — 
 the dogs were shameful. Let's have the count, 
 though," said Duncanson. 
 
 The count was made, and Mr Tainsh's score 
 stood nineteen brace, while Duncanson's was 
 twenty-three. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "You've beat me so far, Mr Duncanson/' 
 said Bertrand, " and I'm not surprised at it ; 
 worse I never shot in my life." 
 
 " Do you cap Tainsli's score '? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have twenty brace ; so you are 
 three brace ahead." 
 
 Duncanson's countenance fell. " I don't 
 think you've so much to complain of," he said ; 
 '' but I'm disappointed " (he had been shooting 
 at the top of his bent) ; "I had put myself at 
 twenty - six to thirty. It will be different, 
 though, in the afternoon — the dogs will be 
 better." 
 
 Luncheon was quickly enough despatched, 
 and they separated for the second time, the 
 afternoon division of the betting limit being 
 shorter by an hour than the previous half, with 
 all the haste they made. 
 
 There was no mistake whatever about Cam- 
 eron's afternoon* shooting; it could scarcely 
 have been beaten. He more than held his 
 own with the redoubted Pigott. The birds 
 were more plentiful than in the morning beats, 
 and everything went splendidly with him till 
 within about three-quarters of an hour of the 
 close, when, calling to the ghillie for more
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 195 
 
 cartridges, it turned out that one of the re- 
 serves had been forgotten, and there were none 
 left but " central-fire " cartrido^es for Piootf s 
 gun, which were useless to him. 
 
 " It's all up with me, then,'' said Bertrand ; 
 " awfully disgusting too, when I was doing so 
 well — two ponies gone ! and, what's worse, that 
 fellow will have no end of a crow over me." 
 
 " Not as things stand, but there's no harm 
 done ; take my gun." 
 
 " Oh, that wouldn't be fair." 
 
 " \Yhat humbuo; ! '' 
 
 " No ; in such cases one ought to abide by 
 one's own accidents. I'm shooting a match 
 against Duncanson, and you're not supposed 
 to be here." 
 
 " WeU, that's an accident in your favour to 
 abide by." 
 
 '' Much obliged, old feUow ; but I couldn't 
 hear of it." 
 
 " You're a Quixotic ass ! Do you think 
 Duncanson would have any such scruples ? " 
 
 " Thank heaven, I'm not Duncanson !" 
 
 " But for goodness' sake, my dear feUow, 
 do be reasonable. You're picking your own 
 pocket."
 
 196 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "No good talking, Pigott" 
 
 '^ Well, well, take your own way. You 
 deserve to be flogged.'' 
 
 " I may as well stroll home," said Bertrand, 
 and struck off" in the direction of Cairnar- 
 voch. 
 
 Arrived there, he met Morna on the terrace. 
 
 " Good morning ! " she cried. *' But how 
 do you come to be so early home '? '* 
 
 " IVe had such luck — such dismal luck, 
 Miss Grant,'' and he told her of his mishap 
 and of the bet, and the victory that was now 
 certain for Duncanson. 
 
 " Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry ; but do you 
 think he really must beat you ? " 
 
 " Oh, certain ; he was three brace ahead at 
 luncheon, and he has nearly an hour's advan- 
 tage of me this afternoon." 
 
 " Well, he has no glory at any rate." 
 
 " He will think he has, though." 
 
 " How odious he is ! " 
 
 " Perfectly abominable ! " 
 
 " I will 7iot go in to dinner with him again 
 to-day. I wish Captain Pigott or you would 
 save me." 
 
 "Let me."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 197 
 
 " Oh, if you like/^ 
 
 "I should like it of all things, of course. 
 I'll step forward the moment dinner is an- 
 nounced, and pounce upon you." 
 
 " Thanks. Here comes the carriage. Mam- 
 ma and I are going for a short drive. I sup- 
 pose you are too tired '? " 
 
 " I think I must write some letters before 
 dinner ; " and they separated. 
 
 The shooting-parties returned late. They 
 had been too hurried to count their scores 
 before leaving the moor ; and Bertrand went 
 down to see the operation, accompanied by the 
 ladies. Duncanson was in high glee ; he had 
 shot a little better, he said, but not at all up 
 to himself yet. He could aflford, however, to 
 say something patronisingly civil to Bertrand 
 about his mishap, implying, nevertheless, that 
 some sympathy was due to his disappointment 
 for a tarnished victory. 
 
 "'Deed, Mr Duncanson," said the keeper, 
 " ye maunna craw ower crouse till ye see. Mr 
 Cameron shot jist maist uncommon a'thegither, 
 and it'll tak' a heavy bag to beat him for a' 
 his mischance." 
 
 The score was told over, and Bertrand's was
 
 198 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 found to be twenty-five brace, while Duncan- 
 son's was only twenty-one, making Bertrand 
 the victor on the whole day by one brace ! 
 
 " And ye win for a', Mr Cameron," said the 
 keeper ; " and ye desairve it weel ; better 
 shootin' Fve seldom seen ; and ye wad tak' 
 nae advantage." 
 
 " I congratulate you with all my heart," said 
 Pigott, " though you scarcely deserve it for 
 your folly." 
 
 '' Fm so glad," whispered Morna to the 
 victor. 
 
 " Poor Mr Duncanson ! " cried Mrs M'Kil- 
 lop ; " where is he '? " 
 
 But poor Mr Duncanson had flung into the 
 house, muttering, as he passed through the 
 servants, whom the event had drawn into the 
 courtyard, " I should like to know how much 
 Captain Pigott had to do with his score '? " 
 
 We may be very sure that the sporting 
 event of the day had not mitigated his previ- 
 ous hostile feelings towards Bertrand ; and 
 they were worked up to boiling-pitch at din- 
 ner-time by the adroit way in which he saw 
 Morna — whom he seemed to look upon as his 
 -special property — carried off by that success-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 199 
 
 ful gentleman. All the party, thoroughly 
 alive to his bad temper, seemed, by tacit con- 
 sent, to leave him to himself, except in so far 
 as Mrs M'Killop shot down the table at him, 
 now and then, looks in Avhich sympathy was 
 meant to blend with an assm^ance that though, 
 for the present, these things were the reverse 
 of joyous, yet splendid opportunities of reprisal 
 were in store for him. The rest of the com- 
 pany were gay and lively, and as Duncanson 
 bent his scowling regard upon Morna, he could 
 detect no satisfactory evidence in her manner, 
 that her next neio-hbour was under oroinoj the 
 process of vivisection at her hands, in which 
 he had resolved to be her auxiliary the night 
 before. 
 
 " He thinks himself no end of a swell, no 
 doubt. Wait a bit, though. Ill take him 
 down a peg or two before long. See if I 
 don't." 
 
 This genial current of thought appeared to 
 promote thirst, and a thirst which was not 
 neglected ; but though his potations were con- 
 ducted on a most liberal scale, they seemed 
 rather to aggravate his sullen humour, which, 
 however, took no aggressive shape till the
 
 200 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 ladies left the room. "When tliey did so, lie 
 took from his note-book a cheque already pre- 
 pared, and tossed it cavalierly across the table 
 to Bertrand. 
 
 " There," he said, brusquely, " that squares 
 our account." 
 
 " Oh," said Bertrand, who made allowance 
 for the fellow's feeling a little sore at his 
 defeat, '' there's no hurry whatever ; 23erhaps 
 it may be settled without money changing 
 hands. You can have your revenge ; it may 
 be your turn next. I shot quite above myself 
 to-day, I confess — this afternoon, I mean." 
 
 " It looks like it, certainly. You had nearly 
 two hours less to make your afternoon bag, 
 and yet you beat your morning performance 
 by five brace — the difference is remarkable ! — 
 whereas I was shooting better in the afternoon, 
 and couldn't reach my morning score." 
 
 " Yes, it was very marked ; but we had 
 more birds in the afternoon, and I was shoot- 
 ing above myself, — whereas in the morning 
 I was shooting below myself, and with luck 
 against me. Never mind the cheque now. 
 I'm open to give you your revenge, whenever 
 you like."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 201 
 
 ** Well, hang me if I slioot you again on the 
 same terms ! " 
 
 " Why, do you mean that I must be handi- 
 capped '? how would you do it ? " 
 
 " Very simply. I would make you shoot 
 by yourself — that would more than equalise 
 us, I think." Then,, after gulping down a 
 bumper of wine, he blurted out, "It would 
 prevent mistakes — bags getting mixed, and so 
 on.'^ 
 
 Pigott and Bertrand both started to their 
 feet. 
 
 " My affair, Bertrand," said the former ; " it 
 concerns us equally, but I am senior. And 
 now, Mr Duncanson," he continued, walking 
 quietly round, and confronting the young 
 laird, " you must be aware that mistakes are 
 not made, and that bags dont get mixed among 
 gentlemen under such circumstances ; so I 
 shall take your immediate retractation and 
 apology for these words — mark me, imme- 
 diate, or " 
 
 " Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! gentlemen ! " 
 cried M'Killop, rising and trying to get be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr M'Killop," said Pigott,
 
 202 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " there can be no interference here. Have 
 the goodness, Mr Duncanson, to say what you 
 have to say at once. Mr Cameron and I are 
 both a little impatient in such matters." 
 
 All the wine he had drunk was unable to 
 support the bully thus brought vis-d-vis with 
 the catastrophe he had been working up to. 
 Accustomed to hector and domineer with a 
 licensed insolence among his own associates, 
 he had no precedent for being pulled up in 
 this way. Still, but for the depths of his 
 potations, he would not have so far committed 
 himself. His eye quailed, therefore, before 
 Pigott's cool steady look, and he stammered, 
 " I — I — mean no offence ; I tell you a bag 
 may get mixed, mayn't it, by the keeper's 
 fault, without the gentleman's cognisance? 
 The keepers may have their own bets too." 
 
 "Am I to understand that that, on your 
 honour, is exactly and entirely what you 
 meant ! " 
 
 " That is all I meant, of course." 
 
 " I'm sorry I misunderstood you," said 
 Pigott, resuming his seat; "but I daresay 
 you'll be more explicit on future occasions."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. "203 
 
 " Oh," said M'Killop, " it was clear to me 
 and Mr Tainsh that no offence was meant. 
 Suspect you and Mr Cameron, Captain ! ab- 
 surd, absurd." 
 
 " It was quite clear to Mr Tainsh that the 
 suspicion was absurd anyway," said the factor, 
 cbily. 
 
 " Well, well," said Bertrand, " ]\Ir Duncan- 
 son has explained, and it's all right, and I'll 
 shoot the match singly with you, Mr Duncan- 
 son, when you please, and we'll say nothing to 
 the keepers about it." 
 
 Cowed and crest-fallen, Duncanson muttered 
 something to the effect that the arrangement 
 would be satisfactory, and that he would name 
 a day before the party broke up. It is doubt- 
 ful, however, if he ever entertained an idea of 
 throwing good money after bad. 
 
 The visit to the drawing-room was short 
 and sleepy. There was no divan in the smok- 
 ing-room ; and over a quiet pipe in their 
 private boudoir, Bertrand and Pigott discussed 
 the events of the day. 
 
 " There's no doubt," said the latter, " that 
 we have fallen on our feet in the way of a
 
 204 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 sliooting — a better day's sport I never had in 
 my life ; and the dogs, too, are wonderful, 
 and the weather looks as if it would never 
 break, and altogether we've done well." 
 
 " It's all very jolly, except that hound Dun- 
 canson ; he must be simply a maniac," said 
 Bertrand. 
 
 ''I suspect he's jealous; I think he honours 
 you with that feeling. Probably he is in love 
 with the fraulein. No man but a jealous man 
 could have made such an ass of himself as he's 
 been doing ever since he came. He thinks 
 you are in the field against him." 
 
 " I don't see how he can." 
 
 " Or perhaps he thinks the fraulein is too 
 much taken up with you." 
 
 " What a vile idea ! She's not the least in 
 that style ; she's just the sort of girl for a 
 Platonic." 
 
 " Is she really 1 " 
 
 " Exactly ; she says just what she thinks." 
 
 " I see ; I had always thought the Platonic 
 form of i\\e disease set in later in life, though." 
 
 " She's no end of a nice girl ; I like her 
 immensely." 
 
 " Duncanson is right, then," said Pigott.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 205 
 
 " Platonically, you know/' explained Ber- 
 trand. 
 
 " You had better tell him so ; it may save 
 him the trouble of being horse-whipped even- 
 tually. He's been playing this game of im- 
 pertinence ever since he came, and I mean to 
 make short work of him the very first chance 
 he gives me ; because he's jealous of you, 
 there's no reason why he should insult me." 
 
 *'If he only knew how she laughs at him 
 and detests him," said Bertrand. " She posi- 
 tively begged that one of us would take her 
 in to dinner to-night to avoid him." 
 
 " Oh ! the Platonic revelations have reached 
 that stage, have they ? " 
 
 *' There's nothing remarkable in it." 
 
 " Poor Duncanson ! " 
 
 " I don't think you're right about his caring 
 for her, or being jealous ; he's only an ill-con- 
 ditioned provincial." 
 
 " Thank goodness he's had to pay for his 
 swagger." 
 
 *' Oh, the match is a tight enough one ; he 
 may win that back again." 
 
 " Not he ; and what's more, he won't try." 
 
 " Think not '\ "
 
 206 
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 '' Not unless your Platonics drive him per- 
 fectly out of his mind/' 
 
 " What queer notions you have ! Well Fm 
 off to bed/' 
 
 " Good-night, Plato ! '' 
 " Sleep sound, Diogenes ! "
 
 207 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 The programme of the Cairnarvoch party for 
 the 13th of August had been to shoot over 
 some ground lying near home, not to start till 
 after the family breakfast, and to make a short 
 and easy day of it. The plan was, however, 
 upset, as so many plans of the sort are, in the 
 Highlands, by the weather. The sun had 
 gone down upon the 12th in a blaze of glory, 
 and Ben Scarrig, where his last rays lingered, 
 had signalled from cloudless, glittering peaks 
 all manner of golden promises for the morrow; 
 but a sudden change had set in after midnight, 
 and a mournful tableau it was which met the 
 eyes of the sportsmen, when the inexorable 
 reveille of Hamish M'Erracher roused them 
 from their slumbers. The mountains were 
 swathed in horrible wet blankets of cloud. 
 On the lower hills the pine-trees loomed
 
 208 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 through stagnant mists with a dejected, blue- 
 devilly aspect. The linn and the swollen 
 river moaned wearily, wearily ; but, save for 
 their monotonous lamentation, a dumb and 
 dreary stillness held the air. The rain fell 
 perpendicularly, and in buckets ; for there 
 was not a breath of wind, and the motionless 
 clouds wore, in their stolid immobility, the 
 look of that most inveterate class of kill-joys 
 who have " a duty to perform." 
 
 Even the terriers, who usually hailed the 
 piper's first note with a storm of rival howling, 
 this morning, with their quaint impressionable- 
 ness by the weather, only half rose in the 
 various nooks where they bestowed themselves, 
 and with one querulous half-yelp, half-yawn, 
 subsided again, and left Hamish undisputed 
 master of the situation. It was, of course, 
 aOTced on all hands that shootins^ was out of 
 the question ; and the party separated after 
 breakfast to do battle with the "enemy" ac- 
 cording to their several inclinations. Bertrand 
 and Pigott betook themselves to their private 
 sanctum, where, what with writing letters, 
 loading cartridges, drowsing over the news- 
 papers, abusing the weather, and smoking
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 209 
 
 tobacco, they managed to pass the forenoon 
 well enough. 
 
 M'Killop disappeared with Tainsh into the 
 business-room, to discuss the pros and cons of 
 a certain investment in land meditated by the 
 former: Mrs M'Killop went about her house- 
 hold cares ; and Morna, finding that Mr Dun- 
 canson was cut adrift, and disposed to inflict 
 himself upon her for the forenoon, made an 
 early retreat to her sanctum, leaving the young 
 laird to his own sweet thoughts, and the dis- 
 traction of a match between his right hand 
 and his left, in the billiard-room. 
 
 By these dispositions, when Mrs M'Killop 
 returned to the drawing-room she found it 
 empty ; and Avhen, some half an hour later, 
 Mr Tainsh repaired thither from his conference 
 in the business-room, he found that lady by 
 herself ; and Mr Tainsh was glad of this, for a 
 tete-d-tete with his hostess was exactly what 
 the factor coveted at the time. Eather a 
 desperate expedient for killing a wet da}^ it 
 may appear at first sight, but Mr Tainsh had 
 somethino: much more serious in view. We 
 know that the public credited him with matri- 
 monial intentions, and the imputation was 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 210 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 correct; and it was because it was correct, 
 not merely in a vague, abstract way (beyond 
 which the public did not go), but definitely 
 and concretely so, that he was thus willing to 
 face Mrs M'Killop in her den, prepared even 
 to endure a general parade and ** march past ^' 
 of her shadowy ancestors, from the days when 
 Kenneth, son of Alpin, ruled the land. The 
 truth of the matter is, that the factor's matri- 
 monial aspirations were closely connected with 
 a young lady who has not as yet made her 
 appearance personally on our stage, but who, 
 from certain stray allusions to her, on the 
 part of her step-mother and step-sister, may 
 be expected to be found dangerous to the 
 male sex, when she does make her entree. It 
 is quite certain that Mr Tainsli had found her 
 so. Miss Eila M'Killop had produced a very 
 powerful impression upon him, even at first 
 sight : he had nursed the impression, and sub- 
 sequent meetings had confirmed it : eventu- 
 ally he had set himself in a business-like way 
 to consider the "pros and cons of the matter ; 
 and seeing no prudential reasons why he 
 should not indulge his fancy, he had " conclud- 
 ed " to fall in love with her, and had done so
 
 FAIH TO SEE. 211 
 
 accordingly. That lie had received encourage- 
 ment from the lady, it is not for us to say ; 
 but it is very possible that he had. He was 
 by no means ill-favoured or disagreeable in his 
 way : he was reputed rich : the lady had really 
 no substantial reasons for affecting social su- 
 periority ; and why not Tainsh as well as 
 another ? Besides, encouragement by no means 
 implies ulterior consent, as many dear but 
 hao-o'ard readers must be too well aware. The 
 neighbourhood of Cairnarvoch was thinly peo- 
 pled ; visitors to the castle were few and far 
 between ; and, if a young lady in such a situa- 
 tion, is not to keep her hand in when chance 
 occasions offer, what, pray, is to become of her 
 skill of fence when the foil is exchanged for 
 the small sword, and she wishes to use the 
 latter to the best advantage, in real earnest "? 
 So it is very probable that Mr Tainsh had 
 something to go upon ; but if it were so, being 
 a prudent man, he was anxious to know a 
 little more about the ground he occnpied, 
 before he took action : he was also desirous of 
 securing an ally ; and there ivere one or two 
 little matters of finance which, as a man of 
 business, he thouo;ht mio;ht stand some eluci-
 
 212 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 dation. And hence his hardihood in plunging 
 into a tete-ct-tete with Mrs M'Killop. That 
 lady (who had no suspicion of the factor's 
 views — for Tainsh was a sly dog) was al- 
 ways friendly and cordial to him. Her 
 manner, indeed, was intended to mark that a 
 social Gulf did yawn between them, albeit 
 masked as much as was possible, by her gra- 
 cious artifices of condescension ; but Tainsh 
 was happily as unconscious of the Gulf as of 
 her benevolent efforts to ignore it ; and hence 
 they met on very easy and pleasant terms. 
 
 '' Well, Mr Tainsh," she said, as he entered, 
 '' and what are you going to make of yourself 
 all this ongnweeong day ? " 
 
 " There is a certain cure for ennwy in your 
 company, Mrs M'Killop, and here I come to 
 avail myself of it," replied the serpentine 
 factor. 
 
 " A very gallant speech, Mr Tainsh ; but 
 you shouldn't throw away such pretty things 
 upon an old woman." 
 
 " If you begin to call yourself old, Mrs 
 M'Killop, it will be time for me to give up 
 making pretty speeches." 
 
 " As if we were contemporaries ! "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 213 
 
 '•' Much about a mucliness, I should say." 
 
 " Oh you flatterer ! You can't be forty ? '^ 
 
 " No, Tm not quite forty ; you have only 
 the advantage of me by a year or two, though, 
 if you are." 
 
 " 7/" I am ! As if you thought I was no 
 more than that." 
 
 " I can only go by your looks, you know, 
 Mrs M/Killop ; and if they won't help you to 
 be more venerable, it is not my fault." 
 
 " Bless the man ! I might be a grand- 
 mother." 
 
 "A mere matter of climate. If you come 
 to that, I might be a grandfather." 
 
 '' Well, all my family are said to wear well. 
 At eighty-nine, my grandmother — MrsM'Kecli- 
 nie of Tilly wheesle — had a cheek like an 
 apple." 
 
 " I can well believe it," said Tainsh, groan- 
 ing in the spirit. 
 
 " She had the M'Cuaig complexion, of 
 course." 
 
 " Yes, that would account for it in a mea- 
 sure," said Tainsh, endeavouring, by intelli- 
 gent assent, to stem the tide of her remini- 
 scences.
 
 214 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 '' Oh ! youVe heard of it, then 1 " 
 
 " Heard of it, my dear madam 1 '' and the 
 factor seemed all astonishment that it should 
 enter into the heart of woman to imagine igno- 
 rance on that point. " Heard of it ! " he re- 
 peated. " Yes, and I have seen it, too, which 
 is still better," fastening his eyes meaningly on 
 his'hostess's cheeks, w^hich suggested something 
 terribly tough and underdone. 
 
 '' Ah ! Mr Tainsh, Fm not what I was ; if 
 you had seen me when poor dear Grant first 
 met me, you might have spoken." 
 
 " Tm certain I would," cried Mr Tainsh, 
 plunging recklessly across the social Gulf, and 
 interpreting her words as a matrimonial idiom 
 of the provinces. 
 
 " I think not, in your sense, Mr Tainsh," 
 said the lady, with dignity. " I don't think 
 you would ; I was very particular." 
 
 "Yes, yes, ma'am, justly so; but you see, 
 men will be reckless ; they won't calculate 
 consequences ; they rush upon — upon — eh ? — 
 you know." 
 
 " There were many such, Mr Tainsh, eligible 
 and ineligible." 
 
 " You don't need to tell me that."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 215 
 
 " It's not fair to mention names/' sighed the 
 lady. 
 
 " Perhaps not," Tainsh assented, hopefully. 
 
 " Yet there can be no harm in saying that 
 Sir Eonald M'Tammy was one of them. He 
 died, you know." 
 
 " A broken heart, ma'am ? " 
 
 " I — I — have my suspicions. They said it 
 was climate and — and bra — ; well, well, I have 
 my own sad thoughts at times." 
 
 " No moral blame could attach to you, 
 ma'am," said Tainsh. 
 
 "Well, Mr Tainsh, if I was guilty, it was 
 unintentionally so. I could blame myself more 
 
 in the case of Lord ; but he is alive. I will 
 
 change the subject, Mr Tainsh, if you please." 
 
 " Amen," thought the factor, most devoutly. 
 
 " And, Mr Tainsh, with all this nonsense 
 you talk about beauty and love-making, and 
 so forth, are you never going to get married 
 yourself? I'm sure you have a good large 
 number to pick from, and many things in your 
 favour." 
 
 Mr Tainsh brightened up. " You're very 
 kind," he said, " perhaps you can suggest some 
 oner'
 
 216 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Well, there's Miss Trotter, the town-clerk's 
 daughter." 
 
 " Oh no ; she's not in my style." 
 
 " Then, there's Miss Gregorson, at the 
 Knowe." 
 
 " I couldn't think of her." 
 
 " She has £8000." 
 
 *' Money is not an ob , at least not my 
 
 primary object." 
 
 '' Then why not Bessie M'Alister '? " 
 
 " She would never do." 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr Tainsh, you're mighty 
 particular ! And her mother was my own 
 father's second cousin." 
 
 "Oh, I know the connection would be 
 most desirable, most unexceptionable, but con- 
 nection and blood are not my — ahem ! — my 
 main objects." 
 
 " Good heavens, man ! w^hat would you have ? 
 You won't be satisfied with money, and you 
 turn up your nose at good blood." 
 
 " No, no, Mrs M'Killop — not so ; but I am a 
 little ambitious : I want beauty and grace, Mrs 
 M'Killop, and refinement ; and I'm sure you 
 can't blame me for that. Can you think of no 
 one with these qualifications, who wouldn't
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 217 
 
 turn up her nose at a plain, honest fellow?" 
 and he put on a most meaning and insinuating 
 expression. 
 
 " I can't blame you, Fm sure, Mr Tainsh, but 
 these qualities are not so common in the coun- 
 try-side." 
 
 " I am sure you have not to look very far 
 from home to find them." 
 
 " I vow I can't think where Fm to look." 
 
 " Suppose you don't look abroad at all, 
 ma'am, but think of some one who — who — 
 some one, I may indeed say, who — that is — 
 upon the whole — who very certainly does — ■ 
 hypothetic ally, of course " (Mr Tainsh had ap- 
 parently lost his idea, and was groping about 
 for it all over the English language), " still in 
 all essentials identically — call you — call you by 
 the most endearing of names." The idea came 
 at last manfully through the ruck of words. 
 
 " Mr Tainsh 1 Sir ! you forget yourself," 
 said Mrs M'Killop, rising like an insulted arch- 
 duchess. " You forget, sir, certain things — 
 certain points w^hich you should not forget, Mr 
 Tainsh. I have very different views for my 
 daughter — very different indeed. She is not 
 going to throw herself ''
 
 218 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mrs M'Killop, you quite mis- 
 understand me," cried Tainsh. The social 
 Gulf yawned vv^ide to his perceptions for the 
 first time, but the factor, though respecting 
 himself, was not the man to allow any senti- 
 ment of amour jpropre to interfere with an 
 important object ; so, instantly suppressing his 
 astonishment and any resentment he might 
 feel, he accepted the idea of the Gulf, and 
 turned it adroitly to his own account. 
 
 "You quite misunderstand me, my dear 
 madam ; pray be seated, and listen to me." 
 
 " You can scarcely have forgotten, Mr 
 Tainsh, the claims which my child has to a 
 considerable alliance.'' 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no 1 " cried the factor. 
 
 "On her father's side, you must be aware 
 
 "I am perfectly aware of it — I assure you." 
 " While I need scarcely remind you that, 
 though now depressed, — impoverished, — con- 
 fiscated, — extinct in the male line, — from not 
 less than three families of immense antiquity 
 on my side, does the child derive some title to 
 hold up her head and look high." 
 
 " I know it — I know it," groaned Tainsh.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 219 
 
 " Hector M^Cuaig " 
 
 " He was one of nature's nobles, Mrs 
 Ml^illop." 
 
 " I don't like the phrase, Mr Tainsh ; it has 
 a Eadical twang to my ears/' 
 
 " I mean that a mere patent of nobility- 
 could have added no distinction to liimJ' 
 
 " Perhaps not — perhaps not ; then Tork 
 M^Whannel " 
 
 "Oh dear! — oh dear!" thought Tainsh, 
 seeing that the entire liturgy was impending ; 
 " this must be stopped at any price ; " then he 
 went on aloud with great volubility — 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, Tork M'Whannel was cer- 
 tainly one of our most eminent men of his 
 day, take him from no matter what point of 
 view ; and indeed I have to ask you for some 
 memoranda about him, but not now, for I 
 must hasten to explain that I had no thought 
 of aspiring — of evening myself — to a match 
 with your daughter." 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! " said the unreasonable female, 
 half inclined to resent Tainsh's deadness to her 
 daughter's charms. 
 
 " No, ma'am, I fly lower. I aspire, I admit 
 it, but I hope not too unreasonably. I will
 
 220 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 ask you to be my confidante ; I know I could 
 not find a more judicious one. I feel certain 
 you are my friend, and I could not have a 
 kinder friend. It was to your step-daughter 
 I alluded." 
 
 "Miss Ml^illop, Mr Tainsh ! " At this 
 juncture Mr M'Killop entered the room, and 
 remained for five minutes or so, rummaging 
 about for a book or a paper. The conversa- 
 tion of course dropped, but the diversion was 
 in favour of Mr Tainsh, for it gave Mrs 
 M'Killop time to reflect, to clear her mind of 
 ancestral hazes, and to reflect upon the atti- 
 tude she would do well, in her own interests, 
 to adopt. Her first idea was that Mr Tainsh 
 was by no means treating the Gulf with pro- 
 per consideration ; he was a good deal too free 
 with his pontooning; he was aspiring to marry 
 the daughter of her husband, and that seemed 
 a little too strong. Mythical as was most of 
 her pedigree, it was, be it observed, or had 
 become, all gospel to her ; and, indeed, she 
 went so very far back for her gentihty, that 
 she was safe from any practical disillusionment 
 — about as safe, for instance, as Odin and 
 Thor from any risk of losing their status, by a
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 221 
 
 serious exposition of the untrutli of the Scan- 
 dinavian theogony. But the more practical 
 side of her character soon asserted itself in the 
 matter, and then Mr Tainsh was remembered 
 as a man of substance, well to do, with an 
 improving position, and every prospect of 
 having the means to become one day land- 
 owner and laird himself; in any case, he was 
 independent of subsidising. That was so far 
 well ; there would be none of the disagreeables 
 of a pauperised connection ; but, before and 
 above all, there would be a permanent rectifi- 
 cation of the boundaries between herself and 
 her step -daughter. Her personal relations 
 with that young lady had not been satisfactory 
 to her. In the internecine war which natur- 
 ally rages between two ladies so connected, 
 the issue is generally in favour of the step- 
 mother ; it ought to be twenty to one on her, 
 at least. Holding as she does the key of the 
 position, having the arsenals and munitions 
 under her command, and fio-htino: in the name 
 of the acknowledged sovereign, the tactics of 
 the opponent can seldom achieve more than 
 brilliant guerilla successes, and these only for 
 a time. But, in this case, ]\Irs M'Killop was
 
 222 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 not satisfied that her victory had been in any 
 sense complete. For one thing, the enemy 
 would not fight, and, avoiding battle, con- 
 trived practically to carry everything her own 
 way, by finesse ; and thus, while loudest in 
 her professions of afiectionate homage to the 
 queen-regent, confounding the politics of that 
 potentate, and making her ridiculous to herself 
 and all her subjects. Not a little did Eila's 
 powers of fascination over the other sex 
 embitter her step-mother against her. Having 
 the match-making propensities of a frivolous 
 and vulgar mind, and being, moreover, the 
 mother of a marriageable daughter, it was 
 intolerable to her, with her very limited field 
 of operations, that every little project and 
 scheme slie formed was invariably counter- 
 acted by " that minx Eila ; " not a whit the 
 less so that it was done in an apparently 
 unconscious and efiortless way. The few men 
 who came, saw her, and she conquered ; and 
 poor Morna was nowhere. But still the con- 
 queress remained satisfied with the moral 
 results of her victories, declining the only 
 results which would have been a boon to her 
 step-mother. " What would I not give to be
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 223 
 
 rid of her?" had been for many a day the 
 refrain of Mrs M'Killop's daily thoughts on 
 the subject ; and the conclusion which five 
 minutes' reflection now brought her to, was in 
 harmony with it — in other words, that, if ^Ir 
 Tainsh would be good enough to take Eila 
 away, he was very heartily welcome to her, 
 and also to any assistance which her step-dame 
 could give him in the matter. When Mr 
 M'Killop left the room, therefore, she recom- 
 menced the conversation, determined to con- 
 clude an alliance with the factor ; but, at the 
 same time, to indicate the necessity of his 
 keeping to his own side of the Gulf, that 
 alliance notwithstanding. 
 
 " It was to my step-daughter, Mr Tainsh, I 
 am to understand, that you alluded in your — 
 your very unexpected communication 1 " 
 
 " It was to Miss M'Killop that I ventured 
 to allude ; and I am afraid I appear somewhat 
 bold and aspiring." 
 
 " To a certain extent you do, Mr Tainsh," 
 said the lady, torn between her desire to 
 underrate Eila and to preserve her own 
 dignity ; "to a certain extent you unques- 
 tionably do."
 
 224 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 '* I feel that I am unworthy of her." 
 
 This was exactly what Mrs Ml^illop did 
 not feel as to Eila personally ; so she was 
 again ambiguous. " To a certain extent, no 
 doubt, it would appear so to the w^orld." 
 
 " Her graces and accomplishments — even 
 her youth — entitle her, I feel, to more ambi- 
 tious views ; but " 
 
 " There are other considerations, Mr Tainsh, 
 which you seem to miss, but which possibly 
 the world would make more of, than those 
 you allude to. Of course, personally, there is 
 nothing to be said against you, and a great 
 deal in your favour ; but you must remember 
 that, however respectable your social position 
 may be, respectability in such a case is alway 
 supposed to be understood ; and some people 
 have their ideas, Mr Tainsh, as to — as to — I 
 don't well know how to express myself — as to 
 what may appear in this case some inequality." 
 
 Her language was sufficiently ambiguous, 
 and Tainsh took advantage of it. 
 
 *'I freely admitted," he replied, "that her 
 many qualities entitled her to a more ambi- 
 tious match." 
 
 How stupid lie was ! he would keep bam-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 225 
 
 mering away about Eila's qualities, instead of 
 devoting himself to Mrs M'Killop's, and to her 
 social requirements. It was not to be stood 
 any longer, however, and Mrs M'Killop dis- 
 carded ambiguity at last. " Well, Mr Tainsh, 
 if you won't take a hint, I must suggest to you 
 that you can hardly look upon yourself as 
 socially the equal of my step-daughter." 
 
 " I protest " Tainsh began ; he was 
 
 going to add that the inequality was not per- 
 ceptible to him, but paused on the very thresh- 
 old of his mistake, and went on diplomati- 
 cally. '' I protest, ma'am, that, in these days, 
 refined shades, or even strongly-marked shades, 
 of dijSerence appear to be made little of ; afflu- 
 ence, respectability, and an improving position, 
 bridge over such difficulties nowadays, with 
 great ease. We have only to look at the upper 
 ten thousand " 
 
 "/ am not accustomed to look anywhere 
 else, Mr Tainsh." 
 
 " Of course not, ma'am ; and your own ex- 
 perience must teach you how little is now 
 made in such circles, in your circles, I should 
 say, of social disparity, provided there are 
 counterbalancing advantages." 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 *' It is a sadly democratic age, Mr Tainsh, 
 and what you say is very true ; but in otlier 
 respects I am free to admit that you are per- 
 haps entitled to aspire to Eila." She had now 
 placed Mr Tainsh on his own side of the Gulf, 
 and was, for the future, at his disposal. 
 
 "Do you think I have any reason to hope ?" 
 asked the factor. 
 
 "It is impossible for me to say certainly 
 that you have any reason to hope ; but I can 
 see no reason why you should not hope — and 
 succeed, too — if you play your cards well." 
 
 "May 1 at least hope for your support ? " 
 
 " Well, Mr Tainsh, I have a regard for you, 
 and w^hat I can do I ivill do, but I warn you 
 that my influence is not great." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, thank you. When 
 does Miss Eila return ? '' 
 
 " In a few days." 
 
 " Unfortunately, my stay here must termi- 
 nate to-morrow.'' 
 
 " You shall be asked back next week." 
 
 " You're most kind and considerate. I shall 
 never be able sufliciently to thank you." And 
 they cordially clasped hands in ratification of 
 the alliance.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 227 
 
 " I spoke," continued Mr Tainsh, when this 
 important pact was concluded — " I spoke of 
 money as not being my primary object." 
 
 " It was unnecessary, Mr Tainsh ; if all tales 
 be true, it can be no object at all." 
 
 " Comparatively." 
 
 " Why not say positively?" 
 
 " Well, you see, Mrs M'Killop, I am a man 
 of business." 
 
 " Coining money ; — you all do." 
 
 *' Yes, but to coin money, money has to be 
 risked ; and in marrying, without any selfish 
 motive, the existence of a fortune of — of 
 even modest dimensions, on the part of the 
 lady, is always a comfort to a man of busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " To most men I should say, Mr Tainsh." 
 
 " Yes, but to an unselfish man of business 
 there is an especial comfort in feeling that 
 there is for his wife a pro^dsion free from all 
 risks of speculation, and so forth." 
 
 "Settlements, I believe, Mr Tainsh, secure 
 all that, and a man who can t make settlements 
 does wrong to marry ; and as for speculation, 
 Tm sorry to find you are a speculator. It 
 would be a great responsibility to countenance
 
 22^ FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 the marriage of one — in Avhom — ahem ! — 
 interest is felt — with a speculator." 
 
 ** I don't call myself a speculator, but there 
 are risks in my business, and sudden large 
 calls for money to assist clients, requiring a 
 considerable free capital ; and if one had any 
 sort of idea, any sort of approximate idea of 
 what — that is, of the kind of portion " 
 
 "Do you remember what you said about 
 counterbalancing advantages ? it seems now 
 that these are melting away ; so let me recom- 
 mend you to wait till you can disengage a suffi- 
 cient portion of capital for a settlement, before 
 you turn your eyes in a certain direction." 
 
 '' Then I am to understand that Miss M'Kil- 
 lop's portion " 
 
 '^ You can understand nothing about it from 
 me, except this, that if you think you are 
 entitled to be mercenary, / don't ; and I 
 wouldn't countenance 'your views on any such 
 footing. Upon my word, sir, you do set your- 
 self up ! " And the lady bridled up and 
 snorted a very well-feigned snort of wrathful 
 surprise. Tainsh was beaten ; he was in the 
 position of a cabman or other marauder who, 
 having originally obtained more than his due, is
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 229 
 
 thereby emboldened to ask for yet more, and 
 finds himself summarily snubbed and threat- 
 ened with the police. So he changed his 
 course, disavowed all mercenary motives, and 
 vowed he would be the luckiest of men if he 
 got Eila penniless ; and the alliance was re- 
 stored to its orio^inal footinor. 
 
 While these diplomatic relations were being 
 established in the drawing-room, and while 
 the forenoon was being passed in a kind of 
 theoretical discontent by Pigott and Bertrand 
 in their own premises, Morna was finding it 
 very dull work all by herself in her retreat. 
 Twice had she essayed an invasion of the 
 drawing-room, and twice had the mysterious 
 pause, consequent on her entrance, warned her 
 that its occupants could dispense with her 
 company. Twice had she entered the billiard- 
 room, but only to find it occupied by Duncan- 
 son solus, and, with a hurried excuse, she had 
 made off again ; for indeed the expression of 
 that gentleman's face was not inviting. In the 
 first place, he was bored with the weather ; in 
 the second, with his own society ; in the third, 
 he felt that he was being ostracised and ne- 
 glected ; in the fourth, he was full of wrath
 
 230 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 against Morna for not seizing the opportunity 
 of having a tete-d-tete with him when " these 
 interlopers '' were out of the way ; and if any- 
 thing was wanting to fill up the measure of his 
 discontent, it was well supplied by the recol- 
 lection of yesterday's deep discomfiture. When, 
 therefore, within a very short distance of lun- 
 cheon, Morna again made her appearance in 
 the billiard-room, with the intention of staying 
 there, even tete-d-tete with Mr Duncanson, till 
 luncheon released her, she found that gentle- 
 man in a very thundery state of mind indeed 
 — a state of mind which had decided him to 
 beat a retreat from the place altogether. " Still 
 alone ? " said Morna, entering the room. 
 
 " Still alone ; and, for your sake, I'm very 
 sorry for it." 
 
 " For my sake ? Don't you believe in your 
 own unassisted powers of amusing me, then, 
 on this dreary day '? " 
 
 " You don't seem to, at all events, or perhaps 
 I might have had a chance of trying." 
 
 " Oh, I have had so many things to do ; but 
 I hope you have not been very dull. Mr 
 M'Killop never can tear himself away from his 
 letters and share-lists till after luncheon. Mam-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 231 
 
 ma and Mr Tainsh are hatching some treason in 
 the drawing-room ; but where are the others 1 " 
 
 *' The others 1 oh, I don't know anything 
 about them. The only person I would have 
 cared to see here was yourself, more particu- 
 larly as I am going away." 
 
 "Going away ! I thought you were going 
 to stay the whole week. We hoped you were.'' 
 
 " Is that true 1 did you hope ? " 
 
 " How very cross and rude you are ! AVhy 
 are you going away ? and may I ask why you 
 are angry with me ? " 
 
 " Well, I am — no, I'm not — I can t be angry 
 with you ; but I can't stand these fellows here 
 — they're not the form I've been used to, I can 
 tell you ; and — and my father wished me to 
 come back to-morrow if possible, and though 
 he had a crotchet about not shooting this year 
 till the 20th, this weather will alter his plan." 
 
 " And won't you come back again 1 " said 
 Morna, with instinctive hospitality. 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 " Then you are going to let Mr Cameron 
 beat you — as to the shooting, I mean — with- 
 out another trial ? " Not a very lucky re- 
 mark.
 
 232 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " All ! I forgot that ; we can settle that 
 some other time : I am positively going to- 
 morrow at any rate. I have written for my 
 dog-cart/' 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Morna — even 
 Morna the truthful; for all men and women 
 must justify the hasty Psalmist once at least 
 in a lifetime, it is to be supposed. 
 
 " Are you really, now '? " said Duncanson ; 
 
 " well, if I thought " " snarl 1 " went the 
 
 pipes ; " boom ! " went the gong ; and the six 
 terriers, forgetting their depression in the pro- 
 spect of a meal, bow-wowed an energetic 
 chorus ; and the door opened, and Mr M'Kil- 
 lop walked in, and walked them off to lun- 
 cheon. At this meal it transpired that Dun- 
 canson was going away next day, also Tainsh ; 
 whereupon it was moved by Mrs M'Killop 
 that they should both return towards the latter 
 part of the following week, which being 
 seconded by Mr M'Killop, and Morna having 
 said, under pressure of a full-faced stare from 
 Mr Duncanson, "Pray do" — the motion was 
 carried with a slight formal resistance on the 
 part of the invited. Luncheon over, a visit to 
 the kennels and stable was agreed to by the
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 233 
 
 gentlemen ; and four of them started, leaving 
 Bertrand, who had gone to his room for a 
 cigar-case, to follow. 
 
 It was not, however, fated that he should 
 follow ; for as he came down- stairs the door of 
 an ante-drawing-room where music took place 
 had to be passed. It was wide open ; exactly 
 opposite the door stood a piano ; at that piano 
 sat Morna; on it she was playing; and, of 
 course (her back being to the door), all uncon- 
 scious of an audience, she lifted up her voice 
 and sang. Bertrand softly entered. It was 
 the " Water-Spirit's Lament " she sang. 
 
 Perhaps it may have been that she be- 
 lieved herself to be alone, or it may have been 
 the effect of the accompaniment — at all events, 
 the song seemed to be given with even more 
 power and pathos than when it enthralled 
 Bertrand by the river-side. When it was 
 finished she continued mechanically touching 
 the chords of the symphony for a time, Ber- 
 trand remaining silent. At last, she looked 
 round, started on finding that she was 7iot 
 alone, and, blushing a delightful blush which 
 intensified the expression of her eyes, said, — 
 
 " Mr Cameron ! you here ? I thought ''
 
 234 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 (surely this could not have been her second 
 within an hour ?) '^ you had gone to the 
 kennels/' 
 
 " I ivas going to the kennels, but the voice 
 of the siren drew me hither instead ; and if 
 she will allow me, here will I remain/' 
 
 The siren, who had so steadily avoided Mr 
 Duncanson, made no objection, and Bertrand 
 did remain. It would be grossly unfair, how- 
 ever, to weary the reader with what was after 
 all something like a drawing-room repetition 
 of their tete-d-tete by the river. There was 
 more music indeed, but there were long pauses 
 between the songs, and pleasant entr'actes 
 both grave and gay, wherein considerable art 
 in nonsense was displayed, and not a little 
 nonsense about art; wherein mirth and earnest 
 mingled with sprightly facility in the mutual 
 self-revelations of two frank, fresh spirits 
 charmed with the novelty of the process. 
 Very dangerous sort of work all this, of course, 
 but these two young people did not seem to 
 feel the slightest alarm; and so, while the rain 
 plashed drearily without, and the invisible sun 
 passed westward behind the surly clouds, there 
 was a good deal of brightness and sunshine in
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 235 
 
 the music-room of Cairnarvoch, at all events. 
 Twice, at intervals of an hour or so, Morna 
 had said, '* Ought you not to go to the kennels 
 now 'i " and twice had Bertrand replied, " In 
 five minutes." The third time she made the 
 remark, it was answered by the yell of the 
 bagpipes, the thunder of the gong, and all the 
 inevitable dogs. " The kennels have come to 
 me, it would seem," laughed Bertrand ; but 
 Morna started up in amazement and confusion. 
 
 " The dressing - gong !" she cried : ''I 
 
 thought it was only what a time we must 
 
 have been here ! " and thereupon hastened 
 from the room with a heightened colour. She 
 had clearly taken no note of time. It tran- 
 spired that the four gentlemen had gone for 
 a long wet " constitutional," and as Bertrand 
 was supposed to have missed them, and as 
 Mrs M'Killop (having slept the whole after- 
 noon and wishing to conceal the circumstance) 
 was unaware of the music-room episode, Dun- 
 canson had had no means of knowing that 
 Bertrand had been monopolising the young 
 lady to whom he appeared to grudge the 
 attentions of other gentlemen. 
 
 The evening passed off without any remark-
 
 236 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 able incident : a long wet day in the High- 
 lands takes the curl out of the sprightliest : 
 the animal spirits that have been struggling 
 against atmospheric pressure since breakfast, 
 necessarily experience some exhaustion by 
 nightfall. Thus the dinner-conversation was 
 less lively than on previous evenings, and the 
 flow of mirthful anecdote not half so well 
 sustained ; and Duncanson, who had obtained 
 undisputed possession of Morna, found that he 
 was able to get a hearing from her, without 
 seeing that her attention wandered to other 
 parts of the table. Therefore Mr Duncanson's 
 temper was reasonably good, and, while he 
 abstained from giving offence to the others, he 
 did his very best to make himself agreeable to 
 his fair neighbour. Her attention was rather 
 suspiciously earnest, and if Duncanson had 
 been a closer observer, even he, following cer- 
 tain shy, quick glances of hers, that at rare 
 intervals sought another face than liis, might 
 have suspected that her appearance of interest 
 in the intellectual garbage which he adminis- 
 tered was not due to his offering, but, in fact, 
 to some entirely different cause. The truth is, 
 Morna was distraite — she may have had a
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 237 
 
 hundred reasons for being so — and she con- 
 cealed her distraction by an apparent con- 
 centration on her neighbour's conversation, 
 or rather on the monologue which he would 
 have dignified by that name. Then the shy 
 glances ? Of course they were directed to Ber- 
 trand. Naturally enough. Probably she was 
 displeased with him for not offering to save 
 her from her present partnership, or perhaps 
 
 but after all, if it was her good pleasure 
 
 to be distraite, and to glance in such or such 
 a direction, what have we got to do with it ? 
 Why pry 1 One thing is certain, that Ber- 
 trand could not be accused of exchanoincj 
 glances with her ; their eyes may have met, of 
 course, but he had got involved in a long dis- 
 cussion with Mr Tainsh as to the feasibility of 
 converting a portion of his uncle's property 
 into a deer-forest ; and taking up everything 
 he did take up, with immense energy, he was 
 ungallant enough to be devoting his attention 
 entirely to this topic ; so that the eyes he 
 looked into were not those of Morna, but the 
 green orbs of Mr Tainsh, glittering with the 
 light of argument and self-interest. And well 
 they might, for was not Mr Tainsh a lawyer
 
 238 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 and a factor 1 And did not Bertrand's pro- 
 posal amount to the annihilation of six tinker- 
 able and renewable leases, to the suppression 
 of six tinkerable and renewable steadings — to 
 the extinction, that was, of twelve sources of 
 arbitration, legal communings and compro- 
 mises, besides coveys of annual letters at six- 
 and-eightpence apiece ? So the argument was 
 engrossing, and the battle raged between them 
 over the dinner ; was revived, after a lull, over 
 the wine ; was carried into the drawing-room, 
 raged there intermittently, and finally smoul- 
 dered out in the smoking-room, among the 
 ashes of the last cigar. In this way Duncan- 
 son had again a clear field with Morna, only 
 disturbed by a short incursion on the part of 
 Pigott, who, however, soon retired to mild 
 ecarte with Mrs M'Killop ; and Duncanson 
 was in high delight, for it would appear that 
 in his brutal, abominable, jealous, bearish way, 
 
 this fellow liked Morna, and miglit even 
 
 but sufficient for her day be the evil thereof 
 
 She did not seem to have enjoyed her evening 
 so much as her companion probably imagined 
 she had. 
 
 He bade " good-bye " to her (as his morn-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 239 
 
 ing start was to be early) when the ladies 
 retired for the night, and, sinking his voice 
 into a tone of tender confidence, said, " I 
 would not be coming back again next week, 
 if it was not for what you said : did you mean 
 it?" 
 
 ** Of course I did/' said Morna ; " I always 
 mean what I say ; " but at that moment she 
 had no idea what she had said. 
 
 " Thank you," said Duncanson, gently press- 
 ing her hand ; and he went away to the smok- 
 ing-room radiant, and she to her room not the 
 least radiant, but quite the reverse, and sat at 
 her dressing-table for an hour doing nothing, 
 not even looking at herself (which, for eighteen 
 and beaux yeux, is, to say the least of it, ab- 
 normal), but apparently thinking hard, and 
 thinking, moreover, hard thoughts both of 
 herself and some other party unknown ; for 
 now and then she muttered with great energy, 
 " How I detest him ! how I do loathe and 
 detest him ! " And again, " How I despise 
 myself ! how contemptible I am ! how — oh, 
 dear ! oh, dear ! " with which interjections she 
 would cover her face with her hands for a 
 moment, and then fall to thinking^ aojain.
 
 240 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 The days that succeeded the departure of 
 Tainsh and Duncanson pretty much resembled 
 their predecessors. One day fine, and devoted 
 to tlie slaughter of grouse ; the next a gloomy 
 day, set apart for rest and the art of fishing, 
 as "understood by Bertrand and Morna, and 
 theoretically, but not much more than theo- 
 retically, supervised by Mrs M'Killop, when it 
 was understood that Pigott was not to be of 
 the party; the third wet, perhaps, admirably 
 adapted for a seance in the music-room, or 
 half wet and half dry, so as to suit itself to a 
 combination of amusements. 
 
 The dinner-table was, on the whole, cheery 
 and pleasant ; it lost something by Mr Tainsh's 
 absence, who was both voluble and adaptive, 
 but that was balanced by the absence of Mr 
 Duncanson's moody countenance and the per- 
 petual gene of his difficult temper. Mrs 
 M'Killop did not share the general feeling of 
 relief at his absence ; she, indeed, regretted it 
 — poignantly; for though her match-making 
 spirit might have had some consolation in 
 observing the relations that were springing up 
 between her daughter and Bertrand, still she 
 had fairly come to a decided preference for
 
 FAIE TO SEE. 241 
 
 the absent Duncanson, based rather on pru- 
 dential than on personal grounds. He, as she 
 has already informed us, in her half-awake 
 revelations, was a certainty as to fortune ; he 
 was a " bird in the hand,'' and a bird who 
 had shown no disposition to surrender to the 
 lures of the arch-fowler, Eila ; whereas Ber- 
 trand was no certainty in any sense, and, 
 moreover, had very soon to be subjected to 
 the test which Duncanson had, for a wonder, 
 withstood. Again, the latter gentleman had 
 demonstrated during his late visit, amid all 
 his unpleasantness — and even by it — symp- 
 toms w^hich did not fail to inspire Mrs M'Kil- 
 lop with much more definite hopes than she 
 had hitherto cherished. So, mourning his 
 absence, it was with far from an approving 
 eye that she noted the growing intimacy be- 
 tween her daughter and her guest ; and indeed 
 it is to be doubted if anything, save an all- 
 engrossing passion for sixpenny ecarte which 
 she nightly indulged with Captain Pigott, 
 w^ould have prevented her from personally 
 superintending a certain tete-d-tete on the ter- 
 race, which, when the weather was ^e, a 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 staircase leading from the open drawing-room 
 windows invited Morna and Bertrand to make 
 a considerable portion of their evening's pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 To neutralise the effects of these promenades, 
 she felt that her own personal presence would 
 have been necessary, for private remonstrance 
 with Morna might, as she expressed it, only 
 " put nonsense into her head ; " but ecarte 
 carried the day, and she left the rest to the 
 chapter of accidents, relying mainly on the 
 shortness of the time during which the danger 
 would subsist. 
 
 "What happened in these terrace - walks 1 
 Was there any danger such as Mrs M'Killop 
 apprehended 1 That they were agreeable we 
 may suppose, or they would have hardly been 
 persisted in ; but perhaps a small fragment of 
 conversation the night before Eila arrived, may 
 throw a little light on the matter. 
 
 '' I am so sorry to go in to-night," said Morna, 
 when, ecarte concluded, the maternal telegraph 
 was seen to be working at the window. 
 
 " So am I," said Bertrand ; " I always am ; 
 one never can get enough of a real summer 
 night like this."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 243 
 
 "And this will be our last summer-night 
 walk, I fear." 
 
 " What has inspired you with that mid- 
 summer-night's dream ? " 
 
 " Oh ! our little square party — for Mr 
 M'Killop counts for nothing — will be broken 
 up to-morrow, and then back will come Mr 
 Tainsh, and back will come Mr Duncanson, 
 and then " 
 
 "Whatr' 
 
 *' Nothing." 
 
 " Mysterious." 
 
 " Oh no, not the least ; I had finished." 
 
 " Perhaps you were going to add that Mr 
 Duncanson would insist on joining us ; it was 
 my idea." 
 
 " How I detest him ! " 
 
 " He will insist notwithstanding; but I dare- 
 say we shall be able to induce the whole of 
 them, except the ecartists, to make a drawing- 
 room of the terrace ; and so we shall still have 
 summer nights al fresco, and, as you don't 
 appreciate Mr Duncanson, we shall be able to 
 save you from a tete-d-tete." 
 
 " Oh, that would be quite different," said 
 Morna, sadly, absently ; a tone which she cor-
 
 244 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 rected with a rather blundering alacrity, ex- 
 plaining — "I mean that it would be very 
 different if we could — very nice, indeed ; but 
 I suspect they wouldn't. Let us go in, I am 
 so tired, and it has become so cold." 
 
 Her manner and voice had changed very 
 suddenly, and her impatience to return to the 
 house was so inconsistent with her remark 
 of half-a-minute ago, that Bertrand puzzled 
 himself as to how he could have offended 
 her. 
 
 " What on earth do you and the frauleiii 
 find to talk about, Bertrand, in your numerous 
 tetes-d-tetes ? " was Pigott's somewhat compre- 
 hensive question in the smoking-room after- 
 wards. 
 
 " Well, to answer that, I shall be obliged to 
 divide my reply into a good many paragraphs. 
 First Paragraph " 
 
 *' No, no ; we'll not take such a large view 
 of the subject. I suppose, on the whole, there 
 is a good deal of the old story. I suppose that, 
 in the long-run, the paragraphs tend to the old 
 conclusion and practical application ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that I suppose the Platonic theory
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 245 
 
 has been abandoned and Duncanson disestab- 
 lished." 
 
 " Then you are all wrong — as to the first 
 clause, at least : for, as to the second, she never 
 cared a straw for the fellow." 
 
 " The second clause of your answer contra- 
 dicts the first, for — though, of course, practi- 
 cally I know nothing of such matters — I should 
 imao^ine it was rather a straininor of the Pla- 
 tonic system to exchange confidences of so 
 delicate a nature." 
 
 " Well, you see, Pigott, you are rather an 
 ass." 
 
 " If to be ignorant of that sort of rubbish is 
 to be an ass, an ass let me continue to the end 
 of time. I've often wondered, by the by, that, 
 with all your amazing follies, it has not arrived 
 to you to fall in love before." 
 
 " How do you know, pray ? " 
 
 " Know, my dear fellow 1 If you had, what 
 a row there would have been about it ! what 
 whirlwinds, and tempests, and fiery flames, 
 and desolation ! I quite shudder to think how 
 well I should have known about it." 
 
 " As we are in an argumentative mood, let 
 me suggest to you that that conviction of
 
 246 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 yours ought to prove to you that the Platonic 
 system still prevails." 
 
 "I don't admit it; everything must have a 
 beginning, — a fever has its initial stages before 
 the crisis comes. Do you mean — do you dare 
 — to tell me that you don't care for that girl ? " 
 
 "" Care for her '{ Of course I do ; but — but 
 — not as you mean. I think she is one of the 
 nicest girls I ever met, — clever, cheery, good- 
 tempered, and " 
 
 " Very fond of me," suggested Pigott. 
 
 " I'll be hanged if she is ! " cried Bertrand. 
 
 " I was speaking in your person, you block- 
 head ; but you help my diagnosis." 
 
 " Confound your diagnosis ! what are you 
 driving at ? Why shouldn't I like the girl as 
 a friend ? If it comes to that, why shouldn't 
 I be in love with her, if it suits my conveni- 
 ence to be in love with herl I haven't taken 
 the vow of celibacy. If it amuses you to think 
 I am in love with her, I have no earthly objec- 
 tion ; and I don't see why thousands of fellows 
 shouldn't be. She's decidedly pretty." 
 
 " Oh, come, Bertrand ! Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Yes, she is ; her eyes are beautiful ; when 
 she is animated they are — perfectly beautiful ;
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 247 
 
 her hair is the colour of all others I admire ; 
 every one will admit that her voice is angel- 
 ic, — any fool can understand that, — and — 
 
 and " 
 
 *' You needn't bellow like a bull of Bashan : 
 Fn not deaf, and I don't object to any amount 
 of admiration provided you don't rehearse it all 
 to me. It will suit my comfort to a marvel if 
 yoi continue to fancy the Platonic system still 
 working : pray keep the fires banked up, or I 
 know Cairnarvoch will be too hot to hold me. 
 If there is one thing more entirely crushing 
 than another, it is to be shut up with a fellow 
 who is in love. I was on detachment with 
 Baier once. I knew the villain was in that 
 state when we went out, and I trembled. I put 
 on my hardest and most unsympathetic manner 
 to dam up his confidences ; but it was of no 
 use. The second evening, out it all came, and 
 after that, we breakfasted, lunched, dined, and 
 supped upon Anna Maria. She went with us 
 to parade ; she mingled herself with our to- 
 bacco ; she popped out of soda-water bottles ; 
 she came by the post and had to be read aloud 
 — sometimes with tears ; she was written upon 
 reams of paper, read aloud, kissed, wept over.
 
 248 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 and posted. I tried a counter-irritation ; I got 
 up a spurious opposition ; I decided to have a 
 big name for my goddess, so I selected * Thq/ 
 masina/ and I thundered it out with the fud 
 strength of my lungs whenever Anna Maria 
 came on the tapis. The stratagem was entirely 
 a failure. Baker was a sympathetic fellow ; he 
 became deeply interested in Thomasina, anl I 
 found that she only gave him additional lever- 
 age for hoisting his Dulcinea into notice, besides 
 sorely taxing my powers of invention to keep 
 up the alternate verse in our idyll. So I got 
 recalled to headquarters : I don't think I cculd 
 have survived another fortnight. You can 
 understand, therefore, that I think this cilm 
 phase of yours is much to be commended. 
 Stick to it." 
 
 "Keep your mind easy; but as to y^ur 
 saying that Morna is not pretty " 
 
 " I declare it's past midnight," cried Pigott, 
 jumping up, *' so I shall go and dream of 
 * THOMASINA V" \
 
 249 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A COMING event that is tardy in its advent, 
 and yet perpetually keeps casting forward the 
 shadow of its influence upon other circum- 
 stances, holding them, as it were, in a provi- 
 sional condition, and in a state of suspense, is 
 as worrying in fiction as it is detestable in real 
 life ; and therefore we are glad that Miss Eila 
 M'Killop is now going to present herself in 
 propria persona, and to give us an opportunity 
 of judging of her on something more than 
 hearsay evidence. We have heard a good deal 
 about her — contradictory evidence, indeed — 
 and we have seen her influence working oppo- 
 sitely in the persons of her step-mother and of 
 Mr Tainsh ; and it is certainly high time that 
 she should appear and show us what she really 
 is. At the commencement of the shooting- 
 season she had been away from home for a 
 few weeks, on a visit in another part of the
 
 250 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 country ; and, if her step-dame's wishes could 
 have effected it, her visit would have been 
 prolonged, as we have seen, for not a few 
 weeks to come : and indeed it might so have 
 been, but for the emjpressemeiit with which Mrs 
 M'Killop had, in her letters, begged her, if she 
 was enjoying herself, by no means "to consider 
 them^^' or to think of hurrying hom.e, where of 
 course they missed her sadly, &c. &c. But 
 this manoeuvre Eila interpreted in her own 
 way, and the resolution she took from it was 
 rather to abridge her visit. In the interval, 
 however, the Tainsh episode had supervened, 
 and also Mr Duncanson had developed very 
 hopeful symptoms; so that altogether, when 
 the time of her arrival came, her step-mother 
 could face it with fortitude and even without 
 fear — a state of things which would have sorely 
 disappointed Eila if she could only have divined 
 it. The day following the events narrated in 
 the last chapter, was the day fixed for her 
 return, but, as her movements depended upon 
 no public conveyance, it was uncertain when 
 she might arrive ; and therefore, as she had 
 not made her appearance when Hamish sounded 
 for dinner, the party sat down without her.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 251 
 
 They had scarcely done so, however, when the 
 sound of carriage- wheels announced an arrival, 
 and, shortly after, the butler intimated that it 
 was the arrival of Miss M'Killop. Mrs IM'Kil- 
 lop probably felt that the presence of her antag- 
 onist might not have a sharpening effect upon 
 her own appetite — over which she watched 
 with a maternal tenderness — and made an 
 effort to have one more meal in peace. 
 
 " The dear child," she exclaimed, " will be 
 sadly tired. Jinkyson, send to Miss M'Killop 
 and say that she is on no account to hurry ; 
 she can have dinner sent to her by-and-by, if 
 she wishes it." 
 
 '' Wishes it, Elizabeth ! " said Mr M'Killop ; 
 " after a thirty miles' drive the child will wish 
 it, it is to be hoped." 
 
 *' Tut, M'Killop, what a chatter-box you 
 are ! She will take hours to dress, you know 
 — won't she. Morn a 1 — and keep us all waiting. 
 Order dinner for Miss M'Killop in the library, 
 Jinkyson." 
 
 On this occasion, however, Miss M'Killop 
 did not take hours to dress, for in a minute or 
 two after the order for her relegation to the 
 library had been given, the door opened and
 
 252 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 she entered — we should rather say glided into 
 — the room. Without a pause to look at the 
 company — without a glance for any one else, 
 as if hurried away by some impulse of pas- 
 sionate devotion for her step -mother, she un- 
 dulated swiftly up to that lady, threw her 
 arms round her neck, and embraced her with 
 immense effusion, a challenge which was amply 
 responded to by Mrs M'Killop, who, clutching 
 Eila with the hug of a Cornish wrestler, dealt 
 upon her fair face a long series of deliberate 
 kisses, selecting every now and then a new 
 " claim," so to speak, to work upon — first on 
 one side of the nose, then on the other, then 
 under one eye, then on the chin, then on the 
 forehead — and punctuating each kiss with a 
 low murmur of satisf^iction, such as a school- 
 boy may occasionally be observed to emit when 
 employed in consuming some sweetmeat to 
 which he applies the epithet " goloptious." 
 
 "Dear child," said Mrs M'Killop, holding 
 her out at arm's-length to recover breath — pro- 
 visionally releasing her, as a cat might a mouse, 
 but ready to reclaim her on the slightest provoca- 
 tion, — " dear child, how we have missed you ! " 
 
 ** Have you, dear mamma ? and so have
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 253 
 
 I missed you all terribly ; " whereupon Mrs 
 M'Killop opened an entirely new set of 
 " claims/' and worked them out unmercifully. 
 
 " Eila, let me introduce to you Captain 
 Pigott and Mr Cameron," said her father, who 
 seemed to fidget a good deal while these de- 
 monstrations were in progress. The gentle- 
 men made their obeisances, and Eila, seem- 
 ingly aware for the first time of their exist- 
 ence, bestowed on each a smile that might 
 have quickened the pulse of an octogenarian. 
 To Bertrand's eyes, through which we propose 
 to look at Eila, there was presented in her 
 person the realisation of an ideal which fancy 
 had often revealed to him before, in dim but 
 beatific visions, as, sighing for the beautiful, 
 he roamed about the shadow -land of day- 
 dreams. A figure so light, so airy, moving 
 with such an indescribably effortless ease and 
 grace, that it seemed as if the atmosphere 
 dared ofier no resistance to a shape so ethereal, 
 but fell back wondering, to make way for the 
 witchery of each new movement. 
 
 The beautiful head and face which crowned 
 this sylph-like form were worthy of it. In 
 average faces the power of expression is pretty
 
 254 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 evenly divided among the leading features, 
 but in Eila's, her eyes seemed almost to mono- 
 polise it. It would have been hard to find a 
 sweeter mouth when the eyes were smiling ; it 
 would have been difficult to match the delicate 
 outline of the face, or the exquisite chiselling of 
 every featural detail ; nothing could be more 
 finished than the contour and 'pose of the high- 
 bred little head, or more luxuriant than the 
 almost embarrassing wealth of her glossy 
 brown hair ; but from all these, the attention 
 was at once withdrawn, when her grey eyes 
 flashed upon the spectator from their mysteri- 
 ous depths some look in which all her expres- 
 sional power was concentrated. Eyes like these 
 might suggest the idea that they would either 
 see too much or tell too much, unless they were 
 under some remarkable control ; but this they 
 were, for the expressional centralisation made 
 the control of expression very complete indeed. 
 When in repose, her eyes were habitually half- 
 concealed by their singularly long and beauti- 
 ful dark lashes, and then her expression was 
 soft, dreamy, and pensive ; but, when called 
 into animation, she seemed able to raise or 
 lower these silky veils with the subtlest grad-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 255 
 
 uations, so as to reveal the exact shade of 
 emotion it was her pleasure to reveal, and 
 nothing more. Thus, while no face could 
 beam with a franker intelligence, none could 
 be more inscrutable. The bloom of Hebe lay 
 upon her cheek — a bloom of mingled richness 
 and delicacy, which the pure blood of the 
 north cannot supply, and which, in this in- 
 stance, came by inheritance from a Mexican 
 mother. 
 
 Such was Eila M'Killop — a sight to make 
 an old man young. The look with which she 
 favoured the gentlemen on their presentation 
 was quite a study in its way. Her eyes were 
 on this occasion thoroughly unveiled, and, 
 from their beautiful depths, came such a beam 
 of kindly, frank, gracious cordiality, that Ber- 
 trand's heart vibrated like the index-needle 
 of a telegraphic machine, and there seemed to 
 strike into his bewildered mind, some vague, 
 dreamy association of a sweet strain of music 
 floating through the rosy air of a still summer 
 morning, amid the exquisite breath of dewy 
 wild-flowers. Even Pigott was not unmoved, 
 for he actually forgot, until it was all but too 
 late — that is, for a full minute — the glass of
 
 256 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 sherry, with which no well-regulated palate 
 can dispense as an immediate sequel to clear 
 soup. 
 
 Morna glanced across the table to see 
 the effect produced by her step - sister. By 
 what law of association was it, that a certain 
 strange, new light upon Bertrand's face, in- 
 stantly recalled to her her own self-reviled 
 image in the mirror, on the afternoon of that 
 pleasant day when he and she had first sat by 
 the river 1 and recalled it with a sudden inde- 
 finite sense of pain '? 
 
 Eila having satisfied the era vinous of her 
 step - mother's affection, and having done a 
 little business in the same way on her account, 
 with her father and with Morna, seated herself 
 between her father and Bertrand, and pro- 
 ceeded to satisfy the curiosity of her relatives 
 as to her own history, during the last few 
 weeks. 
 
 " You have greatly enjoyed yourself, dear 
 child, I fondly hope ? " said Mrs MM^illop. 
 
 " Pretty well, thanks, dearest mamma." 
 {N.B. — These ladies were for ever expressing 
 by lavish terms of endearment the ferocious 
 and truculent feelings which each, au fond,
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 257 
 
 cherisliecl for the other.) '' They were all so 
 kind, and pressed me so to stay that I could 
 hardly make my escape ; but I did long to be 
 home again; so here you have me back to 
 tease and worry you all ; " and she favoured 
 Pigott with a three-quarter glance, which 
 seemed to say, " If you are very good and nice, 
 perhaps you shall be teased and worried too ; 
 don't despair." But Pigott was not going to 
 let himself be surprised again. He was at that 
 moment earnestly engaged with a splendid 
 piece of salmon, and if he had spoken out the 
 aspiration of his heart, it would have been this : 
 " Oh ! if old M'Killop would only produce 
 some of that Steinberg ! " His eye, therefore, 
 was as dim and responseless as the salmon's on 
 the sideboard ; and Eila, recognising intuitively 
 a subject who was to be no subject of hers, said 
 inly, " Here is an oyster." That even this im- 
 penetrable mollusc could be turned to her own 
 account, however, in some shape or other, was 
 obviously the young lady's conviction ; other- 
 wise why should she have turned upon him the 
 battery of her brightest glances during dinner ? 
 why should he have been selected, and Ber- 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 trand, who sat by her, left altogether out in the 
 cold -? 
 
 Pigott, who saw through, or flattered himself 
 that he saw through, everything, by no means 
 allowed his tranquillity or his dinner to be dis- 
 turbed by his high privileges. " Don't know 
 what her game may be, just at present," he 
 thought ; " but it is a game : tremendous pair 
 of eyes, to be sure ! Salad, please, Jenkinson/' 
 
 " Had you a large party, Eila ? '' asked 
 Morna. 
 
 " No ; a few people came from time to time, 
 and the house was pretty full for the ' Twelfth;' 
 but most of the people were rather stupid. It 
 didn't seem like the ' Twelfth.' The gentle- 
 men didn't seem to care about shooting even ; 
 they went out late and languid ; they came 
 home early and languid ; they must have shot 
 languidly, I should think, from the size of their 
 bags ; they were too languid to speak even : 
 then they sat half the night in the dining- 
 room after dinner, but were no better when 
 they came into the drawing-room — in fact, just 
 the same, except that their faces were red, and 
 they fell asleep in their chairs. They were 
 really rather dismal — so difierent," her eyes
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 259 
 
 seemed to tell Pigott, "from what you are, I 
 am sure." 
 
 " Poor Eila ! you have been quite a martyr," 
 said Morn a. 
 
 " Oh, quite ; I hope you have been more 
 brilliant here ? " 
 
 " I think we have not been so very languid, at 
 all events ; I think we have been very happy." 
 
 " You have had people here 1 " 
 
 "Yes, although it is not very civil in you 
 to suppose that that was necessary to our 
 happiness ; we have had Mr Tainsh and Mr 
 Duncanson here." 
 
 " How unfortunate I am to have missed 
 them ! " 
 
 " They are coming back, dear choild," said 
 Mrs M'KiUop. 
 
 " I am so glad — when ? " 
 
 " I believe the day is uncertain, but very 
 soon." 
 
 " I am so glad." 
 
 " I didn't know you were so enthusiastic 
 about either of them," laughed Morna. 
 
 "Oh, indeed, yes ; everybody likes ]\Ir 
 Tainsh, and Mr Duncanson is too singularly 
 rude and ill-tempered not to be interesting."
 
 260 FAER TO SEE. 
 
 Mrs M'Killop's crest began to rise. "My 
 dear Eila/' she said, " I beg you won't run him 
 down. He is a remarkably clever, intelligent, 
 agreeable, well-principled young man." 
 
 " Of course, dear mamma, that only adds to 
 his interest. I am so anxious to get his re- 
 ceipt for being rude, and cross, and agreeable, 
 and stupid, and intelligent, all at the same 
 time, and still equally popular; it would be most 
 useful to me wath my shocking temper ; " 
 on which score, however, her eyes confided 
 to Pigott that hey at least, need have no 
 anxiety. 
 
 " She'll tire of all this eyeing before I do," 
 thought that gentleman, turning on her a coun- 
 tenance as expressionless as the dead wall of a 
 cotton-mill. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Eila," laughed Morna, " I wish 
 you would get his receipt ; you know how we 
 all suffer from your violence." 
 
 " Had you great sport on the * Twelfth,' 
 Captain Pigott ? " continued Eila. 
 
 " Oh yes, we had an excellent bag." 
 
 " And who shot best \ " 
 
 " Mr Cameron, I think ; but it wasn't quite 
 certain — it lay between him and me."
 
 "FAIR TO SEE. 261 
 
 " That is his modestj, Miss M'Killop," said 
 Bertrand ; " he really made the bag ; my only 
 triumph was beating Mr Duncanson." 
 
 Eila turned her eyes on her next neighbour 
 for the first time, only for an instant ; but 
 she gave him a full benefit, which seemed 
 to set many powerful eight-day clocks ticking 
 all through his veins ; then she dropped her 
 long lashes and said, — 
 
 *' I hope he bore his defeat well, and showed 
 a great deal of high principle/' 
 
 " He showed a good deal of high temper at 
 all events," said Pigott. 
 
 " Oh, poor fellow ! he had lost his money ; 
 it was enough to put him out a little," cried 
 Mrs M'Killop. ^ ,.y 
 
 " Yes, yes," assented Eila ; " that certainly 
 was; poor fellow! it was rather exigeant of 
 you. Captain Pigott, to expect him to keep his 
 temper, when it is so much less troublesome to 
 lose it, and when he loses nothing by losing it. 
 Principle is a most useful thing — I must really 
 take to it." 
 
 "You must have a private 'pick at young 
 Duncanson, I suspect, Eila," said Mrs M'Killop, 
 with swiftly -rising choler. " Has he not been
 
 262 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 sufficiently devoted, not enough conquered by 
 your hoivs ewes ? '' 
 
 " Mamma, you are the cleverest of people ; I 
 am certain that must exactly be the reason. I 
 never thought of it before ; nothing else could 
 make me so blind to his merits when you see 
 them so clearly. Now I think of it, he is not 
 very civil to me; but then he is always pre- 
 occupied; and that is not Mr Duncanson's 
 fault. Somebody else is the real culprit — 
 somebody else should bear the blame," turning 
 her wicked eyes on Morna's blushing face; 
 " and I have been unjust to Mr Duncanson — 
 selfish and unjust." 
 
 " You see, gentlemen," snorted Mrs M'Kil- 
 lop, " how exacting this young lady is. If you 
 are not very gallant, you will be having your- 
 selves abused just like poor Mr Duncanson." 
 
 " Oh, ungenerous mamma ! just when I 
 have made the amende. We had a charming 
 picnic, by the by, the other day," she con- 
 tinued, turning the subject, "to such a delight- 
 ful old castle." 
 
 "Dalquhairn, of course," cried Mrs M'Kil- 
 lop ; " the oldest property of our ancestors the 
 Parlanes, Morna, confiscated in the ^15 " (it
 
 FAIE TO SEE. 263 
 
 certainly could not have been at all a paying 
 thing to be an ancestor of Mrs M'Killop's) 
 — "a noble old place — in the family for cen- 
 turies — for it is quite certain that Fearguish 
 Parlane was killed at the battle of Largs ; and 
 if so " 
 
 " And if so, dearest mamraa, it is quite cer- 
 tain that he could have had nothing to do 
 with the picnic I was going to tell you about, 
 which was not at Dalquhairn at all, but at 
 another noble old place — Aberloma Castle. 
 You know it, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Know it ? In the year sixteen hundred 
 and r" 
 
 " Yes. Well, it was at Aberloma Castle — a 
 splendid old ruin hanging on a cliff over the 
 sea, and splendid old woods all round it ; and 
 such a beautiful house ! — the modern house, I 
 mean — standing in such a situation, with 
 terraces all down to the very shores of the 
 bay. We went in a boat the last half of the 
 journey ; and when we turned into the little 
 bay it burst on us quite unexpectedly. On 
 one side you saw the ruin, and on the other 
 the new house — crumbling walls and mossy 
 battlements and ancient woods on one side.
 
 2G4 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 and the beautiful bright chateau on the other, 
 with gardens and shrubberies and terraces, all 
 in the most perfect order. Such a contrast 
 you know — 'a picture of the Past and the 
 Present in the same frame/ as Captain Fearon 
 said — and the Lorna running down between 
 them, with a little cascade just under the 
 bridge that joins the two sides — a light, airy- 
 looking, iron bridge. I never saw such a 
 lovely place ; and fancy its belonging to some 
 stupid old man who never lives there, but is 
 something or other on the other side of the 
 world ! If it was mine I could never bear to 
 leave it. I never coveted anything half so 
 much. I wish the proprietor would adopt me, 
 or leave it to me, or something.'' 
 
 " And don't you know who the proprietor 
 is ? " asked Mrs M'Killop. 
 
 " No — yes, by the by, I did hear his name ; 
 Sir Richard or Sir Robert something or other." 
 
 *' Cameron." 
 
 " Yes, that was it ; and a stupid old crea- 
 ture he must be." 
 
 " Sir Roland Cameron, my dear," said Mrs 
 M^Killop, with awful empressement , " is the 
 proprietor. He is also the uncle of our friend
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 265 
 
 Mr Cameron here, who may not like to hear 
 his nearest relative spoken of so lightly." 
 
 " Oh, Mr Cameron ! " cried Eila, turning on 
 him such a look of bewitchingly innocent con- 
 trition, " I do beg your pardon ; but of course, 
 you know, I couldn't possibly know anything 
 about it. I hope you are not dreadfully fond 
 of him. I hope you are not very angry with 
 mer' 
 
 The eye-battery blazed into Bertrand point- 
 blank, throwing, as it were, incendiary bombs 
 and all manner of explosives and combustibles 
 right into the centre of his mazed inner con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 " Angry with you. Miss M'Killop ! " he 
 stammered ; " oh no, that would be some- 
 thing like — ha ! ha ! — oh no, that would be — 
 wouldn't it '? Yes, I assure you, a sort of 
 impossible — ahem — eh '{ he ! he ! " 
 
 In acknowledgment of which extremely 
 lucid disclaimer of outraged family feeling, 
 and perhaps in pity for it, the eyes were 
 slowly drooped, and Eila went on, — " You 
 know I only called him stupid for not likiug 
 his beautiful place, and I am sure you agree 
 with me that he ought to like it."
 
 266 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "I am sure, if it is anything like your 
 picturesque description, lie ought to like it." 
 
 " What ! have you never seen it '? " 
 
 " N — no, I am sorry to say I haven t." 
 
 " Never seen your uncle's place ! " 
 
 " Never ; but now I am all curiosity. I shall 
 certainly go and see it before I leave Scotland." 
 
 "You must indeed, and you must go too, 
 Captain Pigott ; you never saw anything half 
 so lovely. Do you sketch "i " 
 
 " In a very small way," said Pigott. 
 
 " Oh, then, will you do me a favour '? " 
 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 " A great favour, though." 
 
 " With great pleasure." 
 
 " Then you must take a sketch of the tower 
 from the bridge, and give it to me ; I worked 
 at it for an hour and a half, and could make 
 nothing of it. I shan't be happy till I have a 
 sketch of it." 
 
 "I shall be delighted to try; but if you 
 failed to satisfy yourself, I fear I am not likely 
 to succeed in doing so." 
 
 "Oh, I know you will" — as if Pigott's 
 appearance alone was conclusive evidence of 
 his eminence in art — " so it is a promise ? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 267 
 
 "I am highly flattered by being asked to 
 make the promise, and you may depend upon 
 my doing my best." 
 
 Eila thanked him with a sunbeam (Bertrand 
 could have thrown a plate at him for the 
 stolidity with which he received it), and con- 
 tinued her account of the picnic, which had, 
 no doubt, been much like other picnics ; but 
 which — described by Eila in her musical voice, 
 T\dth every little incident pointed by her 
 naivete, and her clear, silvery laugh — appeared 
 to Bertrand to have been a festival of unrival- 
 led attractions. "It was wonderfully pleas- 
 ant," she concluded, " considering how dull 
 and stupid the people all were, except Captain 
 Fearon " (Bertrand felt that the Captain s 
 alleged vivacity did not improve his opinion 
 of the picnic). "Nothing would make them 
 laugh ; at last that made us laugh, and Fm 
 afraid we behaved very ill " (Bertrand was 
 sure Captain Fearon had, — " the snob ! '') — 
 " and at last I got quite into disgrace ; for fat 
 old Mrs Eingwood tumbled into the sea when 
 we were re-embarking, and her daughters 
 screamed and nearly fainted, and Captain 
 Fearon was obliged to go in after her (in
 
 268 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 shallow water, you know) in Ins beautiful 
 plum-coloured knickerbocker stockings ; and 
 she was so heavy to ipull out that Captain 
 Fearon fell under the water, and they both 
 disappeared for a few seconds, and then came 
 up looking so dismal " — here the recollection 
 revived Eila's laug-hter to such an extent that 
 she was unable to go on for a time — " Mrs 
 Eingwood looking like a great seal, with her 
 brown front off, and Captain Fearon with all 
 his fine curls hanging like string over his 
 nose ; so that I laughed till tears ran down 
 my face, and I could not help saying that it 
 put me in mind of the scene in the ' Colleen 
 Bawn,' where Myles jumps into the water after 
 Eilah O'Connor: and Mrs Eingwood scolded 
 me, and her daughters muttered something 
 about ' heartlessness ; ' and Captain Fearon, 
 who is a great dandy '' (ha ! ha ! Bertrand 
 was glad of that), " was quite cross and sulky, 
 and wouldn't speak to me, although we had 
 been such friends before, so that I was really 
 quite in disgrace ; and although I tried, all 
 the way home, to apologise and be sorry, 
 whenever I looked at the two shipwrecked un- 
 fortunates I broke down again, — and so ended
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 269 
 
 the picnic ; but I wouldn't have missed the 
 drowning scene for anything." And Bertrand, 
 listening to the merry music of her laughter, 
 and absorbing stray fragments of sunbeam as 
 they passed on their way to Pigott, felt that 
 he would like to go to a picnic with her, and 
 behave ill with her, and be in Coventry with 
 her, and even tumble overboard with her 
 (not Mrs Eingwood), although it should be 
 in stockings of Tyrian purple and upper 
 garments of the costliest velvet. 
 
 And so the dinner passed off, and the ladies 
 passed away, and, over the wine, Bertrand was 
 very silent, dimly wondering why Eila had 
 taken a sudden antipathy to him (he had felt 
 that she scarcely seemed to notice his existence, 
 and he was unaccustomed to total neglect from 
 the fair sex), dimly wondering why a glance of 
 her eye should make him feel — feel — like — like 
 — hang it ! like that ; dimly wondering if she 
 had made it up with Captain Fearon, and what 
 sort of fellow Fearon was — that is, when his 
 plum-coloured stockings were thoroughly dry, 
 and his hyacinthine locks restored to their 
 normal curl. No glory sat on the insensate 
 Pigott's face for all the bright sunshine that
 
 270 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 had been playing on it for an hour. Wool 
 was, as we are aware, Mr M^Killop's conver- 
 sational staple — colonial wool, by preference ; 
 and with him Pigott was carding and teasing 
 that lamentable topic, with an unruffled calm 
 which, considering what he had recently been 
 enjoying, was to Bertrand simply inexplicable. 
 
 '' She may hate me as much as she likes,'' 
 he thought; "but as for seeing anything in 
 Pigott, she can't, you know — simply can t. A 
 capital fellow, of course — a delightful fellow 
 among men, when he likes ; but as for the other 
 thing — oh no — oh dear, no ! — preposterous 1 " 
 
 In the drawing-room, Morna did not seem 
 to be quite in her usual spirits, but that might 
 only have been by comparison with the exu- 
 berant gaiety of her step-sister. That young 
 lady had a hundred little bits of airy gossip to 
 tell, a hundred little laughing sketches of her 
 visit and co - inmates to retail, mysteries of 
 dress to unfold, oddities to caricature, beauties 
 to expatiate upon, touching each subject with 
 the lightest of touches, and gliding from one 
 to another with a most facile esiyieglerie. At 
 last her budget was exhausted, and she said, 
 " Now, Morna, IVe told you all about myself ;
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 27l 
 
 now for your experiences. What have you 
 been about ? '^ 
 
 " Nothing particular, Eila." 
 
 " Nothing particular ? then I suppose our 
 two guests are as stupid as they look ? " 
 
 " Stupid, Eila ? do you think they look 
 stupid ? '' 
 
 " Oh, dreadfully heavy I — particularly the 
 younger one, Mr — Mr — the nephew of the 
 uncle, you know ? '^ 
 
 " Mr Cameron ? '' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, you're quite WTong : he is not the 
 least stupid ; neither is Captain Pigott. Oh 
 no, Mr Cameron is not at all stupid — quite 
 
 the reverse — in fact, he is just " Morna 
 
 stopped, conscious that she was blushing, and 
 that her step-sister was looking at her with a 
 half-smile from under her long eyelashes. 
 
 " Just what, Morna 1 " she inquired. 
 
 " Just as clever as most people one meets, I 
 mean." 
 
 " He is yoiu' friend, then, of course ? '' 
 
 " We are very good friends." 
 
 " Are they sociable '? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 272 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Both of them ? " 
 
 " Yes — no — I don't know; why do you ask? " 
 
 " Because it will make all the difference 
 while they are here. If they are stupid and 
 sociable, so much the worse ; if they are nice 
 and sociahle, so much the better. Are they 
 nice and sociable ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Morn a, laughing ; " I think they 
 are nice and sociable.'' 
 
 '' They don't look as if they had been chlo- 
 roformed in the evenings, like the people^ at 
 Strathinan 1 " 
 
 " No, I think not." 
 
 "Well, if they are nice, they mustn't be 
 allowed to shoot every day." 
 
 " They don't, as it is." 
 
 " Then what do they do with themselves ? " 
 
 " Oh, they walk about, and do all sorts of 
 things." 
 
 "Fishl" 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " That interferes with your monopoly." 
 
 '' No, I fish too." 
 
 "With them V 
 
 " Yes — at least Captain Pigott never fishes." 
 
 " You fish with Mr Cameron, then ? "
 
 FAIE, TO SEE. 273 
 
 " My dear Eila, what a catechism you are ! " 
 
 " But you do, don't you 1 " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I do sometimes." 
 
 " Then he is nice and sociable ? " 
 
 *' I said so before." 
 
 "And the evenino;s? " 
 
 " Well, they pass somehow." 
 
 "Whist?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Music?" 
 
 " Not often." 
 
 " What does mamma do ? " 
 
 " Ecarter 
 
 " Oh, they play ecarte ? " 
 
 " Yes — that is — Captain Pigott does." 
 
 "And how do you amuse Mr Cameron, or 
 how does he amuse you ? " 
 
 " We talk sometimes." 
 
 " At rare intervals, — I understand. Apropos 
 of Mr Cameron, I am dying to take you to see 
 that beautiful old castle. Suppose we make 
 an expedition there some day soon — next 
 week?" 
 
 " Mr Tainsh and Mr Duncanson are comino: 
 back, I think, next week." 
 
 " Very well, we can take them with us ; and 
 VOL. I. S
 
 274 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 oh, Morna, of course, the very thing — we might 
 get your admirer, Mr Duncanson, to take us 
 there in his papa's yacht ; it would be delight- 
 ful, and make the journey so much shorter." 
 
 *'Yes, it would be very pleasant — without 
 Mr Duncanson." 
 
 "Oh, you ungrateful •. We are just 
 
 saying. Captain Pigott" (the gentlemen arrived 
 at this moment) — "we are just saying how 
 charming it would be to make an expedition 
 round to Aberlorna some day next week. You 
 see I am quite a fanatic about it. Do you 
 think you will be able to tear yourselves away 
 from the grouse for one day — next week, per- 
 haps \ " 
 
 " It would be charming," said Pigott. ''Any 
 day you like to fix." 
 
 " Do let us arrange it, then ; " and, by the 
 most infinitesimal soupfon of a movement, it 
 was suggested to Pigott that he might seat 
 himself by her on the sofa, which he did, 
 stolidly, probably because he knew it was a 
 soft and comfortable seat. 
 
 " What ca7i she see in Pigott ? How the — 
 what the — why the — what can she see in 
 him?'* thought Bertrand, strolling slowly up
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 275 
 
 to Morna, wlio was sitting, as she "usually was, 
 at this point of the evening, by the window, 
 looking out on the terrace. 
 
 " What do you say to it, Mr Cameron 1 " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " I ? Oh, beautiful I perfectly lovely ! that 
 cloud — what a tint ! — what fleeciness ! " 
 
 " You seem to be in the clouds yourself, Mr 
 Cameron," said Morna, looking up into his 
 absent face. " I was talking about the expe- 
 dition." 
 
 " Ah, yes — of course, of course." 
 
 '* And would you like it ? " 
 
 " Nothing so much," said Bertrand, entirely 
 innocent of the subject on the tapis — he was 
 in "the fierce vexation of a dream" — a mid- 
 summer-night's dream : that sofa was the bank 
 whereon the wild thyme blew — and there was 
 Titania sittinor on it, " stickiuo- musk roses in 
 the sleek smooth head " of Bottom the weaver. 
 
 " Even in Mr Duncanson's yacht ? " asked 
 Morna. 
 
 " Has he a yacht 1 He's very lucky. T 
 like yachting : and so Duncanson has a 
 yacht ? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 276 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Captain Pigott, are we to have our ecarte 
 to-night I " cried Mrs M^Killop. 
 
 " Certainly. I am perfectly at your dis- 
 posal/' said Pigott, rising and abandoning 
 Titania with the same stolid calm. 
 
 " Does this go on every evening '? " asked 
 Eila, also rising, and joining the pair at the 
 window. "Isn't it a little triste? what do 
 you do ? " 
 
 " We go out on the terrace. We're going 
 to-night — are we not, Miss Grant ? " 
 
 " If you like." 
 
 " Shall we go, then ? '' adding, as Eila made 
 no sign of moving, " Won't you come, Miss 
 M^Killop ? You have no idea how beautiful 
 the hills look at this time of the evening from 
 the terrace." 
 
 " Thanks — not to-night ; I believe I am a 
 little tired ; " and so Bertrand and jMorna 
 went out by themselves. But their walk that 
 night was far from a success. There were 
 silences, apologies, forced random starts into 
 the driest of subjects, again silences, and then 
 more apologies. What could it all mean ? It 
 must have been Bertrand's fault, he looked so 
 abstracted and dull; and Morna evidently
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 2*77 
 
 thought so, for slie looked up now and then 
 into his thoughtful face in a simple, question- 
 ing way, receiving, however, no explanation. 
 It was very mysterious and unpleasant. 
 
 The summer seemed suddenly to have taken 
 to its golden wings and fled. There was a 
 cloud over everything to-night, and a chill- 
 ness. Was it possible that from so sunny a 
 source as Eila's presence a sudden mistral had 
 come forth, blowing a damp and obscuring 
 haze between two spirits hitherto so congenial ? 
 Or whence else had it come ? 
 
 " I hear Eila singing, I think," said Morna 
 at last, in a painfully flat tone of voice ; " and 
 perhaps listening to her would amuse us more 
 than walking here to - night. Shall we go 
 in?" 
 
 Listening to her! Where was Bertrand's 
 wonted gallant enthusiasm I Why was Morna 
 not assured that only one singing voice, and 
 that her own, could tempt him indoors on 
 such a night, and from a tete-d-tete with her ? 
 She was not so assured, at all events; for 
 Bertrand only said, " Perhaps you would pre- 
 fer it — I daresay you are tired ; " and they 
 turned towards the house. As they drew
 
 278 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 near to the windows, the refrain of Eila's song 
 floated to them very distinctly — 
 
 " Come back to Erin, Mavourneen ! Mavourneen ! 
 Come back, Aroon, to the land of thy birth ! " 
 
 Very sweet indeed would the lay have 
 sounded to any ears — very sweet, and plain- 
 tive, and pleading ; indeed the most obdurate 
 Irish absentee might have been half tempted 
 back to face " Eory of the Hills " in deference 
 to such an appeal ; but to Bertrand it sounded 
 something more than very sweet, and he 
 walked into the room in a tumult of thoughts 
 betwixt pleasure and pain. 
 
 What a heaven upon earth it would be to 
 be addressed as " Mavourneen ^' by such a 
 voice, in the sunlight of such eyes ! Ah ! 
 what bliss ! But did — was — could there be 
 any one so highly privileged '? and if so, did 
 he wear plum-coloured knickerbocker stock- 
 ings '? ashes ! despair ! Eila rose the 
 moment Bertrand and Morna entered ; nor 
 could she be prevailed upon to resume her 
 seat at the piano. " I am too humble to sing 
 when the j^3rz*»ia donna is here to sing," she 
 said. " Dear Morna, I have missed your
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 279 
 
 music so much while I have been away ; you 
 must sing something now — will you, to oblige 
 
 " I will try, but I feel sure that I am not at 
 all in voice to-night. I wish you would sing 
 another, first.'' 
 
 " Oh no, I'm too impatient ; I can't wait : 
 do, pray, let us have * Wings.' " 
 
 Morna complied, and Eila seated herself on 
 the sofa. And how did it happen '? Was it 
 by electricity, by magnetism, by the teaching 
 of some strange spell, that Bertrand instantly 
 became aware that he might seat himself be- 
 side her on the sofa, unrebufFed, and even 
 welcome '? " How it came, let doctors tell." 
 Morna had scarcely taken flight upon " Wings," 
 before Bertrand had gravitated to the sofa ; 
 and instantly there seemed about him — such 
 as came about Launcelot in the castle of King 
 Pelles — " a marvellous greyte clearenesse, that 
 the playce was as bright as though all the 
 torches of the world had beene there ; " and in 
 his ears there was a voice as of " the low- 
 tongued Orient;" and when "Wings" had 
 borne Morna to the end of their pathetic flight 
 of touching aspiration, she found that no sym-
 
 280 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 pathising spirit had followed on her track. 
 From the sofa came a murmur as of softly- 
 flowing waters, and from the card-table rang 
 a shrill female cry of triumph — "The king! 
 game and rubber ! Three-and-sixpence, Cap- 
 tain Pigott ! " Hereupon the sofa woke up. 
 
 " Another ! oh, I beseech you for another, 
 dearest Morna ! " 
 
 "Another, Miss Grant, as the greatest of 
 favours." 
 
 But the favour appeared to be too great — 
 at least it was not accorded. There was thun- 
 der in the air. Miss Grant verily believed — 
 otherwise, how could she have such a dreadful 
 headache '? — which made farther vocal effort 
 impossible. There must certainly be thunder 
 in the air — Miss M'Killop agreed — full of 
 sympathy and condolence. And then Mrs 
 M'Killop^ snapping the clasp of her purse on 
 the evening's winnings, thought that bed was 
 the best place for a headache, and carried the 
 young ladies off; but before they went, and 
 even across their leave-taking, the mistral 
 blew again with double bitterness, not merely 
 floating the damp mist between Morna and
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 281 
 
 Bertrand, but dropping a sudden cloud-curtain 
 between him and the "marvellous greyte cleare- 
 nesse," so that it went from him as it came to 
 him, and he was again in the cold, dank dark- 
 ness — where, however, he seemed to recognise, 
 with an enhanced perception, that Pigott was 
 fearfully deficient in every personal grace and 
 allurement — distressingly so — poor fellow ! 
 They had rather a grumpy time of it in divan 
 that night. Bertrand mooned and moped — 
 while, as bad luck would have it, Pigott's 
 spirits were more buoyant than usual, so that 
 he would have conversed gladly; but, failing 
 that resource, so buoyant was he, that he fell 
 back on music. With the ear of an oyster 
 and the voice of a saw, and being only ac- 
 quainted with about the eighth part of an old 
 schoolboy tune, and words to match, great 
 results were not to be expected from his per- 
 formance. Still, it is astonishing how far a 
 slight and rather inferior piece of music will 
 go sometimes ; and on this occasion Pigott 
 managed, by dint of encoring himself every 
 second minute, to satisfy his own require- 
 ments, and eventually to send Bertrand off to
 
 282 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 bed in a towering passion, by nothing more 
 elaborate than — 
 
 " Pretty, j)retty Polly Hop-kins, 
 
 How d'ye do-oo 1 — how d'ye do-oo ? 
 None the better, Mr Tom-kins, 
 Of seeing you-oo — of see-eeing you : " 
 
 and then da capo.
 
 283 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " It seems the member for the boroughs has 
 resigned," said Mr M'Killop at breakfast, on 
 the morning after Eila's arrival. " I have a 
 letter from Mr Tainsh excusing himself from 
 coming here this week, on the ground that he 
 will be busy electioneering." 
 
 " And I have a note from young Duncanson, 
 to the same effect," said Mrs M'Killop. 
 
 " Will there be a contest 1 " inquired Pigott. 
 
 "Tainsh doesn't say; I don't think it likely; 
 the boroughs always go the same way, I 
 believe ; still one can never tell till the 
 eleventh hour, and so the canvassing and the 
 speech-making must all be gone through." 
 
 "What has Mr -Duncanson got to do with 
 the boroughs '? " asked Eila. 
 
 " Oh, his father has property and influence 
 in Ardmartin."
 
 284 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " What a pleasant canvasser he will make !" 
 
 " He has plenty to say for himself, and he's 
 very advanced, and both qualities are popular, 
 in many places." 
 
 " What do the people of Ardmartin go in 
 for 1 " asked Bertrand ; " are they Eadicals or 
 Tories, or what 1 " 
 
 "Oh, they're Liberal," replied M^Killop— 
 " very advanced Liberals. I should say that 
 no one had a chance there who is not prepared 
 to go considerable lengths." 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought Mr Tainsh was 
 in that line." 
 
 " That's just one of the faults Mr Tainsh 
 has," said Mrs M'Killop ; and then, mindful 
 of her pact, " he has not many, worthy man ! 
 — ^but that is one, and, in my opinion, it is to 
 be regretted." 
 
 " Oh, I don't tbink Tainsh is advanced, or a 
 Eadical at all," said M'Killop ; " but you see 
 most of his clients are Whigs, and it's his 
 business to be of their way of thinking ; but 
 nowadays every one who isn't a Tory is simply 
 a Liberal, whether he's a Whig or a Eadical ; 
 and so the Whigs are often obliged to sup- 
 port candidates they can't like in their hearts, 
 simply because the Liberal majority in a place
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 285 
 
 happens to be of a Eadical turn, and they 
 must either cast in their bt with them or let 
 a Tory candidate win." 
 
 "Yes," said Pigott, ''the poor Whigs are 
 between the devil and the deep sea — no mis- 
 take about it. What are your own politics, 
 Mr M'Killop ? — if that is a fair question." 
 
 " Well, Tm not much of a politician : but 
 IVe always had a Liberal bias — still I don't 
 think that means a subversive bias — so I don't 
 mix myself up with politics at all. I confess 
 I don t altogether understand the policy of 
 either party, and what I do understand I am 
 bound to say that I don t altogether sympa- 
 thise with or respect." 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " cried Pigott. 
 
 " Is that what you think of them too, Cap- 
 tain Pio'ott ? " asked Eila, who was ae^ain 
 apparently blind to Bertrand's existence, in 
 favour of his friend. 
 
 " Think of them, Miss M'Killop ? I don't 
 like to think of them. Because when I do, I 
 am forced to confess that the Radicals are the 
 best of the lot, and that is enough to break a 
 gentleman's, not to say a patriot's, heart. They 
 have the courage of their 023inions, at all 
 events; they are bold and aggressive. If
 
 286 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 tliey are dishonest, they are outspoken. They 
 are the weakest party of the three, and yet 
 they are supreme. They stick to their points, 
 and carry them always. They have outflanked 
 and befooled the other two, because the leader 
 of one had a spasmodic conscience and a 
 twisted brain, and the leader of the other had 
 a spasmodic brain and no conscience at alh 
 As for that eternal * working man,' the political 
 ' working man ' — the Eaclical's fetish ■ — done 
 into plain English, he is a brutal, rapacious 
 savage — a political brigand.^' 
 
 '' Oh, Captain ! " cried M^Killop, " I can't 
 allow you to say that.'' 
 
 " My dear sir, you are only falling into the 
 prevailing humbug of the day. You know 
 perfectly well that the political Svorking man' 
 is quite a recent and very artificial institution, 
 invented on the stump by Mr Bright, de- 
 veloped in these blackguard processions and 
 demonstrations he was so fond of, and now 
 playing the mischief with everything in the 
 polling-booths. Personally, he is the lowest 
 of his class — the mangiest of the flock has 
 become the bell-wether."'" 
 
 * Captain Pigott might have added, in justice and with
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 287 
 
 " Hush, hush, Captain !— think a little/' 
 
 " Think a little ! I have thought not a little 
 about the matter. Tell me how you test the 
 common-sense, the honesty, the morality, the 
 patriotism, of an indi^ddual or a class. Isn't 
 it by words and deeds '? Is the- * working 
 man' to be an exception ; and if so, how is he 
 to be tested ? I protest I can't see — so I stick 
 to my opinion ; but I promise to change it if 
 you can show me that he ever gives out a 
 single patriotic sentiment, ever utters a wish 
 or an idea that is not grudging, subversive, 
 impudently selfish, stamped with ungenerous 
 ignorance, and with moral and intellectual 
 degradation." 
 
 " But where am I to find all these dreadful 
 things done and said by the working man ? " 
 
 " Where 1 — wherever he is, in his political 
 capacity. Listen to him catechising a candi- 
 date ; look at him mountebanking in proces- 
 sion ; observe him at an election, bonneting 
 
 trutli, that the political " working man " is looked upon ^vith 
 no confidence, but rather with feelings of contempt and dis- 
 like, by all the industrious and intelligent of the working 
 classes ; wherefore it is to be hoped that, as education becomes 
 more widely diffused, the evil influence he is now able to ex- 
 ercise will in proportion be diminished.
 
 288 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 the respectable voter, and covering every 
 decent coat belonging to the opposition with 
 his saliva. The Belleville Socialist in Paris is 
 the plant in full flourish of which our political 
 ouvrier is a germ ; but ours will develop into 
 a grosser, coarser type. It might have been 
 nipped in the bud ; a few round-shot down 
 Piccadilly in the teeth of the Park-railing mob 
 would have stopped this infernal revolution. 
 Pray let us change the subject ; this is quite 
 enough to destroy any meal ; and to destroy 
 breakfast is to assassinate the day." 
 
 " Oh, Captain ! you soldiers are bloodthirsty 
 politicians. Fire upon her Majesty's lieges ! 
 Fie, fie!" 
 
 "Certainly, when they disturb the social 
 system and trample on the laws ; just as we 
 hang a Queen s liege when he disturbs the 
 social economy by murdering his neighbour." 
 
 ** What horrible things politics are ! " said 
 Morna. *' Every one seems to be in a passion 
 the moment they are mentioned. Even you, 
 Captain Pigott, are looking quite terrible at 
 this moment." 
 
 " Every gentleman ought to feel angry," cried 
 Eila, "just now, when politics are mentioned ;
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 289 
 
 I feel quite as angry as Captain Pigott myself, 
 althouo;h I know nothino- about the matter, 
 except that all the common people have sud- 
 denly changed, and become rude and disre- 
 spectful, and discontented and greedy. I sup- 
 pose that is politics." 
 
 "Oh! but. Miss M'Killop," replied Pigott, 
 ashamed of being betrayed into so much heat, 
 ** please don't suppose that Pm angry or excited, 
 or anything of the sort. It is a thoroughly 
 selfish age, and I have schooled myself in its 
 doctrines — and so I say, ' What does it matter 
 to me ? ' I have no land to lose, thank good- 
 ness ! and I daresay they won't begin to guil- 
 lotine the fund-holders for a time ; and when 
 they do, one surely will be able to find an 
 asylum somewhere between China and Peru. 
 Is that a turkey's egg you've got, Bertrand, you 
 lucky fellow ? " 
 
 " I — I don't really know ; perhaps it is." 
 
 " Or a swan's ? " 
 
 " I— I— perhaps." 
 
 " You are quite unfit for the suffrage — that's 
 evident." 
 
 "Mr Cameron is not so unpatriotic as you 
 say you are," said Eila; "he is thinking of 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 something else ; he is angry, I am sure. Are 
 you angry, Mr Cameron ? " 
 
 " I ? Oh dear ! yes, I am angry — very angry 
 — furious,'' stammered Bertrand, staggered by 
 a sudden fire from the batteries, and looking 
 about as ferocious as a dispirited sheep. 
 
 '' I think the politics of your family used to 
 be Liberal,'' said Mrs Ml^illop. 
 
 *' No, no ; only for the last two generations. 
 My uncle is a Whig, but I don't fancy he would 
 sujDport the present Government." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Eila, " that puts me in mind of 
 our last night's plan — the yachting excursion 
 to Aberlorna — and this tiresome election will 
 put ifc oif ; for of course Mr Duncanson won't 
 be able to come till the election is over." 
 
 " But is Mr Duncanson indispensable '? " 
 asked Pigott. " He would be a great addition, 
 of course ; but couldn't we manage to struggle 
 through a picnic without him ? " 
 
 " No — because I have set my heart upon his 
 yacht ; and I don't think we could invite the 
 yacht without inviting him. AVe certainly 
 shouldn't get it, at least. I suppose even you 
 couldn't manage that, Morna '? It would be 
 such a boon, though, if you could."
 
 FAIE TO SEE. 291 
 
 " Still the same i^^ok at James Duncanson I " 
 fleered Mrs M'Killop ; " there must be some- 
 thing rankling." 
 
 " Yes, dear mamma, of course there is ; we 
 quite settled all that yesterday. But, Morna, 
 do you think you can really do nothing for 
 usr' 
 
 " I have no influence with Mr Duncanson ; 
 and if I had, I should be sorry to ask a favour 
 of him." 
 
 "That brat Eila is going to spoil every- 
 thing ! " said Mrs M'Killop to herself ; and 
 then aloud, " Well, if no one will take James's 
 part " (he had mysteriously become " James " 
 of late), " / must ; and I will say that he is 
 not so ungallant and so selfish as you make 
 out ; and whatever Morna chose to ask him he 
 would Q-rant — of that Tm sure." 
 
 " There, Morna," cried Eila ; " mamma un- 
 derstands him twice as well as any of us, and 
 she must be right. Do petition ' James.' " 
 
 Morna's confusion and annoyance became 
 very great. She glanced quickly round the 
 table ; her eye rested on Bertrand. "What of 
 consolation did she expect to find in his face 1 
 She found nothing there, at all events, but
 
 292 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 a look of blank, moping vacancy ; and then 
 answered Eila in a hurried, tremulous voice. 
 
 " I wish you would not be so very — teasing." 
 
 Her tormentor glanced quickly at her, and 
 seeing that tears were close to the surface, 
 " ceased firing,'' and said, — 
 
 " Then we must have patience till the elec- 
 tion is over." 
 
 " But there is some gaiety next week to 
 console you, you know," said Mrs M'Killop. 
 " ' The gathering.' " 
 
 " Is ' the gathering ' next week '? Oh, of 
 course ; I had forgotten. And are we to go 
 to the ball ? " 
 
 " Certainly; did you not count upon it ? " 
 
 "I hadn't thought about it; it is such a 
 poky little * gathering,' and the balls are always 
 very stupid ; but I suppose we shall survive it. 
 There is no chance of our beino; over-fatio;ued 
 — that is one consolation — for there is never 
 any one worth dancing with." 
 
 " Upon my word, my dear Eila, you're grow- 
 ing very fine upon our hands I It struck me 
 that some people thought Lord Edgar Swan 
 very well worth dancing with last year." 
 
 " I daresay they did : he had on real clothes
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 293 
 
 — a black coat, you know, and things — and 
 spoke two or three words of the English lan- 
 guage, and these were novelties, and so far 
 pleasant ; but we can't expect to be always so 
 fortunate/' 
 
 *' You re civil to the present company." 
 
 " It is always excepted, mamma dear ; and 
 then we can't expect Captain Pigott to dance 
 with us all the evening, or" (as if he were 
 quite an after-thought) " Mr Cameron." 
 
 " It — would — be too much happiness," Ber- 
 trand manas^ed to stammer out. 
 
 " Oh, please, don't apologise, Mr Cameron, 
 we are not really very exacting." 
 
 " Indeed I am serious ; " and any one who 
 saw his lugubrious face must have admitted 
 it. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; and knowing how sad a thing 
 too much happiness is, you will avoid it, won't 
 
 you?" 
 
 One little blink of sunshine — rather wintry, 
 but still sunshine — flickered for an instant in 
 Bertrand's eyes, and all power of replication 
 left him. 
 
 " What is to be to-day's programme. Captain 
 Pigott ? " asked Mrs M'Killop.
 
 294 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Grouse, Mrs M'Killop. The hill to-day 
 — is it not, Bertrand ? " 
 
 " Ye-es, I suppose so ; or, by the by, was it 
 not to-morrow we fixed for Craiginfrioch ? " 
 
 " Come now, Mr Bertrand, no shirking ; you 
 know it was to-day; and, what is more, we 
 ought to start almost immediately." 
 
 ''Are you going to fish to-day, Morna ? " 
 asked her step-sister. 
 
 " Yes, I think so. The day looks well for it." 
 
 " I think ril go with you, if you don't go 
 till after luncheon." 
 
 " Do come. Tm not going till after lunch- 
 eon." 
 
 " Are you also a fisher. Miss M'Killop 1 " 
 asked Pigott. 
 
 '' Oh no ; Tm not at all useful." 
 
 Bertrand felt that the obvious antithesis 
 ought to be made some use of ; but not even 
 by a look could he point to it. 
 
 " I can do nothing useful," continued Eila ; 
 *' but while Morna fishes in her severe and 
 terrible way, I can amuse myself by watching 
 her, and teasing her, and making pictures of 
 her and the equally stern mountains, time 
 about. Besides, the coolest and pleasantest
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 295 
 
 place where one can be in this fiery weather is 
 down by the river ; and the very idea that 
 you are scrambling up Craiginfrioch will make 
 it feel all the cooler. Poor people ! I pity 
 
 you." 
 
 " On second thoughts let us give it up, 
 Pigott," cried Bertrand, desperately; "it is 
 really rather too hot to-day." 
 
 " Nonsense ! A man who has soldiered in 
 the tropics cave in for a day like this ! No, 
 no." 
 
 " It is very unheroic of you, Mr Cameron," 
 said Eila. *' Tve quite come to the conclusion, 
 by the by, that all sport is a sort of martyr- 
 dom, and therefore the greater the anguish 
 the higher the pleasure. Now, next to sailing 
 on an iceberg in pursuit of walruses, I should 
 think that Craiginfrioch on a day like this was 
 almost perfection in the way of real sporting 
 pleasure. You ought not to miss it, Mr 
 Cameron." But as the ladies left the room, a 
 glance of her eye would have been understood 
 by Bertrand, if he had had any understanding, 
 to say, " You know perfectly well that you 
 can't go to Craiginfrioch to-day; in point of 
 fact, I defy you to go."
 
 296 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Now then, Bertrand ! '' cried the inexor- 
 able Pigott, " let us look alive." 
 
 " Well, really, Pigott, do you know I am a 
 little seedy. Suppose we put it off? Eh, old 
 fellow ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! the grouse are eating their 
 heads off. We haven't touched Craiginfrioch 
 yet ; the weather may break again ; and if it 
 does, you know they must * pack.' Seedy ? 
 that's a novelty, but all the more reason for 
 going; it will be quite cool up there. No- 
 thing like a walk to put you straight. Come 
 along. Here comes old Campbell with the 
 dogs. Allons ! " 
 
 So Bertrand went sorrowfully with his 
 friend, and as they made their final exit from 
 the house, a voice came like a falling-star from 
 a diaphanous haze of light muslin at an upper 
 window, " Will somebody be very kind and 
 bring me a bunch of white heather 1 It grows 
 at the very top of Craiginfrioch, and there are 
 so few opportunities of getting it." 
 
 Pigott answered in his earthy way, that if 
 they got to the top he would not forget ; and 
 Bertrand, veiling his bonnet, was going to cry 
 out but he was too slow. The muslin
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 297 
 
 haze was gone before his ideas came, and he 
 went away bitterly ; feeling, however, that if 
 he had to visit the highest mountain in the 
 moon, fight its legendary inhabitant, smash 
 his lantern, and kill his dog, the white heather 
 should certainly be Eila's ; and at his hand — 
 not Pigott's, nor another's. There are many 
 pleasanter things in the world than zigzagging 
 up a precipitous mountain, with the sun beat- 
 ing furiously on the climber, and the thermo- 
 meter ranging at, say, from 90° to 100° Fahren- 
 heit, particularly when the footing is excep- 
 tionally bad and slippery. The excitement of 
 an occasional " point " goes far, of course, to 
 balance such inconveniences. Still, at best, 
 there is always required, as the Scotch proverb 
 says, **a stout heart for a stey brae." And 
 how then face such an ordeal with equanimity, 
 when a sleepless night has unstrung the 
 climber's nerves ; when the pointing of a dog 
 or the flushing of a covey is to him as nought; 
 above all, when his heart is in open mutiny 
 against the upward movement, and, for reasons 
 which are omnipotent with that unruly mem- 
 ber, it beats " Eetro Propera ! " with every 
 pulsation 1
 
 298 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Such was Bertrand's case. The sun was 
 very cruel, and Craiginfrioch was odiously- 
 steep and slippery ; as for sleep, the poor 
 wretch had had none the night before, except 
 a few moments of semi-delirious unconscious- 
 ness, a very travesty of nature's sweet restorer. 
 As for the dogs and the grouse, and their 
 pointings and risings, these were but aggrava- 
 tions, punctuated by Pigott's steady upward 
 tramp, and his frequent anathema for the 
 laggard who was for ever behind, and " simply 
 ruining these two young dogs — simply playing 
 Old Harry with two valuable animals." As 
 for Bertrand's heart, we know where it was — 
 down below, in the pleasant meadows, by the 
 cool river, among the shadowy trees, where 
 were flowers, and lingering dew, and grateful 
 umbrage, and where he fancied to himself the 
 vocal pines mingling -^olian murmurs with 
 the warbling of the waters and the dreamy 
 summer-song of birds, and thought how the 
 sweet natural diapason would soon be com- 
 pleted by a music more exquisite still. 
 
 But the white heather was above, and Eila's 
 voice (still fulfilling its obvious function as 
 a falling-star) rang in his ears, "Excelsior!"
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 299 
 
 and so tliis poor Tityrus, his heart among the 
 groves with Amaryllis, had to dree the Aveird 
 of a Promethean passion on the rugged breast 
 of Craiginfrioch. Some men glide unconsci- 
 ously into love ; some educate themselves into 
 it ; some are lured and surprised into it ; and 
 some fall into it, wildly catching at every 
 branch and tuft to save themselves as they 
 slip down the *' facilis descensus ;" but Bertrand 
 had been seized by a giant power and whirled 
 clear of every obstacle, so that he had fallen 
 sudden, sheer, and prone into that seething 
 whirlpool of troubles. No wonder he was 
 breathless and shaken, and sorely disinclined 
 for Craioinfrioch. When noon was at about 
 its height, he suddenly halted, and cried out 
 to his companion, ** Pigott, would you mind 
 waiting a minute or two 1 I'm awfully 
 thirsty, and IVe got such a headache. I see 
 water in that corrie, and I wish to go and 
 drink, and wet my head." 
 
 *' Go along with you — only, for goodness' 
 sake, look sharp ! ^' 
 
 Bertrand went with listless steps towards 
 the corrie, but when within a few yards of it, 
 he stopped abruptly, gazed intently forward to
 
 300 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 some object down by the little rill, and then, 
 going with a run and a rush and a bound, 
 flung himself upon the ground beside it with 
 a cry of exultation. What w^as it? "Sun- 
 stroke ! " said Pigott, and began to descend 
 rapidly from his eminence : but it was rather 
 an antidote to sunstroke ; for hermiting there 
 among the cool moist moss and bracken, under 
 the shadow of a dripping rock, nestled one 
 solitary little plant of wdiite heather. There 
 is nothing so cunning as love, unless it be 
 suicidal mania, and Bertrand was all finesse 
 and stratagem in an instant. In an instant 
 the hermit had been plucked up by the roots, 
 and thrust bodily into Bertrand's bosom ; and 
 when Pigott arrived some moments later, with 
 anxiety in his face, he found his friend laving 
 his forehead with sober earnestness. 
 
 " Anything wrong, old fellow '? ^' he asked. 
 
 " Beat, Pigott — dead beat 1 '' quoth the ser- 
 pent, with a splendid simulation of the woe- 
 begone in voice and manner. 
 
 "You fell, didn't your' 
 
 " Ye-es — a kind of a — sort of a trip ; but 
 I'll be better presently; don't mind me, old 
 boy. I wouldn't spoil your day for worlds,
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 301 
 
 and I don't think it would be quite — quite 
 prudent for me to go on. I feel a sort of 
 something — a sort of fuzziness inside my head, 
 you know; but don't stop, 111 find my way 
 home slowly." 
 
 " Oh, but I think I had better go with you, 
 Bertrand ; you are looking a little queer." 
 
 " On no account, Pigott ; I should be 
 wretched if you did. In fact I would rather 
 go on than spoil your day's sport. Look ! I'm 
 quite strong on my legs again ; " and he 
 jumped up with amazing vigour. 
 
 " Well, promise me to take it easily, and wet 
 your handkerchief and tie it round your head. 
 ]\Iind you go slow. Better leave your gun 
 with Campbell. I'll take it to him." 
 
 " All right— thanks." 
 
 "And, by the by," cried Pigott, turning 
 back, "if Miss Thingumbob chaffs you about 
 the heather, tell her I won't forget, if I come 
 across it. I won't go searching for it, though. 
 I hate these humbugging, school-girl crotchets." 
 
 " Oh, she wouldn't expect that, you know. 
 Alt revoir ! " said Bertrand, sweetly ; and then 
 to himself, " Miss Thingumbob ! the savage ! 
 Miss Thingumbob ! the blasphemer 1 the
 
 302 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 abominable ! My angel ! my star ! my 
 
 oil ! " and he sat down under the lee of the 
 bank, and took out the white heather, and 
 apostrophised it, talking nonsense enough to 
 make angels weep ; and then he kissed it over 
 and over again. *''She may wear it in her 
 bosom this evening, you know," he explained 
 aloud to all creation, not apparently to the 
 satisfaction of its only animal representative 
 within earshot, a sturdy little Highland cow, 
 staring angrily at him from the other side of 
 the corrie, who stamped her foot defiantly at 
 the sound of the idiot's voice. The distant 
 report of Pigott's gun roused him ; he came 
 forth from his lair, and finding that his friend 
 had entirely disappeared behind a shoulder 
 of the hill, began, bounding like the roe, to 
 descend to the valley. Craiginfrioch was the 
 hill which rose immediately behind the house, 
 and as it was very steep, the time occupied in 
 its ascent was great compared with the amount 
 of ground got over. Not so, however, with 
 the descent, especially when accomplished in 
 Love's seven-league boots, in which Bertrand 
 travelled, ignoring all obstacles with the reck- 
 lessness of young Lochinvar, and only not
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 303 
 
 swimming across the river below, because, here 
 more fortunate than Lochinvar, he found a 
 ford. That having been crossed, there was 
 only an ascent of a few hundred yards, and 
 then the house. Cairnarvoch, by the by, was 
 by this time scarcely a mere " house ; " it was 
 an "Abode " at the very least, and was rapidly 
 developing into a "Bower;" Mrs M'Killop 
 constituting the chief obstacle to its being 
 immediately advanced to that position. 
 
 The Abode being thus, so to speak, " within 
 hail," and the ascent being singularly precip- 
 itous, the first circumstance suggested to Ber- 
 trand the question, " Why am I here '? " and 
 the second gave him time to ponder it. Fears 
 and tremors came over him. Why had he 
 come here ? because she was here ; there was 
 no sort of difficulty about that, at all events. 
 But then that must be kept a secret — a dead 
 secret — for she hated him — that was evident ; 
 still he would love her, and love her, and per- 
 haps, &c. How then account for his return ? 
 A slight threatening of sunstroke ? Good ! 
 capital ! but ah ! people with slight threaten- 
 ings of sunstroke generally lie down in dark 
 rooms, with wet things round their heads and
 
 304 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 their feet in mustard. "Women like Mrs 
 M'Killop are always medical ; she would cer- 
 tainly understand this system of treatment, 
 and insist upon it ; and this was not compat- 
 ible with angel- worship by the river for the 
 rest of the afternoon, while that other "very 
 agreeable girl " was fishing in the abstraction 
 of her fancy-free meditations. 
 
 A sudden call to write an important letter 1 
 How Avould that do 1 No, that wouldn't do. 
 The telegraphic system did not as yet embrace 
 the summits of Craiginfrioch ; and if it did, 
 the post did not go out till to-morrow morning. 
 
 Despair ! what was to be done '? Perhaps 
 he had better go up the hill again ? Impos- 
 sible. What then ? So there he stood under 
 the ledge of the terrace about a hundred yards 
 from her, love and fear fixing him in a stable 
 equilibrium. Suddenly, making him start as 
 if an avenging demon had hissed in his ear, 
 burst forth the strain of Hamish's bagpipes. 
 '' Luncheon ! " he said to himself, and moved 
 fifty yards farther on. Then he stopped again : 
 luncheon was no excuse ; quite the contrary. 
 What was he to do ? But, at all events, if 
 they were all at luncheon, he could not be seen
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 305 
 
 from the windows ; and thus encouraging 
 himself, he crept up towards the Abode, with 
 all the air of " being on the premises with the 
 intention of committing a felony." 
 
 He stopped at the hall-door ; sooner than 
 enter it, he would have been torn limb from 
 limb by wild horses. He positively fawned 
 upon Hamish when that minstrel had finished 
 his performance beside him. He wanted 
 moral support, you see : even a very large dog 
 would have been something ; and so he but- 
 ton-holed the piper, complimented him upon 
 his playing, asked the name of the air just let 
 off with so much eclat, and received a shock 
 on learning that it was known in the musical 
 world as "Give my love brose and butter." 
 Brose and butter ! what a revolting class of 
 viands to administer to an angel ! The sug- 
 gestion was coarse and abominable ; but 
 Hamish, who was obviously impatient to get 
 to his brose and butter, must be detained. 
 Therefore Bertrand said it was a splendid 
 air, and, in short, would the piper accept an 
 encore '? 
 
 Hamish, being hungry, averred that that 
 was entirely contrary to etiquette ; as com- 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 306 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 muted into a pecuniary shape, however, the 
 compliment was not open to the same objec- 
 tion, as far as he knew, so he accepted five 
 shillings, " for snufF," with surprise and grati- 
 tude, and under the influence of these feelings 
 allowed his professional spirit to be roused by 
 Bertrand's compliments and questions, so that 
 he launched into a dissertation on the 376 
 pipe-tunes in which he was proficient, Bertrand 
 hanging on his words with a pitiable eagerness. 
 
 Now, what was Bertrand's plan '? What 
 end was to be served by this most idiotic 
 proceeding 1 and how long did he mean there 
 to remain '? It would have puzzled the 
 wretched creature himself to say ; and, indeed, 
 has any one, under such circumstances, ever 
 got any plan 1 
 
 Compassed about as we are with all manner 
 of influencing spirits, — white, black, and grey 
 — that is, good, bad, and indifierent, — it 
 would seem that in such cases all the others 
 give place, and leave Puck and his confreres 
 to be the operators of the hour; and a fine 
 time they have of it with their victims, as a 
 rule. 
 
 So Bertrand vaguely remained there, talk-
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 307 
 
 ing, or rather listening, to Hamish, with fear 
 and shame rasdnor in his heart. 
 
 His back was to the door, but a lover has 
 eyes in the back of his head and an ear in 
 every pore ; and after he had been thus engaged 
 for half an hour or so, it needed not the piper's 
 exclamation, " Goot life ! here are the leddies ! '' 
 to inform Bertrand that the luncheon-party, in 
 passing from the dining-room, had turned to 
 the open hall -door, and were standing there 
 at that moment. Deaf to Bertrand's piteous 
 entreaty, *' Stop a bit, Hamish ; do stop ; just 
 one question about the ' M'Intosh's Lament,' " 
 the piper fled, and Bertrand, in an instant, was 
 overboard without a cork-jacket. 
 
 " Mr Cameron ! where have you dropped 
 from *? " The voice was the voice of Mrs 
 M'Killop, and perforce he turned towards it, 
 seeing at first only a luminous mist, in which 
 the huge red face of his hostess seemed to roll 
 about like an intoxicated sun. 
 
 " Where have you dropped from ? " repeated 
 the voice ; and Bertrand, slowly approaching 
 the group, forced himself to look steadily at it, 
 and replied, with a sort of asthmatic gasp, — 
 
 " From the hiU.''
 
 308 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Nothing wrong with Captain Pigott, I 
 hope?" 
 
 " Oh no ; Captain Pigott is perfectly well, 
 thank you." 
 
 " But what is the matter? you look very- 
 strange ; are you ill, or only lazy ? Oh dear 
 me, you are quite pale!" 
 
 By this time he could distinctly see " his 
 angel," and the other " very agreeable girl," as 
 well as the balance of Mrs M^Killop's body, 
 and had recovered a slight command of his 
 senses. Wherefore it flashed upon him that if 
 he said ^' lazy," the secret was out ; whereas if 
 he said " ill," wet applications and mustard 
 were inevitable. 
 
 Here was a dilemma. " Not lazy," he re- 
 plied — "oh no, not at all lazy; and not exactly 
 ill — in fact well, but " 
 
 " But what ? are you faint ? " 
 
 The very thing ; faintness is evanescent ; 
 you may fish or worship immediately after 
 being faint. Yes, he was a little faint, he 
 thought. 
 
 " Girls, wine !" 
 
 The light fled from the hall-door, and Morna 
 went with it ; and presently, sitting on the
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 309 
 
 steps, in the cool shade and pleasant draught, 
 while Hebe herself proffered a cup of nectar, 
 and a minor (but estimable) Olympian satellite 
 mixed it with water, Bertrand began to think 
 that he would cheerfully pass the remainder of 
 his existence in a state of chronic faintness, 
 even under the supervising eye of Jupiter 
 Tonans (in petticoats). Eila was bewitchingly 
 sympathetic ; she looked at him with all her 
 eyes ; and oh ! did he feel better now 1 and 
 oh ! would he not put his head against the 
 cool pillar ? and oh ! mamma, dear, wasn't 
 eau-de-Cologne a good thing? and oh! she 
 would run and get some ; and oh ! she went, 
 and brought back and poured on his hand- 
 kerchief a subtle, beatified essence, surely ex- 
 pressed from no earthly rind. And then the 
 hypocrite tried to look faint (we can imagine 
 with what results), and kept on being only " a 
 little better" for a rather unreasonable time, 
 durino' which, Morna having said at first 
 (drily, Bertrand thought) she was sorry he felt 
 ill, said nothing more, and eventually went 
 away (very unfeelingly, and so unlike " his 
 angel") to get ready for fishing, which recalled 
 Bertrand to himself, and he jumped up hale
 
 310 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 and hearty, with a miraculous alacrity and 
 renovation, announcing that he was " quite 
 well." 
 
 " But you must keep within doors,'' said 
 Mrs M'Killop. (Hang it ! she ivas medical.) 
 
 " Perhaps I had better ; yes, perhaps it 
 would be prudent," quoth Bertrand, on the 
 recider-pour-mieitx-sauter-pimciiple; and then, 
 " on second thoughts, open air is the best 
 thing ; but 111 keep in the shade, of course, 
 and I think Til just stroll down by the river, 
 where the trees are, and watch Miss Grant 
 fishing, and perhaps throw a fly myself when 
 the sun gets lower." 
 
 " Very imprudent, Mr Cameron," said Mrs 
 M'Killop ; but Bertrand, hastily retreating " to 
 get ready," avoided further opposition. 
 
 A few minutes later he was again in the 
 hall, Avhere he was soon joined by Morna. 
 *' Are you really going to venture out in 
 the heat already, after being so unwell, Mr 
 Cameron V she inquired. 
 
 " Oh yes, it was nothing, — a mere passing 
 trifle ; and it is such an age since I had a 
 fishing lesson, I could not miss the oppor- 
 tunity."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 311 
 
 "An age ? why, it was only two days ago." 
 
 " Two days ago, Mis^ Grant ! absurd ! why, 
 
 it is '' Bertrand stopped short. It was 
 
 an age to him, for he had lived a decade in 
 the last twenty - four hours ; but as a mere 
 matter of fact, Miss Grant was correct. " I 
 believe you are right," he went on ; "I can't 
 think how I had forgotten. Yes, of course, it 
 was the day before yesterday. Still an oppor- 
 tunity is an opportunity; and besides, I've 
 got a new 'spider' from Campbell, which he 
 says is infallible on a day like this." 
 
 " We had better start, then, and make the 
 most of it, if you are quite ready." 
 
 " Oh, quite — quite ; but hadn't we better 
 wait for Mrs M'Killop?" 
 
 " She is not coming." 
 
 " Oh, I thought ahem ! — but, by the by, 
 
 Miss M'Killop is coming ; it wouldn't be fair 
 to start without her, would it 1" 
 
 " Unless she has changed her mind since 
 luncheon, she is not coming either ; she had 
 quite given up the plan : did she say she was 
 coming just now?" 
 
 " I — yes — oh, certainly I thought so !" 
 
 " Very well, I'll go and ask her." And
 
 312 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Morna went, and presently came back, saying, 
 with Eila's compliments, that Bertrand must 
 have dreamt it. It was much too warm to go 
 out ; and she was reading such a delicious 
 novel, which could not be parted with before 
 dinner, and then only with a struggle. " So," 
 said Morna, "w^e had better start, if you are 
 quite ready." 
 
 Bertrand having abandoned a half- enter- 
 tained idea of becoming " faint " again, was 
 ready to go anywhere any one chose to take 
 him, and surrendered himself to gloom and 
 misery — deep, dark, fathomless. For all 
 his pains, poor man — for all his pains, he 
 might as well have been on the top of Craig- 
 infrioch. She was avoiding him — that was 
 evident. What had he done to make himself 
 so obnoxious ? And yet ten minutes ago she 
 was full of the kindest interest and sympathy. 
 Ah ! that was only by the impulse of her 
 faultless heart ! her repugnance had been for 
 the moment curbed by her pure philanthropy 
 — that was all. She would have looked the 
 same looks, and spoken the same words, to the 
 merest costermonger who was fortunate enough 
 to be afflicted with a temporary faintness in
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 313 
 
 her presence. And then, without doubt, she 
 thought he had misunderstood her gentle kind- 
 ness, so that she was oJ5ended, hurt, and a 
 prisoner, this bright afternoon, all on account 
 of his coarse, selfish infatuation. It was 
 certain that her maidenly feeling was outraged; 
 and he had done it. Bertrand did not spare 
 himself : he cunningly devised instruments for 
 his own torture, and used them without mercy. 
 Still came back the eternal refrain, that he 
 would love her, and love her, and perhaps 
 years of devotion illustrated by splendid deeds 
 done for her sake (and of course under her im- 
 mediate eye), might at last gain for him some 
 slight response from that precious heart, which 
 no mere man could hope to win in its entirety. 
 But at 23resent a darkness tliat could be felt 
 compassed him round about, as he went away 
 with Morna — a charming companion, we can 
 conceive, for any young lady. Fortunately, per- 
 haps, Morna was not herself conversationally 
 inclined. She, too, had her abstraction. 
 
 Just such another day was this as that on 
 which these two had paid their first visit, in 
 company, to the river. It seemed very long ago 
 to both of them. To Bertrand it was a dim pas-
 
 314 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 sage in a remote and other life ; and to Morna, 
 who now recalled it, it suggested the idea of 
 the beginning of a pleasant song that had been 
 interrupted, and was never likely to be taken 
 up again and finished ; a song that had pro- 
 mised to be so beautiful, too, that it, and it 
 alone, might have filled her whole life with 
 music. And was it gone ? was it really gone 
 for ever and ever ? But certain feelings are 
 too subtle for analysis ; or, if analysis be 
 possible, too sacred for exposition in words ; 
 and so we prefer to spare Morna's inner con- 
 sciousness any farther contact with the hrus- 
 queriG of our clumsy touches. Mechanically, 
 as it seemed, they turned their steps towards 
 the same part of the river they had visited on 
 that first day ; passing the spot where the 
 trees had rung with the water-spirit's lamen- 
 tations, had echoed their light laughter, and 
 tossed away to the vagrant breeze the eloquent 
 utterances of their still more vagrant fancies. 
 
 This historical spot was passed in silence (it 
 is not likely that Bertrand even recognised it, 
 for all the landscape was to him like some 
 blurred fiasco of a photograph ; and as to 
 Morna but we are not going to pry into
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 315 
 
 hei' feelings), and indeed the silence was only 
 broken once or twice in the whole journey 
 from the house to the Blue Eock, and then on 
 this wise. 
 
 " Terribly warm ! " 
 
 " Intensely ! '' 
 
 Five minutes interval. 
 
 " Awfully hot ! " 
 
 *' Excessively ! " 
 
 *' Fine fishing will be necessary to-day." 
 
 " It will." 
 
 Deep meditation on both sides for ten 
 minutes. 
 
 " I have everything very fine with me." 
 
 " That is fortunate." 
 
 Protracted pause. 
 
 " This is an African day." 
 
 " I can quite imagine that it is exactly an 
 African day." 
 
 *' Campbell's spider ought to do in a day 
 like this." 
 
 '' It ought." 
 
 Ten minutes more for reflection. 
 
 " This weather is almost intolerable." 
 
 "It is indeed. Here we are at the Blue 
 Rock ; shall we keep our usual stations ? "
 
 316 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 "If you please/' 
 
 ^^ Au revoir, then, and good sport ! " and so 
 they separated and began to fish. 
 
 Bertrand got into the water, and stalked 
 slowly up mid-stream, looking like a discon- 
 solate heron, throwing his fly to right and to 
 left with mechanical impartiality, but occasion- 
 ally halting and favouring some special spot 
 with a protracted flagellation, as if he knew of 
 a trout thereabouts who was not to be lured, 
 but might be bullied, into accepting a fly. 
 For about an hour Bertrand continued his 
 watery promenade. The solitude and the 
 stillness favoured reflection — not a trout rose 
 to interfere with it ; while the calmness of the 
 sunshine, the silence of the woods, the sleepy 
 aspect of the quiet mountain -side, and the 
 monotonous sing-song of the river, materially 
 assisted in piling up the agony of his troubled 
 thoughts. 
 
 Before him, as he gazed into the river, 
 floated two images : one all that was lovely 
 and perfect, but with a sort of celestial anger, 
 chastened by benevolence and sorrow, disturb- 
 ing the features of the divine countenance ; 
 the other of a dark, brutal type, turning, in
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 3l7 
 
 Cain -like remorse, from the bright figure 
 which had just dismissed him, mth as much 
 scorn and indignation as is compatible with 
 complete purity and elevation of soul. 
 
 The dark fiorure turned aorain and aojain, 
 and held up his coarse, swart hands in the 
 attitude of supplication, almost of worship ; but 
 the diviner being shook her beautiful head and 
 ever waved him off. 
 
 " Oh ! is there no hope '? is there no hope V 
 cried Bertrand aloud in his agony. 
 
 " Not when you fish without any fly at all,'' 
 replied a voice (apparently from heaven), with 
 a symphony of silvery laughter. 
 
 Bertrand gave a prodigious start, so that he 
 slipped, was half down, up again, down again. 
 Entirely ridiculous. Whence the voice which 
 kept laughing all the time 1 He looked to 
 right and to left, down into the river, up into 
 the clouds ; he saw no one. Was it a dream ? 
 No ; there at last, in the shadow of the trees, 
 blooming among the flowers, " herself a fairer 
 flower,'' he descried the speaker. There was 
 "outraged maidenly feeling" surprisingly 
 merry, all things considered. 
 
 Turning red, white, and blue by turns, Ber-
 
 318 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 trand reeled up, discovering that his cast of 
 flies was entirely gone ; and then, floundering 
 and stumbling, made the best of his way to 
 the bank. "His angel" was sketching some 
 object, between which and the fair artist his 
 clumsy person seemed to be for ever interpos- 
 ing ; for she kept craning (if an angel can be 
 conceived to crane) past his edges, laughing 
 and talking, and occasionally putting in a 
 stroke, without ever looking at him. 
 
 " You must be very sanguine, Mr Cameron,'' 
 she said. 
 
 " I — I didn t know I had lost my cast ; it 
 must have gone at the last throw." 
 
 " A large trout, I suppose '? " 
 
 " I should say so. Oh yes, a very large 
 trout — immense." 
 
 " You saw him, did you ? " 
 
 " Well, no — not quite." 
 
 " Perhaps it was a salmon '? " 
 
 " I daresay it was." 
 
 " Or a pike '? " 
 
 " Very likely a pike." 
 
 If she had suggested a dolphin, Bertrand 
 would have cheerfully assented.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 319 
 
 " And wliat are you to do 1 have you an- 
 other cast ? " 
 
 He had a dozen, at the least, in his pocket ; 
 but all lovers are indifferent to truth, so he 
 said he had been stupid, and forgotten his 
 book. 
 
 " This has been quite a day of catastrophes 
 for you," said Eila, looking round his right 
 edge ; and, when he had executed a demivolt 
 to clear her line of vision, instantly discovering 
 that she had to look on the other side, involv- 
 ing a counter-demivolt, and, for a moment or 
 two, she kept him prancing from right to left, 
 like a bear on hot irons. Nothing, however, 
 could be more demure than her expression all 
 the time. 
 
 " Yes," replied Bertrand, " and yet not alto- 
 gether. I am very he — appy now." 
 
 " Happy, are you 1 " (pause to crane) ; 
 " really ''i " (pause to pencil) ; " why 1 " 
 
 Oh, the bewitching unconsciousness ! Oh, 
 the simplicity! Oh, the naivete! Embar- 
 rassing, though — very. 
 
 " Why ? ahem ! because — hum, ahem ! — you 
 see "
 
 320 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " If you would be so very kind as to move 
 just the least little bit to the left — thanks I 
 Now I see beautifully." 
 
 " May I sit down here ? " 
 
 " Oh, pray do, and then you won't have to 
 trouble moving so often. I fear I'm a terrible 
 fidget." 
 
 " It is a pleasure to move when one is — a — 
 a — ordered." 
 
 Could anything be more Mtef and no one 
 could be more conscious of it than the hapless 
 speaker ; but Puck ruled the hour. 
 
 " That is a very military sentiment." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't mean in that sense. I " 
 
 " Are you fond of the army \ " 
 
 " Yes, I like it very well." 
 
 " Have you been in a great many battles *? " 
 
 " Well, no — not many." He had once 
 marched with his company to look at an elec- 
 tioneering row, and be pelted for a couple of 
 hours by Irish patriots at Killygobslithereen. 
 
 " A battle must be delightful '? " 
 
 " Ye-es, it has a wild excitement, which is 
 always pleasant, of course." 
 
 " I hope you always gave quarter, and were 
 merciful ? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 321 
 
 " I — I really — don't you know — I " 
 
 " Oh, you didn't ! I am afraid you are 
 dreadfully cruel and — that tiresome cow will 
 oiot stand still — ferocious. I'm really quite 
 afraid of you." 
 
 And then she looked up from her drawing, 
 and looked at him, and beamed and scintil- 
 lated, so that Bertrand was one all-pervading 
 " tingle " from head to foot. 
 
 " I quite despair of getting that foreground 
 right," she resumed, laying down her pencil. 
 " I must give it up, or I shall be cross and 
 disagreeable for the rest of the day." 
 
 " Pray let me look at it." 
 
 " Oh no, no ! not for worlds ! I know you 
 are terribly critical and severe, and you don't 
 give quarter to your enemies ; oh no ! " And 
 as Bertrand extended his hand (which ap- 
 peared to him to be a veritable paw) to take 
 the drawing, she withdrew it with a bewitch- 
 ing gesture, and hid it under her shawl with 
 such an arch little nod of defiance. 
 
 " You talk of giving quarter to enemies. 
 Miss M'Killop, just as if I counted you as one. 
 Whyr' 
 
 " Because it is true, Mr Cameron." 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 322 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " True ! " 
 
 " Yes ; you don't like me. I always know 
 when people don't like me by their eyes. I 
 think a great many people don't like me, and 
 I always want them to tell me why. Now, 
 be frank; look me in the face and tell me 
 why." 
 
 " Whe — whe — when I look you in the face, 
 I swear " 
 
 " Oh, please, don't swear ; but, look ! look ! 
 — oh, do look at that ! What is it ? A real 
 orange butterfly ! Oh, pray, catch it for me I 
 — do, pray, Mr Cameron ! " 
 
 Bertrand was up in an instant, performing 
 all sorts of acrobatic feats with his legs and 
 arms and hat, dodging the butterfly out and 
 in the trees, and among the tangle of black- 
 thorn and wild rose and honeysuckle, butting 
 his head against projecting branches, tearing 
 his clothes and wounding his body in many 
 places. The butterfly entered into the spirit 
 of the thing, and flew low, and Bertrand had 
 a quick three minutes with it, resulting in its 
 capture. 
 
 He brought it carefully under his cap : she 
 bent forward over the cap ; he bent forward
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 323 
 
 over tlie cap. The streamers of a ribbon round 
 her neck were lifted by a little breath of wind, 
 and lay on his shoulder ; her hand touched 
 his ; he trembled all over, so that he collapsed 
 heavily on the cap, the cap on the butterfly, 
 the butterfly into powder. 
 
 " Oh, Mr Cameron, how cruel ! how cruel ! 
 You have killed the poor, dear, beautiful but- 
 terfly," and she looked at him reproachfully, 
 with eyes that expressed tears if they shed 
 none. 
 
 What sensibility ! Still the ribbons lay on 
 his shoulder (tlie accolade of a thousand knight- 
 hoods would have been valueless compared 
 with that blessed contact), and, in her emotion, 
 her hand still clasped the cap — would have 
 touched his hand — but he shrank from that. 
 
 " Are you sorry ? " she said, after a pause, 
 during which Bertrand felt as if his eyes were 
 being drawn out like telescopes by the attrac- 
 tion of hers — " are you sorry ? " 
 
 " I am very sorry — very, very sorry." His 
 voice shook, and changed its key with every 
 second word. 
 
 " I believe you are very sorry,'' she said, 
 slowly withdrawing her eyes, and moving back
 
 324 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 SO that the ribbons glided from his shoulder, 
 gently, lingeringly, inch by inch — '* and I for- 
 give you." 
 
 What magnanimity 
 
 " To prove that I am not an enemy," said 
 Bertrand, '' I can show that at least I have 
 tried to please you ; I have executed your 
 commission." 
 
 " What commission, Mr Cameron ? " 
 
 *' White heather. Look ! " — and he with- 
 drew, from the interior of his waistcoat, the 
 hermit of the corrie, looking rather jaded, to 
 be sure, from long contact with a flannel shirt 
 that had been shot in, and fished in, and 
 fainted in, all in a mean temperature of 90° 
 Fahrenheit or so. 
 
 *' Oh, how kind ! how very good of you ! to 
 think of me, and when you were ill ! Thank 
 you ; thank you so much." 
 
 "Let me dip it in the river to freshen it 
 before you take it." 
 
 " Oh no, no ! I will take it just as you 
 brought it. I never thought you would 
 trouble about it, or think of it any more." 
 
 Bertrand made a tremendous efibrt, and 
 murmured, in rapid, husky jerks, "I never
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 325 
 
 thought of anything else. I would never — 
 have gone to the hill to-day — except to get 
 it. I wish it was a thousand times prettier 
 — I wish it was worthier of you." 
 
 " Can anything be worthier of a child of the 
 mountains than the most beautiful thing that 
 grows upon them ? " 
 
 " Oh yes — everything is worthier — of you." 
 
 Puck was at him again. " But I am sorry 
 you had the trouble and the fatigue," con- 
 tinued Eila ; " I am afraid you made yourself 
 ill in looking for it. How kind of you ! but if 
 you made yourself ill in looking for it, I shall 
 never forgive myself. Tell me, did you 1 " 
 
 " Oh no, not at all ; I would have been 
 
 ill " He was going to try to add, " a 
 
 thousand times, and died a thousand times, in 
 such a cause," or some absurdity of the sort, 
 but Eila turned it off. 
 
 " Should you, at any rate ? Then I am 
 satisfied, and " (rather a tame climax) " really 
 very much obliged." 
 
 "AVill you do me a favour?" cried Ber- 
 trand. 
 
 " If I can I will— what is it 1 " 
 
 " Will you wear the heather this evening 1 "
 
 326 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 " Oh yes ; I will begin now. See ! " and 
 she placed it in the bosom of her dress. 
 A h ! 
 
 "Please tell me a story, Mr Cameron/' she 
 resumed suddenly, after the flower Avas ad- 
 justed, 
 
 "A story, Miss M'Killop ! but what sort of 
 story ? '' 
 
 " About battles and adventures ; I like read- 
 ing about them, and it would be delightful to 
 hear about them from a real soldier who has 
 been in them, and done them, and been made 
 a prisoner and wounded. You have been 
 wounded, of course '? " 
 
 *' No — yes — very slightly — a mere nothing " 
 (in allusion to a tremendous black eye from a 
 brickbat at Killygobslithereen, — painful but 
 not romantic, and certainly not the incident 
 for the moment) — " a mere nothing ; but no 
 man likes to talk about his own exploits," par- 
 ticularly, he might have added, when he has 
 to draw exclusively for them on his imagina- 
 tion—before dinner. " So if you really want 
 to hear a little romance of war, I'll tell you 
 about an adventure in the Indian Mutiny of 
 one of our fellows — Gibbs."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 327 
 
 " Gibbs ! what an ugly name ! rhymes to 
 ' fibs/ doesn't it ? " 
 
 Bertrand admitted that it did, and also to 
 " ribs," for the matter of that ; but Gibbs, not- 
 withstanding his prosodial misfortunes, was 
 really a tremendous fellow — a V.C. even. Still 
 Eila would have none of Gibbs, though his 
 deeds might have shed lustre on a De Mont- 
 morency. " Well, then, another of my fiiends 
 really did a splendid thing at the Taku Forts, 
 and had such an adventure in the Summer 
 Palace afterwards ; shall I tell you about 
 that?" 
 
 " What was his name ? " 
 
 The hero's name was really Barton, but 
 Bertrand saw at once that while rhyming to 
 " tartan " he was unfit for service, so he elimi- 
 nated the disqualifying letter and said " Baron." 
 
 ''Yes, I would like to hear about Mr Baron." 
 
 And Bertrand told her a terrible anecdote, 
 all about junks and joss-houses and gingalls, 
 and the yells of the Celestials, and the ter- 
 rible British cheer, and mandarins, and the 
 Brother of the Sun and Moon, and his silks and 
 furs and jewels, and the palatial bonfire, — 
 through all which the sword of the terrible
 
 328 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Barton meandered like a streak of lightning 
 caught and drilled for the occasion to warlike 
 purposes. The story was lengthy ; it had out- 
 falls of episode, and a pretty broad dreary cur- 
 rent of its own, and, during its progress, Ber- 
 trand made a discovery — angels can yawn. 
 The discovery depressed him ; the full-flowing 
 river of his speech rolled on with a more lan- 
 guid movement, and the lightning of Barton 
 the destroyer, began to shed rather sickly 
 gleams on its sluggish wave. Still it went on 
 to a point where Barton, after having lost an 
 arm from a round-shot, received a sword-thrust 
 through the body and a contusion on the head, 
 and become reluctantly insensible, might rea- 
 sonably be supposed to have terminated his 
 exploits ; and here Eila, assuming the close of 
 the narrative, thanked Bertrand for it, with 
 great alacrity; said it was most interesting, and 
 what a surprising person Mr Baron must be — 
 and probably she might have found him so to 
 be, if she had had patience, and got beyond the 
 mere threshold of the anecdote ; for, of course, 
 she had only heard Act I. ; and fellows like 
 Barton, as a rule, never succumb ; the lopping 
 off of a limb or two only clears them, as it were,
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 329 
 
 for more vigorous action ; and if they ever con- 
 descend to die at all, it is in the picturesque 
 Che^^- Chase attitude of fighting on their 
 stumps. 
 
 Bertrand acquiesced in the dropping of the 
 curtain ; he felt that he was not shining ; and 
 indeed what kind of figure can a wax-taper 
 cut, when flickering in the full beams of Hy- 
 perion ? — and so he allowed Eila even to ima- 
 gine Mr Barton's death. That, at least, lent 
 him an interest which could not belong to one 
 whose voice was even at that hour contributing 
 to " the thunder of the captains and the shout- 
 ing " in the Loug Valley. 
 
 " If I had been a man, I must have been a 
 soldier ! " cried Eila, as a sort of funeral-shot 
 over Barton and his glories. 
 
 It flashed across Bertrand's mind that he had 
 better hum (archly), "If I was a lad, for a 
 soldier I'd go," but he curbed the inclination 
 as profane, and said instead, " Surely you would 
 not have preferred to be a man ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed I should : do you think a 
 ♦woman's life can be a very happy one, except 
 under very peculiar circumstances ? How 
 would you like to be au convent under the
 
 330 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 shadow of Craiginfriocli for the rest of your 
 days, or some place just as bad ? " 
 
 " That fate can never be yours, except by 
 choice/' 
 
 "It is generally a choice of evils in the 
 world, is it not ? for a woman, at least," said 
 Eila, with a graceful little shrug. 
 
 " Oh, please, don't speak like that," cried 
 Bertrand, with genuine earnestness. It gave 
 him a quick pain to think of so bright and 
 beautiful a being living in any atmosphere 
 save one of perpetual joy, radiance, and de- 
 light. "I think women," he said, *' beautiful 
 women, clever women, and, above all, good 
 women, even without being beautiful or clever, 
 have as fine a career, if they choose to accept 
 it, as any man can have." 
 
 " You are beginning to be grave — please, 
 don't." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, I won't. But think 
 of us poor men with compassion. If all the 
 beautiful women in the world were withdrawn 
 or transformed, what would become of us? 
 What would the knight in the lists have been 
 without the Queen of Beauty or his lady-love 
 in the gallery ? "
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 331 
 
 "That is very pretty! I like that. Are 
 you fond of poetry ? " 
 
 " Devoted to it." 
 
 "And music?" 
 
 " There I am a fanatic." 
 
 " Oh, I see now why Morna and you are 
 such allies ! " 
 
 " Allies ? '' The villain was on the point of 
 denying an alliance too good for nine hundred 
 and ninety-nine out of a thousand of his sex. 
 Love, which conquers all things, walks lightly 
 over loyalty, generosity, and all the verities. 
 " Allies '? " he repeated ; and then, as a compro- 
 mise, " A re we allies 1 " 
 
 " You act as if you were, at all events, don t 
 you 1 " and then, with sudden eagerness, (who 
 can say from what source ?) " and you may be 
 very proud to be an ally of hers, because there 
 is no one the least like her. She is too good 
 to be any one's ally. It makes one better to 
 be with her : she is the only person in all the 
 world I like." 
 
 How beautiful she looked, thus animated for 
 her friend ! And how deliQ;htful to know that 
 she cared for no one else {" the present com- 
 pany," she had expressly stated, " is always
 
 332 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 excepted ") ; and what a goodly thing was a 
 beautiful girl's love for another — girl ! Slightly 
 inconsistent though at times, as now appeared ; 
 for, instantly after her glowing eulogy, she laid 
 her hand on Bertrand's arm, and said, " Hush ! 
 hush ! look, here is Morna ; lie down and hide." 
 Whereupon the wretch " crouched fawning 
 in the weed," and Morna passed away on the 
 other side. She looked jaded and tired; she 
 was carrying her own basket slung over her 
 shoulder, and her rod. Her eyes were bent on 
 the ground ; she was not looking very happy. 
 At sight of her, some emotion of — what was it ? 
 — pity ? remorse ? of conscious desertion and 
 betrayal 1 — something unpleasant, at any rate, 
 struck into Bertrand's heart, and with it an 
 impulse to dash across the river and carry her 
 things for her, and be " jolly '^ to her generally. 
 But he looked up to his beautiful companion, 
 who sat leaning against a tree twined with 
 murderous honeysuckle ; and as the tree was 
 clasped in that deadly-sweet embrace, so did 
 the influence of those enthralling eyes wind 
 itself round his heart, and choke the generous 
 emotion. Eetributive justice halts not always ; 
 and in about a minute Eila said, "You had
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 333 
 
 better follow her now." This was illogical, 
 also unpleasant. 
 
 " Oh, please, don't send me away," said Ber- 
 trand. 
 
 " You came out to fish with her, you know ; 
 and so you belong to her — for the afternoon." 
 
 " But will you come too 1 You have no 
 idea how interestino: it is to watch Miss Grant 
 fishing ; — she catches lots of them — every min- 
 ute — most exciting ; do come." 
 
 " Thanks — no ; I must go back to my novel : 
 I can think of nothing else till it is finished. 
 Please don't mind me. I shall find my way 
 home by the bridge. If you ford the river 
 here you will be able to overtake Morna. Poor 
 dear Morna ! looking so tired and bored all by 
 herself ! Do run away quickly, please." 
 
 '' And you will wear it ? " languish ingiy. 
 
 " It ? What, Mr Cameron ? " 
 
 " The heather ! " 
 
 " Oh, the heather ! Oh yes, if you wish it, 
 and it isn't dead by the evening. Good-bye 
 — au revoirJ' 
 
 So, with an east wind whistling in every 
 nook and cranny of his soul, Bertrand took 
 the water and followed "poor dear Morna."
 
 334 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Memoranda — angels yawn — are sometimes 
 illogical, and always incomprehensible. He 
 did not long follow Morna in a straight course, 
 but soon diverged to the left, and, circling 
 round at top-speed, managed to head her, and 
 was fishing at the point where he ought to 
 have been when, half an hour later, she came 
 up to pass him again. Few and short were 
 the words they spoke. Morna had had bad 
 sport ; Bertrand none — as represented in his 
 basket, that is ; and eventually, after various 
 passings and repassings, they walked home 
 together much as they had walked out together, 
 both regretting, with wonder and animation, 
 the total and surprising failure of CampbelFs 
 new " spider.'' 
 
 Pio-ott came in late from the hill, and found 
 Bertrand already — rather prematurely — dressed 
 for dinner, and about to descend to the draw- 
 ing-room. 
 
 " Well, Bertrand, all right again % " 
 
 " Oh, all right, thanks.'' 
 
 " Been out ? " 
 
 ** Just took a stroll by the river for a bit. 
 How have you done to-day '{ " 
 
 " Pretty well ; dogs rather demoralised.
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 335 
 
 though. Look here, I found that heather 
 for Miss WhatVher-name ; rather a fine speci- 
 men, isn't it ? " 
 
 *' Beautiful, yes ; but I found a bit on the 
 hillside, and have given it to her ; so we can 
 keep yours for our own drawing-room table." 
 
 " No, I shall give this to her. I've had 
 rather a time of it with the thing. I stuck 
 it in my cap to keep fresh, and it kept tumbling 
 out, and lost me a brace of grouse by getting 
 across my eyes at the critical moment ; be- 
 sides, the only ptarmigan I saw to-day rose 
 when I was digging it up ; so I'll give it to 
 her, and tell her about it as a hint not to go 
 bothering again.'' 
 
 " As you please," said Bertrand, and went 
 to the drawing-room. 
 
 No one there. Presently in came Mr 
 M'Killop — bother him ! — no tete-d-tete was 
 now possible ; then came Mrs M'Killop — 
 bother hei^ ! — how loud she looked ! then came 
 Morna, bother — no, not exactly that — and im- 
 mediately after entered Eila (in blue) ; but, 
 alas ! where was the white heather ? Not 
 there, at all events, where it would have looked 
 so well, in harmony with a blue dress. It was
 
 336 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 an occasion to sulk a little, and Bertrand did 
 so (in the window). The sulking was dramatic, 
 hien entendu. There was nothing in his heart 
 but humble grief and a sense of merited dis- 
 comfiture. 
 
 Presently in walked Pigott, cool, trim, dry, 
 in his hand the bunch of heather. He walked 
 up to Eila, held out the offering with — 
 
 "This is the vegetable you wanted, Miss 
 M'Killop, is it not I " 
 
 " Oh, Captain Pigott ! " cries Eila. " Oh, so 
 many thanks ! how beautiful ! " 
 
 She takes it ; — it is no longer heather — it is 
 amaranth — although the gift of Pigott. 
 
 " On the very tip-top of Craiginfrioch did 
 you find it '? " 
 
 " On the very tip-top — where there are 
 ptarmigan ! " 
 
 " On the very tip-top, where there are ptar- 
 migan ! Delightful ! " 
 
 " The only ptarmigan I saw to-day rose 
 when I was tearing up that plant.^' 
 
 " How tiresome ! and did you carry it all 
 the way down, yourself '? '^ 
 
 " All the way in my hat ; as a proof, it tum- 
 bled across my eyes, and made me miss a brace 
 of grouse."
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 337 
 
 " What a pity ! but how kind of yoii to get 
 it for me, and to go missing grouse and ptar- 
 migans to oblige me ! Thank you so mucli — 
 it is quite beautiful ; a finer plant, I think, 
 than Mr Cameron brought me, though it was 
 very pretty too. Oh, by the by, Mr Cameron, 
 I am so sorry I couldn't do what you wished ; 
 the poor thing was too much faded." Bertrand 
 was understood to say that it didn't signify, 
 and Eila went on, " But this comes instead, 
 and I shall wear it. Shall I wear it, Captain 
 Pigott \ " 
 
 " Oh, by all means." 
 
 "Then I will," and she ran airily to the 
 mirror and placed one bunch in her bosom 
 and another in her hair (coquettishly) — and 
 then turned round, putting her hands down 
 by her side, with the fairy-like gesture of a 
 playful child, for inspection. " How does it 
 do ? Is it pretty 1 " 
 
 Pretty ! but Bertrand could say nothing, 
 and Pigott remarked, jocularly, " Yes, it looks 
 very well; it literally does honour to your 
 head and heart." 
 
 He was getting just a little beyond human 
 endurance — this — this groundling, 
 
 Pigott's seniority constituted him Mrs M'Kil- 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 338 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 lop's daily escort to the dining-room, and Eila 
 fell to Bertrand. " Wasn't it kind of Captain 
 Pigott to get this for me from the tip-top of 
 Craiginfrioch, where the ptarmigans are '? " she 
 inquired confidentially of Bertrand, as they 
 passed from the drawing-room ; " but do you 
 think, entre nous, it bored him ? I should be 
 in despair if I thought I had bored him." 
 
 " It was a great privilege for Captain Pigott 
 to have the happiness of doing anything to 
 give you pleasure," said Bertrand, grimly. 
 
 " He is very good-natured and kind, is he 
 not?" 
 " Very." 
 
 " He has such a nice kind face, has he not \ " 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Like a good dog's, isn't it ? " 
 " Ha ! ha ! yes, not bad that — rather like a 
 dog's, certainly/* 
 
 " A orood doer's though, and that is not the 
 least laughable, for a good dog's face is the 
 pleasantest face in the world — to me." 
 
 Not being a dog of any sort, there was clearly 
 nothino: for Bertrand but to sulk after that. 
 All through dinner Eila was perversely en- 
 chanting, and Bertrand was in and out of the 
 sulks a score of times at the least ; the trying
 
 FAIR TO SEE. 339 
 
 part of it all being that she never appeared to 
 know when he was supposed to be in a state 
 of dignity, and when in a state of delight, 
 penitence, worship, or what not. The same 
 sort of thinor went on in the drawinor-room, 
 where Eila cajoled her father and the two 
 ecartists into playing whist with her, so that 
 Morna and Bertrand were left to a dismal 
 tete-d-tete ; then she threw up the cards after 
 the first rubber, alleging a headache ; then she 
 coaxed Morna to sing, and when Bertrand ap- 
 proached, with earnest pleading eyes, to seat 
 himself by her, snubbed him instantly by ris- 
 ing, and "though so sorry to be unsociable, 
 really wishing to sit quite quiet by the window, 
 for her headache's sake, if he didn't mind." 
 And so the evening passed, and much in the 
 same way passed tlie next few days, as regarded 
 the relations of Eila and Morna and Bertrand ; 
 the latter now like the Peri at the gate of 
 Paradise, disconsolate, now admitted for one 
 instant within the glittering portals, and the 
 next expelled from it by the lightning eye of 
 the avenging angel. Like Jeanie pining for 
 Jamie, he began to " gang like a ghaist and 
 caredna to spin " — that is, to shoot or fish, or 
 eat or drink, or sleep or hold commune with
 
 840 FAIR TO SEE. 
 
 Pigott or any other flesh of man, save only 
 with her, who by a word could make him the 
 blessedest of mortals, and by a look could 
 cause him to peak and pine and dwindle. He 
 had no quarrel with Pigott, quite the reverse 
 — but he avoided a tete-d-tete with that officer 
 as he would have shunned the plague, ignoring 
 the smoking-room and the boudoir sacred to 
 ho7ine camaraderie, and rushing to bed of 
 nights, with a hasty " tired as a dog, old fel- 
 low — cannot smoke to-night — really can't." 
 Pigott, of course, knew the state of the case 
 as well as, if not better than, his friend ; but 
 though he said to himself that the present 
 juncture was not gay, still he was certain that 
 to endure it w^as the less of two evils, the 
 alternative being to become confidant, and 
 listen to his friend's eternal maunderings about 
 that girl, for ever harvesting with her unquiet 
 eyes. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 rniNTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.
 
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