 18 No mother's care shielded my infant innocence with prayer. Mother miscalled, farewell. The happy period so long and anxiously anticipated by the ladies of Glenferne, at length arrived and Lady Juliana presented to the house of Douglas, not alas the ardently desired heir to its ancient consequence, but twin daughters, who could only be regarded as additional burdens on its poverty. The old gentleman's disappointment was excessive, and as he paced up and down the parlor with his hands in his pockets, he muttered, "'Twa lasses! I never heard tell of the like it! I wonder why their tortures are to come, fray!' Miss Grizzly, in great perturbation, declared it certainly was a great pity it had so happened, but these things couldn't be helped. She was sure Lady MacLachlan would be greatly surprised. Miss Jackie saw no cause for regret, and promised herself an endless source of delight in forming the minds and training the ideas of her infant nieces. Miss Nicky wondered how they were to be nursed. She was afraid Lady Juliana would not be able for both, and wet nurses had such stomachs. Henry, meanwhile, whose love had all revived in anxiety for the safety and anguish for the sufferings of his youthful partner, had hastened to her apartment, and kneeling by her side, he pressed her hands to his lips with feelings of the deepest emotion. Dearer, a thousand times, dearer, to me than ever, whispered he as he fondly embraced her, and those sweet pledges of our love. Ah, don't mention them, interrupted his lady in a languid tone. How very provoking! I hate girls so, and two of them, oh! And she sighed deeply. Her husband sighed too, but from a different cause. The nurse now appeared, and approached with her helpless charges, and both parents, for the first time, looked on their own offspring. What nice little creatures, said the delighted father, as taking them in his arms, he imprinted the first kiss on the innocent faces of his daughters, and then held them to their mother, who turning from them with disgust exclaimed, how can you kiss them, Harry? They are so ugly, and they squall so. Oh, do, for heaven's sake, take them away! And see, there is poor Psyche quite wretched at being so long away from me. Pray, put her on the bed. She will grow fond of her babies by and by, said poor Henry to himself as he quitted the apartment, with feelings very different from those with which he entered it. At the pressing solicitations of her husband, the fashionable mother was prevailed upon to attempt nursing one of her poor starving infants. But the first trial proved also the last, as she declared nothing upon earth should ever induce her to perform so odious an office. And as Henry's entreaties, and her aunt's remonstrances served a like to irritate and agitate her, the contest was, by the advice of her medical attendant, completely given up. A wet nurse was therefore procured, but as she refused to undertake both children, and the old gentleman would not hear of having two such encumbrances in his family, it was settled to the unspeakable delight of the maiden sisters that the youngest should be entrusted entirely to their management and brought up by hand. The consequence was such as might have been foreseen. The child, who was naturally weak and delicate at its birth, daily lost a portion of its little strength while its continued cries declared the intensity of its suffering, although they produced no other effect on its unfeeling mother than her having it removed to a more distant apartment, as she could not endure to hear the cross little thing scream so for nothing. On the other hand, the more favoured twin, who was from its birth a remarkably strong lively infant, and met with all justice from its nurse, throwed a pace and was pronounced by her to be the very picture of the bonny lady its mama. And then, with all the low cunning of her kind, she would launch forth into panicirics of its beauty and prophecies of the great dignities and honours that would one day be showered upon it, until by her fawning and flattery she succeeded in exciting a degree of interest which nature had not secured for it in the mother's breast. Things were in this situation when, at the end of three weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas arrived to offer their congratulations on the birth of the twins. Lady Giuliana received her sister-in-law in her apartment, which she had not yet quitted, and replied to her congratulations only by quarrelless complaints and childish murmurs. I am sure you are very happy in not having children, continued she, as the cries of the little sufferer reached her ear. I hope to goodness I shall never have any more. I wonder if anybody ever had twin daughters before. And I, too, who hate girls so. Mrs. Douglas, disgusted with her unfeeling folly, knew not what to reply, and a pause ensued. But a fresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again called forth its mother's indignation. I wish to goodness that child was gagged, cried she, holding her hands to her ears. It has done nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it makes me quite sick to hear it. Poor little dear, said Mrs. Douglas, compassionately, it appears to suffer a great deal. Suffer, repeated her sister-in-law. What can it suffer? I am sure it meets with a great deal of tension than any person in the house. These three old women do nothing but feed it from morning to night with everything they can think of, and make such a fuss about it. I suspect, my dear sister, you would be very sorry for yourself, said Mrs. Douglas with a smile, were you to endure the same treatment as your poor baby, stuffed with improper food and loathsome drugs, and bandied about from one person to another? You may say what you please, retorted Lady Juliana petishly, but I know it's nothing but ill temper. Nurse says so too, and it is so ugly, with constantly crying, that I cannot bear to look at it. And she turned away her head as Miss Jackie entered, red with the little culprit in her arms, which she was vainly endeavoring to talk into silence, while she dandled it in the most awkward, maiden-like manner imaginable. Good heavens, what a fright! exclaimed the tender parent, as her child was held up to her. Why, it is much less than when it was born, and its skin is as yellow as saffron, and its squints. Only look what a difference! As the nurse advanced and ostentatiously displayed her charge, who was just waked out of a long sleep, its cheeks flushed with heat, its skin completely filled up, and its large eyes rolling under its already dark eyelashes. The bonny weans, just her momma's picture, trawled out the nurse, but the wee missies on call at her aunties. Take her away, cried Lady Juliana, in a tone of despair. I wish I could send her out of my hearing altogether, for her noise will be the death of me. Alas! what would I give to hear the blessed sound of a living child, exclaimed Mrs. Douglas, taking the infant in her arms? And how great would be my happiness could I call the poor rejected one mine. I'm sure you are welcome to my share of the little plague, said her sister in law with a laugh. If you can prevail upon Harry to give up his, I would give up a great deal, could my poor child find a mother, replied her husband, who just then entered. My dear brother, cried Mrs. Douglas, her eyes beaming with delight. Do you then confirm, Lady Juliana's kind promise? Indeed I will be a mother to your dear baby, and love her as if she were my own, and in a month—oh, in much less time!—you shall see her as stout as her sister. Henry sighed, as he thought, why has not my poor babe such a mother of its own? Then thanking his sister in law for her generous intentions, he reminded her that she must consult her husband, as few men like to be troubled with any children but their own. You are in the right, said Mrs. Douglas, blushing at the impetuosity of feeling which had made her forget, for an instance, the deference to her band. I shall instantly ask his permission, and he is so indulgent to all my wishes that I have little doubt of obtaining his consent. And with a child in her arms, she hastened to her husband, and made known her request. Mr. Douglas received the proposal with considerable coolness, wondering what his wife could see in such an ugly squalling thing to plague herself about it. If it had been a boy, old enough to speak and run about, there might be some amusement in it. But he could not see the use of a squalling, sickly infant, and a girl, too. His wife sighed deeply, and the tears stole down her cheeks as she looked on the wane visage and closed eyes of the little sufferer. God help the poor baby, she said mournfully, you are rejected on all hands, but your misery will soon be at an end. And she was slowly leaving the room with her helpless charge when her husband, touched at the sight of her distress, though the feeling that caused it he did not comprehend, called to her, I am sure, Alisha, if you really wish to take charge of the infant, I have no objections. Only I think you will find it a great plague, and the mother is such a fool. Worse than a fool, said Mrs. Douglas indignantly, for she hates and abjures this, her poor, unoffending babe. Does she so? cried Mr. Douglas, every kindling feeling roused within him at the idea of his blood being hated and abjured. Then hang me, if she shall have any child of Harry's, to hate as long as I have a house to shelter it, and a sixpence to bestow upon it, taking the infant in his arms and kindly kissing it. Mrs. Douglas smiled through her tears as she embraced her husband, and praised his goodness and generosity. Even full of exultation and delight, she flew to impart the success of her mission to the parents of her protégé. Great was the surprise of the maiden nurses at finding they were to be bereft of their little charge. I declare I think the child is doing as well as possible, said Miss Grizzie. To be sure it does yammer constantly, that can't be denied. And it is uncommonly small, nobody can dispute that. At the same time I am sure I can't tell what makes it cry. For I've given it two colic powders every day, and a teaspoon full of Lady MacLachlan's Karmative every three hours. And I've done nothing but make water-gruel and chop rusks for it, both Miss Nicky, and yet it is never satisfied. I wonder what it would be at. I know perfectly well what it would be at, said Miss Jackie, with an air of importance. All this crying and screaming is for nothing else but a nurse. But it ought not to be indulged. There is no end of indulging the desires. That is amazing how cunning children are, and how soon they know how to take advantage of people's weakness, glancing an eye of fire at Mrs. Douglas. Were that my child? I would feed her on bread and water before I would humor her fancies. A pretty lesson indeed, if she's to have her own way before she's a month old. Mrs. Douglas knew that it was in vain to attempt arguing with her aunts. She therefore allowed them to wonder and to claim over their sucking pots, colic powders, and other instruments of torture, while she sent to the wife of one of her tenants who had lately lain in, and who wished for the situation of nurse, appointing her to be at Laqumarle the following day. Having made her arrangements, and collected the scanty portion of clothing Mrs. Nurse chose to allow, Mrs. Douglas repaired to her sister-in-law's apartment with her little charge in her arms. She found her still in bed, and surrounded with her favourites. So you really are going to torment yourself with that little screech owl, said she? Well, I must say it's very good of you. But I am afraid you will soon tire of her. Children are such plagues. Are they not, my darling? added she, kissing her pug. You will not say so when you have seen my little girl a month hence, said Mrs. Douglas, trying to conceal her disgust for Henry's sake, who had just then entered the room. She has promised me never to cry any more. So give her a kiss, and let us be gone. The high-bred mother slightly touched the cheek of her sleeping babe, extended her finger to her sister-in-law, and carelessly bidding them good-bye, returned to her pillow and her pugs. Henry accompanied Mrs. Douglas to the carriage, and before they parted he promised his brother to ride over to Laqumarle in a few days. He said nothing of his child, but his glistening eye and the warm pressure of his hand spoke volumes to the kind heart of his brother, who assured him that Alicia would be very good to his little girl, and that he was sure she would get quite well when she got a nurse. The carriage drove off, and Henry, with a heavy spirit, returned to the house to listen to his father's lectures, his aunt's ejaculations, and his wife's murmurs. CHAPTER XIX We may boldly spend upon the hope of what is to come in. The birth of Twin Daughters awakened the young father to a still stronger sense of the total dependence and extreme helplessness of his condition, yet how to remedy it he knew not. To accept of his father's proposal was out of the question, and it was equally impossible for him, were he ever so inclined, to remain much longer a burden on the narrow income of the Laird of Glenfern. One alternative only remained, which was to address the friend and patron of his youth, General Cameron, and to him he therefore wrote, describing all the misery of his situation, and imploring his forgiveness and assistance. The old General's passion must have cooled by this time thought he to himself as he sealed the letter, and as he has often overlooked former scrapes, I think after all he will help me out of this greatest one of all. For once Henry was not mistaken. He received an answer to his letter, in which the General, after execrating his folly and marrying a lady of quality, swearing at the birth of his Twin Daughters, and giving him some wholesome counsel as to his future mode of life, concluded by informing him that he had got him reinstated in his former rank in the army, that he should settle seven hundred per annum on him till he saw how matters were conducted, and in the mean time enclosed a draft for four hundred pounds to open the campaign. Though this was not, according to Henry's notions, coming down handsomely, still it was better than not coming down at all, and with a mixture of delight and disappointment he flew to communicate the tidings to Lady Juliana. Seven hundred pounds a year exclaimed she in raptures. Heavens, what a quantity of money! Why we shall be quite rich, and I shall have such a beautiful house and such pretty carriages, and give such parties and buy so many fine things. Oh, dear, how happy I shall be! You know little of money, Julia, if you think seven hundred pounds will do all that, replied her husband gravely. I hardly think we can afford a house in town, but we may have a pretty cottage at Richmond or Twickenham, and I can keep a curicle and drive you about, you know, and we may give famous good dinners. A dispute here ensued. Her ladyship hated cottages and curicles and good dinners as much as her husband despised fancy balls, opera-boxes, and chariots. The fact was that the one knew very nearly as much of the real value of money as the other, and Henry's sober scheme was just as practicable as his wife's extravagant one. Brought up in the luxurious profusion of great house, accustomed to issue her orders and have them obeyed, Lady Juliana at the time she married was in the most blissful state of ignorance respecting the value of pounds, shillings, and pins. Her maid took care to have her wardrobe supplied with all things needful, and when she wanted a new dress or a fashionable jewel, it was only driving to Madame D's or Mr. Wise and desiring the article to be sent to herself while the bill went to her papa. From never seeing money in its own vulgar form, Lady Juliana had learned to consider it as a mere nominal thing, while on the other hand her husband, from seeing too much of it, had formed almost equally erroneous ideas of its powers. By the mistake kindness of General Cameron he had been indulged in all the fashionable follies of the day, and allowed to use his patron's ample fortune as if it had already been his own, nor was it until he found himself a prisoner at Glenfern from want of money that he had ever attached the smallest importance to it. In short, both the husband and wife had been accustomed to look upon it in the same light as the air they breathed. They knew it essential to life, and concluded that it would come some way or another, either from the east or west, north or south. As for the vulgar concerns of meat and drink, servants' wages, taxes, and so forth, they never found a place in the calculations of either. Birthday dresses, fets, operas, equipages, and state liveries were old in rapid succession through Lady Julianna's brain, while clubs, curricals, horses, and claret took possession of her husband's mind. However much they differed in the proposed modes of showing off in London, both agreed perfectly in the necessity of going there, and Henry therefore hastened to inform his father of the change in his circumstances, and apprise him of his intention of immediately joining his regiment, the guards. Seven hundred pound a year, exclaimed the old gentleman. Seven hundred pound? Oh, what can you make of that, Siller? You'll surely lay by the half-foot. To torture your bairns. Seven hundred a pound a year for doing nothing. Miss Jackie was afraid, unless they got some person of sense, which would not be an easy matter, to take the management of it, it would perhaps be found little enough in the long run. Miss Grizzie declared it was a very handsome income. Nobody could dispute that. At the same time everybody must allow that the money could not have been better bestowed. Miss Nicky observed there was a great deal of good eating and drinking in seven hundred a year, if people knew how to manage it. All was bustle in preparation throughout Glenford Castle, and the young ladies' good-natured activity and muscular powers were again in requisition to collect the wardrobe and pack the trunks, imperial, etc., of their noble sister. Glenford remarked that fuels were fond of flittin', for they seemed glad to leave the good quarters they were in. Miss Grizzie declared there was a great excuse for their being glad, poor things. Young people were always so fond of a change. At the same time nobody could deny but that it would have been quite natural for them to feel sorry, too. Miss Jackie was astonished how any person's mind could be so callous as to think of leaving Glenford without emotion. Miss Nicky wondered what was to become of the christening cake she had ordered from Perth. It might be as old as the hills before there would be another child born amongst them. The misses were ready to weep at the disappointment of the dreaming bread. In the midst of all this agitation, mental and bodily, the long-looked-for moment arrived. The carriage drove round, ready packed and loaded, and absolutely screaming with delight, Lady Giuliana sprang into it. As she nodded and kissed her hand to the assembled group, she impatiently called for Henry to follow. His adduce were, however, not quite so tonish as those of his high-bred lady, for he went duly and severally through all the evolutions of kissing, embracing, shaking of hands and promises to write, then taking his station by the side of nurse and child, the rest of the carriage being completely filled by the favourites, he bade a long farewell to his paternal halls and the land of his birth. End of Chapter 19. Recording by Patty Cunningham. Chapter 20 of Marriage Volume 1. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Patty Cunningham. Marriage Volume 1 by Susan Edmund Stonefarrier. Chapter 20. For trifles, why should I displease the man I love? For trifles such as these to serious mischiefs lead the man I love, Horace. Bright prospects of future happiness and endless plans of expense floated through Lady Giuliana's brain and kept her temper in some degree of serenity during the journey. Arrived in London, she expressed herself enraptured at being once more in a civilized country and restored to the society of human creatures. An elegant house and suitable establishment were immediately provided, and a thousand dear friends who had completely forgotten her existence were now eager to welcome her to her former haunts and lead her thoughtless and willing steps in the paths of dissipation and extravagance. Soon after their arrival they were visited by General Cameron. It was two o'clock, yet Lady Giuliana had not appeared, and Henry, half stretched upon a sofa, was dawdling over his breakfast with half a dozen newspapers scattered round. The first salutations over, the general demanded, am I not to be favored with the sight of your lady? Is she afraid that I am one of your country relations and taken her flight from the breakfast table in consequence? She has not yet made her appearance, replied Douglas, but I will let her know you are here. I am sure she will be happy to make acquaintance with one to whom I am so much indebted. A message was dispatched to Lady Giuliana, who returned for answer that she would be down immediately. Three quarters of an hour, however, elapsed, and the general, provoked with this inattention and affectation, was preparing to depart when the lady made her appearance. Giuliana, my love, said her husband, let me present you to General Cameron, the generous friend who has acted the part of a father towards me, and to whom you owe all the comforts you enjoy. Lady Giuliana slightly bowed with careless ease, and half uttered a how-do-you-do, very happy indeed, as she glided on to pull the bell for breakfast. Cupid, Cupid, cried she to the dog, who had flown upon the general and was barking most vehemently. Poor darling Cupid, are you almost starved to death? Harry, do give him that muffin on your plate. You are very late to-day, my love, cried the mortified husband. I have been pestered for the last hour with Deval and the court-dresses, and I could not fix on what I should like. I think you might have deferred the ceremony of choosing to another opportunity. General Cameron has been here above an hour. Dear, I hope you did not wait for me. I shall be quite shocked, drawled out her ladyship in a tone denoting how very indifferent the answer would be to her. I beg your ladyship would be under no uneasiness on that account, replied the general, in an ironical tone, which, though lost upon her, was obvious enough to Henry. Have you breakfasted? Asked Lady Giuliana, exerting herself to be polite. Absurd, my love, cried her husband. Do you suppose I should have allowed the general to wait for that, too, all this time, if he had not breakfasted many hours ago? How cross you are this morning, my Harry? I protest, my Cupidan is quite ashamed of Chirque-aux-siarté. A servant now entered to say that Mr. Shagg was come to know her ladyship's final decision about the hammer-cloths, and a new footman was come to be engaged, and the china-merchant was below. Send up one of them at a time, and as to the footman, you may say all have him at once, said Lady Giuliana. I thought you had engaged Mrs. D.'s footman last week. She gave him the best character, did she not? Asked her husband. Oh yes, his character was good enough, but he was a horrid cheat for all that. He called himself five feet nine, and when he was measured, he turned out to be only five feet seven and a half. Sha! exclaimed Henry angrily. What the devil did that signify if the man had a good character? How absurdly you talk, Harry, as if a man's character signified who has nothing to do but stand behind my carriage. A pretty figure he'd make there beside Thomas, who is at least five feet ten. The entrance of Mr. Shagg, bowing and scraping, and laden with cloths, lace, and fringes, interrupted the conversation. Well, Mr. Shagg, cried Lady Giuliana, what's to be done with that odious leopard skin? You must positively take it off my hands. I would rather never go in a carriage again as to show myself in the park with that frightful thing. Certainly, my lady, replied the obsequious Mr. Shagg, anything your ladyship pleases. Your ladyship can have any hammercloth you like, and I have accordingly brought patterns of the very newest fashions for your ladyship to make choice. Here are some uncommon elegant articles at the same time, my lady. Your ladyship must be sensible that it is impossible that we can take back the leopard skin. It was not only cut out to fit your ladyship's coach box, and consequently your ladyship understands it would not fit any other, but the silver feet and crusts have also been affixed quite ready for use, so that the article is quite lost to us. I am confident, therefore, that your ladyship will consider of this and allow it to be put down in your bill. Put it anywhere but on my coach box, and don't bore me," answered Lady Juliana, tossing over all the patterns and humming a tune. What, said her husband, is that the leopard skin you were raving about last week, and you're tired of it before it has been used? And no wonder! Who do you think I saw in the park yesterday, but that old-quizz Lady Denim just come from the country with her frightful old coach set off with a hammercloth precisely like the one I had ordered? Only fancy people saying, Lady Denim sets the fashion for Lady Juliana Douglas. Oh, there's confusion and despair in the thought! Confusion, at least, if not despair, was painted in Henry's face as he saw the General's glance directed alternately with contempt at Lady Juliana and at himself, mingled with pity. He continued to fidget about in all directions while Lady Juliana talked nonsense to Mr. Shagg and wondered if the General never meant to go away. But he calmly kept his ground till the man was dismissed, and another introduced loaded with china jars, monsters, and distorted teapots for the capricious fair one's choice and approbation. Bagged ten thousand pardons, my Lady, for not calling yesterday according to appointment, quite an unforeseen impediment. The Countess of Godolphin had somehow got private intelligence that I had a set of fresh commodities just cleared from the Custom House. And well-knowing such things are not long in hand, her layship came up from the country on purpose. The Countess has so much taste. She drove straight to my warehouse and kept me a close prisoner till after your layship's hour. But I hope it may not be taken amiss seeing that it is not a customary thing with us to be calling on customers, not to mention that this line of goods is not easily transported about. However, I flatter myself the articles now brought for your layship's inspection will not be found beneath your notice. Pleased to observe this choice piece, it represents a Chinese cripple squat on the ground with his legs crossed. Your layship may observe the head and chin advanced forward as in the act of begging. The tea pours from the open mouth, and till your layship tries, you can have no idea of the elegant effect it produces. That is really droll, cried Lady Juliana with a laugh of delight, and I must have the dear sick beggar. He is so deliciously hideous. And here, continued Mr. Brittle, is an amazing delicate article in the way of a jewel, a frog of Turkish agate for burning pastiles in, my lady, just such as they use in the Seroglio, and indeed this one I may call invaluable for it was the favorite toy of one of the widows, Sultana, till she grew devout and gave up perfumes. One of her slaves disposed of it to my foreign partner. Here it opens at the tail where you put in the pastiles, and closing it up, the vapor issues beautifully through the nostrils, eyes, ears, and mouth all at once. Here, sir, turning to Douglas, if you are curious in new workmanship, I would have you examine this. I defy any jeweler in London to come up to the fineness of these hinges, and the delicacy of the carving. Shaw! Damn it! Said Douglas, turning away and addressing some remark to the general, who was provokingly attentive to everything that went on. Here, continued Mr. Brittle, are a set of jars, teapots, mandarins, sea monsters, and pug dogs, all of superior beauty, but such as your ladyship may have seen before. Oh, the dear, dear little puggies, I must have them to amuse my own darlings. I protest, here is one, the image of Psyche, positively I must kiss it. Oh, dear, I am sure, cried Mr. Brittle, simpering and making a conceited bow, your ladyship does it and me too much honour. But here, as I was going to say, is the phoenix of all porcelain wear, the nape-plus-ultra of perfection, what I have kept in my back room concealed from all eyes until your ladyship shall pronounce upon it. Somehow one of my shopmen got word of it and told her Grace of El, who has a pretty taste in these things for a young lady, that I had some particular choice article that I was keeping for a lady that was a favourite of mine. Her Grace was in the shop the matter of a full hour and a half trying to weadle me out of a sight of this rare piece, and I, pretending not to know what her Grace would be after, but showing her thing after thing to put it out of her head, but she was not so easily bubbled, and at last went away ill enough pleased. Now, my lady, prepare all your eyes. He then went to the door and returned, carrying with difficulty a large basket, which till then had been kept by one of his satellites. After removing coverings of all descriptions, an uncouth group of monstrous sighs was displayed, which, on investigation, appeared to be a serpent coiled in regular folds round the body of a tiger placed on end, and the whole structure, which was intended for a vessel of some kind, was formed of the celebrated green-modeled china invaluable to connoisseurs. View that well exclaimed Mr. Brittle in a transport of enthusiasm, for such a specimen not one of half the size has ever been imported to Europe. There is a long story about this, my phoenix, as I call it, but to be brief, it was secretly procured from one of the temples, where gigantic as it may seem, an uncouth for the purpose, it was the idol's principal teapot. Oh, delicious! cried Lady Juliana, clasping her hands in ecstasy. I will give a party for the sole purpose of drinking tea out of this machine, and I will have a whole room fitted up like an Indian temple. Oh, it will be so new! I die to send out my cards. The Duchess of B. told me the other day with such a triumphant air when I was looking at her two little green jars, not a quarter the size of this, that there was not a bit more of that china to be had for lover money. Oh, she will be so provoked! And she absolutely skipped for joy. A loud rap at the door, now announcing a visitor, Lady Juliana ran to the balcony, crying, oh, it must be Lady Gerard, for she promised to call early in the morning that we might go together to a wonderful sale in some far-off place in the city. That whopping, for odd I know. Mr. Brittle, Mr. Brittle, for the love of heaven, carry the dragon into the back-drying-room. I purchase it, remember, make haste. Lady Gerard is not to get a glimpse of it for the world. The servant now entered with a message from Lady Gerard, who would not alight, begging that Lady Juliana would make haste down to her as they had not a moment to lose. She was flying away without further ceremony than a prey, excuse me, to the general, when her husband called after her to know whether the child was gone out, as he wished to show her to the general. I don't know, indeed, replied the fashionable mother. I haven't had time to see her to-day, and before Douglas could reply, she was downstairs. A pause ensued. The general whistled a quick step, and Douglas walked up and down the room in a pitiable state of mind, guessing pretty much what was passing in the mind of his friend, and fully sensible that it must be of a severer nature than anything he could yet allow himself to think of his Juliana. Douglas, said the general, have you made any step towards a reconciliation with your father-in-law? I believe it will become shortly necessary for your support. Juliana wrote twice after her marriage, replied he, but the reception which her letters met with was not such as to encourage perseverance on our part. With regard to myself, it is not an affair in which delicacy will permit me to be very active, as I might be accused of mercenary motives, which I am far from having. Oh, of that I acquit you! But surely it ought to be a matter of moment, even to Lady Juliana. The case is now altered. Time must have accustomed him to the idea of this imaginary affront, and on my honor, if he thought like a gentleman and a man of sense, I know where he would think them as fortunately. Nay, don't interrupt me! The old girl must now, I say, have cooled in his resentment. Perhaps, too, his grandchildren may soften his heart. This must have occurred to you. Has her ladyship taken any further steps since her arrival in town? I believe she has not, but I will put it in her mind. A daughter who requires to have her memory refreshed on such a subject is likely to make a valuable wife, said the general dryly. Douglas felt as if it was incumbent on him to be angry, but remained silent. Hark ye, Douglas, continued the general, I speak this for your interest. You cannot go on without the Earl's help. You know I am not on ceremony with you, and if I refrain from saying what you see I think about your present ruinous mode of life, it is not to spare your feelings, but from a sense of the uselessness of any such remonstrance. What I do give you is with good will, but all my fortune would not suffice to furnish pug-dogs and deformed teapots for such officiated taste, and if it would, hang me if I should. But enough on this head. The Earl has been in bad health, and has lately come to town. His son too, and his lady, are come about the same time, and are to reside with him during the season. I have heard Lord Lindor spoken of as a good-natured, easy man, and he would probably interwillingly into any scheme to reinstate his sister into his father's good graces. Think of this, and make what you can of it, and my particular advice to you personally is, try to exchange into a marching regiment for a fellow like you with such a wife, London is the very devil, and so good morning to you. He snatched up his hat, and was off in a moment. End of Chapter 20, recording by Patty Cunningham. Chapter 21, of Marriage Volume 1. This Libber Box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Patty Cunningham. Marriage Volume 1, by Susan Edmundstone Ferrier. Chapter 21. To reckon up a thousand of her pranks, her pride, her wasteful spending, her unkindness, her scolding, pouting, were to reap an endless catalog. Old play. When Lady Juliana returned from her expedition, it was so late that Douglas had not time to speak to her, and separate engagements carrying them different ways, he had no opportunity to do so until the following morning at breakfast. He then resolved no longer to defer what he had to say, and began by reproaching her with the cavalier manner in which she had behaved to his good friend the General. Upon my life, Harry, you are grown perfectly savage, cried his lady. I was most particularly civil. I wonder what you would have me do. You know very well I cannot have anything to say to old men of that sort. I think, returned Henry, you might have been gratified by making an acquaintance with my benefactor, and the man to whom you owe the enjoyment of your favorite pleasures. At any rate, you need not have made yourself ridiculous. May I perish if I did not wish myself underground while you were talking nonsense to those sneaking rascals who weedle you out of your money. Stealth, I had a good mind to throw them and their trumpery out of the window when I saw you make such a fool of yourself. A fool of myself? How foolishly you talk! And as for that vulgar, awkward General, he ought to have been too much flattered. Some of the monsters were so like himself, I am sure he must have thought I took them for the love of his round-bear-pate. Upon my soul, Julia, I am ashamed of you. Do leave off this excessive folly and try to be rational. What I particularly wish to say to you is that your father is in town, and it will be proper that you should make another effort to be reconciled to him. I dare say it will," answered Lady Juliana with a yawn. And you must lose no time. When will you write? There's no use in writing, or indeed doing anything in the matter. I am sure he won't forgive me. And why not? Oh, why should he do it now? He did not forgive me when I asked him before. And do you think, then, for a father's forgiveness it is not worthwhile to have a little perseverance? I am sure he won't do it. So tis in vain to try," repeated she, going to the glass and singing, Papa Nandite dino, et cetera. By heavens, Julia, writer-husband passionately, your past all endurance. Can nothing touch you? Nothing fix your thoughts, and make you serious for a single moment? Can I not make you understand that you are ruining yourself and me, that we have nothing to depend upon but the bounty of that man whom you discussed by your caprice, extravagance, and impertinence, and that if you don't get reconciled to your father, what is to become of you? You already know what you have to expect from my family, and how you like living with them. Heaven's, Harry, exclaimed her ladyship. What is all this tirade about? Is it because I said Papa wouldn't forgive me? I'm sure I don't mind writing to him. I have no objection the first leisure moment I have. But really, in town, one's time is so engrossed. At this moment her maid entered in triumph, carrying on her arms a satin dress embroidered with golden flowers. See, my lady, cried she, your new robe, as Madame has sent home half a day sooner than her word, and she has disabliged several of the quality by not giving the pattern. Oh, lovely, charming, spread it out, Gage. Hold it to the light. All my own fancy. Oh, look, Harry, how exquisite, how divine! Harry had no time to express his contempt for embroidered robes, for just then one of his knowing friends came by appointment to accompany him to Tattersall's, where he was to bid for a famous pair of caracal grays. He's passed on without Lady Julianna's ever thinking it worthwhile to follow her husband's advice about applying to her father, until a week after Douglas overheard the following conversation between his wife and one of her acquaintance. You are going to this grand fet, of course, said Mrs. G. I am told it is to eclipse everything that has been yet seen or heard of. Of what fet do you speak, demanded Lady Julianna? Lord, my dear creature, how gothic you are! Don't you know anything about this grand affair that everybody has been talking of for two days? Lady Lindor gives, at your father's house, an entertainment which is to be a concert, ball, and masquerade at once. All London is asked of any distinction, sa, sin, tend. But bless me, I beg pardon, I totally forgot that you were not on the best terms possible in that quarter. But never mind, we must have you go. There is not a person of fashion that will stay away. I must get you asked. I shall petition Lady Lindor in your favour. O pray, don't trouble yourself, cried Lady Julianna, in extreme pique. I believe I can get this done without your obliging interference, but I don't know whether I shall be in town then. From this moment Lady Julianna resolved to make a vigorous effort to regain a footing in her father's house. Her first action the next morning was to write to her brother, who had hitherto kept aloof, because he could not be at the trouble of having a difference with the Earl, in treating him to use his influence in promoting a reconciliation between her father and herself. No answer was returned for four days, at the end of which time Lady Julianna received the following note from her brother. Dear Julia, I quite agree with you in thinking that you have been kept long enough in the corner, and shall certainly tell papa that you are ready to become a good girl whenever he shall please to take you out of it. I shall endeavour to see Douglas and you soon, yours affectionately, Lindor. Lady Lindor desires me to say you can have tickets for her ball if you choose to come in mask. Lady Julianna was delighted with this billet, which she protested was everything that was kind and generous. But the post-script was the part on which she dwelt with the greatest delight, as she repeatedly declared it was a great deal more than she expected. You see, Harry, said she, as she tossed the note to him, I was in the right. Papa won't forgive me, but Lindor says he will send me a ticket for the FET. It is vastly attentive of him, for I did not ask it, but I must go disguised, which is monstrous provoking, for I'm afraid nobody will know me. A dispute here ensued. Henry swore she should not steal into her father's house as long as she was his wife. The lady insisted that she should go to her brother's FET when she was invited. And the altercations ended, as altercations commonly do, leaving both parties more wedded to their own opinion than at first. In the evening Lady Julianna went to a large party, and as she was passing from one room into another she was startled by a little paper pellet thrown at her. Turning round to look for the offender, she saw her brother standing at a little distance, smiling at her surprise. This was the first time she had seen him for two years, and she went up to him with an extended hand, while he gave her a familiar nod and a how'd you do, Julia, and one finger of his hand, while he turned round to speak to one of his companions. Nothing could be more characteristic of both parties than this fraternal meeting, and from this time they were the best friends imaginable. CHAPTER XXII A few days before the expected FET, Lady Julianna, at the instigation of her advisor Lady Gerard, resolved upon taking the field against the Duchess of El. Her grace had issued cards for a concert, and after mature deliberation it was decided that her rival should strike out something new and announce a christening for the same night. The first intimation Douglas had of the honour intended him by this arrangement was through the medium of the newspaper, for the husband and wife were now much too fashionable to be at all au fait of each other's schemes. His first emotion was to be extremely surprised, the next to be exceedingly displeased, and the last to be highly gratified at the eclat with which his child was to be made a Christian. True he had intended requesting the general to act as Godfather upon the occasion, but Lady Julianna protested she would rather the child never should be christened at all, which already seemed nearly to have been the case, than to have that cross vulgar-looking man to stand sponsor. Her ladyship, however, so far conceded that the general was to have the honour of giving his name to the next, if a boy, for she was now near her second confinement, and with this promise Henry was satisfied to slight the only being in the world to whom he looked for support to himself and his children. In the utmost delight the fawn mother drove away to consult her confidance upon the name and decorations of the child whom she had not even looked at for many days. Everything succeeded to admiration amid crowds of spectators in all the pomp of lace and satin, surrounded by princes and peers, and handed from duchesses to countesses, the twin daughter of Henry Douglas and the heroine of future story, became a Christian by the names of Adelaide Julia. Some months previous to this event Lady Julianna had received a letter from Mrs. Douglas, informing her of the rapid improvement that had taken place in her little charge, and requesting to know by what name she should have her christened, at the same time gently insinuating her wish that, in compliance with the custom of the country, and as a compliment due to the family, it should be named after his parental grandmother. Lady Julianna glanced over the first line of the letter, then looked at the signature, resolved to read the rest as soon as she should have time to answer it, and in the meantime tossed it into a drawer amongst old visiting cards and unpaid bills. After vainly waiting for an answer, much beyond the accustomed time when children are baptized, Mrs. Douglas could no longer refuse to accede to the desires of the venerable inmates of Glenfern, and about a month before her favorite sister received her more elegant appellations, the neglected twin was baptized by the name of Mary. Mrs. Douglas's letter had been enclosed in the following one from Miss Grizzly, and as it had not the good fortune to be perused by the person to whom it was addressed, we deem it but justice to the writer to insert it here. Glenfern Castle July 30th, 17. My dearest niece, Lady Julianna, I am certain, as indeed we all are, that it will afford your ladyship and our dear nephew the greatest pleasure to see this letter, franked by our worthy and respectable friends Sir Samson McLaughlin, Bart, especially as it is the first he has ever franked, out of compliment to you as I assure you he admires you excessively, as indeed we all do. At the same time, you will, of course, I am sure, sympathize with us all in the distress occasioned by the melancholy death of our late most obliging member, Duncan, Medinsmure, Esquire, of Dunacrog, and Achnegoil, who you never have had the pleasure of seeing. What renders his death particularly distressing is that Lady McLaughlin is of the opinion it was entirely owing to eating raw oysters and damp feet. This ought to be a warning to all young people to take care of wet feet, and especially eating raw oysters which are certainly highly dangerous, particularly where there is any tendency to gout. I hope, my dear niece, you have got a pair of stout walking shoes and that both Henry and you remember to change your feet after walking. I am told raw oysters are much the fashion in London at present, but when this fatal event comes to be known it will, of course, alarm people very much, and put them upon their guard both as to damp feet and raw oysters. Lady McLaughlin is in high spirits at Sir Samson's success, though at the same time I assure you she felt much for the distress of poor Mr. Medinsmure, and had sent him a large box of pills and a bottle of gout tincture only two days before he died. This will be a great thing for you and especially for Henry, my dear niece, as Sir Samson and Lady McLaughlin are going to London directly to take his seat in Parliament, and she will make a point of paying you every attention and will matronize you to the play and any other public places you may wish to go. As both my sisters and I are of the opinion you are rather young to matronize yourself yet, and you could not get a more respectable matron than Lady McLaughlin. I hope Harry won't take it amiss if Sir Samson does not pay him so much attention as he might expect, but he says that he will not be master of a moment of his own time in London. He will be so much taken up with the King and the Duke of York that he is afraid he will disablige a great number of the nobility by it, besides injuring his own health by such constant application to business. He is to make a very fine speech in Parliament, but it is not yet fixed what his first motion is to be upon. He himself wishes to move for a new subsidy to the Emperor of Germany, but Lady McLaughlin is of opinion that it would be better to bring in a bill for building a bridge over the water of Dylen, which to be sure is very much wanted, as a horse and cart were drowned at the Ford last beat. We are all, I am happy to say, in excellent health. Becky is recovering from the measles as well as could be finished, and the rose is quite gone out of Bella's face. Beanie has been prevented from finishing a most beautiful pair of bottle sliders for your ladyship by a wit low, but it is now mending and I hope it will be done in time to go with Babby's face carpet, which is extremely elegant, by Sir S. and Lady McLaughlin. This place is in great beauty at present, and the new buyer is completely finished. My sisters and I regret excessively that Henry and you should have seen Glenfern to such disadvantage, but when next you favour us with a visit, I hope it will be in summer, and the new buyer you will think of prodigious improvement. Our dear little grand-niece is in great health and much improved. We reckon her extremely like our family, particularly Becky, though she has a great look of Bella at the same time, then she laughs. Excuse the shortness of this letter, my dear niece, as I shall write a much longer one by Lady McLaughlin. In time I remain, my dear Juliana, yours and Henry's most affectionate aunt, Grisel Douglas. In spite of her husband's remonstrance, Lady Juliana persisted in her resolution of attending her sister-in-law's mask ball, from which she returned, worn out with amusement, and surfeted with pleasure, protesting all the while she doddled over her evening breakfast the following day, that there was nobody in the world so much to be envied as Lady Lindor. Such jewels, such dresses, such a house, such a husband, so easy and good-natured and rich and generous. She was sure Lindor did not care what his wife did. She might give what parties she pleased, go where she liked, spend as much money as she chose, and he would never trouble his head about the matter. She was quite certain Lady Lindor had not a single thing to wish for. Ergo! She must be the happiest woman in the world. All this was addressed to Henry, who had, however, attained the happy art of not hearing above one word out of a hundred that happened to fall from the angel lips of his adored Julia, and having finished the newspapers, and made himself acquainted with all the blood-horses, thoroughbred fillies and brood-mears therein set forth, with a yawn and whistle sauntered away to G's to look at the last regulation epaulettes. Not long after, as Lady Juliana was stepping into the carriage that was to whirl her to Bond Street, she was met by her husband, who with a solemnity of manner that would have startled any one but his volatile lady, requested she would return with him into the house as he wished to converse with her upon a subject of some importance. He prevailed on her to return upon condition he would not detain her above five minutes. When, shutting the drying-room doors, he said with earnestness, I think, Julia, you were talking of Lady Lindor this morning. Applied me by repeating what you said as I was reading the papers, and really did not attend much to what passed. Her ladyship, in extreme surprise, wondered how Harry could be so tiresome and absurd as to stop her airing for any such purpose. She really did not know what she said. How could she? It was more than an hour ago. Well, then, say what you think of her now, cried Douglas impatiently. Think of her! Why, what all the world must think, that she is the happiest woman in it? She looked so uncommonly well last night and was in such spirits in her fancy dress before she masked. After that I quite lost sight of her. As everyone else has done, she has not been seen since. Her favorite St. Ledger is missing, too, and there is hardly a doubt but that they are gone off together. Even Lady Juliana was shocked at this intelligence, though the folly more than the wickedness of the thing seemed to strike her mind. But Henry was no nice observer, and was therefore completely satisfied with the disapprobation she expressed for her sister-in-law's conduct. I am so sorry for poor dear Lindor, said Lady Juliana, after having exhausted herself in invectives against his wife. Such a generous creature is he to be used in such a manner. It is quite shocking to think of it. If he had been an ill-natured stingy wretch, it would have been nothing. But Frederick is such a noble-hearted fellow. I daresay he would give me a thousand pounds if I were to ask him, for he don't care about money. Lord Lindor takes the matter very coolly, understand, replied her husband. But don't be alarmed, dear Julia. Your father has suffered a little from the violence of his feelings. He has had a sort of epileptic fit, but is not considered an immediate danger. Lady Juliana burst into tears, desired the carriage might be put up, as she should not go out, and even declared her intention of abstaining from Mrs. D.'s assembly that evening. Henry warmly commended the extreme propriety of these measures, and not to be outdone in greatness of mind, most heroically sent an apology to a grand military dinner at the Duke of Wise, observing at the same time that in the present state of the family, one or two friends to a quiet family dinner was as much as they should be up to. CHAPTER XXIII I bet purpose to embark with thee, on the smooth surface of a summer sea, while gentle zephyrs play in prosperous gales and fortune's favour fills the swelling sails. HENRY AND EMMA How long these voluntary sacrifices to duty and propriety might have been made it would be most difficult to guess. But Lady Juliana's approaching confinement rendered her seclusion more and more a matter of necessity, and shortly after these events took place she presented her delighted husband with a son. Henry lost no time in announcing the birth of his child to General Cameron, and at the same time requesting he would stand Godfather and give his name to the child. The answer was as follows. HORT LODGE BERKS Dear Henry, by this time twelve months I hope it will be my turn to communicate to you a similar event in my family to that which your letter announces to me. As a preliminary step I am just about to march into quarters for life with a young woman, daughter to my steward. She is healthy, good-humoured, and of course vulgar, since she is no connoisseur in China and never spoke to a pug-dog in her life. Your allowance will be remitted regularly from my banker until the day of my death. You will then succeed to ten thousand pounds secured to your children, which is all you have to expect from me. If after this you think it worth your while, you are very welcome to give your son the name of yours faithfully, William Cameron. Henry's consternation at the contents of this epistle was almost equaled by Juliana's indignation. The daughter of his steward, heavens! It made her sick to think of it. It was too shocking. The man ought to be shut up. Henry ought to prevent him from disgracing his connections in such a manner. There lot to be a law against old men marrying. And young one's too, grown Douglas, as he thought of the debts he had contracted on the faith and credit of being the general's heir, for which all the sanguine presumption of thoughtless youth and buoyant spirits, Henry had no sooner found his fault forgiven than he immediately fancied it forgotten and himself completely restored to favor. His friends and the world were of the same opinion, and as the future possessor of immense wealth he found nothing so easy as to borrow money and contract debts which he now saw the impossibility of ever discharging. Until he flattered himself the general might only mean to frighten him, or he might relent, or the marriage might go off, or he might not have any children, and with these mighty hopes things went on as usual for some time longer. Lady Juliana, who, to do her justice, was not of a more desponding character than her husband, had also her stock of hopes and expectations always ready to act upon. She was quite sure that if Papa ever came to his senses, for he had remained in a state of stupefaction since the epileptic stroke, he would forgive her and take her to live with him now that that vile lady Lindor was gone, or if he should never recover she was equally sure of benefiting by his death, for though he had said he was not to leave her a shilling she did not believe it. She was sure Papa would never do anything so cruel, and at any rate if he did, Lindor was so generous he would do something very handsome for her, and so forth. At length the bubbles burst. That same paper that stated the marriage of General William Cameron to Judith's broadcast, Spinster, announced in all the dignity of Woe the death of that most revered noble man and imminent statesman, Augustus Earl of Cortland. In weak minds it has generally been remarked that no medium can be maintained. Where hope holds her dominion, she is too buoyant to be accompanied by her anchor, and between her and despair there are no graduations. Desperate indeed now became the condition of the misjudging pair. Lady Juliana's name was not even mentioned in her father's will, and the General's marriage rendered his settlements no longer a secret. In all the horrors of desperation Henry now found himself daily beset by creditors of every description. At length the fatal blow came. Horses, carriages, everything they could call their own, were seized. The term for which they held the house was expired, and they found themselves on the point of being turned into the street. When Lady Juliana, who had been for two days as her woman expressed it, out of one fit into another, suddenly recovered strength to signify her desire of being conveyed to her brother's house. A hackney coach was procured into which the hapless victim of her own follies was carried. Shuddering with disgust, and accompanied by her children and their attendants, she was set down at the noble mansion from whence she had fled two years before. Her brother, whom she fortunately found at home lolling upon a sofa with a new novel in his hand, received her without any marks of surprise. Said those things happened every day. Part kept in Douglas would contrive to get himself extricated from this slight embarrassment, and informed his sister that she was welcome to occupy her old apartments, which had been lately fitted up for Lady Lindor. Then ringing the bell, he desired the housekeeper might show Lady Juliana upstairs, and put the children in the nursery, mention that he generally dined at eight o'clock, and nodding to his sister as she quitted the room, returned to his book as if nothing had occurred to disturb him from it. In ten minutes, after her entrance into Cortland House, Lady Juliana had made greater advances in religion and philosophy than she had done in the whole nineteen years of her life. For she not only perceived that out of evil cometh good, but was perfectly ready to admit that all is for the best, and that whatever is, is right. How lucky it is for me exclaimed she to herself as she surveyed the splendid suite of apartments that were destined for her accommodation. How very fortunate that things have turned out as they have done, that Lady Lindor should have run off, and that the General's marriage should have taken place just at the time of Port Papaz's death. And in short, Lady Juliana set no bounds to herself graduations on the happy turn of affairs which had brought about this change in her situation. To a heart not wholly devoid of feeling, and a mind capable of anything like reflection, the desolate appearance of this magnificent mansion would have excited emotions of a very different nature. The apartments of the late Earl, with their wide extended doors and windows, sheeted furniture, and air of dreary order, exhibited that waste and chilling aspect which marks the chambers of death, and even Lady Juliana shuddered, she knew not why, as she passed through them. Those of Lady Lindor presented a picture not less striking, could her thoughtless successor have profited by the lesson they offered. Here was all that the most capricious fancy, the most boundless extravagance, the most refined luxury, could wish for or suggest. The bed-chamber, dressing-room, and boudoir, were each fitted up in a style that seemed rather suited for the pleasures of an eastern sultana or Grecian courtesan than for the domestic comfort of a British matron. I wonder how Lady Lindor could find in her heart to leave this delicious boudoir, observed Lady Juliana to the old housekeeper. I rather wonder, my lady, how she could find in her heart to leave these pretty babies, returned the good woman, as a little boy came running into the room calling, Mama, Mama! Lady Juliana had nothing to say to children beyond how you do love, and the child, after regarding her for a moment with a look of disappointment, ran away back to his nursery. When Lady Juliana had fairly settled herself in her new apartments, and the tumult of delight began to subside, it occurred to her that something must be done for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands of a brother-officer in a state little short of distraction. She accordingly went in search of her brother, to request his advice in assistance, and found him, it being nearly dark, trying to set out on his morning's ride. Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law, he declared himself ready to assist Mr. Douglas as far as he was able, but he had just learned from his people of business that his own affairs were somewhat involved. The late Earl had expended enormous sums on political purposes. Lady Lindor had run through a prodigious deal of money, he believed, and he himself had some debts, amounting, he was told, to seventy thousand pounds. Lady Juliana was all aghast at this information, which was delivered with the most perfect nonchalance by the Earl while he amused himself with his Newfoundland dog. Unable to conceal her disappointment at these effects of her brother's liberality and generosity, Lady Juliana burst into tears. The Earl's sensibility was akin to his generosity. He gave money, or rather allowed it to be taken, freely when he had it, from indolence and easiness of temper. He hated the sight of distress in any individual because it occasioned trouble, and was, in short, a bore. He therefore made haste to relieve his sister's alarm by assuring her that these were mere trifles, that, as for Douglas's affairs, he would order his agent to arrange everything in his name, hope to have the pleasure of seeing him at dinner, recommended to his sister to have some pheasant pies for luncheon, and, calling Carlo, set out upon his ride. However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified and disappointed at learning the state of her brother's finances, she began, by degrees, to extract the greatest consolation from the comparative insignificance of her own debts to those of the Earl, and, accordingly, in high spirits at this newly discovered and judicious source of comfort, she dispatched the following note to her husband. Dear as Henry, I have been received in the kindest manner imaginable by Frederick, and have been put in possession of my old apartments which are so much altered I should never have known them. They were furnished by Lady Lindor, who really has a divine taste. I long to show you all the delights of this abode. Frederick desired me to say that he expects to see you here at dinner, and that he will take charge of paying all our bills whenever he gets money. Only think of his owing a hundred thousand pounds, besides all papa's and Lady Lindor's debts. I assure you I was almost ashamed to tell him of ours they sounded so trifling, but it is quite a relief to find other people so much worse. Indeed, I always thought it quite natural for us to run in debt considering that we had no money to pay anything, while Cortland, who was as rich as a Jew, is so hampered. I shall expect you at eight. Until then, adieu, mi acaro. Your Julie. I am quite wretched about you. This tender and consolatory billet Henry had not the satisfaction of receiving, having been arrested shortly after his wife's departure at the suit of Mr. Shag, for the sum of two thousand some odd hundreds, for carriage's job, bought, exchanged, repaired, earned, etc. Lady Juliana's horror and dismay at the news of her husband's arrest were excessive. Her only ideas of confinement were taken from those pictures of the Bastille and Inquisition that she had read so much of in French and German novels, and the idea of a prison was indissolubly united in her mind with bread and water, chains and straw, dungeons and darkness. Even selfish, therefore, as she might be, she was not yet so wholly void of all natural feeling as to think with indifference of the man she had once fondly loved reduced to such a pitiable condition. Almost frantic at the phantom of her own creation, she flew to her brother's apartment, and in the wildest and most incoherent manner besought him to rescue her poor Henry from chains and a dungeon. With some difficulty Lord Cortland at length apprehended the extent of his brother-in-law's misfortune, and with his usual sang-froid, smiled at his sister's simplicity, assured her the king's bench was the pleasantest place in the world that some of his own most particular friends were there who gave capital dinners and led the most desirable lives imaginable. And will he really not be fed on bread and water and wear chains and sleep upon straw, as the tender wife and the utmost surprise and delight? Oh, then! He is not so much to be pitied, though I dare say he would rather get out of prison, too. The Earl promised to obtain his release the following day, and Lady Juliana returned to her toilette with a much higher opinion of prisons than she had ever entertained before. Lord Cortland, for once in his life, was punctual to his promise, and even interested himself so thoroughly in Douglas's affairs, though without inquiring into any particulars, as to take upon himself the discharge of his debts, and to procure leave for him to exchange into a regimen of the line, then under orders for India. Upon hearing of this arrangement, Lady Juliana's grief and despair as usual set all reason at defiance. She would not suffer her dear, dear Harry to leave her. She knew she could not live without him. She was sure she should die. And Harry would be seasick and grow so yellow and so ugly that when he came back she should never have any comfort in him again. Henry, who had never doubted her readiness to accompany him, immediately hastened to assuage her anguish by assuring her that it had always been his intention to take her along with him. That was worse and worse. She wondered how he could be so barbarous and absurd as to think of her leaving all her friends and going to live among savages. She had done a great deal in living so long contentedly with him in Scotland, but she never could, nor would, make such another sacrifice. Besides, she was sure poor Cortland could not do without her. She knew he never would marry again. And who would take care of his dear children and educate them properly if she did not? It would be too ungrateful to desert Frederick after all he had done for them. The pride of the man, as much as the affection of the husband, was irritated by this resistance to this will, and a violent scene of reproach and recrimination terminated in an eternal farewell. CHAPTER XXIV In age, in infancy, from others' aid is all our hope. To teach us to be kind—that is nature's first, last lesson—young. The neglected daughter of Lady Juliana Douglas experienced all the advantages naturally to be expected from her change of situation. Her watchful aunt superintended the years of her infancy, and all that a tender and judicious mother could do—all that most mothers think they do—she performed. Miss Douglas, though not a woman either of words or systems, possessed a reflecting mind, and a heart formed with benevolence towards everything that had a being. And all the best feelings of her nature were excited by the little outcast thus abandoned by her unnatural parent. As she pressed the unconscious babe to her bosom, she thought how blessed she should have been had a child of her own thus filled her arms. But the reflection called forth no selfish murmurs from her chasen spirit. While the tear of soft regret trembled in her eye, that eye was yet raised in gratitude to heaven for having called forth those delightful affections which might otherwise have slumbered in her heart. Mrs. Douglas had read much, and reflected more, and many faultless theories of education had floated in her mind. But her good sense soon discovered how unavailing all theories were whose foundations rested upon the inferred wisdom of the teacher, and how intricate and unwieldy must be the machinery for the human mind where the human hand alone is to guide and uphold it. To engraft into her infant soul the purest principles of religion was therefore the chief aim of Mary's perceptress. The fear of God was the only restraint imposed upon her dawning intellect, and from the Bible alone was she taught the duties of morality. Not in the form of a dry coat of laws to be read with a solemn face on Sundays, or learned with weeping eyes as a weekday task, but adapted to her youthful capacity by judicious illustration, and familiarized to her taste by hearing its stories and precepts from the lips she best loved. Mrs. Douglas was the friend and confidant of her pupil. To her all her hopes and fears, wishes and dreads were confided. And the first effort of her reason was the discovery that to please her aunt, she must study to please her maker. Les nutulités de la vie défend et la promesseur de l'œil des sores. Mrs. Douglas was fully convinced of the truth of this observation, and that the mere selfish cares and vulgar bustle of life are not sufficient to satisfy the immortal soul, however they may serve to engross it. A portion of Mary's time was therefore devoted to the daily practice of the great duties of life, in administering in some shape or other to the wants and misfortunes of her fellow creatures, without requiring from them that their virtues should have been immaculate or expecting that their gratitude should be everlasting. It is better, thought Mrs. Douglas, that we should sometimes be deceived by others than that we should learn to deceive ourselves, and the charity and goodwill that has suffered to lie dormant, or feed itself on speculative acts of beneficence, for want of proper objects to call it into use, will soon become the corroding rust that will destroy the best feelings of our nature. But although Mary strenuously applied herself to the uses of life, its embellishments were by no means neglected. She was happily endowed by nature, and under the judicious management of her aunt, made rapid though unaustentatious progress in the improvement of the talents committed to her care. Without having been blessed with the advantages of a dancing master, her step was light and her motions free and graceful. And if her aunt had not been able to impart to her the favorite graces of the most fashionable singer of the day, neither had she thwarted the efforts of her own natural taste in forming a style full of simplicity and feeling. In the modern languages she was perfectly skilled, and if her drawings wanted the enlivening touches of the master to give them effect, as an atonement, they displayed a perfect knowledge of the rules of perspective and the study of the bust. All this was, however, mere leather and pranella to the ladies of Glenfern, and many were the cogitations and consultations that took place in the subject of Mary's mismanagement. According to their ideas there could be but one good system of education, and that was the one that had been pursued with them, and through them transmitted to their nieces. To attend the parish church and remember the text, to observe who was there and who was not there, and to wind up the evening with a sermon stuttered and stammered through by one of the girls, the worst reader always piously selected for the purpose of improving their reading, and particularly addressed to the Laird openly and avowedly snoring in his arm-chair, though at every pause starting up with a peevish wheel? This was the sum total of their religious duties. Their moral virtues were much upon the same scale, to knit stockings, scold servants, cement china, trim bonnets, lecture the poor, and look up to Lady MacLachlan, comprise nearly their whole code. But these were the virtues of ripened years and enlarged understandings which their pupils might hope to arrive at but could not presume to meddle with. Their merits consisted in being compelled to sow certain large proportions of white work, learning to read and write in the worst manner, occasionally wearing a collar and learning the notes on the spinet. These acquirements, accompanied with a great deal of lecturing and fault-finding, sufficed for the first fifteen years, when the two next, passed at a provincial boarding school, were supposed to impart every graceful accomplishment to which women could attain. Mrs. Douglas's method of conveying instruction, it may easily be imagined, did not square with their ideas on that subject. They did nothing themselves without a bustle. And to do a thing quietly was to them the same as not doing it at all. It could not be done, for nobody had ever heard of it. In short, like many other worthy people, their ears were their only organs of intelligence. They believed everything they were told. But unless they were told, they believed nothing. They had never heard Mrs. Douglas expatiate on the importance of the trust reposed in her, or enlarge on the difficulties of female education, ergo, Mrs. Douglas could have no idea of the nature of the duties she had undertaken. Their visits to Lockmarly only served to confirm the fact. Miss Jackie de Pône, that during the month she was there, she never could discover when or how it was that Mary got her lessons. Luckily, the child was quick, and had contrived poor thing, to pick up things wonderfully, nobody knew how, for it was really astonishing to see how little pains were bestowed upon her. And the worst of it was that she seemed to do just as she liked, for nobody ever heard her reproved, and everybody knew that young people never could have enough said to them. All this differed widely from the eclat of their system, and could not fail of causing great disquiet to the sisters. I declare I'm quite confounded at all this, said Miss Grizzy, at the conclusion of Miss Jackie's communication. It really appears as if Mary, poor thing, was getting no education at all. And yet she can do things, too. I can't understand it. And it's very odd in Mrs. Douglas to allow her to be so much neglected, for certainly Mary's constantly with herself, which to be sure shows that she is very much spoilt, for although our girls are as fond of us as I am sure any creatures can be, yet at the same time, they are always very glad, which is quite natural, to run away from us. I think it's high time Mary had done something fit to be seen, said Miss Nicky. She is now sixteen past. Most girls of Mary's time of life that ever I had anything to do with, replied Jackie, with a certain wave of the head, peculiar to sensible women, had something to show before her age. Bella had worked the globe long before she was sixteen, and Baby did her filigree tea-caddy the first quarter she was at Miss McWalk's, glancing with triumph from the one which hung over the mantelpiece to the other which stood on the tea table shrouded in a green bag. And to be sure rejoined Grizzy, although Betsy's screen did cost a great deal of money, that can't be denied, and her father certainly grudged it very much at the time, there's no doubt of that. Yet certainly it does her the greatest credit, and it is a great satisfaction to us all to have these things to show. I am sure nobody would ever think that ass was made of crepe, and how naturally it seems to be eating the beautiful chenille thistle. I declare I think the ass is as like an ass as anything can be. And as to Mary's drawing continued the narrator of her deficiencies. There is not one of them fit for framing. Mere scratches with a chalk pencil, what any child might do. And to think, said Nicky, with indignation, how little Mrs. Douglas seemed to think of the handsome colored views the girls did at Miss McWalk's. All our girls have the greatest genius for drawing, observed Grizzy. There can be no doubt of that. But it's a thousand pitties, I'm sure, that none of them seem to like it. To be sure they say, what I dare say is very true, that they can't get such good paper as they got at Miss McWalk's. But they have showed that they can do, for their drawings are quite astonishing. Somebody lately took them to be Mr. Touch-Up's own doing. And I'm sure there couldn't be a greater compliment than that. I represented all that to Mrs. Douglas and urged her very strongly to give Mary the benefit of at least a quarter of Miss McWalk's, were it only for the sake of her carriage, or at least to make her wear our collar. This was the tenderest of all themes, and bursts of sorrowful exclamations ensued. The collar had long been a galling yoke upon their minds. Its iron had entered into their very soul, for it was a collar presented to the family of Glenfern by the wisest, virtuousest, best of women and of grandmothers, the good Lady Gernickal, and had been worn in regular rotation by every female of the family, till now that Mrs. Douglas positively refused to subject Mary's pliant form to its thralldom. Even the Laird, albeit no connoisseur in any shape saved those of his kind, was of opinion that since the thing was in the house, it was a pity it should be lost. Not Venus's girdle even was supposed to confer greater charms than a Gernickle collar. It's really most distressing, said Miss Grizzie to her friend Lady MacLachlan. Mary's back won't be worth a farthing, and we have always been quite famous for our back. That's the reason people are always so glad to see them, child. With regard to Mary's looks opinions were not so decided. Mrs. Douglas thought her what she was, an elegant, interesting looking girl. The Laird, as he peered at her over his spectacles, pronounced her to be but a shilpit thing, though well enough, considering the Nairdwells that were ought her. Miss Jackie O'Pine, that she would have been quite a different creature had she been brought her like any other girl. Miss Grizzie did not know what to think. She certainly was pretty, nobody could dispute that. At the same time, many people would prefer Bella's looks, and Baby was certainly uncommonly cumbly. Miss Nicky thought it was no wonder she looked pale sometimes. She never sucked her broth in a wise-like way at dinner, and it was a shame to hear of a girl of Mary's age being set up with tea to her breakfast, and wearing white petticoats in winter. And such roads, too! Lady MacLachlan pronounced—and that was next to a special revelation—that the girl would be handsome when she was forty, not a day sooner, and she would be clever, for her mother was a fool. Even foolish mothers always had wise children and vice-versa. And your mother was a very clever woman, girls! Thus passed the early years of the almost-forgotten twin, blessed in the warm affection and mild authority of her more than mother. Sometimes Mrs. Douglas half-formed the wish that her beloved pupil should mix in society and become known to the world. But once she reflected on the dangers of that world and on the little solid happiness its pleasures afford, she repressed the wish, and only prayed she might be allowed to rest secure in the simple pleasures she then enjoyed. Happiness is not a plant of this earth, she said to herself with a sigh. But God gives peace and tranquility to the virtuous in all situations, and under every trial. Let me then strive to make Mary virtuous, and leave the rest to him who alone knoweth what is good for us. CHAPTER XXV. The immortal line insures succession reigns, the fortune of the family remains, and Grandsire's grandsons the long list contains. Dryden's Virgil. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with asleep. Tempest. But Mary's back and Mary's complexion now cease to be the first objects of interest at Glenfern, for, to the inexpressible delight and amazement of the sisters, Mrs. Douglas, after due warning, became the mother of a son. How this event had been brought about without the intervention of Lady MacLachlan was past the powers of Miss Grizzie's comprehension. To the last moment they had been skeptical, for Lady MacLachlan had shook her head and humphed whenever the subject was mentioned. For several months they had therefore vibrated between their own sanguine hopes and their oracles' disheartening doubts, and even when the truth was manifest, a sort of vague tremor took possession of their mind as to what Lady MacLachlan would think of it. I declare, I don't very well know how to announce this happy event to Lady MacLachlan," said Miss Grizzie, as she sat in a ruminating posture with her pen in her hand. It will give her the greatest pleasure, I know that. She has such a regard for our family, she would go to any lengths for us. At the same time, everybody must be sensible, it is a delicate matter to tell a person of Lady MacLachlan's skill they have been mistaken. I'm sure I don't know how she may take it. And yet she can't suppose it will make any difference in our sentiments for her. She must be sensible, we have all the greatest respect for her opinion. The wisest people are sometimes mistaken," observed Miss Jackie. I'm sure Jackie, that's very true," said Grizzie, brightening up at the brilliancy of this remark, and it's better she should have been mistaken than Mrs. Douglas, followed up Miss Nicky. I declare, Nicky, you are perfectly right, and I shall just say so at once to Lady MacLachlan. The epistle was forthwith commenced by the enlightened Grizzelda. Miss Joan applied herself to the study of the whole duty of man, which she was determined to make herself mistress of, for the benefit of her grand-nephew, and Miss Nicholas fell to reckoning all who could, would, or should be at the grizzning that she might calculate upon the quantity of dreaming bread that would be required. The younger ladies were busily engaged in diverse and sundry disputes regarding the right to succession to a once-white loot-string negligee of their mothers, which three of them had laid their accounts with figuring in at the approaching celebration. The old gentleman was the only one in the family who took the least of the general happiness. He had got into a habit of being fretted about everything that happened, and he could not entirely divest himself of it even upon this occasion. His parsimonious turns, too, had considerably increased, and his only criterion of judging of anything was according to what it would bring. Sora take me, if any would not think to hear ye, this was the first bairn that air was born. What's the phrase about ye gocks, to his daughters, a wine and git, that'll take more out of folk's pockets than air it'll put into them? Money, a good, profitable beast, been brought into the world, a narrow word in its heed. All went on smoothly. Lady MacLachlan testified no resentment. Miss Jackie had the whole duty of man at her finger ends, and Miss Nicky was not more severe than could have been expected, considering as she did, how the servants at Lochmerly must be living at Hack and Manger. It had been decided at Glenfern that the infant air to its consequence could not with propriety be christened anywhere but at the seat of his forefathers. Mr. and Mrs. Douglas had good humoredly yielded the point, and as soon as she was able for the change the whole family took up their residence for a season under the paternal roof. Blissful visions floated around the pillows of the happy spinsters the night preceding the christening, which were duly detailed at the breakfast-table the following morning. I declare I don't know what to think of my dream, began Miss Grizzie. I dreamt that Lady MacLachlan was upon her knees to you, brother, to get you to take in a medic. And just as she had mixed it up so nicely in some of our black-current jelly, little Norman snatched it out of your hand and ran away with it. You're enough to turn anybody's stomach with me your nonsense, returned the lair gruffly. And I, said Miss Jackie, thought I saw you standing in your shirt, brother, as straight as a rash, and good Lady Gernickle buckling her collar upon you with her own hands. I wish I would not dive me we your havels, still more indignantly, and turning his shoulder to the fair dreamer as he continued to con over the newspaper. And I cried Miss Nicky, eager to get her mystic tale disclosed. I thought, brother, I saw you take and throw all the good dreaming-bread into the ash-hole. By my truth, and ye deserve to be thrown after it, exclaimed the exasperated lair as he quitted the room in high wrath, muttering to himself, hard case, connegate peace, eat my vittles, top eyes, clavours, et cetera, et cetera. I declare I can't conceive why Glenfern should be so ill-pleased at our dreams, said Miss Grizzie. Everybody knows dreams are always contrary, and even were it otherwise I'm sure I should think no shame to take an emetic, especially when Lady McLaughlin was at the trouble of mixing it up so nicely. And we have all worn good Lady Gernickle's collar before now, said Miss Jackie. I think I had the worst of it. That had all my good dreaming-bread destroyed, added Miss Nicky. Nothing could be more natural than your dreams, said Mrs. Douglas, considering how all these subjects have engrossed you for some time past. You, Aunt Grizzie, may remember how desirous you were of administering one of Lady McLaughlin's powders to my little boy yesterday. And you, Aunt Jackie, made a point of trying Lady Gernickle's collar upon Mary to convince her how pleasant it was. While you, Aunt Nicky, had experienced a great alarm in supposing your cake had been burned in the oven. And these, being the most vivid impressions you had received during the day, it was perfectly natural that they should have retained their influence during a portion of the night. The interpretations were received with high disdain. One and all declared they never dreamed of anything that had occurred, and therefore the visions of the night portended some extraordinary good fortune to the family in general and to little Norman in particular. The best fortune I can wish for him and all of us for this day is that he should remain quiet during the ceremony, said his mother, who was not so elated as Lady Macbeth at the predictions of the sisters. The christening party mustered strong, and the rites of baptism were duly performed by the Reverend Duncan Macdrone. The little Christian had been kissed by every lady in company, and pronounced by the matrons to be a dainty little dug, and by the Misses to be the sweetest lamb they had ever seen. The cake and wine was in its progress round the company, when, upon its being tendered to the old gentleman who was sitting silent in his arm-chair, he abruptly exclaimed in a most discordant voice, Hey! What's all this wastery for? And ere an answer could be returned, his jaw dropped, his eyes fixed, and the laird of glen fern ceased to breathe. CHAPTER XXVI They say miracles are past, and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence it is that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. All's well that ends well. All attempts to reanimate the lifeless form proved unavailing, and the horror and consternation that reigned in the castle of glen fern may be imagined but cannot be described. There is perhaps no feeling of our nature so vague, so complicated, so mysterious, as that with which we look upon the cold remains of our fellow mortals. The dignity with which death invests even the meanest of his victims inspires us with an awe no living thing can create. The monarch on his throne is less awful than the beggar in his shroud, the marble features, the powerless hand, the stiffened limbs. Oh, who can contemplate these with feelings that can be defined? These are the mockery of all our hopes and fears. Our fondest love, our fellest hate. Can it be that we now shrink with horror from the touch of that hand, which but yesterday was fondly clasped in our own? Is that tongue whose accents even now dwell in our ear forever chained in the silence of death? These black and heavy eyelids, are they forever to seal up in darkness the eyes whose glance no earthly power could restrain? And the spirit which animated the clay, where is it now? Is it wrapped in bliss or dissolved in woe? Does it witness our grief and share our sorrows? Or is the mysterious tie that linked it with mortality forever broken? And the remembrance of earthly scenes, are they indeed to the enfranchised spirit as the morning dream, or the dew upon the early flower? Reflections such as these naturally arise in every breast. Their influences felt, though their import cannot always be expressed. The principle is in all the same, however it may differ in its operations. In the family assembled round the lifeless form that had so long been the center of their domestic circle, grief showed itself under various forms. The calm and manly sorrow of the sun, the saint-like feelings of his wife, the youthful agitation of Mary, the weak superstitious wailings of the sisters, and the loud, uncontrolled lamentations of the daughters, all betokened an intensity of suffering that arose from the same source, varied according to the different channels in which it flowed. Even the stern Lady MacLachlan was subdued to something of kindred feeling, and though no tears dropped from her eyes, she sat by her friends and sought in her own way to soften their affliction. The assembled guests, who had not yet been able to take their departure, remained in the drawing-room in a sort of restless solemnity peculiar to seasons of collateral affliction, where all seek to heighten the effect upon others and shift the lesson from themselves. These were the surmises and peculations as to the cause of the awful transition that had just taken place. Glenfern was nay like a man that would hay gone off in this gate, said one. I didn't kin, said another. I have noticed a change on Glenfern for a gay while new. I agree with you, sir, said a third. In my mind Glenfern's been trooping very ser ever since the last trist. At Glenfern's time of life it's no surprise in, remarked a fourth, who felt perfectly secure of being fifteen years his junior. Glenfern was not at all, neither, retorted a fifth, whose conscience smote him with being years his senior. But he had a deal of excation for his family, said an elderly bachelor. You often see a hails stood round like our poor friend, going like the snuff of a canal, coughed up a sticky gentleman. He was I, a tomb-boss-looking man ever since I mined him, wheezed out a swollen asthmatic figure, and he took Nicaria himself, said the laird of petal-chass. His diet was nay what it should have been at his time of life, and he was out and in, up and doon, in all weathers, wet and dry. Glenfern's doings had nothing to do with his death, said an ancient gentlewoman with solemnity. They monkeened little what ne'er heard the bod-word of the family, and she repeated in Gaelic words to the following effect. When low-dow shall turn to a linn, in Glenfern you'll hear the din, when for a bennock they shoold the snah, or Glenfern the leaves will fall. When foreign gear grows on Bennock tap, then the fir-tree will be Glenfern's hap. A nomum, will ye be so good as point oot the meaning of this fruit? said an incredulous-looking member of the company. For when I pass low-child this morning, I neither saw nor heard her a linn, and through this window we can see Bennock with his white nightcap on, and he what hay little to do that would try to shoold it off. It's neither o'er that still water nor the stay-bray that the word was spoke replied the dame with a disdainful frown. They take nay part in our duins, but can't ye nay that low-dow himself had tinned his sight in a cataract, and is nay there dool and din and uck in Glenfern the day? And can't ye nay that Bennock had his old white pal shaven, and that he's gettin' a jeezy for Edinburgh? Ah, nice o' Warren, he'll be in his bra wig the very day that Glenfern'll be laid in his deal coffin. The company admitted the application was too close to be resisted, but the same sceptic, who by the by was only a low-country merchant, elevated by purchase to the dignity of a Highland Laird, was seen to shrug his shoulders, and heard to make some sneering remarks on the days of second sights and such superstitious nonsense being passed. This was instantly laid hold of, and amongst many others of the same sort, the truth of the following story was attested by one of the party as having actually occurred in his family within his own remembrance. As Duncan McCray was one evening descending Bennvollock, he perceived a funeral procession in the veil beneath. He was greatly surprised not having heard of any death in the country, and this appeared to be the burial of some person of consequence from the number of the attendants. He made all the haste he could to get down, and as he drew near, he counted all the lards of the country except my father, Sir Murdock. He was astonished at this till he recollected that he was a way to the low country to his cousin's marriage, but he felt curious to know who it was, though some unaccountable feeling prevented him from mixing with the followers. He therefore kept on the ridge of the hill right over their heads, and near enough to hear them speak, but although he saw them move their lips, no sound reached his ear. He kept along with a procession in this way till it reached the castle-dortured burying ground, and there it stopped. The evening was close and warm, and a thick mist had gathered in the glen while the tops of the hills shone like gold. Not a breath of air was stirring, but the trees that grew round the burying ground waved and soft, and some withered leaves were swirled round and round as if by the wind. The company stood a while to rest, and then they proceeded to open the iron gates of the burying ground. But the lock was rusted and would not open. Then they began to pull down part of the wall, and Duncan thought how angry his master would be at this, and he raised his voice and shouted and hallowed at them, but to no purpose. Nobody seemed to hear him. At last the wall was taken down, and the coffin was lifted over, and just then the sun broke out, and glinted on a new-made grave, and as they were laying the coffin in it, it gave way, and disclosed Sir Murdock himself in his dead clothes. And then the mist grew so thick, Duncan could see no more, and how to get home he knew not. But when he entered his own door he was bathed in sweat, and white as any corpse, and all that he could say was that he had seen Castle Dorchett's burying. The following day continued the narrator. He was more composed and gave the account you have now heard, and three days after came the intelligence of my father's death. He had dropped down in a fit that very evening when entertaining a large company in honour of his cousin's marriage, and that day week his funeral passed through Glenvalloch exactly as described by Duncan McCray, with all the particulars. The gates of the burying ground could not be opened, part of the wall was taken down to admit the coffin, which received some injury, and gave way as they were placing it in the grave. Even the low country infidel was silenced by the solemnity of this story, and soon after the company dispersed, everyone panting to be the first to circulate the intelligence of Glenfern's death. But soon, oh how soon, dies in human hearts the thought of death. Even the paltry detail which death creates serves to detach our minds from the cause itself, so it was with the family of Glenfern. Their light did not shine inward, and after the first burst of sorrow their ideas fastened with avidity on all the paraphernalia of affliction. Mr. Douglas, indeed, found much to do and to direct to be done. The elder ladies began to calculate how many yards of broad hemming would be required, and to form a muster role of the company, with this improvement, that it was to be ten times as numerous as the one that had assembled at the christening, while the young ones busied their imaginations as to the effect of new mornings, a luxury to them hitherto unknown. Mrs. Douglas and Mary were differently affected. Religion and reflection had taught the farmer the enviable lesson of possessing her soul in patience under every trial, and while she inwardly mourned the fate of the poor old man who had been thus suddenly snatched from the only world that had ever engaged his thoughts, her outward aspect was calm and serene. The impression made upon Mary's feelings was of a more powerful nature. She had witnessed suffering and watched by sick beds, but death, and death in so terrific a form, was new to her. She had been standing by her grandfather's chair, her head was bent to his, her hand rested upon his, when, by a momentary convulsion, she beheld the last dread change, the living man transformed into the lifeless corpse. The countenance but now fraught with life and human thoughts in the twinkling of an eye was covered with the shades of death. It was in vain that Mary prayed and reasoned and strove against the feelings that had been thus powerfully excited. One object alone possessed her imagination, the image of her grandfather dying. Dead, his grim features, his ghastly visage, his convulsive grasp were ever present by day and by night. Her nervous system had received a shock too powerful for all the strength of her understanding to contend with. Mrs. Douglas sought by every means to soothe her feelings and divert her attention, and flattered herself that a short time would allay the perturbation of her youthful emotions. Five hundred persons, horse and foot, high and low, male and female, grace the obsequies of the Laird of Glenfern. Benwick was there in his new wig, and the autumnal leaves dropped on the coffin as it was born slowly along the veil.