brother, or an unusually severe "attack" of their mother's continued ever-enduring illness. They were not sufficiently educated nor sufficiently endowed to put them on a par with the few high-born ladies of the district, with whom alone they would have been allowed to associate; and there was native pride enough in themselves to prevent them from forming friendships with the farmers' daughters, also very widely scattered and few in number, who, though the young ladies of Drumcarro were so little superior to themselves in any outward attribute, would have thought their acquaintance an honour. Nothing accordingly could exceed the dulness, the monotony of their lives, with no future, no occupation except their work as almost servants in their father's house, no hope even of those vicissitudes of youth which sometimes in a moment change a young maiden's life. All was bald and gray about them, everything but the scenery, in which, if there is nothing else, young minds find but an imperfect compensation. Mary indeed had a compensation of another kind in the comfortable apathy of a perfectly dull and stolid character, which had little need of the higher acquirements of life. But Kirsteen with her quick temper and high spirit and lively imagination was little adapted for a part so blank. She was one of those who make a story for themselves.

CHAPTER VI.

MARG'RET was perhaps the only individual in the world who dared to remonstrate with Mr. Douglas as to the neglect in which his daughters were losing their youth and all its pleasures and hopes. Aunt Eelen it is true made comments from time to time. She said: "Puir things, what will become of them when Neil's deed? They've neither siller nor learning; and no chance of a man for one of them that I can see." "And yet they're bonnie lasses," said the sympathetic

46

neighbour to whom on her return home after Robbie's departure she made this confidence. Oh, they're well enough, but with a silly mother and a father that's just a madman, what can any person do for them? Miss Eelen Douglas was not quite assured in her own mind that it was not her duty to do something for her young relations, and she took a great deal of pains to prove to herself that it was impossible.

"What if you had them over at the New Year? There's aye something going on, and the ball at the Castle."

"The ball at the Castle!" cried Miss Eelen with a scream, "And what would they put on to go to the ball at the Castle? Potato-bags and dishclouts? Na, na, I'm of his mind so far as that goes. If they cannot appear like Drumcarro's daughters, they are best at home."

"Bless me," said the kind neighbour, "a bit white frock is no ruinous. If it was only for a summer Sabbath to go to the kirk in, they must have white frocks."

"Ruinous or no ruinous it's more than he'll give them," said Miss Eelen, shutting up her thin lips as if they had been a purse. She was very decided that the white frocks could not come from her. And indeed her means were very small, not much more than was absolutely necessary to maintain her little house and the one maid who kept her old mahogany and her old silver up to the polish which was necessary. Naturally all her neighbours and her cousin Neil, who hoped to inherit from her, exaggerated Miss Eelen's income. But though she was poor, she had a compunction. She felt that the white frocks ought to be obtained somehow, if even by the further pinching of her own already pinched living, and that the great chance of the ball at the Castle ought to be afforded to Drumcarro's neglected girls. And she had to reason with herself periodically as to the impossibility of this, demonstrating how it was that she could not do it, that it was not her part to do it, that if the

father and the mother saw no necessity, how was she, a cousin once removed, to take it upon her? For though they called her aunt she was in reality Niel Douglas of Drumcarro's cousin and no Notwithstanding all these arguments a compunction was always present in Miss Eelen's worn out yet not extinguished heart.

more.

"Besides," she began again more briskly, "what would be the use? Ye'll no suppose that Lord John or Lord Thomas would offer for Drumcarro's lasses. They're as good blood, maybe better; for it's cauld watery stuff that rins in those young lads' veins. But Neil Douglas is a poor man; if he had all or the half that rightly belongs to him, it would be anither matter. We'll say nothing about that. I'm a Douglas myself, and it just fires me up when I think of it. But right or wrong, as I'm saying, Drumcarro's a poor man, and it's no in the Castle his lasses will find mates. And he's a proud man. I think upon Anne, puir thing, and I cannot say another word. Na, na, it's just a case where nobody can

interfere."

"But Miss Anne's very happy, and plenty of everything, as I hear."

"Happy, and her father's doors closed upon her, and her name wiped out as if she were dead, far more than if she were dead! And bearing a name that no man ever heard of, her, a Douglas!" Miss Eelen's gray cheek took on a flush of colour at the thought. She shook her head, agitating the little gray ringlets on her forehead.

na,

66

Na, ," she said, "I'm vexed to think upon the poor things-but I cannot interfere."

"Maybe their father, if you were to speak to him-”

"Me speak to him! I would as soon speak to Duncan Nicol's bull. My dear, ye ken a great deal," said Miss Eelen with irony, "but ye do not ken the Douglases. And that's all that can be said."

This, however, was not all that a more devoted friend, the only one they had who feared neither Drumcarro nor

anything else in the world, in their interests, found to say. Margret was not afraid of Drumcarro. Even she avoided any unnecessary encounter with "the auld slave-driver", but when it was needful to resist or even to assail him, she did not hesitate. And this time it was not resistance but attack. She marched into the Laird's room with her head held high, trumpets playing and banners flying, her broad white capstrings finely starched and streaming behind her with the impulse of her going, an unusual colour in her cheeks, her apron folded over one hand, the other free to aid the eloquence of her speech. Several months had passed in great quiet, the little stir of Robbie's departure having died away along with the faint excitement of the preparations for his departure, the making of his linen, the packing of his portmanteaux. All had relapsed again into perfect dulness and the routine of every day. Jamie, the next boy, was only fourteen; a long time must elapse before he was able to follow his brother into the world, and until his time should come there was no likelihood of any other event stirring the echoes at Drumcarro. As for Margret, the routine was quite enough for her. To think what new variety of scone she could make for their tea, how she could adapt the remains of the grouse to make a little change, or improve the flavour of the trout, or compound a beef-tea or a pudding which would tempt her mistress to a spoonful more, was diversion enough for Margret among the heavier burdens of her work. But the bairns-and above all Kirsteen, who was her special darling. Kirsteen had carried her head very high after Robbie went away. had been full of musings and of dreams, she had smiled to herself and sung to herself fragments of a hundred little ditties, even amid the harassments of her sick mother's incessant demands, and all the dulness of her life. But after a month or two that visionary delight had a little failed, the chill of abandonment, of loneliness, of a life

She

shut out from every relaxation, had ceased to be neutralised by the secret inspiration which kept the smile on her lips and the song in her heart. Kirsteen had not forgotten the secret which was between her and Ronald, or ceased to be sustained by it; but she was young, and the parting, the absence, the silence had begun to tell upon her. He was gone; they were all gone, she said to herself. With everything in the world to sustain the young sufferer, that chill of absence is always a sad one. And her cheerfulness, if not her courage, had flagged. Her heart and her head had drooped in spite of herself. She had been found moping in corners, "thinking", as she had said, and she had been seen with her eyes wet, hastily drying the irrepressible tears. "Kirsteen greetin'!" One of the boys had seen it, and mocked her with a jibe, of which afterwards he was much ashamed; and little Jeanie had seen it, and had hurried off awestricken to tell Margret, "Kirsteen was in the parlour just with nobody, and greetin' like to break her heart."

But this

"Hoot awa' with ye, it'll be that auld pain in her head," said Marg'ret sending the little girl away. report brought affairs to a crisis. "The bairn shall not just be left to think and think," she said to herself, adding however prudently, "no if I can help it." Marg'ret had managed one way or other to do most things she had set her heart upon, but upon this she could not calculate. Drumcarro was not a man to be turned easily from his evil ways. He was a "dour man." The qualities which had enabled him in the face of all discouragement to persevere through failure and disappointment until he had at last gained so much if no more and become Drumcarro, were all strong agents against the probability of getting him to yield now. He had his own theories of his duty, and it was not likely that the representations of his housekeeper would change them. Still Margret felt that she must say her say.

He was seated by himself in the

little room which was specially his own, in the heaviness of the afternoon. Dinner was over, and the air was still conscious of the whisky and water which had accompanied it. A peat fire burned with an intense red glow and his chair and shabby writing-table were drawn close to it. No wonder then that Drumcarro dozed when he retired to that warm and still seclusion. Margret took care not to go too soon, to wait until the afternoon nap was over; but the Laird's eyes were still heavy when she came in. He roused himself quickly with sharp impatience; though the doze was habitual he was full of resentment at any suspicion of it. He was reading in his room; this was the version of the matter which he expected to be recognised in the family: a man nowadays would say he had letters to write, but letters were not so universal an

occupation then. A frank or an opportunity, a private hand, or sure messenger with whom to trust the missive were things of an occasional occurrence which justified correspondence; but it was not a necessity of every day. Mr. Douglas made no pretence of letters. He was reading; a much crumpled newspaper which had already passed through several hands was spread out on the table before him. It was a Glasgow paper, posted by the first reader the day after publication to a gentleman on Loch Long, then forwarded by him to Inveralton, thence to Drumcarro. Pyper at the Manse got it at fourth hand. It would be difficult to trace its wanderings after that. The Laird had it spread upon his table, and was bending over it, winking one eye to get it open when Marg'ret pushed open the door. She did not knock, but she made a great deal of noise with the handle as she opened it, which came to much the same thing.

Mr.

"Well," he said turning upon her snappishly, "what may ye be wanting

now?"

"I was wanting-just to say something to ye, Drumcarro, if it's convenient to ye," Margaret said.

"What do ye want? That's your way of asking, as I know well. What ails ye now, and what long story have ye to tell? The sooner it's begun, the sooner it will be ended," he said.

"There is truth in that," replied Margret sedately; "and I canna say I am confident ye will be pleased with what I'm going to say. For to meddle between a father and his bairns is no a pleasant office, and one that is but a servant in the house."

"And who may this be," said Mr. Douglas grimly, "that is coming to interfere between a father and his bairns, meaning me and my family, as I'm at liberty to judge?"

Marg'ret looked her master in the face, and made him a slight but serious curtsey. "'Deed, sir, it's just me," she said.

"You!" said the Laird with all the force of angry indignation which he I could throw into his voice. He roused himself to the fray, pushing up his spectacles upon his forehead. "You're a bonny one," he said, "to burst into a gentleman's private room on whatever errand let alone meddling in what's none of your concerns."

"If ye think sae, sir," said Margret, "that's just anither point we dinna agree about; for if there's a mair proper person to speak to ye about your bairns than the person that has brought them up, and carried them in her arms, and made their parritch and mended their clo'es all their life, I'm no acquaint with her. Eh me, what am I saying? There is anither that has a better right-and that's their mother. But she's your wife, puir lamb, and ye ken weel that ye've sae dauntened her, and sae bowed her down, that if ye were to take a' their lives she would never get out a word."

"Did she send ye here to tell me so?" cried Drumcarro.

"But me," said Marg'ret unheeding the question, "I'm no to be dauntened neither by words nor looks. I'm nae man's wife, the Lord be thankit."

"Ye may well say that," said the Laird, seizing an ever-ready weapon, "for it's well known ye never could

get a man to look the way ye were on."

Marg'ret paused for a moment and contemplated him, half moved by the jibe, but with a slight wave of her hand put the temptation away. "I'm no to be put off by ony remarks ye can make, sir," she said; "maybe ye think ye ken my affairs better than I do, for well I wot I ken yours better than you. You're no an ill father

to your lads. I would never say sae, for it wouldna' be true; ye do your best for them and grudge naething. But the lasses are just as precious a gift from their Maker as their brothers, and what's ever done for them? They're just as neglecktit as the colley dogues: na, far mair, for the colleys have a fine training to make them fit for their work-whereas our young ladies, the Lord bless them-"

"Well," said the father sharply, "and what have you to with the young ladies? Go away with you to your kitchen, and heat your girdle and make your scones.

tion.

That's your voca

The young ladies I tell ye are no concern of yours."

"Whose concern should they be when neither father nor mother take ony heed?" said Marg’ret. "Maister Douglas, how do you think your bonnie lads would have come through if they had been left like that and nobody caring? There's Miss Kirsteen is just as clever and just as good as any one o' them; but what is the poor thing's life worth if she's never to see a thing, nor meet a person out of Drumcarro House? Ye ken yoursel' there's little company in Drumcarro House-you sitting here and the mistress maybe in her bed, and neither kin nor friend to say a pleasant word. Lord bless us a'! I'm twice her age and mair: but I would loup ower the linn the first dark day, if I was like that lassie without the sight of a face or the sound of a voice of my ain kind."

"You're just an auld fool," said Drumcarro, "the lassie is as well off as any lassie needs to be. Kirsteenoh ay, I mind now, ye have always

made a pet of Kirsteen. It's maybe that that has given her her bold tongue and set that spark in her eye."

66

Na," said Marg'ret, "it was just her Maker did that, to make her ane of the first in the land if them she belongs to dinna shut her up in a lonesome glen in a dull hoose. But naebody shall say I'm speaking for Kirsteen alone; there's your bonny little Jeanie that will just be a beauty. Where she got it I canna tell, ony mair than I can tell where Kirsteen got her grand spirit and yon light in her ee. No from her poor mother, that was a bonny bit thing in her day, but never like that. Jeanie will be just the flower o' the haill country-side, if ye can ca' it a country-side that's a' howkit out into glens and tangled with thae lochs and hills. If she were

in a mair open country there's no a place from Ayr to Dumfries but would hear of her for her beauty in twa or three years' time. Ye may say beauty's but skin deep, and I'm saying nothing to the contrary; but it's awfu' pleasant to the sight of men; and I'll just tell you this, Drumcarro-though it's maybe no a thing that's fit for me to saythere's no a great man in a' the land that bairn mightna' marry if she had justice done her. And maybe that will move ye, if naething else will."

A gleam had come into Drumcarro's eyes as she spoke, but he answered only by a loud and harsh laugh, leaning back in his chair and opening wide a great cavern of a mouth. "The deil's in the woman for marrying and giving in marriage!" he said, "A bit lassie in a peenny? It's a pity the Duke marriet, Marg' ret, but it cannot be mended. If she's to get a prince he'll come this way when she' old enough. We'll just wait till that time

comes.

"The time has come for the rest,

if no for her," said Margret, unexpectedly encouraged by this tone. "And eh? if ye would but think, they're young things, and youth comes but ance in a lifetime, and ye can never win it back when it's past. The laddies, bless them, are all away to get their share; the lassies will never get as much, but just a bit triflin' matter-a white gown to go to a pairty, or a sight of Glasgow, or-"

"The woman's daft!" said the Laird. "Glasgow! what will they do there a white gown! a fiddlestick— what do they want that they haven't got-plenty of good meat, and a good roof over their heads, and nothing to do for't but sew their seams and knit their stockings and keep a pleasant tongue in their heads. If ye stir up nonsense among them, I'll just turn ye bag and baggage out of my house.'

"I would advise ye to do that sir," said Margret calmly. "I'll no need a second telling. And ye'll be sorry but ance for what ye have done, and that'll be a' your life."

"Ye saucy jade!" said the Laird : but though he glared at her with fiery eyes, he added no more on this subject. "The lassies!" he said, "a pingling set aye wanting something! To spend your money on feeding them and clothing them, that's not enough. it would appear! Ye must think of their finery, their parties and their pleasures. Tell Kirsteen she must get a man to do that for her. have no nonsense from me."

She'll

"And where is she to get a man? And when she has gotten a man-the only kind that will come her gait—”

Mr. Douglas rose up from his chair, and shook his clenched fist. Rage made him dumb. He stammered out an oath or two, incapable of giving vent to the torrent of wrath that came to his lips. But Marg'ret did not wait till his utterances became clear.