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 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 A SCOTTISH STORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AcrnoR OF 
 
 "MARGARET ^IAITLAXI>," " LILLIESLEAF," "ORPHAXS," 
 
 " THE DAYS OF MY LIFE." 
 
 &c. &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LOKDOX: 
 
 RURST AND BLACKETT PUBLISHERS, 
 SUCCESSORS TO IlEXRY COLBUP.N, 
 
 13, GREAT 3IARLB0R0LGH STREET. 
 
 1858. 
 
 77ie right of Trandati&n it restrted.
 
 LONDON: 
 R. BOKN, TKINTEK, GLOUCliSTEK STREET, i'ARK STKEliT, 
 
 kegem's park.
 
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The house of Xorlaw stands upon the slope 
 of a low hill, under shelter of the three mystic 
 Eildons, and not very far from that little 
 ancient town which, in the language of the 
 author of " Waverley," is called Kennaquhair. 
 
 A low, peaceable, fertile slope, bearing trees 
 to its topmost height, and corn on its shoulders, 
 with a little river running by its base, which 
 manages, after many circuits, to wind its way 
 into Tweed. The house, which is built low 
 upon the hill, is two stories in front, but, owing 
 to the unequal level, only one behind. The 
 ^ garden is all at the back, where the ground is 
 sheltered, but in front, the green, natural 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 Z THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 surface of the hill descends softly to the water 
 without anything to break its verdure. There 
 are clumps of trees on each side, straying 
 as nature planted them, but nothing adorns the 
 sloping lawn, which is not called a lawn, nor 
 used for any purposes of ornament by the 
 household of Norlaw. 
 
 Close by, at the right hand of this homely 
 house, stands an extraordinary foil to its 
 serenity and peacefulness. The old castle of 
 Norlaw, gaunt and bare, and windowless, not 
 a towered and battlemented pile, but a 
 straight, square, savage mass of masonry, with 
 windows pierced high up in its walls in even 
 rows, like a prison, and the grey stonework 
 below, as high under the first range of 
 windows as the roof of the modern house, 
 rising up blank, like a rock, without the 
 slightest break or opening. To see this strange 
 old ruin, in the very heart of the peaceful 
 country, without a feature of nature to corres- 
 pond with its sullen strength, nor a circum-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 3 
 
 stance to suggest the times and the danger 
 which made that necessary, is the strangest 
 thing in the world ; all the more that the 
 ground has no special capacities for defence, 
 and that the castle is not a picturesque 
 baronial accumulation of turrets and battle- 
 ments, but a big, austere, fortified dwelling- 
 house, which modern engineering could make 
 an end of in half a day. 
 
 It shewed, however, if it did nothing better, 
 that the Livingstones were knights and gen- 
 tlemen, in the day when the Border was an 
 unquiet habitation — and for this, if for nothing 
 else, was held in no little honour by the 
 yeoman Livingstone, direct descendant of the 
 Sir Rodericks and Sir Anthonys, who farmed 
 the remains of his paternal property, and 
 dwelt in the modern house of Norlaw. 
 
 This house was little more than a farm-house 
 in appearance, and nothing more in reality. 
 The door opened into a square hall, on either 
 side of which was a large room, with three deep- 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 set windows in each ; four of these windows 
 looked out upon the lawn and the water, while 
 one broke each corner of the outer wall. On 
 the side nearest the castle, a little behind the 
 front level of the house, was an '' outshot,^' a 
 little wing built to the side, which formed the 
 kitchen, upon the ever-open door of which the 
 corner window of the common family sitting- 
 room kept up a vigilant inspection. A plen- 
 tiful number of bedchambers upstairs were 
 reached by a good staircase, and a gallery 
 which encircled the hall ; the architecture was 
 of the most monotonous and simple regularity ; 
 so many windows on one side soberly poising 
 so many windows on the other. The staircase 
 made a rounded projection at the back of the 
 house, which was surmounted by a steep little 
 turret roof, blue-slated, and bearing a tiny 
 vane for its crown, after the fashion of the 
 countryside ; and this, which glimmered pleas- 
 antly among the garden fruit trees when you 
 looked down from the top of the hill — and
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 5 
 
 the one-storied projection, ivhich was the 
 kitchen, were the only two features which 
 broke the perfect plainness and uniformity of 
 the house. 
 
 But though it was July when this history 
 begins, the flush of summer — and though the 
 sunshine was sweet upon the trees and the 
 water, and the bare old walls of the castle, 
 there was little animation in Norlaw. The 
 blinds were drawn up in the east room, the 
 best apartment — though the sun streamed 
 in at the end window, and " the Mistress " was 
 not wont to leave her favorite carpet to the 
 tender mercies of that bright intruder ; and 
 the blinds were down in the dining-room, which 
 nobody had entered this morning, and where 
 even the Mistress's chair and little table 
 in the corner window could not keep a vica- 
 rious watch upon the kitchen door. It was 
 not needful ; the two maids were very quiet, 
 and not disposed to amuse themselves. Mar- 
 get, the elder one, who was the byrewoman.
 
 6 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and had responsibilities, went about the 
 kitchen very solemnly, speaking with a gravity 
 which became the occasion ; and Janet, who 
 was the house-servant, and softhearted, stood 
 at the table, washing cups and saucers, very 
 slowly, and with the most elaborate care lest 
 one of them should tingle upon the other, and 
 putting up her apron very often to wipe the 
 tears from her eyes. Outside, on the broad 
 stone before the kitchen-door, a little ragged 
 boy sat, crying bitterly — and no one else was to 
 be seen about the house. 
 
 *^ Jenny," said the elder maid, at last, 
 ^^ give that bairn a piece, and send him away. 
 There's enow of us to greet — for what we're a' 
 to do for a puir distressed family, when aince 
 the will o' God's accomplished this day, I 
 canna tell." 
 
 " Oh, woman, dinna speak ! he'll maybe 
 win through," cried Jenny, with renewed tears. 
 
 Marget was calm in her superior know- 
 ledge.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 7 
 
 '^I ken a death -bed from a sick-bed," she 
 said, with solemnitv ; ^^ I've seen them baith — 
 and weel I kent, a week come the morn, that 
 it was little good looking for the doctor, or 
 wearying aye for his physic- time, or thinking the 
 next draught or the next pill would do. Eh 
 sirs ! ane canna see when it's ane's ain trouble ; 
 if it had been ony ither man, the Mistress 
 would have kent as weel as me." 
 
 '* It's an awfu' guid judge that's never 
 wrang," said Jenny, with a little impatience. 
 '' He's a guid faither, and a guid maister ; it's 
 my hope he'U cheat you a' yet, baith the 
 doctor and you." 
 
 Marget shook her head, and went solemnly 
 to a great' wooden press, which almost filled 
 one side of the kitchen, to get the ^^ piece " 
 which Jenny showed no intention of bestowing 
 upon the child at the door. Pondering for a 
 moment over the basket of oatcakes, Marget 
 changed her mind, and selected a fine, thin, 
 flour one, from a little pile.
 
 8 THE LATRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 *^It's next to funeral bread/' she said to 
 herself, in vindication of her choice; "Tammie, 
 my man, the maister would be nae better if 
 ye could mak' the water grit with tears — run 
 away hame, like a good bairn ; tell your mother 
 neither the Mistress nor me will forget her, and 
 ye can say, I'll let her ken ; and there's a piece 
 to help ye hame." 
 
 " I dinna want ony pieces — I want to ken if 
 he's better," said the boy ; ^'' my mother said I 
 wasna to come back till there was good 
 news." 
 
 ^^ Whisht, sirrah, he'll hear you on his 
 death-bed," said Marget, '* but it'll no do 
 you ony harm, bairn; the Mistress will aye 
 mind your mother ; take your piece and run 
 away." 
 
 The child's only answer was to bury his 
 face in his hands, and break into a new fit 
 of crying. Marget came in again, discom- 
 fited; after a while she took out a little 
 wooden cup of milk to him, and set it down
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 9 
 
 upon the stone without a word. She was not 
 sufficiently hard-hearted to frown upon the 
 child's grief. 
 
 *^ Eh, woman Jenny ! " she cried, after an 
 interval, '^ to think a man could have so little 
 pith, and yet get in like this to folk's 
 hearts ! " 
 
 " As if ye didna ken the haill tale,'' cried 
 Jenny, with indignant tears, " how the maister 
 found the wean afield with his broken leg, and 
 carried him hame — and how there's ever 
 been plenty, baith milk and meal for thae puir 
 orphants, and Tammie's schooling, and aye a 
 kind word to mend a' — and yet, forsooth, 
 the bairn maunna greet when the maister's at 
 his latter end ! " 
 
 " We'll a' have cause," said Marget, 
 abruptly ; ^^ three bonnie lads that might be 
 knights and earls, every one, and no' a thing 
 but debt and dool, nor a trade to set their 
 hand to. Hand your peace ! — do ye think 
 there's nae trade but bakers and tailors, and
 
 10 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 the like o' that? and there's Huntley, and 
 Patie, and Cosmo, my bonnie bau^ns ! — there 
 never was three Livingstones like them, nor 
 three of ony other name as far as Tyne runs — 
 and the very bairn at the door has as muckle 
 to look to as they !" 
 
 ^^ But it's nae concern o' yours, or o' mine. 
 I'm sure the maister was aye very good to me," 
 said Jenny, retiring into tears, and a non 
 sequitur. 
 
 '' No, that's true — it's nae concern o' yours — 
 youWe no' an auld servant like me," said her 
 companion, promptly, " but for mysel' I've 
 sung to them a' in their cradles ; I would work 
 for them with my hands, and thankful ; but I 
 wouldna desire that of them to let the like o' 
 me work, or the Mistress toil, to keep them in 
 idleset. Na, woman — I'm jealous for my 
 bairns — I would break my heart if Huntley 
 was content to be just like his father ; if either 
 the Mistress or the lads will listen to me, I'll 
 gie my word to send them a' away."
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 11 
 
 " Send them awaj — and their mother in 
 mourning? Oh, my patience ! what for? " 
 
 "To make their fortune/' said Marget, 
 and she hung the great pot on the great iron 
 hook above the fire, with a sort of heroic 
 gesture, which might have been amusing 
 under other circumstances — for Marget 
 beHeved in making fortunes, and had the 
 impulse of magnificent hope at her heart. 
 
 " Eh, woman ! you're hard-hearted," said 
 her softer companion, ^* to blame the maister at 
 his last, and plan to leave the Mistress her 
 lane in the world ! I would make them 
 abide with her to comfort her, if it was 
 me." 
 
 Marget made no answer — she had com- 
 forted herself with the flush of fancy which 
 pictured these three sons of the house, each 
 completing his triumph — and she was the byre- 
 woman and had to consider the cattle, and 
 cherish as much as remained of pastoral wealth 
 in this impoverished house. She went out
 
 12 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 with her dark printed gown carefully " kilted '' 
 over her red and blue striped petticoat, and 
 a pail in her hand. She was a woman of 
 forty, a farm-servant used to out-of-door 
 work and homely ways, and had neither youth 
 nor sentiment to soften her manners or 
 enlarge her mind. Yet her heart smote her 
 when she thought of the father of the house, 
 who lay dying while she made her criticism 
 upon him, true though it was. 
 
 " Has he no' been a good master to me ? 
 and would I spare tears if they could ease 
 him ? " she said to herself, as she rubbed them 
 away from her eyes. ^' But folk can greet in 
 the dark when there's nae work to do," she 
 added, peremptorily, and so went to her dairy 
 and her thoughts. Tender-hearted Jenny cried 
 in the kitchen, doing no good to any one ; but 
 upstairs in the room of death, where the 
 family waited, there were still no tears.
 
 13 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Half a mile below Norlaw, ^^ as Tyne 
 runs," stood the village of Kirkbride. Tyne was 
 but one of tbe many undistinguished Tynes 
 which water the south of Scotland and the north 
 of England, a clear trout stream, rapid, and 
 brown, and lively, with linns and pools, and bits 
 of woodland belonging to it, which the biggest 
 brother of its name could not excel; and 
 Kirkbride also was but one of a host of Kirk- 
 brides, which preserved through the country, 
 long after every stone of it had mouldered, the 
 name of some little chapel raised to 
 St. Bridget. This was an irregular hamlet, 
 straggling over two mounds of rising ground, 
 between which Tyne had been pleased to make a
 
 14 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 way for himself. The morsel of village street 
 was on one bank of the water, a row of 
 irregular houses, in the midst of which flou- 
 rished two shops ; while at the south end, as 
 it was called, a little inn projected across the 
 road, giving, with this corner, and the open 
 space which it sheltered, an air of village 
 cosiness to the place which its size scarcely- 
 warranted. The other bank of the water was 
 well covered with trees — drooping birches and 
 alders, not too heavy in their foliage to hide 
 the half dozen cottages which stood at dif- 
 ferent elevations on the ascending road, nor 
 to veil at the summit the great jargonel 
 pear-tree on the gable wall of the manse, which 
 dwelt upon that height, looking down pater- 
 nally and with authority upon the houses of 
 the village. The church was further back, 
 and partially hidden by trees, which, seeing this 
 edifice was in the prevailing fashion of rural 
 Scottish churches — a square barn with a little 
 steeple stuck upon it — was all the better for the
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 15 
 
 landscape. A spire never comes amiss at a little 
 distance, when Xature has fair play and trees 
 enough — and the hillock, with its foliage and 
 its cottages, its cosy manse and spire among 
 the trees, filled with thoughts of rural 
 felicity the stray anglers who came now and 
 then to fish in Tyne and consume the pro- 
 duce of their labour in the gable parlour of 
 the Norlaw Arms. 
 
 The doctor had just passed through the 
 village. On his way he had been assailed by 
 more than one inquiry. The sympathy of the 
 hamlet was strong, and its curiosity neigh- 
 bourly, — and more than one woman retired 
 into her cottage, shaking her head over the 
 news she received. 
 
 " Keep us a' 1 Norlaw ! I mind him afore 
 he could either walk or speak — and then I 
 was in service, in the auld mistress's time, at 
 Me'mar;'' said one of the collage gi-and- 
 mothers, who stood upon the threshold of a 
 very little house, where the village-mangle
 
 16 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 was in operation. The old woman stood at 
 tlie door, looking after the doctor, as he trot- 
 ted off on his stout pony ; she was speaking 
 to herself, and not to the little audience be- 
 hind, upon whom, however, she turned, as the 
 wayfarer disappeared from her eyes, and, 
 laying down her bundle on the table, with a 
 sigh, '^ Eh, Merran Hastie ! " she exclaimed, 
 " he's been guid to you." 
 
 The person thus addressed needed no fur- 
 ther inducement to put her apron to her eyes. 
 The room was very small, half occupied by 
 the mangle, which a strong country-girl was 
 turning; and even in this summer day, the 
 apartment was not over bright, seeing that the 
 last arrival stood in the doorway, and that 
 the little window was half covered by a cur- 
 tain of coarse green gauze. Two other village 
 matrons had come with their ^^ claes," to talk 
 over the danger of their neighbour and land- 
 lord, and to comfort the poor widow who had 
 found an active benefactor in "Norlaw." She
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 17 
 
 was comforted, grateful and grieved though 
 she was ; and the gossips, though they looked 
 grave, entered con amore into the subject ; 
 what the Mistress was likely to do, and how 
 the family would be ^4eft." 
 
 *^ My man says they'll a' be roupit, baith 
 stock and plenishing," said the mason's wife. 
 '' Me'mar himsel' gave oui' John an insight 
 into how it was. I judge he maun have 
 lent Norlaw siller ; for when he saw the dry- 
 stane dike, where his ground marches with 
 Norlaw, he gave ane of his humphs, and says 
 he to John, ^A guid kick would drive it 
 dowTi;' says he, ^ it'll last out his time, and 
 for my part, I'm no a man for small fields ;' so 
 grannie, there's a family less, you may say 
 already, in the country side." 
 
 " I'll tarry till I see it," said the old 
 woman ; '^ the ane of his family that's likest 
 Norlaw, is his youngest son ; and if Me'mar 
 himsel', or the evil ane, his marrow, get 
 clean the better of Huntley and Patrick, 
 
 YOL. I. C
 
 18 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 not to say the Mistress, it'll be a marvel to 
 me:' 
 
 "Norlaw was aye an unthrift," said Mrs. 
 Mickle, who kept the grocer^s shop in Kirk- 
 bride; '^nobody could tell, when he was a 
 young man, how he got through his siller. It 
 aye burnt his pockets till he got it spent, and 
 ye never could say what it was on." 
 
 ^^ Oh, whisht ! ^' exclaimed the widow ; *^ me, 
 and the like of me, can tell well what it was 
 on." 
 
 " Hand a' your tongues,'' said the old 
 woman ; "if anybody kens about Norlaw, it's 
 me ; I was bairn's-maid at Me'mar, in the 
 time of the auld mistress, as a' the town kens, 
 and I'm well acquaint with a' his pedigree, 
 and mind him a' his life, and the truth's just 
 this, whatever anybody may say. He didna 
 get his ain fancy when he was a young lad, and 
 he's never been the same man ever sinsyne." 
 
 "Eh! was Norlaw crossed in love?" said 
 the girl at the mangle, staying her grinding
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 19 
 
 to listen ; " but I'm no sorry for him ; a man 
 that wasna content with the Mistress doesna 
 deserve a good wife." 
 
 '' Aj, lass ; you're coming to have your ain 
 thoughts on such like matters, are ye?" said 
 the old woman ; ^' but take you my word, 
 Susie, that a woman may be the fairest and the 
 faithfu'est that ever stood on a hearthstane, 
 but if she's no her man's fancy, she's nae guid 
 there." 
 
 " Susie's very right," said the mason's wife ; 
 " he wasna blate ! for a better wife than the 
 Mistress never put her hand into ony house- 
 wifeskep, and it's her that's to be pitied with 
 a man like yon ; and our John says — " 
 
 '*I kent about Norlaw before ever you were 
 born, or John either," said the old woman ; 
 " and what I say's fac, and what you say's 
 fancy. IN^orlaw had never a thought in his 
 head, from ten to five-and-twenty, but half of 
 it was for auld Me'mar's ae daughter. I'm no 
 saying he's a strong man of his nature, like 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 them that clear their ain road, or make their 
 ain fortune ; but he might have held his ain 
 better than he's ever done, if he had been 
 matched to his fancy when he was a young 
 lad, and had sl his life before him ; that's just 
 what I've to say." 
 
 "Weel, grannie, its awfu' hard," said the 
 mason's wife; "the Mistress was a bonnie 
 woman in her day, and a spirit that would 
 face ony thing ; and to wear out her life for a 
 man that wasna heeding about her, and be 
 left in her prime a dowerless widow! — Ye may 
 say what ye like — but I wouldna thole the 
 like for the best man in the country-side, let 
 alone Norlaw." 
 
 "Naebody would, if they kent," said the 
 oracle, '^ but what's a woman to do, if she's 
 married and bound, and bairns at her foot, before 
 she ever finds out what's been lying a' the 
 time in her man's heart ? " 
 
 " Then it was just a shame ! " cried Susie, 
 at the mangle, with tears in her eyes; "a
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 21 
 
 burning shame ! Eh Grannie, to find it out 
 then ! I would rather dee ! " 
 
 " Ay, ay/' said the old woman, shaking her 
 head; "young folk think so — but that's 
 life." 
 
 " I'll never think weel of Norlaw again — I'll 
 never believe a lad mair ! they might be 
 thinking ony mischief in theu^ heart," cried 
 Susie, hastily putting up her particular bundle, 
 and dashing a tear off her hot cheek. "They 
 can greet fur him that likes; I'll think of 
 naebody but the Mistress — no me ! " 
 
 Whereupon this keen sympathiser, who had 
 some thoughts of her own on the matter, 
 rushed forth, disturbing the elder group, 
 whose interest was calmer and more specu- 
 lative. 
 
 " Aweel, aweel ! we're a' frail and full of 
 shortcomings," said the widow ; " but naebody 
 kens how kind Norlaw has been to me. My 
 little Tammie's away somegate about the house 
 now. I thought the bairn's heart would
 
 22 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 break when he heard the news first. I'm sure 
 there's no one hour, night or day, that he 
 wouldna lay down his life for Norlaw." 
 
 '^Hewas aye a kind man and weellikit — -most 
 folk are that spend their siller free, and take 
 a' thing easy," said Mrs. Mickle, with a sigh 
 which was partly for that weakness of human 
 nature, and partly for the departing spirit. 
 
 Then new customers began to come in, and 
 the group dispersed. By this time it was 
 getting late in the afternoon, and John Meller- 
 stone's wife had to bethink herself of her 
 husband's supper, and Mrs. Mickle .of her 
 evening cup of tea. The sun had begun to slant 
 over the face of the brae opposite to them, 
 brightening the drooping bushes with touches 
 of gold, and glowing upon the white gable 
 wall of the manse, obscured with the wealthy 
 branches of its jargonel tree. The minister 
 was making his way thoughtfully up the path, 
 with his hat over his face a little, and his 
 bands under the square skirts of his coat,
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 23 
 
 never pausing to look down, as was his custom 
 when his mind was at ease. He, too, had 
 been at Norlaw, and his thoughts were still 
 there.
 
 24 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The sun was shining into the west chamber 
 at Norlaw. It was the room immediately 
 over the dining-room, a large apartment, 
 panelled and painted in a faint green colour, 
 with one window to the front and one to the 
 side of the house. This side-window looked 
 immediately upon the old castle, and on the 
 heavy masses of bluntleaved ivy which hung 
 in wild festoons everywhere from this front 
 of the ruin ; and the sun shone in glo- 
 riously to the sick chamber, with a strange 
 mockery of the weakness and the sorrow 
 there. The bed was what used to be called 
 a '^ tent-bed,^' with heavy curtains of dark- 
 brown moreen, closely drawn at the foot, but
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 25 
 
 looped up about the pillows. At the side 
 nearest the sunshine, the Mistress, whose place 
 had been there for weeks, stood by the bed, 
 measuring out some medicine for the sufferer. 
 A fortnight's almost ceaseless watching had 
 not sufficed to pale the cheek of health, or 
 waste the vigour of this wife, who was so soon 
 to be a widow. Her fresh, middle-aged, ma- 
 tronly bloom, her dress careful and seemly, 
 her anxious and troubled brow, where deep 
 solicitude and hope had scarcely given way to 
 the dread certainty which everybody else 
 acknowledged, made a very strange contrast, 
 indeed, to the wasted, dying, eager face which 
 lay among those pillows, with already that im- 
 moveable yellow pallor on its features which 
 never passes away; a long, thin hand, wasted to 
 the bone, was on the coverlid, but the sufferer 
 looked up, with his eager, large black eyes 
 towards the medicine-glass in his wife's hand 
 with a singular eagerness. He knew, at last, 
 that he was dying, and even in the solemnity of
 
 26 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 those last moments, this weak, graceful mind, 
 true to the instincts of its nature, thought 
 with desire and anxiety of dying well. 
 
 The three sons of the house were in the 
 room watching with their mother. Huntley, 
 who could scarcely keep still even in the awe 
 of this shadow of death, stood by the front 
 window, often drawing close to the bed, but 
 unable to continue there. The second, who 
 was his mother's son, a healthful, ruddy, 
 practical lad, kept on the opposite side of 
 the bed, ready to help his mother in moving 
 the patient. And at the foot, concealed by 
 the curtains, a delicate boy of fifteen, with his 
 face buried in his hands, sat upon an old 
 square ottoman, observing nothing. This was 
 Cosmo, the youngest and favourite, the only 
 one of his children who really resembled 
 Norlaw. 
 
 The caprice of change was strong upon 
 the dying man ; he wanted his position altered 
 twenty times in half an hour. He had not
 
 THE LAIKD OF NORLAW. 27 
 
 anything much to say, yet he was hard to 
 please for the manner of saying it ; and longed, 
 half in a human and tender yearning for 
 remembrance, and half with the weakness of 
 his character, that his children should never 
 forget these last words of his, nor the circum- 
 stances of his dying. He was a good man, but 
 he carried the defects of his personality with 
 him to the very door of heaven. When, at 
 last, the pillows were arranged round him, 
 so as to raise him on his bed in the attitude 
 he wished, he called his children, in his trem- 
 bling voice. Huntley came forward from the 
 window, with a swelling heart, scarcely able to 
 keep down the tears of his first grief Patrick 
 stood by the bedside, holding down his head, 
 with a stubborn composure — and Cosmo, steal- 
 ing forward, threw himself on his knees and 
 hid his sobbing in the coverlid. They were 
 all on one side, and on the other stood the 
 mother, the care on her brow blanching into 
 conviction, and all her tremulous anxiety
 
 28 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 calmed with a determination not to disturb 
 this last scene. It was the last. Hope could 
 not stand before the look of death upon that face. 
 
 " My sons," said Norlaw, " I am just dying ; 
 but I know where I am in this strait, trusting 
 in my Saviour. You'll remember I said this, 
 when I'm gone." 
 
 There was a pause. Cosmo sobbed aloud 
 in the silence, clinging to the coverlid, and 
 Huntley's breast heaved high with a tumultu- 
 ous motion — but there was not a word said to 
 break the monologue of the father, who was 
 going away. 
 
 '^ And now you'll have no father to guide 
 you further," he continued, with a strange pity 
 for them in his voice, " There's your mother, 
 at my side — as true a wife and as faithful, as 
 ever a man had for a blessing. Boys, I leave 
 your mother for her jointure the love you've 
 had for me. Let her have it all — all — make 
 amends to her. Martha, I've not been the 
 man I might have been to you."
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 29 
 
 These last words were spoken in a tone of 
 sudden compunction, strangely unlike the 
 almost formal dignity of the first part of his 
 address, and he turned his eager, dying eyes 
 to her, with a startled apprehension of this 
 truth, foreign to all his previous thoughts. 
 She could not have spoken, to save his life. 
 She took his hand between hers, with a low 
 groan, and held it, looking at him with a pitiful, 
 appealing face. The self- accusation was 
 like an injury to her, and he was persuaded to 
 feel it so, and to return to the current of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 *' Let your mother be your counsellor ; she 
 has ever been mine," he said once more, with 
 his sad, dying dignity. *' I say nothing about 
 your plans, because plans are ill adjuncts to a 
 deathbed ; but you'll do your best, every 
 one, and keep your name without blemish, 
 and fear God and honour your mother. If I 
 were to speak for a twelvemonth I could not 
 find more to say."
 
 30 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Again a pause; but this time, besides the sobs 
 of Cosmo, Patrick's tears were dropping, like 
 heavy drops of rain, upon the side of the bed, 
 and Huntley crushed the curtain in his hand 
 to support himself, and only stayed here quite 
 against his nature by strong compulsion of 
 his will. Whether he deserved it or not, this 
 man's fortune, all his life, had been to be 
 loved. 
 
 " This night, Huntley will be Livingstone of 
 Norlaw," continued the father ; " but the 
 world is fading out of my sight, boys — only I 
 mind, and you know, that things have gone ill 
 with us for many a year — make just the best 
 that can be made, and never give up this 
 house and the old name of your fathers. 
 Me'mar will try his worst against you ; ay, I 
 ought to say more ; but I'm wearing faint 
 — I'm not able; you'll have to ask your 
 mother. Martha, give me something to keep 
 me up a moment more." 
 
 She did so hurriedly, with a look of pain;
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 31 
 
 but when he had taken a little wine, the sick 
 man's eye wandered. 
 
 " I had something more to say,'' he re- 
 peated, faintly ; ^' never mind — your mother 
 will tell you everything ; — serve G-od, and be 
 good to your mother, and mind that I die in 
 faith. Bairns, when ye come to your latter 
 end, take heed to set your foot fast upon the 
 rock, that I may find you all again." 
 
 They thought he had ended now his farewell 
 to them. They laid him down tenderly, and 
 with awe and hidden tears, watched how the 
 glow of sunset faded and the evening gray 
 stole in over that pallid face which, for the 
 moment, was all the world to their eyes. 
 Sometimes, he said a faint word to his wife, 
 who sat holding his hand. He was conscious, 
 and calm, and departing. His sins had been 
 like a child's sins — capricious, wayward, 
 fanciful transgressions. He had never harmed 
 any one but himself and his own household — 
 remorseful recollections did not trouble him —
 
 32 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and, weak as he was, all his life long he had 
 kept tender in his heart a child's faith. He 
 was dying like a Christian, though not even 
 his faith and comfort, nor the great shadow 
 of death which he was meeting, could sublime 
 his last hours out of nature. God does not 
 always make a Christian's death-bed sublime. 
 But he was fast going where there is no 
 longer any weakness, and the calm of the 
 evening rest was on the ending of his life. 
 
 Candles had been brought softly into the 
 room ; the moon rose, the night wore on, but 
 they still waited. No one could withdraw 
 from that watch, which it is agony to keep, 
 and yet worse agony to be debarred from 
 keeping, and when it was midnight, the pale 
 face began to flush by intervals, and the 
 fainting frame to grow restless and uneasy. 
 Cosmo, poor boy, struck with the change, rose 
 up to look at him, with a wild, sudden hope, that 
 he was getting better ; but Cosmo shrunk 
 appalled at the sudden cry which burst as
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 33 
 
 strong as if perfect health had uttered it from 
 the heaving, panting heart of his father. 
 
 " Huntley, Huntley, Huntley ! " cried the 
 dying man, but it was not his son he called. 
 " Do I know her name ? She's but 
 Mary of Melmar — evermore Mary to 
 me — and the will is there — in the mid 
 chamber. Aye! — where is she? — youi' mother 
 will tell you all — it's too late for me." 
 
 The last words were irresolute and confused, 
 dropping back into the faint whispers of 
 death. When he began to speak, his wife had 
 risen from her seat by the bed-side — her cheeks 
 flushed, she held his hand tight, and over the 
 face of her tenderness came an indescribable 
 cloud of mortification, of love aggrieved and 
 impatient, which could not be concealed. She 
 did not speak, but stood watching him, holding 
 his hand close in her own, even after he was 
 silent — and not even when the head sank lower 
 down among the pillows, and the eyes grew 
 dim, and the last hour came, did the watcher 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 resume the patient seat which she had kept so 
 long. She stood by him with a mind dis- 
 quieted, doing everything that she could do — 
 quick to see, and tender to minister ; but the 
 sacramental calm of the vigil was broken — and 
 the widow still stood by the bed when the 
 early summer light came in over her shoulder, 
 to show how, with the night, this life was over, 
 and everything was changed. Then she fell 
 down by the bed-side, scarcely able to move 
 her strained limbs, and struck to the heart 
 with the chill of her widowhood. 
 
 It was all over — all over — and the new day, 
 in a blaze of terrible sunshine, and the new 
 solitude of life, were to begin together. But 
 her sons, as they were forced to withdraw from 
 the room where one was dead, and one lost in 
 the first blind agony of a survivor, did not 
 know what last pang of a long bitterness that 
 was, which struck its final sting, to aggravate 
 all her grievous trouble, into their mother's 
 heart.
 
 35 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 Those slow days of household gloom and 
 darkness, when death lies in the house, and 
 every thought and every sound still bears an 
 involuntary reference to the solemn inmate, 
 resting unconscious of them all, went slowly 
 over the roof of Xorlaw. Sunday came, 
 doubly mournful ; a day in which Scottish de- 
 corum demanded that no one should stir 
 abroad, even to church, and which hung indes- 
 cribably heavy in those curtained rooms, and 
 through the unbroken stillness of its leisure, 
 upon the three youths who had not even their 
 mother's melancholy society to help them 
 through the day. The Mistress was in her 
 own room, closely shut up with her Bible and 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 her sorrow, taking that first Sabbath of her 
 Avidowhood, a solitary day of privilege and in- 
 dulgence, for her own grief Not a sound was 
 audible in the house ; Jenny, who could be 
 best spared, and who was somewhat afraid of 
 the solemn quietness of Norlaw, had been sent 
 away early this morning, to spend the Sabbath 
 with her mother, in Kirkbride, and Marget sat 
 alone in the kitchen, with a closed door and 
 partially-shuttered window, reading to herself 
 half aloud from the big Bible in her lap. In 
 the perfect stillness it was possible to hear the 
 monotonous hum of her half-whispering voice, 
 and sometimes the dull fall of the ashes on the 
 kitchen hearth, but not a sound besides. 
 
 The blinds were all down in the dining- 
 room, and the lower half of the shutters 
 closed. Though the July sun made triumphant 
 daylight even in spite of this, it was such a 
 stifling, closed-in, melancholy light, bright upon 
 the upper walls and the roof, but darkened 
 and close around the lads, that the memory of
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 37 
 
 it never quite passed out of their hearts. This 
 room, too, was panelled and painted of that 
 dull drab colour, which middle-class dining- 
 rooms even now delight in ; there were no 
 pictures on the w^alls, for the family of Xorlaw 
 were careless of ornaments, like most families 
 of their country and rank. A dull small clock 
 upon the black marble mantel-piece, and a 
 great china jar on the well-polished, old- 
 fashioned sideboard, were the only articles in 
 which anything beyond use was even aimed at. 
 The chairs were of heavy mahogany and hair- 
 cloth — a portion of the long dining-table, 
 with a large leaf folded down, very near as 
 black as ebony, and polished like a mirror, 
 stood between the front windows — and the two 
 round ends of this same dining-table stood in 
 the centre of the room, large enough for 
 family purposes, and covered with a red and 
 blue table-cover. There was a heavy large 
 chintz easy-chair at the fireplace, and a little 
 table supporting a covered work-basket in the
 
 38 THE LAIRD OF NORLA.W. 
 
 corner-window — yet the room had not been 
 used to look a dull room, heavy and dismal 
 though it was to-day. 
 
 The youngest boy sat by the table, leaning 
 over a large family-bible, full of ^quaint old 
 pictures. Cosmo saw the pictures without 
 seeing them — he was leaning both his elbows 
 on the table, supporting his head with a pair 
 of long, fair hands, which his boy's jacket, 
 which he had outgrown, left bare to the 
 wrists. His first agony of grief had fallen 
 into a dull aching ; his eyes were observant 
 of the faintest lines of those familiar wood- 
 cuts, yet he could not have told what was the 
 subject of one of them, though he knew them 
 all by heart. He was fair-haired, pale, and 
 delicate, with sensitive features, and dark eyes, 
 like his father's, which had a strange effect 
 in contrast with the extreme lightness of his 
 hair and complexion. He was the tender 
 boy — the mother's child of the household, 
 and it was Cosmo of whom the village gossips
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 39 
 
 spoke, when they took comfort in the thought 
 that only his youngest son was like Xorlaw. 
 
 Next to Cosmo, sitting idly on a chair, 
 watching how a stream of confined sunshine 
 came in overhead, at the side of the blind, 
 was Huntley, the eldest son. He was very 
 dark, very ruddy, with close curls of black 
 hair, and eyes of happy hazel-brown. Here- 
 tofore, Huntley Livingstone's principal cha- 
 racteristic had been a total incapacity to keep 
 still. For many a year, Marget had lamented 
 over him, that he would not '^hehave himself," 
 and even the Mistress had spoken her mind 
 only too often on the same subject. Huntley 
 would not join, with gravity and decorum, 
 even the circle of evening visitors who gathered 
 on unfrequent occasions round the fireside of 
 Norlaw. He had perpetually something on 
 hand to keep him in motion, and if nothing 
 better was to be had, would rummage through 
 lumber-room and family treasury, hunting up 
 dusty old sets of newspapers and magazines,
 
 40 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 risking the safety of precious old hereditary 
 parchments, finding a hundred forgotten 
 trifles, which he had nothing to do with. So 
 that it was rare, even on winter evenings, to 
 find Huntley at rest in the family circle ; it 
 was his wont to appear in it at intervals 
 bringing something with him which had no 
 right to be there — to be ordered off peremp- 
 torily by his mother with the intruding ar- 
 ticle ; to be heard, all the evening through, 
 knocldng in nails, and putting up shelves for 
 Mar get, or making some one of the countless 
 alterations, which had always to be made in 
 his own bedchamber and private sanctuary ; 
 and finally, to re-appear for the family wor- 
 ship, during which he kept as still as his 
 nature would permit, and the family supper, 
 at which Huntley's feats, in cutting down 
 great loaves of bread, and demolishing oat- 
 cakes, were a standing joke in the household. 
 This was the old Huntley, when all was well 
 in Norlaw. Now he sat still, watching that
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 41 
 
 narrowblade of sunshine, burning in compressed 
 and close by the side of tbe blind ; it was like 
 his own nature, in those early days of house- 
 hold grief. 
 
 Patrick was a less remarkable boy than 
 either of his brothers ; he was most like 
 Huntley, and had the same eyes, and the same 
 crisp, short curls of black hair. But Patrick 
 had a medium in him ; he did what was need- 
 ful, with the quickest practical sense ; he was 
 strong in his perception of right and justice ; 
 so strong, that the Quixotry of boyish enthu- 
 siasm had never moved him ; he was not, in 
 short, a describable person; at this present mo- 
 ment, he was steadily occupied with a volume 
 of sermons; they were extremely heavy metal, 
 but Patrick went on with them, holding fast 
 his mind by that anchor of heaviness. It was 
 not that his gravity was remarkable, or his 
 spiritual appreciation great; but something 
 was needful to keep the spirit afloat in that 
 atmosphere of death; the boys had been "too 
 
 -:m
 
 42 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 well brought up," to think of profaning the 
 Sabbath with light literature, and amusing 
 themselves while their father lay dead was 
 a sin quite as heinous. So Patrick Living- 
 stone read, with a knitted brow, sermons of 
 the old Johnsonian period, and Cosmo pon- 
 dered the quaint Bible-woodcuts, and Huntley 
 watched the sunshine; and they had not 
 spoken a word to each other for at least an hour. 
 
 Huntley was the first to break the silence. 
 
 " I wish to-morrow were come and gone," 
 he exclaimed, suddenly, rising up and taking 
 a rapid turn through the room ; "a week of 
 this would kill me." 
 
 Cosmo looked up, with an almost feminine 
 reproof in his tearful black eyes. 
 
 ^^Well, laddie," said the elder brother; 
 " dinna look at me with these e'en ! If it 
 would have lengthened out his days an hour, 
 or saved him a pang, would I have spared 
 years to do it ? but what is he heeding for all 
 this gloom and silence now ? "
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 43 
 
 "Nothing," said the second brother, "but 
 the neighboui's care, and so does my mother ; 
 it's nothing, but it's all we can give — and he 
 would have heeded and been pleased, had he 
 thought beforehand on what we should be 
 doing now." 
 
 It was so true, that Huntley sat down again, 
 overpowered. Yes, he would have been 
 pleased to think of every particular of the 
 " respect " which belonged to the dead. The 
 closed houses, the darkened rooms, the funeral 
 train ; that tender human spirit would have 
 clung to every one of them in his thoughts, 
 keeping the warmth of human sympathy close 
 to him to the latest possibility, little, little 
 though he knew about them now. 
 
 " What troubles me is standing still," said 
 Huntley, with a sigh. " I cannot tell what's 
 before us; I don't think even my mother 
 knows ; I believe it's worse than we can think 
 of; and we've neither friends, nor money, nor 
 influence. Here are we three Livingstones,
 
 44 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and Tm not twenty, and weVe debts in money 
 to meet, and mortgages on the land, and nothing 
 in the world but our hands and our heads, and 
 what strength and wit God has given us. I'm 
 not grumbling — but to think upon it all, and to 
 think now that — that he's gone, and we're 
 alone and for ourselves — and to sit still neither 
 doing nor planning, it's that that troubles me ! " 
 
 " Huntley, its Sabbath day ! " said Cosmo. 
 
 ^^Ay, I ken ! it's Sabbath and rest, but not 
 to us," cried the young man; "here's me, that 
 should have seen my way — I'm old enough — me 
 that should have known where I was going, 
 and how I was going, and been able to spare 
 a hand for you ; and I'm the biggest burden 
 of all; a man without a trade to turn his hand 
 to, a man without knowledge in his head or 
 skill in his fingers — and to sit still and never 
 say a word, and see them creeping down, day 
 by day, and everything put back as if life 
 could be put back and wait. True Patie ! what 
 would you have me do ? "
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 45 
 
 '' Make up your mind, and wait till it's time 
 to tell it," said Patie, without either reproof 
 or sympathy ; but Cosmo was more moved 
 — he came to his eldest brother with a soft 
 step. 
 
 ^^ Huntley," said Cosmo, in the soft speech 
 of their childhood, ^^what makes ye speak 
 about a trade, you that are Livingstone of 
 Norlaw? It's for us to gang and seek our 
 fortunes; you're the chief of your name, and the 
 lands are yours — they canna ruin you, Huntley. 
 I see the difference mysel', the folk see it in 
 the countryside ; and as for Patie and me, 
 we'll seek our fortunes — we're only the 
 youngest sons, its our inheritance ; but Nor- 
 law, and home, and the name, are with you." 
 This appeal had the strangest effect upon 
 Huntley ; it seemed to dissipate in an instant 
 all the impatience and excitement of the 
 youth's grief; he put his arm round Cosmo, 
 with a sudden melting of heart and counte- 
 nance.
 
 46 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 '^ Do ye hear him, Patie ? " cried Huntley, 
 with tears ; ^^ he thinks home's home for ever, 
 because the race has been here a thousand 
 years ; he thinks I'm a prince delivering my 
 kingdom ! Cosmo, the land's gone ; I know 
 there's not an acre ours after to-morrow. I've 
 found it out, bit by bit, though nobody said a 
 word ; but we'll save the house, and the old 
 castle, if we should never have a penny over, 
 for my mother and you." 
 
 The boy stared aghast into his brother's 
 face. The land ! it had been Cosmo's dream 
 by night, and thought by day. The poetic 
 child had made, indeed, a heroic kingdom and 
 inheritance out of that little patrimonial farm. 
 Notwithstanding, he turned to Patie for confir- 
 mation, but found no comfort there. 
 
 ^^ As you think best, Huntley," said the second 
 son, "but what is a name? My mother will 
 care little for Norlaw when we are gone, and 
 the name of a landed family has kept us poor. 
 Tve found things out, as well as you. I
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 4T 
 
 thought it would be best to part with 
 
 " It Tvas almost his last word/' said Hunt- 
 ley, sadly. 
 
 "Ay, but he could not tell," said the stout- 
 hearted boy ; "he was of another mind from 
 you or me ; he did not think that our strength 
 and our lives were for better use than to be 
 wasted on a word. What's Norlaw Castle to us, 
 more than a castle in a book ? Ay, Cosmo, 
 it's true. Would you drag a burden of debt at 
 Huntley's feet for the sake of an acre of corn- 
 land, or four old walls? We've been kept down 
 and kept in prison, us and our forbears, because 
 of Norlaw. I say we should go free." 
 
 " And I," cried Cosmo, lifting his long, 
 white hand in sudden passion. "I, if Huntley 
 does not care for the name, nor for my father's 
 last wish, nor for the house of our ancestors ; 
 I will never rest night nor day, though I 
 break my heart or lose my life, till I redeem 
 Norlaw ! "
 
 48 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Huntley, whose arm still rested on the boy's 
 shoulder, drew him closer, with a look which 
 had caught a tender, sympathetic, half-com- 
 passionate enthusiasm from his. 
 
 " We'll save Norlaw for my father's son," 
 said the elder brother ; and, young as Huntley 
 was, he looked with eyes full of love and pity 
 upon this boy, who inherited more from his 
 father than his name. Huntley had been 
 brought up in all the natural love and re- 
 verence of a well-ordered family; he knew 
 there was weakness in his father's character, 
 beautiful, lovable, tender wealmess, for which, 
 somehow, people only seem to like him better. 
 He had not permitted himself to see yet what 
 harm and selfish unconsciousness of others that 
 graceful temperament had hidden. He looked 
 at Cosmo, thinking as a strong mind thinks of 
 that constitution which is called poetic — of 
 the sensitive nature which would shrink 
 from unkindness, and the tender spirit 
 which could not bear the trials of the world ;
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 49 
 
 and the lad's heart expanded over his father's 
 son. 
 
 Patie got up from his chair, and ^ent 
 to the little book-case in the comer to look for 
 another book of sermons. This boy could not 
 blind his eyes, even with family affection. He 
 loved his father, but he knew plainly, and in so 
 many words, that his father had ruined their in- 
 heritance. He could not help seeing that this 
 amiable tenderness bore no better fruit than 
 selfishness or cruelty. He thought it would be 
 riglit and just to all their hopes to part 
 with even the name of Xorlaw. But it was 
 not his concern ; he was ready to give his 
 opinion at the proper time, but not to stand 
 out unreasonably against the decision of his 
 elder brother ; and when he, too, looked at 
 Cosmo, it was with soberer eyes than those of 
 Huntley — not that he cared less for his father's 
 son — but Patrick could not help seeing with 
 those clear eyes of his ; and what he feared to 
 see was not the sensitive nature and the 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 tender spirit, but the self-regard which lay 
 beneath. 
 
 Which of them was right, or whether either 
 of them were right, this history will best 
 show.
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 Sabbath night; a July night, sweet with 
 summer stars and moonlight, and with no dark- 
 ness in it ; the water running soft with its 
 quietest murmur, the thrush and blackbird 
 beguiled to sing almost as late as the southland 
 nightingale ; the scent of the late roses 
 coming round the corner of the house on the 
 faint breeze ; the stars clustered in a little 
 crowd over the gaunt castle walls, and in the 
 distance the three weird Eildons, standing out 
 dark against the pale azure blue and flood of 
 moonlight; a sabbath evening with not a 
 sound in it, save the sweetest sounds of nature, 
 a visible holy blessing of quiet and repose. 
 
 But the table was spread in the dining- 
 
 E 2 

 
 52 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 parlour at Norlaw ; there was a basket of oat- 
 cakes and flour " bannocks " upon the table, in 
 a snowy napkin, and butter, and milk, and 
 cheese, all of the freshest and most fragrant, 
 the produce of their own lands. Two candles 
 made a little spot of light upon the white 
 table-cloth, but left all the rest of the room in 
 dreary shadow. To see it was enough to tell 
 that some calamity oppressed the house — and 
 when the widow came in, with her face of ex- 
 haustion, and eyes which could weep no more 
 for very weariness, when the boys followed 
 slowly one by one, and Marget coming in with 
 the solemn, noiseless > step, so unusual to her, 
 hovered about them all with her portentous 
 gravity, and unwonted attendance, it was not 
 hard to conclude that they ate and drank under 
 the shadow of death. The Mistress had not 
 appeared that day, from the early breakfast 
 until now ; it was the only time before or after 
 when she faltered from the ways of common life. 
 When they had ended the meal, which no
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 53 
 
 one cared to taste, and when the lads began to 
 think with some comfort, in the weariness of 
 their youth, that the day at last was over, 
 Mrs. Livingstone drew her chair away from 
 the table, and looked at them all with the 
 sorrowful tenderness of a mother and a widow. 
 Then, after a long interval, she spoke. 
 
 " Bairns ! '' she said, with a voice which 
 was hoarse with solitude and weeping, 
 ** you're a' thinking what you're to do, and 
 though it's the Sabbath day, I canna blame 
 ye ; but me, I'm but a weak woman — I could 
 not say a word to counsel ye, if it was to save 
 the breaking of my heart this day." 
 
 " We never looked for it, mother. There's 
 time enough ! do you think we would -press 
 our plans on you ? " cried the eager Huntley, 
 who had been groaning but a few hours ago, 
 at this compulsory delay. 
 
 " Na, I could not do it," said the mother, 
 turning her head aside, and drawing the hem 
 of her apron through her fingers, while the
 
 54 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 tears dropped slowly out of her tired eyes ; 
 " this is the last Sabbath-day that him and me 
 will be under the same roof. I canna speak 
 to you, bairns ; I'm but a weak woman, and 
 I've been his wife this five-and- twenty 
 years." 
 
 After a pause, the Mistress dried her eyes, 
 and went on hurriedly : — 
 
 "But I ken ye must have your ain 
 thoughts ; the like of you canna keep still a 
 long summer day, though it is a Sabbath ; 
 and, bairns, I've just this to say to you ; ye 
 canna fear mair than we'll have to meet. 
 I'm thankful even that he's gane hame be- 
 fore the storm falls; for you're a' young, and can 
 stand a blast. There's plenty to do, and 
 plenty to bear. I dinna forbid ye thinking, 
 though it's Sabbath night, and death is 
 among us ; but oh ! laddies, think in a godly 
 manner, and ask a blessing — dinna darken the 
 Sabbath with worldly thoughts, and him lying 
 ou his last bed up the stair ! "
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORIAW. 55 
 
 The boys drew near to her simultaneously, 
 with a common impulse. She heard the 
 rustle and motion of their youthful grief, but 
 she still kept her head aside, and drew 
 tightly through her fingers the hem of her 
 apron. 
 
 ^*The day after the morn/' continued 
 the widow, ^^ I'll be ready with all that I ken, 
 and ready to hear whatever you think for 
 yourselves ; think discreetly, and I'll no 
 oppose, and think soberly, without pride, 
 for we're at the foot of the brae. And we've 
 nae friends to advise us, bairns," continued the 
 Mistress, raising her head a little ^dth the 
 very pride which she deprecated ; ^' we've 
 neither kith nor kin to take us by the hand, 
 nor give us counsel. Maybe it's a the 
 better — for* we've only Providence to trust to 
 now, and ourselves." 
 
 By this time she had risen up, and taking 
 the candle which Patrick had lighted for her, she 
 stood with the little flat brass sconce in her
 
 56 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 hand, and the light flickering over her face, 
 still looking down. Yet she lingered, as if 
 she had something more to say. It burst 
 from her lips, at last, suddenly, almost with 
 passion. 
 
 ^^ Bairns ! take heed, in your very innermost 
 hearts, that ye think no blame ! " cried the 
 widow ; and when she had said these words, 
 hastened away, as if afraid to follow up or to 
 weaken them by another syllable. When she 
 was gone, the lads stood silently about the 
 table, each of them with an additional ache 
 in his heart. There was blame which might 
 be thought, which might be spoken ; even she 
 was aware of it, in the jealous regard of her 
 early grief. 
 
 " The Mistress has bidden you a' good 
 night," said Marget, entering softly ; '^ ye've 
 taen nae supper, and ye took nae dinner ; 
 how are ye to live and work, growing laddies 
 like you, if you gang on at this rate ? Ye 
 mean to break my heart amang you. If ye
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 57 
 
 never break bread, Huntley Livingstone, 
 how will you get through the morn ? '^ 
 
 " I wish it was over," cried Huntley, once 
 more. 
 
 " And so do I. Eh ! bakns, when I see 
 those blinds a! drawn down, it makes my heart 
 sick," cried Marget, ^^ and grief itsel's easier to 
 thole when ane has ane's wark in hand. But 
 I didna come to haver nonsense here. I came 
 to bid ye a' gang to your beds, like good 
 laddies. Ye'U a' sleep ; that's the good of 
 being young. The Mistress, I daur to say, 
 and even mysel' will not close an eye this 
 night." 
 
 " Would my mother let you remain T^ith her, 
 Marget?" said Huntley; ^'I can't bear to 
 think she's alone in her trouble. Somebody 
 should have come to stay with her; Katie 
 Logan from the manse, perhaps. Why did 
 not some one think of it before ? " 
 
 " Whisht ! and gang to your beds," said 
 Marget ; " no fi^emd person, however
 
 58 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 kindly, ever wins so far into the Mistress's 
 heart. If she had been blessed with a 
 daughter of her ain, it might have been 
 different. Na, Huntley, your mother wouldna 
 put up with me. She's no ane to have either 
 friend or servant tending on her sorrows. 
 Some women would, but no' the Mistress ; 
 and I'm o' the same mind mysel'. Gang to 
 your beds, and get your rest, like good bairns ; 
 the morn will be a new day." 
 
 " Shut up the house and sleep ; that's all 
 we can do," said Cosmo; ^'but I cannarest — 
 and he'll never be another night in this house. 
 Oh, father, father! I'll keep the watch for 
 your sake ! " 
 
 " If he's in this house, he's here," said 
 Patrick, suddenly, to the great amazement of 
 his hearers, moved for once into a higher ima- 
 gination than any of them ; "do you hear me 
 Cosmo ? if he's out of heaven, he's here ; he's 
 no' on yon bed dead. It's no' Mm that's to 
 be carried to Dryburgh. Watching's past and
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 59 
 
 done, unless he watches us ; he's either in 
 heaven, or he's here.*' 
 
 **Eh, laddie! God bless you, that's true!" 
 cried Marget, moved into sudden tears. There 
 was not composure enough among them to add 
 another word; they went to their rooms silently, 
 not to disturb their mother's solitude. But 
 Huntley could not rest ; he came softly down- 
 stairs again, through the darkened house, to 
 find Marget sitting by the fire which she had 
 just " gathered " to last all night, reading her 
 last chapter in the big Bible, and startled her 
 by drawing the bolts softly aside and stepping 
 out into the open air. 
 
 " I must breathe," the lad said, with a voice 
 full of broken sobs. 
 
 The night was like a night of heaven, if 
 such a glory is, where all glories are. The 
 moon was more lavish in her full, mellow 
 splendour, than she had ever been before, to 
 Huntley's eyes ; the sky seemed as light as 
 day, almost too luminous to show the stars.
 
 60 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 which were there shining softly in myriads, 
 though you could scarcely see them ; and the 
 water flowed, and the trees rustled, with a 
 perfection of still music, exquisite, and silent, 
 and beyond description, which Nature only 
 knows when she is alone. The youth turned 
 back again with a sob which eased his heart. 
 Out of doors nothing but splendour, glory, a 
 beatitude calm and full as heaven; within, 
 nothing but death and the presence of death, 
 heavy, like a pall, upon the house and all its 
 inmates. He went back to his rest, with the 
 wonder of humanity in his heart ; when, G-od 
 help us, should this terrible difference be over ? 
 when should the dutiful creation, expanding 
 thus, while the rebel sleeps, receive once more 
 its fullest note of harmony, its better Eden, 
 the race for whom sin and sorrow has ended 
 for evermore ?
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The day of the funeral rose, with a merciful 
 cloud over its brightness — a sorrowful bustle 
 was in the house of Norlaw; some of the atten- 
 dants of the burial train were to return to dine, 
 as the custom was, and Marget and Jenny were 
 fully employed in the kitchen, with the as- 
 sistance of the mother of the latter, who was 
 a widow herself, full of sorrowful experience, 
 and liked, as is not unusual in her class, to 
 assist in the melancholy labours of such an 
 " occasion." The east room was open for the 
 reception of the funeral guests, and on the 
 table were set out decanters of wine, and 
 liberal plates of a delicate cake which used 
 to bear the dismal title of funeral biscuit in
 
 62 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Scotland. The widow, who put on for the 
 first time to-day, the dress which henceforward 
 she should wear all her life, kept her own 
 apartment, where the wife of the principal 
 farmer near, and Catherine Logan, the min- 
 ister's daughter, had joined her ; for though she^ 
 would much rather have been left alone, use 
 and precedent were strong upon the Mistress, 
 and she would not willingly have broken 
 through any of the formal and unalterable 
 customs of the country side. The guests 
 gathered gradually about the melancholy 
 house ; it was to be "a great funeral." As 
 horseman after horseman arrived, the women 
 in the kitchen looked out from the corner of 
 their closed shutters, with mournful pride and 
 satisfaction ; every householder of any 
 standing in the district came out to show 
 '^ respect," to Norlaw — and even the widow in 
 her darkened room felt a certain pleasure in 
 the sounds which came softened to her ear, 
 the horses' hoofs, the clash of stirrup and
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 63 
 
 bridle, and the murmur of open-air voices, 
 which even the " occasion '' could not subdue 
 beyond a certain measure. 
 
 The lads were all assembled in the east 
 room to receive their guests, and with them, 
 the earliest arrival of all, was the minister, 
 lending his kindly support and aid to Huntley, 
 in this earliest and saddest exercise of his new 
 duties as head of the house. One good thing 
 was, that the visitors did not feel themselves 
 called upon to overwhelm the fatherless youth 
 with condolences. A hearty grasp of rough 
 hands ; a subdued word of friendship and en- 
 couragement, as one by one, or in little 
 clusters, those great rustic figures, all in 
 solenm mourning, collected in the room, were 
 all that "the family" were called upon to 
 undergo. 
 
 The hum of conversation which immediately 
 began, subdued in tone and grave in expres- 
 sion, but still conversation such as rural 
 neighbours use, interspersed with inquiries and
 
 64 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 shakes of the head, as to how this household 
 was "left," was a relief to the immediate 
 mourners, though perhaps it was not much in 
 accordance with the sentiment of the time. 
 It was etiquette that the wine and cake should 
 be served to all present, and when all the 
 guests were assembled, the minister rose, 
 and called them to prayer. They stood in 
 strange groups, those stalwart, ruddy South- 
 land men, about the table — one covering his 
 eyes with his hand, one standing erect, with his 
 head bowed, some leaning against the wall, or 
 over the chairs. Perhaps eyes unaccustomed to 
 such a scene might have thought there was 
 little reverence in the fashion of this funeral 
 service ; but there was at least perfect silence, 
 through which the grave voice of the minister 
 rose steadily, yet not without a falter of 
 personal emotion. It was not the solemn, 
 impersonal words which other churches say 
 over every man whom death makes sacred. 
 It was an individual voice, asking comfort for
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. Qo 
 
 the living, thanking God for the dead — and 
 when that was done, the ceremonial was so 
 far over, and Xorlaw had onlv now to be 
 carried to his grave. 
 
 All the preparations were thus far accom- 
 plished. The three brothers and Dr. Logan 
 had taken their place in the mourning coach ; 
 some distant relatives had taken possession of 
 another ; and the bulk of the guests had 
 mounted and were forming into a procession be- 
 hind. Everything had progressed thus far, when 
 some sudden obstruction became visible to the 
 horsemen without. The funeral attendants 
 closed round the hearse, the horses were seized 
 by strangers, and their forward motion checked; 
 already the farmers behind, leaping from their 
 horses, crowded on to ascertain the cause of 
 the detention ; but the very fact of it was not 
 immediately visible to the youths who were 
 most interested. When the sudden contention 
 of voices startled Huntley, the lad gazed out 
 of the window for a moment in the wild 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 6G THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 resentment of grief, and then dashing open the 
 door, sprang into the midst of the crowd ; a 
 man who was not in mourning, and held 
 a baton in his hand, stood firm and resolute, 
 with his hand upon the door of the hearse ; 
 other men conspicuous among the funeral 
 guests, in their everyday dress, kept close by 
 him, supporting their superior. The guides of 
 the funeral equipage were already in high 
 altercation with the intruders, yet, even at 
 their loudest, were visibly afraid of them. 
 
 " Take out the horses, Grierson — do your 
 duty ! " shouted the leader at the hearse door ; 
 ^' stand back, ye blockheads, in the name of 
 the law ! I'm here to do my orders ; stand 
 back, or it'll be waur for ye a' — ha! wha's 
 here?" 
 
 It was Huntley, whose firm young grasp 
 was on the sturdy shoulder of the speaker. 
 
 " Leave the door, or I'll fell you ! " cried the 
 lad, in breathless passion, shaking with his 
 clutch of fury the strong thickset frame which
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 67 
 
 had double his strength ; ^^ what do you Tvant 
 here ? — how do you dare to stop the funeral ? 
 take off your hand off the door, or I'll fell you 
 to the ground ! " 
 
 " Whisht, lad, whisht — it's a sheriffs officer; 
 speak him canny and he'll hear reason," cried 
 one of the farmers, hastily laying a detaining 
 grasp on Huntley's arm. The intruder 
 stood his ground firmly. He took his hand 
 from the door, not in obedience to the threat, 
 but to the grief which burned in the youth's 
 eyes. 
 
 "My lad, it's little pleasure to me," he 
 said, in a voice which was not without respect, 
 " but I must do my duty. Felling me's no' 
 easy, but felling the law is harder still. Make 
 him stand aside, any of you that's his friend, 
 and has sense to ken ; there's no mortal 
 good in resisting ; this funeral cannot gang on 
 this day." 
 
 " Let go — stand back ; speak to m^," said 
 Huntley, throwing off the grasp of his friend, 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and turning to his opponent a face in which 
 bitter shame and distress began to take the 
 place of passion ; " stand aside, every man — 
 what right have you to stop us burying our 
 dead? Tm his son ; come here and tell me." 
 
 ^^ I am very sorry for you, my lad, but I 
 cannot help it," said the officer; ^^Tm bound to 
 arrest the body of Patrick Livingstone, of 
 Norlaw. It may be a cruel thing, but I 
 must do my duty. I'm Alexander Elliot, 
 sheriff's officer at Melrose ; I want to make 
 no disturbance more than can be helped. 
 Take my advice. Take in the coffin to the 
 house and bid the neighbours back for 
 another day. And, in the meantime, look up 
 your friends and settle your scores with 
 Melmar. It's the best you can do." 
 
 " Elliot," said Dr. Logan, over his shoulder ; 
 "do you call this law, to arrest the dead? 
 he's far beyond debt and trouble now. For 
 shame ! — leave the living to meet their 
 troubles, but let them bury their dead."
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 69 
 
 "And so I would, minister, if it was me,'' 
 said Elliot, twirling his baton in his hand, and 
 looking down with momentary shame and con- 
 fusion ; " but I've as little to do with the 
 business as you have," he added, hur- 
 riedly. " I give you my advice for the best, 
 but I must do my duty. Grierson, look to 
 thae youngsters — dang them a' — do ye ca' 
 that mair seemly ? it's waur than me ! " 
 
 Cosmo Livingstone, wild with a boy's pas- 
 sion, and stupefied with grief, had spi'ung up 
 to the driving-seat of the hearse while this 
 discussion proceeded ; and lashing the half- 
 loosed horses, had urged them forward with a 
 violent and unseemly speed, which threw down 
 on either side the men who were at their 
 heads, and dispersed the crowd in momentary 
 alarm. The frightened animals dashed for- 
 ward wildly for a few steps, but speedily 
 brought up in their unaccustomed career by 
 the shouts and pursuit of the attendants, car- 
 ried the melancholy vehicle down the slope
 
 70 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and paused, snorting at the edge of the stream, 
 through which, the boy, half mad with ex- 
 citement, would have driven them. Perhaps 
 the wild gallop of the hearse, though only for 
 so short a distance, horrified the bystanders 
 more than the real interruption. One of the 
 funeral guests seized Cosmo in his strong 
 arms, and lifted him down like a child ; the 
 others led the panting horses back at the rever- 
 ential pace which became the solemn burden 
 they were bearing ; and after that outbreak 
 of passion, the question was settled without 
 further discussion. Patrick Livingstone, 
 his eyes swollen and heavy with burning 
 tears, w^hich he could not shed, led the way, 
 while the bearers once more carried to his 
 vacant room all that remained of Norlaw. 
 
 The mass of the funeral guests paused only 
 long enough to maintain some degree of quiet- 
 ness and decency ; they dispersed with natu- 
 ral good feeling, without aggravating the 
 unfortunate family with condolence or obser-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 71 
 
 vation. Huntley, with the minister and the 
 principal farmer of the district, Mr. Black- 
 adder, of Tjneside, who happened to be also 
 an old and steady friend of their father, stood 
 at a little distance with the officer, investigat- 
 ing the detainer which kept the dead out of 
 his grave ; the melancholy empty hearse and 
 dismal coaches crept off slowly along the high 
 road; and Cosmo, trembling in every limb 
 with the violence of his excitement, stood 
 speechless at the door, gazing after them, 
 falling, in the quick revulsion of his tempera- 
 ment, from unnatural passion into utter and 
 prostrate despondency. The poor boy scarcely 
 knew who it was that drew him into the 
 house, and spoke those words of comfort which 
 relieved his overcharged heart by tears. It 
 was pretty Katie Logan, crying herself, and 
 scarcely able to speak, who had been sent 
 down from the widow's room, by Mrs. Black- 
 adder, to find out what the commotion was ; 
 and who, struck with horror and amazement,
 
 72 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 as at a sacrilege, was terrified to go up again, 
 to break the tender, proud heart of Norlaw's 
 mourning wife, with such terrible news. 
 
 Presently the mournful little party came in 
 to the east room, which still stood as they 
 had left it, with the funeral bread and wine 
 upon the table. Patrick came to join them 
 immediately, and the two lads bent their 
 heads together over the paper : a thousand 
 pounds, borrowed by a hundred at a time 
 from Mr. Huntley, of Melmar, over and 
 above the mortgages which that gen- 
 tleman held on the better part of the 
 lands of Norlaw. The boys read it with a 
 passion of indignation and shame in their 
 hearts ; their father's affairs, on his funeral 
 day, publicly ^^ exposed" to all the country- 
 side ; their private distress and painful pros- 
 pects, and his unthrift and weakness made 
 the talk of every gossip in the country. 
 Huntley and Patrick drew a hard breath, and 
 clasped each other's hands with the grip of
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 73 
 
 desperation. But Norlaw lay unburied on 
 his deathbed ; they could not bury him till 
 this money was paid ; it was an appalling 
 sum to people in their class, already deeply 
 impoverished, and in the first tingle of this 
 distressing blow, they saw no light either pn 
 one side or the other, and could not tell what 
 to do. 
 
 " But I cannot understand," said Dr. Logan, 
 who was a man limited and literal, although 
 a most pious minister and the father of his 
 people. ^^ I cannot understand how law can 
 sanction what even nature holds up her hand 
 against. The dead — man ! how dare ye step in 
 with your worldly arrests and warrants, when 
 the Lord has been before you ? how dare ye 
 put your bit baton across the grave, where a 
 righteous man should have been laid this 
 day?" 
 
 *^ I have to do my duty," said the immove- 
 able Elliot, "how daur ye, is naething to me. 
 I must do according to my instructions — and
 
 74 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 ye ken, doctor, it's but a man's body can be 
 apprehended ony time. Neither you nor me 
 can lay grips on his soul." 
 
 ^' Hush, mocker ! " cried the distressed 
 clergyman; ^^ but what is to be done? Mr. 
 Blackadder, these bairns cannot get this 
 money but with time and toil. If that will 
 do any good, I'll go immediately to Me'mar 
 myself." 
 
 ^^ Never," cried Huntley; ^^ never — anything 
 but that. I'll sell myself for a slave be- 
 fore I'll take a favour from my father's 
 enemy." 
 
 '^ It's in Whitelaw's hands, the writer in 
 Melrose. I'll ride down there and ask about 
 it," said Blackadder ; "whisht, Huntley! the 
 minister's presence should learn you better — 
 and every honest man can but pity and scorn 
 ane that makes war with the dead ; I'll ride 
 round to Whitelaw. My wife's a sensible 
 woman — she'll break it softly to your mother — 
 and see you do nothing to make it worse.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 75 
 
 I suppose, Elliot, when I come back I'll find 
 you here." 
 
 ^^ Ay, sir, I'm safe enough," said the officer, 
 significantly, as ^^ Tyneside " rose to leave the 
 room. Huntley went with him silently 
 to the stable, where his horse stood still 
 saddled. 
 
 "I see what's in your eye," said Black- 
 adder, in a whisper; ^^ take heart and do it ; 
 trust not a man more than is needful, and 
 dinna be violent. I'll be back before dark, 
 but I may not chance to speak to you again. 
 Do what's in your heart." 
 
 Huntley wrung the Mendly hand held out 
 to him, and went in without a word. His 
 old restless activity seemed to have returned 
 to him, and there was a kindling fiii'e in his 
 hazel eyes, which meant some purpose. 
 
 Good Dr. Logan took the lad's hands, and 
 poured comfort and kindness into his ears; 
 but Huntley could scarcely pause to listen. 
 It was not strange — and it seemed almost hard
 
 76 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 to bid the youth have patience when the 
 vulgar law — stubborn and immoveable — the 
 law of money and merchandise, kept joint 
 possession with death, of this melancholy 
 house.
 
 77 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Huntley could not see his mother after 
 this outrage became known to her. The 
 widow resented it with all a woman's horror 
 and passion, and with all the shame of a 
 Scottish matron, jealous, above all things, 
 of privacy and " respect." Pretty Katie 
 Logan sat at her feet crying in inarticulate 
 and unreasoning sympathy, which was better 
 for the Mistress than all the wisdom and 
 consolation with which good Mrs. Black- 
 adder endeavoured to support her. In the 
 kitchen Jenny and her mother cried too, the 
 latter telling doleful stories of similar circum- 
 stances which she had known; but Marget 
 went about with a burning cheek, watching
 
 78 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 "the laddies" with a jealous tenderness, 
 which no one but their mother could have 
 surpassed, eager to read their looks and antici- 
 pate their meaning. It was a sultry, oppres- 
 sive day, hot and cloudy, threatening a thun- 
 der storm ; and it is impossible to describe 
 the still heavier oppression of distress and 
 excitement in this closed-up and gloomy 
 house. When Marget went out to the byre, 
 late in the afternoon, several hours after these 
 occurrences, Huntley came to her secretly by 
 a back way. What he said roused the spirit 
 of a hero in Marget's frame. She put aside 
 her pail on the instant, smoothed down her 
 new black gown over her petticoat, and threw 
 a shawl across her head. 
 
 " This moment, laddie — ^this instant — ye 
 may trust me ! " cried Marget, with a sob ; 
 and before Huntley, passing round behind the 
 offices, came in sight of the high road, his 
 messenger had already disappeared on the 
 way to Kirkbride.
 
 THE LAIRD OF XOELAW. 79 
 
 Then Huntley drew his cap over his eves, 
 threw round him a gray shepherd's plaid, as 
 a partial disguise, and set out in the opposite 
 direction. Before he reached his journey's 
 end, the sweeping deluge of a thunder-storm 
 came down upon those uplands, in white sheets 
 of falling water. The lad did not pause to take 
 shelter, scarcely to take breath ; but pushed 
 on till he reached some scattered cottages, 
 where the men were just returning from their 
 day's work. At that time the rain and the 
 western sun, through the thickness of the 
 thunder-cloud, made a gorgeous, lurid, un- 
 earthly glow, like what it might make through 
 the smoke of a great battle. Huntley called 
 one of the men to him into a little hollow 
 below the hamlet. He was one of the servants 
 of Norlaw, as were the most of these cot- 
 tagers. The young master told his tale with 
 little loss of words, and met with the hearty 
 and ready assent of his horrified listener. 
 
 " I'll no fail ye, Maister Huntley ; neither
 
 80 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 will the Laidlaws. I'll bring them up bj the 
 darkening ; ye may reckon upon them and me," 
 said the labourer ; ^^ and what use burdening 
 yoursel' with mair, unless it were to show 
 respect ? There's enow, with ane of you lads 
 to take turns, and us three." 
 
 " Not at the darkening — at midnight, Willie ; 
 or at earliest at eleven, when its quite dark," 
 said Huntley. 
 
 ^^ At eleven ! mid nicht ! I'm no heeding ; 
 but what will we say to the wives?" said 
 Willie, scratching his head in momentary 
 dismay. 
 
 ^^ Say — but not till you leave them — that 
 you're coming to serve Norlaw in extremity," 
 said Huntley ; '^ and to make my brothers and 
 me debtors to your kindness for ever." 
 
 '' Whisht about that," said Willie Noble ; 
 "mony a guid turn's come to us out of Norlaw ; 
 — and Peggie's no like the maist of women — 
 she'll hear reason. If we can aince win owre 
 Tweed, we're safe, Maister Huntley ; but it's a
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 81 
 
 weary long way to there. What would you 
 say to a guid horse and a light cart ? there's 
 few folk about the roads at night." 
 
 Huntley shrunk with involuntary horror 
 from the details even of his own arrangement. 
 
 "I'll take care for that," he said, hurriedly ; 
 " but we could not take a carriage over Tweed, 
 and that is why I ask this help from you." 
 
 " And kindly welcome ; I wish to heaven 
 it had been a blyther errand for your sake," 
 said the man, heartily ; " but we maun take 
 what God sends ; and wha's to keep the 
 officer quiet, for that's the chief of the haill 
 plan?" 
 
 " I've to think of that yet," said Huntley, 
 turning his face towards home with a heavy 
 sigh. 
 
 " I'd bind him neck and heels, and put him 
 inTyne to cool himsel' ! " said Wilhe, with a 
 fervent effusion of indignation. Huntley only 
 bade him remember the hour, shook his hard 
 hand, and hurried away. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 It was a painful, troubled, unhappy even- 
 ing, full of the excitement of a conspiracy. 
 When, Huntley and Patrick communicated 
 with each other it was impossible to say, 
 for they never seemed to meet alone, and 
 Patrick had taken upon himself the hard duty 
 of keeping Elliot company. 
 
 The minister and his daughter departed 
 sadly in the twilight, knowing no com- 
 fort for the family they left. And Mr. 
 Blackadder returned gloomily from his visit 
 to the attorney, bringing the news that he 
 had no authority to stop proceedings till 
 he consulted with his principal, after which, 
 in good time, and with a look and grasp of 
 Huntley's hand, which were full of meaning, 
 the good farmer, too, took his wife away. 
 
 Then came the real struggle. The officer 
 kept his watch in the dining-room, to which 
 he had shifted from some precautionary notion, 
 and sat there in the great chintz easy-chair, 
 which the hearts of the lads burned to see
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 83 
 
 him occupy, perfectly content to talk to Patie, 
 and to consume soberly a very large measure 
 of toddy, the materials for which stood on 
 the table the whole evening. Patie discharged 
 his painful office like a hero. He sat by the 
 other side of the table, listening to the man's 
 stories, refusing to meet Huntley's eye when 
 by chance he entered the room, and taking 
 no note of the reproachful, indignant glances 
 of Cosmo, who still knew nothing of their 
 plans, and could not keep his patience when 
 he saw his brother entertaining this coarse 
 intruder in their sorrowful affairs. 
 
 Huntley, meanwhile, moved about stealthily, 
 making all the arrangements. It was a consi- 
 derable discouragement to find that the officer 
 had made up his mind to spend the night in 
 the dining-room, where Marget, with a swell 
 and excitement in her homely form, which, 
 fortunately, Elliot's eyes were not sufficiently 
 enlightened to see, prepared the haircloth sofa 
 for his night's repose. He was sober, in spite 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 of the toddy, but it seemed more than mortal 
 powers could bear, keeping awake. 
 
 It was midnight; and Huntley knew by 
 Marget's face that his assistants were in atten- 
 dance, but still they scarcely ventured to say 
 to each other that everything was ready for 
 their melancholy office. 
 
 Midnight, and the house was still. Yet such 
 a perturbed and miserable stillness, tingling 
 with apprehension and watchfulness ! The 
 widow had left her sorrowful retirement up- 
 stairs ; she stood outside on the gallery 
 in the darkness, with her hands clasped 
 close together, keeping down all natural 
 pangs in this unnatural hardship. Marget, 
 who was strong and resolute, stood watch- 
 ing breathless at the closed door of the 
 dining-room, with a great plaid in her hands 
 which nobody understood the occasion for. 
 No one else was to be seen, save a train of four 
 black figures moving noiselessly up the stairs. 
 At every step these midnight emissaries took.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 85 
 
 Marget held her breath harder, and the 
 Mistress clasped her hand upon her heart with 
 an agonizing idea that its throbs must be 
 heard throughout the house. A single faint 
 ray of light directed their way to the room 
 where the dead lay; all beside was in the 
 deepest darkness of a stormy night — and once 
 more with a merciful noise pattering loud 
 upon the trees without, came down the deluge 
 of the thunder-storm. 
 
 It was at this moment that Cosmo, sitting in 
 his own room, trying to compose his heart with 
 a chapter in his Bible, saw, for he could not 
 hear, his door open, and Huntley's face, pale 
 with agitation, look in. 
 
 " Come ! " said the elder brother, who was 
 almost speechless with strong excitement. 
 
 " Where ? " cried the amazed boy. 
 
 Huntley held up his hand to bar 
 speaking. 
 
 " To bury my father," he answered, with a 
 voice, which, deep in solemn meaning, seemed
 
 86 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 somehow, to be without common sound, and 
 rather to convey itself to the mind, than to 
 speak to the ear. 
 
 Without a word, Cosmo rose and followed. 
 His brother held him fast upon the dark 
 gallery, in a speechless grip of intense 
 emotion. Cosmo could scarcely restrain the 
 natural cry of terror, the natural sob out of 
 his boy's heart. 
 
 It went down solemnly and noiselessly, 
 down the muffled stair, that something, dark 
 and heavy, which the noiseless figures carried. 
 At the foot of the stairs, Patie, his own pale 
 face the only thing there on which the light 
 fell fully, held with a steady, patient determi- 
 nation, and without a tremble, the little rush- 
 light, hid in a lantern, which guided their 
 descent, and in the darkness above stood the 
 Mistress, like a figure in a dream, with her 
 hands pressed on her heart. 
 
 Then a blast of colder air, a louder 
 sound of the thunder-rain. The two brothers
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 87 
 
 stole down stairs, Huntley still holding fast 
 by Cosmo's ann — and in another moment the 
 whole procession stood safe and free, in the 
 garden, under the blast of big rain and the 
 mighty masses of cloud. So far, all was safe ; 
 and thus, under shelter of the midnight, set 
 forth from his sad house, the funeral of 
 Norlaw.
 
 88 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 That night was a night of storms. When 
 the heavy rain ceased, peals of thunder shook 
 the house, and vivid lightning flashed through 
 the darkness. When the funeral procession 
 was safe, Marget fastened her plaid across 
 the door of the dining-room as a pre- 
 caution, and went up stairs to attend to 
 the Mistress. She found the widow kneel- 
 ing down, where she had stood, leaning her 
 hands and her face against the railings of the 
 gallery, not fainting, perfectly conscious, yet 
 in a condition in comparison with which a 
 swoon would have been happiness. Her hands 
 clung tight and rigid about the rails. She 
 had sunk upon her knees from pure exhaus-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 89 
 
 tion, and kept that position for the same rea- 
 son. Yet she was terribly conscious of the 
 approach of Marget, afraid of her in the dark- 
 ness, as if she were an enemy. The faithful 
 servant managed to rouse her after great pains, 
 and at last was able to lead her down stairs, 
 to the gathered fire in the kitchen, where the 
 two sat in the darkness, with one red 
 spark of fire presei-ving some appearance of 
 life in the apartment, listening to the blast of 
 rain against the window, watching the flashes 
 of wild light which blazed through the three 
 round holes in the kitchen shutter, and the 
 thunder which echoed far among the distant 
 hills. Sitting together without a word, listen- 
 ing with feverish anxiety to every sound, and 
 fearing every moment that the storm must 
 wake their undesired inmate, who could not 
 stir in the dining-room without their hearing. 
 It was thus the solemn night passed, lingering 
 and terrible, over the heads of the women who 
 remained at home.
 
 90 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 And through that wild summer midnight — 
 through the heavy roads, where their feet sank 
 at every step, and the fluttering ghostly 
 branches on the hedgerows, which caught the 
 rude pall, a large black shawl, which had 
 been thrown over the coffin — the melancholy 
 clandestine procession made its way. When 
 they had gone about half a mile, they were 
 met by the old post-chaise from the Norlaw 
 Arms, at Kirkbride, which had been waiting 
 there for them. In it, relieving each other, 
 the little party proceeded onward. At length 
 they came to Tweed, to the pebbly beach, 
 where the ferryman's boat lay fastened by its 
 iron ring and hempen cable. But for the for- 
 tunate chance of finding it here, Huntley, who 
 was unrivalled in all athletic exercises, had 
 looked for nothing better than swimming 
 across the river, to fetch the boat from the 
 other side. Kapidly, yet reverently, their 
 solemn burden was laid in the boat ; two of 
 the men, by this time, had ventured to light
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 91 
 
 torches, which they had brought with them, 
 wrapt in a plaid. The rain had ceased. The 
 broad breast of Tweed "grit" mth those floods, 
 and overflowing the pebbles for a few yards 
 before they reached the real margin of the 
 stream, flowed rapidly and strongly, with 
 a dark, swift current, marked with foam, 
 which it required no small effort to strike 
 steadily across. The dark trees, glistening 
 with big drops of rain — the unseen depths 
 on either side, only perceptible to their senses 
 by the cold full breath of wind which blew 
 over them — the sound of water running 
 fierce in an expanded tide ; and as they set 
 out upon the river, the surrounding gleam of 
 water shining under their torches, and the 
 stroDg swell of downward motion, against 
 which they had to struggle, composed alto- 
 gether a scene which no one there soon 
 forgot. The boat had to return a second 
 time, to convey all its passengers ; and then 
 once more, with the solemn tramp of a pro-
 
 92 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 cession, the little party went on in the dark- 
 ness to the grave. 
 
 And then the night calmed, and a wild, 
 frightened moon looked out of the clouds into 
 solemn Dryburgh, in the midst of her old 
 monkish orchards. Through the great 
 grass-grown roofless nave, the white light fell 
 in a sudden calm, pallid and silent as death 
 itself, yet looking on like an amazed spectator 
 of the scene. 
 
 The open grave stood ready as it had been 
 prepared this morning — a dark, yawning 
 breach in the wet grass, its edge all defined 
 and glistening in the moonlight. It was in 
 one of the small side chapels, overgrown with 
 grass and ivy, which are just distinguishable 
 from the main mass of the ruin ; here the 
 torches blazed and the dark figures grouped 
 together, and in a solemn and mysterious 
 silence these solitary remains of the old house 
 of God looked on at the funeral. The storm 
 was over ; the thunder-clouds rolled away to
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLATV. 93 
 
 the north ; the face of the heavens cleared ; 
 the moon grew brighter. High against the 
 sky stood out the Catherine window in its 
 frame of ivy, the solitary shafts and walls from 
 which the trees waved — and in a solemn gloom, 
 broken by flashes of light which magnified the 
 shadow, lay those morsels of the ancient build- 
 ing which still retained a cover. The wind 
 rustled through the trees, shaking down great 
 drops of moisture, which fell with a startling 
 coldness upon the faces of the mourners, some 
 of whom began to feel the thrill of supersti- 
 tious awe. It was the only sound, save that 
 of the subdued footsteps round the grave, and 
 the last heavy, dreadful bustle of human ex- 
 ertion, letting down the silent inhabitant into 
 his last resting-place, which sounded over the 
 burial of Korlaw. 
 
 And now, at last, it was all over; the 
 terrible excitement, the dismal, long, self-re- 
 straint, the unnatural force of human resent- 
 ment and defiance which had mingled with
 
 94 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 the grief of these three lads. At last he was 
 in his grave, solemnly and safely ; at last he 
 was secure where no man could insult what 
 remained of him, or profane his dwelling-place. 
 As the moon shone on the levelled soil, Cosmo 
 cried aloud in a boyish agony of nature, and fell 
 upon the wet grass, beside the grave. The 
 cry rang through all the solemn echoes of the 
 place. Some startled birds flew out of the 
 ivied crevices, and made wild, bewildered 
 circles of fright among the walls. A pang of 
 sudden terror fell upon the rustic attendants ; 
 the torch bearers let their lights fall, and the 
 chief among them hurriedly entreated Huntley 
 to linger no longer. 
 
 " A's done ! " said Willie Noble, lifting his 
 bonnet reverently from his head. " Farewell 
 to a good master that I humbly hope's in 
 heaven lang afore now. We can do him nae 
 further good, and the lads are timid of the 
 place. Maister Huntley, may I give them the 
 word to turn hame ? '^
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 95 
 
 So they turned home ; the three brothers, 
 last and lingering, turned back to life and 
 their troubles — all the weary weight of toil 
 which A^ had left on their shoulders, for whom 
 this solemn midnight expedition was their 
 last personal service. The three came 
 together, hand in hand, saying never a word — 
 their hearts " grit " like Tweed, and flowing 
 full with unspeakable emotions — and passed 
 softly under the old fruit trees, which shed 
 heavy dew upon their heads, and through the 
 wet paths which shone in lines of silver under 
 the moon ; Tweed, lying full in a sudden 
 revelation of moonlight, one bank falling off 
 into soft shadows of trees, the other guarding 
 with a ledge of rock some fair boundary of 
 possession, and the bubbles of foam gleaming 
 bright upon the rapid current, was not more 
 unlike the invisible gloomy river over which 
 they passed an hour ago, than was their own 
 coming and going. The strain was out of 
 their young spirits, the fire of excitement had
 
 96 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 consumed itself, and Norlaw's sons, like lads 
 as they were, were melting, each one silently 
 and secretly, into the mood of tears and 
 loving recollections, the very tenderness of 
 grief. 
 
 And when Marget took down the shutter 
 from the window, to see by the early morning 
 light how this night of watching had at last 
 taken the bloom from the Mistress' face, three 
 other faces, white with the wear of extreme 
 emotion, but tender as the morning faces 
 of children, appeared to her coming slowly 
 and calmly, and with weariness, along the 
 green bank before the house. They had 
 not spoken all the way. They were 
 worn out with passion and sorrow, and 
 want of rest — even with want of food — for 
 these days had been terrible days for boys 
 of their age to struggle through. Marget 
 could not restrain a cry of mingled alarm and 
 triumph. That, and the sound of the bolts 
 withdrawn from the door, did what the
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 97 
 
 thunder-storm could not do. It broke the 
 slumbers of the sheriffs' officer, who had slept 
 till now. He ran to the window hastily, and 
 drew aside the curtain — he saw the face of the 
 widow at the kitchen-door; the lads, travel- 
 soiled and weary, with their wet clothes and 
 exhausted faces, coming up to meet her ; and 
 the slumbrous sentinel rushed out of the room 
 to entangle himself in the folds of Marget's 
 plaid, and overwhelm her with angry questions; 
 for she came to his call instantly, with a pre- 
 tence of care and solicitude exasperating 
 enough under any circumstances. 
 
 ^^ Where have the lads been? " cried Elliot, 
 throwing down at her, torn through the 
 middle, the plaid which she had hung across 
 his door. 
 
 " TheyVe been at their father's funeral,'* 
 said Marget, solemnly, ^^ puir bairns! — through 
 the storm and the midnicht, to Dryburgh, to 
 the family grave." 
 
 The man turned into the room again in a 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 pretended passion — but, sheriffs' officer though 
 he was, perhaps he was not sorry for once in 
 his life to find himself foiled.
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 *^ Put on your bonnet, Katie, and come with 
 me — the like of you should be able to be 
 some comfort to that poor widow at Xorlaw," 
 said Dr. Logan to his daughter, as they stood 
 together in the manse garden, after their early 
 breakfast. 
 
 After the storm, it was a lovelv sum- 
 mer morning, tender, dewy, refi-eshed, 
 fiill of the songs of birds and odours of 
 flowers. 
 
 Katie Logan was only eighteen, but felt 
 herself a great deal older. She was the eldest 
 child of a late marriage, and had been mother 
 and mistress in the manse for four long years. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 The minister, as is the fate of ministers, 
 had waited long for this modest preferment, 
 and many a heavy thought it gave him to see 
 his children young and motherless, and to re- 
 member that he himself was reaching near the 
 limit of human life ; but Katie was her 
 father's comfort in this trouble, as in most 
 others ; and it seemed so natural to see her in 
 full care and management of her four little 
 brothers and sisters, that the chances of Katie 
 having a life of her own before her, inde- 
 pendent of the manse, seldom troubled the 
 thoughts of her father. 
 
 Katie did not look a day older than she 
 was ; but she had that indescribable elder- 
 sister bearing, that pretty shade of thought- 
 fulness upon her frank face, which an early re- 
 sponsibility throws into the looks of very chil- 
 dren. Even a young wife, in all the importance 
 of independent sway, must have looked but a 
 novice in presence of the minister's daughter, 
 who had to be mistress and mother at four-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 101 
 
 teen, and had kept the manse cosy and in 
 order, regulated the economies, darned the 
 stockings, and even cut out the Little frocks 
 and pinafores from that time until now. Katie 
 knew more about measles and hooping-cough 
 than many a mother, and was skilled how to 
 take a cold " in time," and check an incipient 
 fever. The minister thought no one else, save 
 his dead wife, could have managed the thi'ee 
 hundred pounds of the manse income, so as to 
 leave a comfortable sum over every year, to be 
 laid by for ^* the bairns," and comforted himself 
 with the thought that when he himself was 
 ** called away," little Johnnie and Charlie, 
 Colin and Isabel, would still have Katie, the 
 mother-sister, who already had been their 
 guardian so long. 
 
 " I'm ready, papa ! " said Katie ; " but 
 Mrs. Livingstone does not care about a 
 stranger's sympathy. It's no' like one be- 
 longing to herself. She may think it very 
 kind and be pleased with it, in a way ; but it
 
 102 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 still feels like an interference at the bottom of 
 her heart.'' 
 
 " She's a peculiar woman/' said Dr. Logan, 
 '' but you are not to be called a stranger, my 
 dear ; and it's no small pleasure to me, Katie, 
 to think that there are few houses in the 
 parish where you are not just as welcome as 
 myself." 
 
 Katie made no reply to this. She did not 
 think it would much mend the matter with the 
 Mistress to be reckoned as one of the houses in 
 the parish. So she tied on her bonnet quietly, 
 and took her father's arm, and turned down 
 the brae towards Norlaw ; for this little woman 
 had the admirable quality of knowing, not 
 only how to speak with great good sense, but 
 how to refrain. 
 
 '^ I'm truly concerned about this family," 
 said Dr. Logan ; '^ indeed, I may say, I'm very 
 much perplexed in my mind how to do. A 
 state of things like this cannot be tolerated in 
 a Christian country, Katie. The dead denied
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 103 
 
 decent burial ! It's horrible to think of ; so I 
 see no better for it, my dear, than to take a 
 quiet ride to Melmar, without letting on to 
 anybody, and seeing for myself what's to be 
 done with him" 
 
 " I don't like Mr. Huntley, papa," said 
 Katie, decidedly. 
 
 ^'That may be, my dear ; but still, I 
 suppose he's just like other folk, looking after 
 his own interest, without meaning any par- 
 ticular harm to anybody, unless they come in 
 his way. Oh, human nature ! " said the 
 minister ; '^ the most of us are just like that, 
 Katie, though we seldom can see it ; but 
 there can be little doubt that Melmar was 
 greatly incensed against poor Norlaw, who 
 was nobody's enemy but his own." 
 
 " And his sons ! " said Katie, hastily. 
 " Poor boys ! I wonder what they'll do ? " 
 This was one peculiarity of her elder-sisterly 
 position which Katie had not escaped. She 
 thought it quite natural and proper to speak
 
 104 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 of Patie and Huntley Livingstone, one 
 of whom was about her own age, and one 
 considerably her senior, as the "boys," and 
 to take a maternal interest in them ; even 
 Dr. Logan, excellent man, did not see 
 anything to smile at in this. He answered 
 with the most perfect seriousness, echoing her 
 words : — 
 
 " Poor boys ! We're short-sighted mortals, 
 Katie ; but there's no telling — it might be 
 all the better for them that they're left to 
 themselves, and are no more subject to poor 
 Norlaw. But about Melmar? I think, my 
 dear, I might as well ride over there to-day." 
 
 " Wait till we've seen Mrs. Livingstone, 
 papa," said the prudent Katie. " Do you 
 see that man on the road — who is it ? He's 
 in an awful hurry. I think Pve seen him 
 before." 
 
 " Eobert Mushet, from the hill ; he's always 
 in a hurry, like most idle people," said the 
 minister.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 105 
 
 " No ; it's not Eobbie, papa ; he's as like 
 the officer as he can look," said Katie, strain- 
 ing her eyes over the high bank which lay- 
 between this path and the high-road. 
 
 " Whisht, my dear — the officer ? Do you 
 mean the exciseman, Katie ? It might very 
 well be him, without making any difference 
 to us." 
 
 " I'm sure it's him — the man that came to 
 Norlaw yesterday ! " cried Katie, triumphantly, 
 hastening the good doctor along the by-road 
 at a pace to which he was not accustomed. 
 " Something's happened ! Oh papa, be quick 
 and let us on." 
 
 " Canny, my dear, canny !" said Dr. Logan. 
 " I fear you must be mistaken, Katie ; but if 
 you're right, I'm very glad to think that 
 Melmar must have seen the error of his 
 ways." 
 
 Katie was very indifferent about Melmar ; 
 but she pressed on eagerly, full of interest to 
 know what had happened at Norlaw. When
 
 106 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 they came in sight of the house, it was 
 evident by its changed aspect that things 
 were altered there. The windows were open, 
 the blinds drawn up, the sunshine once more 
 entering freely as of old. The minister went 
 forward with a mind perturbed ; he did not 
 at all comprehend what this could mean. 
 
 The door was opened to them by Marget, 
 who took them into the east room with a 
 certain solemn importance, and who wore 
 her new mourning and her afternoon cap 
 with black ribbons, in preparation for 
 visitors. 
 
 " I've got them sJ persuaded to take a 
 rest — a' but Huntley," said Marget; "for 
 yesterday and last night were enough to kill 
 baith the laddies and their mother — no' a 
 morsel o' meat within their lips, nor a wink 
 of sleep to their e'en.'' 
 
 " You alarm me, Marget ; what does all 
 this mean?" cried Dr. Logan, waving his 
 hand towards the open windows.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 107 
 
 Katie, more eager and more quick-witted, 
 watched the motion of Marget's lips, yet 
 found out the truth before she spoke. 
 
 " The maister's funeral," said Marget, 
 with a solemn triumph, though her voice 
 broke, in spite of herself, in natural sorrow, 
 *^ took place yestreen, at midnicht, sir, as 
 there was nae other way for it, in the order- 
 ings of Providence. Maister Huntley arranged 
 it so." 
 
 '^ Oh, poor boys ! " cried Katie Logan, and 
 she threw herself down on a chair, and cried 
 heartily in sympathy, and grief, and joy. 
 Nothing else was possible ; the scene, the 
 circumstances, the cause, were not to be 
 spoken of. There was no way but that way, of 
 showing how this young heart at least felt 
 with the strained hearts of the family of Norlaw. 
 
 '^ Ye may say sae, Miss Katie," said Marget, 
 crying too in little outbursts, from which she 
 recovered to wipe her eyes and curtsey apolo- 
 getically to the minister. "After a' they
 
 108 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 gaed through yesterday, to start in the 
 storm and the dark, and lay him in his 
 grave by torchlight in the dead of the night 
 — three laddies, that I mind, just like yester- 
 day, bits of bairns about the house — it's 
 enough to break ane*s heart ! " 
 
 "I am very much startled," said Dr. 
 Logan, pacing slowly up and down the room ; 
 '^it was a very out-of-the-way proceeding. 
 Dear me ! — at midnight — ^by torchlight ! — 
 Poor Norlaw ! But still I cannot say I blame 
 them — I cannot but acknowledge I'm very well 
 pleased it's over. Dear me ! who could have 
 thought it, without asking my advice or any- 
 body's — these boys ! but I suppose, Katie, my 
 dear, if they are all resting, we may as well 
 think of turning back, unless Marget thinks 
 Mrs. Livingstone would like to have you 
 beside her for the rest of the day." 
 
 ^^ No, papa ; she would like best to be by 
 herself — and so would I, if it was me," said 
 Katie, promptly.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 109 
 
 " Eh, Miss Katie ! the like of yoii for 
 understanding — and you so young ! " cried 
 Marget, with real admiration ; " but the 
 minister canna gang away tQl he's seen 
 young Norlaw." 
 
 *^ Who ? " cried Dr. Logan, in amazement. 
 
 " My young master, sir, the present Nor- 
 law," said Marget, with a curtsey which was 
 not without defiance. 
 
 The good minister shook his head. 
 
 "Poor laddie!" said Doctor Logan, "I 
 wish him many better things than his inheri- 
 tance ; but I would gladly see Huntley. If 
 you are sure he's up and able to see us, tell 
 him I'm here." 
 
 "I'll tell him wha's here," said Marget, 
 under her breath, as she went softly away ; 
 " eh, my puir bairn ! I'd gie my little finger 
 cheerful for the twa of them, to see them 
 draw together; and mair unlikely things 
 have come to pass. Guid forgive me for 
 thinking of the like in a house of death ! "
 
 110 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Yet, unfortunately, it was hard to avoid 
 thinking of such profane possibilities in the 
 presence of two young people like Huntley 
 and Katie — especially for a woman; not a 
 few people in the parish, of speculative minds, 
 who could see a long way before them, had 
 already lightly linked their names together as 
 country gossips use, and perhaps Huntley 
 half understood what was the meaning of the 
 slight but significant emphasis, with which 
 Marget intimated that " the minister and 
 Miss Katie " were waiting to see him. 
 
 The youth went with great readiness. They 
 were, at least, of all others, the friends whom 
 Huntley was the least reluctant to confide 
 in, and whose kindness he appreciated best. 
 
 And when pretty Katie Logan sprang 
 forward, still half-crying, and with bright tears 
 hanging upon her eye-lashes, to take her old 
 playmate's hand, almost tenderly, in her great 
 concern and sympathy for him, the lad's heart 
 warmed, he could scarcely tell how. He felt
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. Ill 
 
 involuntarily, almost unwillingly, as if this 
 salutation and regard all to himself was a 
 sudden little refuge of brighter life opened for 
 him out of the universal sorrow which was 
 about his own house and way. The tears came 
 to Huntley's eyes — ^but they were tears of relief, 
 of ease and comfort to his heart. He almost 
 thought he could have liked, if Katie had been 
 alone, to sit down by her side, and tell her all 
 that he had suffered, all that he looked 
 forward to. But the sight of the minister, 
 fortunately, composed Huntley. Dr. Logan, 
 excellent man as he was, did not seem so 
 desirable a confidant. 
 
 " I don't mean to blame you, my dear boy," 
 said the minister, earnestly ; "it was a shock 
 to my feelings, I allow, but do not think of get- 
 ting blame from me, Huntley. I was shut up en- 
 tirely in the matter, myself; I did not see what 
 to do ; and I could not venture to say that it 
 was not the wisest thing, and the only plan to 
 clear your way."
 
 112 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 There was a little pause, for Huntley either 
 would not, or could not, speak — and then Dr. 
 Logan resumed : 
 
 " We came this morning, Katie and me, to 
 see what use we could be ; but now the worst's 
 over, Huntley, I'm thinking we'll just go our 
 ways back again, and leave you to rest — ^for 
 Katie thinks your mother will be best pleased 
 to be alone." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Huntley, looking 
 eagerly into Katie's face. 
 
 " Yes, unless I could be your real sister for 
 a while, as long as Mrs. Livingstone needed 
 me," said Katie, with a smile, *' and I almost 
 wish I could — I am so good at it — to take 
 care of you boys." 
 
 " There is no fear of us now," said Huntley. 
 ^^ The worst's over, as the minister says. 
 We've had no time to think what we're to 
 do. Dr. Logan ; but I'll come and tell you 
 whenever we can see what's before us." 
 
 " I'll be very glad, Huntley ; but I'll tell
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 113 
 
 you what's better than telling me/' said Dr. 
 Logan. " Katie has a cousin, a very clever 
 writer in Edinburgh — I knew there was some- 
 thing I wanted to tell you, and I had very 
 near forgotten — if you'll take my advice, 
 you'll go in, it's not very far, and get him to 
 manage the whole thing for you. Here's the 
 address that Katie wrote down last night. 
 Tell your mother about it, Huntley, and that 
 it's my advice you should have a sound man 
 in the law to look after your concerns ; and 
 come down to the manse as soon as you can, 
 if it were only for a change ; and you'll give 
 your mother our regards, and we'll bid you 
 good-day." 
 
 "And dinna think more than you should, or 
 grieve more, Huntley — and come and see us," 
 said Katie, offering him her hand again. 
 
 Huntley took it, half joyfully, half inclined 
 to burst out into boyish tears once more. He 
 thought it would have been a comfort and re- 
 freshment to have had her here, this wearied, 
 
 VOL. T. I
 
 114 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 melanclioly day. But somehow, he did not 
 think with equal satisfaction of Katie's cousin. 
 It seemed to Huntley he would almost rather 
 employ any ^^ writer" than this one, to smooth 
 out the ravelled concerns of Norlaw.
 
 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Common day-light, common life, the dead 
 buried out of their sight, the windows open, 
 the servants coming to ask common questions 
 about the cattle and the land. Xothing 
 changed, except that the father was no longer 
 visible among them — that Huntley sat at the 
 foot of the table, and the Mistress grew fami- 
 liar with her widow's cap. Oh, cruel life ! 
 This was how it swallowed up all the solemni- 
 ties of their grief. 
 
 And now it was the evening, and the eager 
 youths could be restrained no longer. Com- 
 mon custom had aroused even the Mistress 
 out of her inaction ; sitting by the corner 
 window, she had once more begun mechani- 
 
 I 2
 
 116 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 cally to notice what went and came at the 
 kitchen-door — had been very angry with the 
 packman, who had seduced Jenny to admit 
 him — and with Jenny for so far forgetting the 
 decorum due to ^'an afflicted house;" had 
 even once noticed, and been partially dis- 
 pleased by the black ribbons in Marget's 
 cap, which it was extravagant to wear in the 
 morning ; and with melancholy self-reproof, 
 had opened the work-basket, which had been 
 left to gather dust for weeks past. 
 
 ^^I needna be idle now^' — the Mistress said 
 to herself, with a heavy sigh ; and Huntley 
 and Patie perceived that it was no longer too 
 early to enter upon their own plans and views. 
 
 With this purpose, they came to her about 
 sunset, when she had settled herself after her 
 old fashion to her evening's work. She saw 
 instinctively what was coming, and with natu- 
 ral feeling, shrunk for the moment. She was 
 a little impatient, too ; her grief taking that 
 form.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 117 
 
 "Keep a distance, keep a distance, bairns I " 
 cried the Mistress ; "let me have room to 
 breathe in ! and I'm sure if ye were but 
 lassies, and could have something in your 
 hands to do, it would be a comfort to me. 
 There's Jenny, the light-headed thing, 
 taken her stocking to the door, as if nothing 
 was amiss in the house. Pity me ! — ^but I'll 
 no be fashed with her long, that's a comfort 
 to think of. Laddies, laddies, can ye no keep 
 still ? What are ye a' wanting with me ? " 
 
 " Mother, it's time to think what we're to 
 do ; neither Patie nor me can keep quiet, 
 when we think of what's before us," said Hunt- 
 ley — " and there's little comfort in settling on 
 anything tiU we can speak of it to you." 
 
 The Mistress gave way at these words to a 
 sudden little outbreak of tears, which you 
 might almost have supposed were tears of 
 anger, and which she wiped oif hurriedly 
 with an agitated hand. Then she proceeded 
 very rapidly with the work she had taken up,
 
 118 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 which was a dark-grej, woollen stocking — a 
 familiar work, which she could get on with 
 almost without looking at it. She did look at 
 her knitting, however, intently, bending her 
 head over it, not venturing to look up at her 
 children, and thus it was that they found 
 themselves permitted to proceed. 
 
 ^^ Mother," said Huntley, with a deep 
 blush — ^* Tm a man, but I've learnt nothing 
 to make my bread by. Because I'm the 
 eldest, and should be of most use, I'm the 
 greatest burden. I understand about the 
 land and the cattle, and after a while I might 
 manage a farm, but that's slow work and 
 weary — and the first that should be done, is 
 to get rid of me." 
 
 " Hold your peace ! " cried the Mistress, with 
 a break in her voice ; '^ how dare ye say the 
 like of that to your mother ? Are you not 
 my eldest son, the stay of the house ? Where- 
 fore do ye say this to me ? " 
 
 '^ Because it's true, mother," said Huntley,
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 119 
 
 firmly ; *^ and though it's true I'm not dis- 
 couraged. The worst is, I see nothing I can 
 do near you, as I might have done if I had 
 been younger, and had time to spare to learn 
 a trade. Such as it is, I'm very well content 
 with my trade, too ; but what could I do with 
 it here ? Get a place as a grieve, maybe, 
 through Tyneside's help, and the minister's, 
 and be able to stock a small farm by the time I 
 was forty years old. But that would please 
 neither you nor me. Mother, you must send 
 me away ! " 
 
 The Mistress did not look up, did not move 
 — went on steadily with her rapid knitting — 
 but she said : — 
 
 '^ Where?" with a sharp accent, like a cry. 
 
 " I've been thinking of that," said Hunt- 
 ley, slowly; "if I went to America, or Canada, 
 or any such place, I would be like to stay. 
 My mind's against staying ; I want to come 
 back — to keep home in my eye. So I say 
 Australia, mother."
 
 120 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 ^' America, Canada, Australia! — the laddie's 
 wild ! " cried the Mistress. '' Do you mean to 
 say ye'll be an emigrant ? a bairn of mine ! " 
 
 Emigration was not then what it is now. 
 It was the last resort — sadly resisted, sadly 
 yielded to, of the ^^ broken man;" and Hunt- 
 ley's mother saw her son, in imagination — in 
 a dreary den of a cabin, in a poor little trad- 
 ing ship, with a bundle on the end of a stick, 
 and despair in his heart — when he spoke of 
 going away. 
 
 " There's more kinds of emigrants than 
 one kind, mother," said Patie. 
 
 " Ay," said the Mistress — her imagination 
 shifting, in spite of her, to a dismal family 
 scene, in which the poor wife had the baby tied 
 on her back in a shawl, and the children at 
 her feet were crying with cold and hunger, 
 and the husband at her side looking desperate. 
 " I've seen folk on the road to America — 
 ay, laddies, mony a time. I'm older than 
 you are. I ken what like they look ; but pity
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 121 
 
 me, did I ever think the like of that would 
 be 'evened to a bairn of mine I " 
 
 ^* Mother," said Huntley, with a cheerful- 
 ness which he did not quite feel, '^ an emi- 
 grant goes away to stay — I should not do 
 that — I am going, if I can, to make a fortune, 
 and come home — and it's not America ; there 
 are towns there already like our own, and a 
 man, I suppose, has only a greater chance of 
 getting bread enough to eat. I could get 
 bread enough in our own country-side ; but 
 1 mean to get more if I can — I mean to get 
 a sheep farm and grow rich, as everybody 
 does out there." 
 
 ^' Poor laddie ! Do they seU sheep and 
 lands out there to them that have no siller ? " 
 said the Mistress. " If you canna stock a 
 fann at hame, where you're kent and your 
 name respected, Huntley Livingstone, how 
 will you do it there ? " 
 
 ^* That's just what I have to find out," said 
 Huntley, with spirit ; "a man may be clear
 
 122 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 he's to do a thing, without seeing how at the 
 moment. With your consent, Tm going to 
 Australia, mother ; if there's anything over, 
 when all our affairs are settled, I'll get my 
 share — and as for the sheep and the land, 
 they're in Providence ; but I doubt them as 
 little as if they were on the lea before my 
 eyes. I'm no' a man out of a town that knows 
 nothing about it. I'm country bred and have 
 been among beasts all my days. Do you 
 think I'm feared ? Though I've little to start 
 with, mother, you'll see me back rich enough 
 to do credit to the name of Norlaw ! " 
 
 His mother shook her head. 
 
 " It's easy to make a fortune on a summer 
 night at home, before a lad's twenty, or kens 
 the world," she said. '' I've seen mony a 
 stronger man than you, Huntley, come hame 
 baith penniless and hopeless — and the like of 
 such grand plans, they're but trouble and 
 sadness to me." 
 
 Perhaps Huntley was discouraged by the
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 123 
 
 words ; at all events, he made no reply — and 
 the mind of his mother gradually expanded. 
 She looked up from her knitting suddenly, 
 with a rapid tender glance. 
 
 ^* Maybe I'm wrong,'"' said the Mistress ; 
 " there's some will win and some will fail 
 in spite of the haill world. The Lord take 
 the care of my bairns ! Who am I, that I 
 should be able to guide you, three lads, 
 coming to be men ? Huntley, you're the 
 auldest, and you're strong. I canna say stay 
 at hame — I dinna see what to bid you do. 
 You must take your ain will, and I'll no 
 oppose." 
 
 If Huntley thanked his mother at all it was 
 in very few words, for the politenesses were 
 not cultivated among them, the feelings of 
 this Scottish family lying somewhat deep, and 
 expressing themselves otherwise than in com- 
 mon words ; but the Mistress brushed her 
 hand over her eyes hurriedly, with some- 
 thing like a restrained sob, intermitting
 
 124 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 for a single instant, and no longer, the 
 rapid glitter of her " wires " — but you 
 would scarcely have supposed that the 
 heart of the mother was moved thus far, to 
 hear the tone of her next words. She turned 
 to her second son without looking at him. 
 
 ^^ And where are you for, Patie Living- 
 stone ? " said the Mistress, with almost a sar- 
 castic sharpness. ^'It should be India, or the 
 North Pole to pleasure you." 
 
 Patie was not emboldened by this address ; 
 it seemed, indeed, rather to discomfit the 
 lad ; not as a reproach, but as showing a 
 greater expectation of his purposes than they 
 warranted. 
 
 " You know what I aimed at long ago, 
 mother," he said, with hesitation. " It maybe 
 that we can ill afford a 'prentice time now — 
 but I'm no above working while I learn. I 
 can scramble up as well as Huntley. I'll go 
 either to Glasgow or to Liverpool, to one of 
 the foundries there."
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 125 
 
 " Folk dinna learn to be civil engineers in 
 foundries/' said the Mistress; ^' they're nothing 
 better than smiths at the anvil. You wanted 
 to build a lighthouse, Patie, when ye were a 
 little baii'n — but you'll no' leai'n there." 
 
 " I'll maybe learn better. There's to be rail- 
 roads soon, every where," said Patie, with a little 
 glow upon his face. ^* I'll do what lean — if I'm 
 only to be a smith, I'll be a smith like a man, 
 and learn my business. The lighthouse was 
 a fancy ; but I may learn what's as good, and 
 more profitable. There's some railroads al- 
 ready, mother, and there's more beginning 
 every day." 
 
 " My poor bairn ! " said the Mistress, for the 
 first time bestowing a glance of pity upon 
 Patie — " if your fortune has to wait for its 
 making till folk gang riding over a' the roads 
 on steam horses, like what's written in the 
 papers, I'll never live to see it. There's that 
 man they ca' Stephenson, he's made some thing 
 or other that's a great wonder ; but, laddie,
 
 126 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 you dinna think that roads like that can go 
 far ? They may have them up about London- 
 and truly you might live to make another, 
 I'll no* say — but I would rather build a tower to 
 keep ships from being wrecked than make a road 
 for folk to break their necks on, if it was me/' 
 
 " Folk that are born to break their necks 
 will break them on any kind of road," said 
 Patie, with great gravity; "but I've read 
 about it all, and I think a man only needs to 
 know what he has to do, to thrive ; and be- 
 sides, mother, there's more need for engines 
 than upon railroads. It's a business worth a 
 man's while." 
 
 "Patie," said the Mistress, solemnly; 
 " I've given my consent to Huntley to gang 
 thousands of miles away over the sea ; but if 
 you gang among thae engines, that are merci- 
 less and senseless, and can tear a living crea- 
 ture like a rag of claith — I've seen them, 
 laddie, with my own e'en, clanging and clink- 
 ing like the evil place itself — I'll think it's
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 127 
 
 Patie that's in the lion's mouth, and no' my 
 eldest son." 
 
 "Well, mother!" said Patie, sturdily— ''if 
 I were in the lion's mouth, and yet had room 
 to keep clear, would you be feared for me?" 
 
 This appeal took the Mistress entirely with- 
 out preparation. She brushed her hands 
 hastily over her eyes once more, and went on 
 with her knitting. Then a long, hard-drawn 
 breath, which was not a sigh, came from the 
 mother's breast; in the midst of her objections, 
 her determination not to be satisfied, a certain 
 unaccountable pride in the vigour, and strength, 
 and resolution of her sons rose in the kindred 
 spirit of their mother. She was not "feared" 
 — neither for one nor the other of the bold 
 youths by her side. Her own strong vitality 
 went forth with them, with an indescribable 
 swell of exhilaration — yet she was their 
 mother, and a widow, and it wrung her heart 
 to arrange quietly how they were to leave 
 her and their home.
 
 128 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 "And me?" said Cosmo, coming to his 
 mother's side. 
 
 He had no determination to announce — he 
 came out of his thoughts, and his musings, and 
 his earnest listening, to lay that white, long 
 hand of his upon his mother's arm. It was 
 the touch which made the full cup run over. 
 The widow leaned her head suddenly upon her 
 boy's shoulder, surprised into an outburst of 
 tears and weakness, unusual and overpowering 
 — and the other lads came close to this group, 
 touched to the heart like their mother. They 
 cried out among their tears that Cosmo must 
 not go away — that he was too young — too 
 tender! What they had not felt for them- 
 selves, they felt for him — ^there seemed some- 
 thing forlorn, pathetic, miserable, in the very 
 thought of this boy going forth to meet the 
 world and its troubles. This boy, the child 
 of the house, the son who was like his father, 
 the tenderest spirit of them all ! 
 
 Yet Cosmo, who had no plans, and who was
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 129 
 
 only sixteen, was rather indignant at this univer- 
 sal conclusion. He yielded at last, only because 
 the tears were still in his mother's eyes, and be- 
 cause they were all more persistent than he 
 was — and sat down at a little distance, not sul- 
 len, but as near so as was possible to him, 
 his cheek glowing with a suspicion that they 
 thought him a child. But soon the conversa- 
 tion passed to other matters, which Cosmo 
 could not resist. They began to speak of 
 Melmar, their unprovoked enemy, and then 
 the three lads looked at each other, taking reso- 
 lution from that telegraphic conference ; and 
 Huntley, with the blood rising in his cheeks, 
 for the first time asked his mother, in the 
 name of them all, for that tale which her hus- 
 band, on his death-bed, had deputed her to tell 
 them, the story of the will which was in the 
 mid-chamber, and that Mary who was Mary 
 of Melmar evermore in the memory of Norlaw. 
 
 At the question the tears dried out of the 
 Mistress's eyes, an impatient colour came 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 to her face — and it was so hard to elicit this 
 story from her aggrieved and unsympathetic 
 mind, that it may be better for Mrs. Living- 
 stone, in the estimation of other people, if we 
 tell what she told in other words than hers.
 
 131 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Yet we do not see wlij we are called upon 
 to defend Mrs. Livingstone, who was very well 
 able, under most circumstances, to take care 
 of herself She did not by any means receive 
 her sous' inquiries with a good grace. On the 
 contrary, she evaded them hotly, with unmis- 
 takable dislike and impatience. 
 
 " Mary of Me'mar ! what is she to you?" 
 said the Mistress. Let bygones be bygones, 
 bairns — she's been the fash of my life, one 
 way and another. Hold your peace, Cosmo 
 Livingstone! Do you think I can tell this 
 like a story out of a book. There's plenty 
 gossips in the country-side could tell you the 
 ins and the outs of it better than me — " 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 "About the mid-chamber and the will, 
 mother ? " asked Patrick. 
 
 " Weel, maybe, no about that," said the 
 Mistress, slightly mollified; "if that's what ye 
 want. This Mary Huntley, laddies, I ken very 
 little about her. She was away out of these 
 parts before my time. I never doubted she 
 was light-headed, and liked to be admired and 
 petted. She was Me'mar's only bairn ; maybe 
 that might be some excuse for her — ^for he 
 w^as an auld man and fond. But, kind as he 
 was, she ran away from him to marry some 
 lad that naebody kent — and went off out of 
 the country with her ne'er-do-weel man, and 
 has never been heard tell of from that time to 
 this — that's a' I ken about her." 
 
 This was said so peremptorily and conclu- 
 sively, setting aside at once any further ques- 
 tion, that even these lads, who were not 
 particularly skilled in the heart or its emo- 
 tions, perceived by instinct, that their mother 
 knew a great deal more about her — more
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 133 
 
 than any inducement in the world could per- 
 suade her to tell. 
 
 " Tve heard that Me'mar was hurt to the 
 heart," said the Mistress, '' and no much won- 
 der. His bairn that he had thought nothing too 
 good for ! and to think of her running off 
 from him, a lone auld man, to be married upon 
 a stranger-lad without friends, that naebody 
 kent any good o', and that turned out just as 
 was to be expected. Oh, ay ! it does grand to 
 make into a story — and the like of you, you 
 think it all for love, and a warm heart, and 
 a' the rest of it ; but I think it's but an ill 
 heart, that would desert hame and friends, 
 and an auld man above three-score, for its ain 
 will and pleasure. So Me'mar took it very 
 sore to heart ; he would not have her name 
 named to him for years. And the next living 
 creature in this world that he liked best, after 
 his ungrateful daughter, was — laddies, you'll no' 
 be surprised — just him that's gone from us — 
 that everybody likit Aveel — just Norlaw."
 
 134 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 There was a pause after this, the Mistress's 
 displeasure melting into a sob of her perma- 
 nent grief; and then the tale was resumed 
 more gently, more slowly, as if she had sinned 
 against the dead by the warmth and almost 
 resentment of her first words. 
 
 " Me'mar lived to be an auld man," said the 
 Mistress. '^ He aye lived on till Patie was 
 about five years auld, and a' our bairns born. 
 He was very good aye to me ; mony's the 
 present he sent me, when I was a young thing, 
 and was more heeding for bonnie-dies, and 
 took great notice of Huntley, and was kind to 
 the whole house. It was said through a' the 
 country-side that ye were to be his heirs, and 
 truly so you might have been, but for one 
 thing and anither ; no' that I'm heeding — 
 you'll be a' the better for making your way in 
 theworld yourselves." 
 
 *^And the will, mother?" said Huntley, 
 with a little eagerness. 
 
 " I'm coming to the will ; have patience ;"
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 135 
 
 said the Mistress, who had not a great deal 
 herself, to tell the truth. " Bairns, it's no* 
 time yet for me to speak to you of your 
 father; but he was aye a just man, with a 
 tender heart for the unfortunate — you ken 
 that as well as me. He wouldna take advan- 
 tage of another man's weakness, or another 
 man's ill-doing, far less of a poor silly lassie, 
 that, maybe, didna ken what she was about. 
 And when the old man made his will, Norlaw 
 would not let him leave his lands beyond 
 his ain flesh and blood. So the will was 
 made, that Mary Huntley, if she ever came 
 back, was to be heir of Melmar, and if she 
 never came back, nor could be heard tell of, 
 everything was left to Patrick Livingstone, of 
 Norlaw." 
 
 It was impossible to restrain the start of 
 amazement with which Huntley, growing red 
 and agitated, sprang to his feet, and the others 
 stirred out of their quietness of listening. 
 Their mother took no time to answer the eager
 
 136 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 questions in their eyes, nor to hear even the 
 exclamations which burst from them unawares. 
 She bent her head again, and drew through 
 her fingers, rapidly, the hem of her apron. 
 She did not see, nor seem to think of, her 
 children. Her mind was busy about the 
 heaviest epoch of her own life. 
 
 '^ When Melmar died, search was caused 
 to be made every place for his daughter," 
 said the Mistress, passing back and forwards 
 through her hands this tight strip of her 
 apron. '' Your father thought of nothing else, 
 night nor day ; a' for justice, bairns, doubtless 
 for justice — that nobody might think he would 
 take an advantage of his kinswoman, though he 
 could not approve of her ways ! He went to 
 Edinburgh himself, and from there to London. 
 I was young then, and Cosmo little mair than 
 an infant, and a' thing left in my hands. Aye 
 this one and the other one coming to tell about 
 Mary Huntley — and Norlaw away looking for 
 her — and the very papers full of the heiress —
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 137 
 
 and me my lane in the house, and little used 
 to be left to mysel'. I mind everything as if 
 it had happened this very day." 
 
 The Mistress paused once more — it was only 
 to draw a long breatli of pain, ere she hurried 
 on with the unwelcome tale, which now had 
 a strange interest, even for herself The boys 
 could not tell what was the bitterness of the 
 time which their mother indicated by these 
 compressed and significant words ; but it was 
 impossible to hear even her voice without 
 perceiving something of the long-past troubles, 
 intense and vivid as her nature, which 
 nothing in the world could have induced her 
 to disclose. 
 
 " The upshot was, she could not be found,'' 
 said the ]\listress, abruptly; ^^ either she never 
 heard tell that she was sought for, or she took 
 guilt to herself, and would not appear. They 
 kept up the search as long as a year, but they 
 never heard a word, or got a clue to where she 
 was."
 
 138 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 *^ And then?" cried Huntley, with extreme 
 excitement. 
 
 ** And then," said the Mistress — ^' was he a 
 man to take another person's lands, when but 
 a year had gane ? " She spoke with a visible 
 self-restraint, strong and bitter — the coercion 
 which a mind of energy and power puts upon 
 itself, determining not to think otherwise than 
 with approbation of the acfcs of a weaker 
 nature — and with something deeper underlying 
 even this. ^^ He said she would still come 
 hame some day, as was most likely. He 
 would not take up her rights, and her living, 
 as he was persuaded in his mind. The will 
 was proved in law, for her sake, but he would 
 not take possession of the land, nor put for- 
 ward his claims to it, because he said she lived, 
 and would come hame. So, laddies, there's 
 the tale. A Mr. Huntley, a writer, from the 
 northcountry, a far-away friend, came in and 
 claimed as next of kin. Mary of Melmar was 
 lost and gane, and could not be found, and
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 139 
 
 Norlaw, would not put in his ain claim, 
 though it was clear. He said it would be 
 taking her rights, and that then she would 
 never come back to claim her land. So 
 the strange man got possession and kept it, 
 and hated Xorlaw. And from that day to 
 this, what with having an enemy, and the 
 thought of that unfortunate woman coming 
 back, and the knowledge in his heart that he 
 had let a wrongfid heir step in — what with 
 all that, bairns, and more than that, another 
 day of prosperity never came to this house of 
 Norlaw." 
 
 " Then we are the heirs of Me'mar!" said 
 Huntley ; '^ we, and not my father's enemy ! 
 Mother, why did we never hear this before?" 
 
 ^^ Na, lads," said the Mistress, with an in- 
 describable bitterness in her tone ; " it's her 
 and her bairns that are the heirs — and they're 
 to be found, and claim their inheritance, soon 
 or syne." 
 
 " Then this is what I'll do," cried Cosmo,
 
 140 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW, 
 
 springing to his feet ; '^ I'll go over all the 
 world, but I'll find Mary of Melmar ! I'm . 
 not so strong as Huntley, or as Patie, but I'm 
 strong enough for this. Til do what my father 
 wished — if she should be in the furthest 
 corner of the earth, I'll bring her hame ! " 
 
 To the extreme amazement of the boys, the 
 Mistress laid a violent hand on Cosmo's shoul- 
 der, and, either with intention or unconsci- 
 ously, shook the whole frame of the slender 
 lad with her impetuous grasp. 
 
 '^ Will ye ?" cried his mother, with a sharp- 
 ness of suffering in her voice that confounded 
 them. ^' Is it no' enough, all that's past ? 
 Am I^ to begin again ? Am I to bring up sons 
 for her service ? Oh, patience, patience ! it's 
 more than a woman like me can bear ! '' 
 
 Amazed, grieved, disturbed by her words 
 and her aspect, her sons gathered round her. 
 She pushed them away impatiently, and rose 
 up. 
 
 ^^ Bairns, dinna anger me! — I'm no' meek
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 141 
 
 enough," said the Mistress, her face flushing 
 with a mixture of mortification and displea- 
 sure. '^ You've had your will, and heard the 
 story — ^but I tell you this woman's been a 
 vexation to me all my life — and it's no' your 
 part, any one of you, to begin it a' over 
 again."
 
 142 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 This story, which Mrs. Livingstone told 
 with reluctance, and, in fact, did not tell half 
 of, was, though the youths did not know it, 
 the story of the very bitterest portion of their 
 mother's life. The Mistress never told, either 
 to them or to anyone else, how, roused in her 
 honest love and wifely sincerity into sympa- 
 thy with her husband's generous efforts to 
 preserve her own inheritance to his runaway 
 cousin, she had very soon good reason to be 
 sick of the very name of Mary of Me'mar; 
 how she found out that, after years long of 
 her faithful, warm-hearted, affectionate society, 
 after the birth of children and the consecra- 
 tion of time, after all the unfailing courage
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLATV. 143 
 
 and exertions, by which her stout spirit had 
 done much to set him right in the world, and, 
 above all, in spite of the unfeigned and un- 
 divided love of a full heart like her own, the 
 visionary heart of her husband had all this 
 time been hankering .after his first love. 
 Without preparation, and without softening, 
 the Mistress found this out. He would not 
 advantage his own family at the cost of Mary; 
 he would seek for Mary through the whole 
 world. These had been the words of Norlaw, 
 ten years after Mary of Melmar's disappear- 
 ance, and even years after he had become the 
 father of Huntley. The unsuspecting wife 
 thought no harm ; then he went and 
 came for a whole year seeking for his 
 cousin ; and during that time, left alone 
 day after day, and month after month, 
 the mistress of Norlaw found out the 
 secret. It was a hard thing for her, with her 
 strong personality and burning individual 
 heart, to bear ; but she did bear it with an
 
 144 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 indignant heroism, never saying a word to 
 mortal ear. He himself never knew that she 
 had discovered his prior love, or resented 
 it. She would have scorned herself could she 
 have reproached him or even made him conscious 
 of her own feelings. Good fortune and strong 
 affection at the bottom happily kept contempt 
 out of the Mistress's indignation; but her heart 
 continued sore for years with the discovery — 
 sore, mortified, humiliated. To think that all 
 her wifely, faithful regard had clung unwit- 
 tingly to a man who, professing to cherish her, 
 followed, with a wandering heart, a girl who 
 had run away from him years before to be 
 another man's wife! The Mistress had borne 
 it steadily and soberly, so that no one knew of 
 her discovery, but she had never got beyond 
 this abiding mortification and injury ; and it 
 was not much wonder that she started with a 
 sudden burst of exasperated feeling, when 
 Cosmo, her own son, echoed his father's 
 foolish words. Her youngest boy, her favourite
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 145 
 
 and last nursling, the one bird that was to 
 be left in the nest, could stir to this same 
 mad search, when he had not yet ambition 
 enough to stir for his own fortune. It was 
 the last drop which made all this bitterness 
 run over. No wonder that the Mistress lost 
 command of herself for once, and going up to 
 her own room in a gust of aggravated and 
 angry emotions, thrust Cosmo away from her, 
 and cried, " Am I to bring up sons for her 
 service ? '^ in the indignation of her heart. 
 
 Yes, it was a very pretty story for romance. 
 The young girl running away, " all for love'' — 
 the faithful forsaken lover thinking of her in 
 secret — rising up to defend her rights after ten 
 long years — eagerly searching for her — and, 
 with a jealous tenderness, refusing to do any- 
 thing which might compromise her title, while 
 he alone still fondly believed in her return. A 
 very pretty story, with love, and nothing else, 
 for its theme. Yet, unfortunately, these 
 pretty stories have a dark enough aspect often 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 on the other side ; and the Mistress, mortified 
 silent, indignant, cheated in her own perfect 
 confidence and honest tenderness, when you 
 saw her behind the scenes of the other pretty 
 picture, took a great deal of the beauty out of 
 that first-love and romantic constancy of 
 Norlaw. 
 
 When Mrs. Livingstone went to her room, 
 the sons, vexed and troubled, were a long 
 time silent. Cosmo withdrew into a corner, 
 and leaned his head on his mother's little 
 table. He, too, was deeply mortified, and 
 could not keep back the hot boyish tears 
 from his eyes — he felt himself set aside like a 
 child — ^he felt the shame of a sensitive 
 temperament at perceiving how greatly his 
 mother was disturbed. Somehow she seemed 
 to have betrayed herself, and Cosmo, jealous 
 for her perfect honour, was uneasy and 
 abashed at this disturbance of it ; while still 
 his heart, young, eager, inexperienced, 
 ]oving romance, secretly longed to hear more
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOKLAW. 147 
 
 of this mystery, and secretly repeated his 
 determination. Huntley, who was pacing 
 up and down the room, lifting and replacing 
 everything in his way which could be lifted, 
 was simply confounded and thunderstruck, 
 which emotions Patie shared with his elder 
 brother. Patie, however, was the most 
 practical of the three, and it was he who 
 first broke the silence. 
 
 " Somehow or other this vexes my mother," 
 said Patie ; '' Let us ask her no more 
 questions about it ; but, Huntley, you ought 
 to know all the hiding-holes about the house. 
 You should look up this will and put it in safe 
 hands." 
 
 ^^In safe hands? — I'll act upon it forthwith I 
 Are we to keep terms with Melmar after all 
 that's past, and with power to turn him out 
 of his seat?" cried Huntley; ^^ no, surely; 
 ril put it into hands that will carry it into 
 effect, and that without delay." 
 
 " They would want either this Mary, or 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 proof that she was dead, before they would 
 do anything in it," said Patie, doubtfully ; 
 '' and yet it*s a shame !" 
 
 '^ She is not dead!" interrupted Cosmo; 
 '' why my mother should be angry, I can't 
 tell ; but I'll find out Mary of Melmar, I 
 know I shall, though it should be twenty 
 years ! " 
 
 *^ Be quiet, Cosmo," said his elder brother, 
 '^ and see that no one troubles my mother with 
 another question; she does not like it, and 
 I will not have her disturbed ; but Til tell you 
 what I'll do. We know little about business, 
 and we're not of a patient race. Me'mar had 
 better not come near any of us just now, 
 unless it were you, Patie, that can master 
 yourself. I should like to knock him down, 
 and my mother would do worse. I'll write to 
 this friend of the minister's, this writer, and 
 put it all in his hands — it's the best thing I 
 can see. What do you say ? " 
 
 Patie gave his assent readily ; Cosmo did
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. ^149 
 
 not say anything. The boy began to feel his 
 youth somewhat bitterly, and to think that 
 they did not care for his opinion ; so he went 
 out, and swung himself up by an old elm 
 tree into one of the vacant windows of the 
 castle, a favourite seat of Cosmo, where, among 
 the cool ivy, and hidden by the deep recess of 
 the thick old wall, he could see the sunset, 
 and watch how the shadows stole over the 
 earth. The Eildons were at his right hand, 
 paling gradually out of their royal purple 
 against the pale sky in the east, and the 
 last long rays of the sunset, too low to reach 
 them, fell golden-yellow upon Tyne, and 
 shed a pathetic light on the soft green 
 bank before the door of Xorlaw. The common 
 sounds of life were not so subdued now about 
 this lonely house ; even the cackle of poultry 
 and bark of dogs seemed louder since the 
 shutters were opened and the curtains drawn 
 back — and Marget went firmly forth upon her 
 errands to the byre, and the hush and stealth
 
 150 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 of mourning had left the place already. Who 
 would not escape somewhere into some per- 
 sonal refuge out of the oppressive shadow of 
 grief, while youth remains to make that pos- 
 sible ? Huntley had been startled to feel that 
 there was such an escape for himself when 
 Katie Logan took his hand in the fulness of her 
 sympathy: — and Huntley and Patie together 
 were seeking a similar ease now in discussing 
 the plans of their future life together. Cosmo 
 was only a boy ; he had no plans yet which 
 could be called plans — and he was too young 
 to be moved by the hand or the voice of any 
 woman. So he sat among the ivy in the 
 ledge of the deep old window, with his 
 head uncovered, his fair hair falling over 
 his long white hands, and those dark 
 liquid eyes of his gazing forth upon as fair 
 a landscape as ever entered into the dream 
 of a poet. 
 
 If Cosmo was a poet he was not aware of 
 it ; yet his heart was easing itself after his
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 151 
 
 fashion. He was too young to apprehend the 
 position of his mother, and how it broke into 
 the superficial romance of his father's life. 
 He thought only of !Mary of Melmar, of the 
 girl, beautiful, young, and unfortunate, who 
 ran away '^ for love," and had literally left all 
 for her husband's sake ; he thought of dis- 
 placing his father's enemy and restoring his 
 father's first love to her rights. In imagina- 
 tion he pursued her through all the storied 
 countries to which a young fancy naturally 
 turns. He saw himself delivering her out of 
 dangers, suddenly appearing when she was in 
 peril or poverty, dispersing her enemies like 
 a champion of chivalry, and bringing her home 
 in triumph. This was how, while his brothers 
 comforted themselves with an earnest discussion 
 of possibilities, and while his mother, differing 
 from them as age differs from youth — and as 
 personal bereavement, which nothing can ever 
 make up, and which changes the whole 
 current of a life, differs from a natural removal
 
 152 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and separation — returned into the depths of 
 the past and lived them over again — this is 
 how Cosmo made his first personal escape out 
 of his first grief.
 
 153 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 *'0h! Patricia! Sinclair has been telling 
 me such a story/' cried a young girl, suddenly 
 rushing upon another, in a narrow winding 
 road through the woods which clothed a steep 
 bank of Tyne ; at this spot, for one exclusive 
 mile, the rapid little river was "private 
 property," the embellishment of a gentle- 
 man's grounds — shut out from vulgar admira- 
 tion. Tyne, indifferent alike to admiration 
 and exclusivism, was not less happy on that 
 account ; but foamed over his stony channel 
 as brisk, as brown, and as clear, as when he 
 ran in unrestricted freedom by the old castle 
 walls of Xorlaw. The path was slippery and 
 irregular with great roots of trees, and one or
 
 154 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 two brooks, unseen, trickled down the brae 
 below tbe underwood, only detected by the 
 slender, half-visible rivulet on the path which 
 you had to step across, or the homely plank 
 half penetrated by water, which bridged over 
 Tyne's invisible tributary. They did not 
 appear, these fairy springs, but they added 
 each a tingle, like so many harp-strings, to the 
 many sounds of Nature. Through this wind- 
 ing road, or rather upon it, for she was not 
 going anywhere, the elder of these two inter- 
 locutors had been for some time wandering. 
 She was a delicate-looking girl of seventeen, 
 with blue eyes and pale golden hair, rather 
 pretty, but very slight, and evidently not in 
 strong health. The sudden plunge down upon 
 her, which her younger sister made from the 
 top of the brae, took away Patricia's breath, 
 and made her drop the book which she had 
 been reading. This was no very great matter, 
 for- the book was rather an indifferent pro- 
 duction, being one of those books of poetry
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 155 
 
 which one reads at seventeen, and never after 
 — but it was rather more important that the 
 colour came violently into her pale cheek, and 
 she clasped her hands upon her side, with a 
 gasp which terrified the young hoiden. 
 
 '^ Oh, I forgot ! " she cried, in sympathy, 
 as eager as her onslaught had been. " Oh ! 
 have I hurt you? I did not mean it, you 
 know." 
 
 "No, Joanna," said Patricia, faintly, "but 
 you forget ray nerves always — you never had 
 any yourself." 
 
 Which was perfectly true, and not to be 
 denied. These two, Patricia and Joanna 
 Huntley, were the only daughters of their 
 father's house — the only children, indeed, save 
 one son, who was abroad. There were not 
 many feminine family names in this branch of 
 the house of Huntley, and invention in this 
 matter being very sparely exercised in these 
 parts, it came about that the girls were called 
 after their uncles, and that the third girl, had
 
 156 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 there been such an unlucky little individual, 
 following in the track of her sisters, would have 
 turned out Jemima or Eobina, according as 
 the balance rose in favour of her father's 
 brother or her mother's. Fortunately, Joanna 
 was the last fruit of the household tree which 
 had blossomed sparely. She was only fifteen, 
 tall, strong, red haired, and full of vigour — 
 the greatest contrast imaginable to her pretty 
 pale sister, whom Joanna devoutly believed in 
 as a beauty, but secretly did somewhat grieve 
 over as a fool. The younger sister was not in 
 the least pretty, and knew it, but she was 
 clever, and Joanna knew that also, which made 
 an agreeable counterpoise. She was extremely 
 honest, downright and straightforward, speak- 
 ing the truth with less elegance than force, 
 but speaking it always ; and on the whole 
 was a good girl, though not always a very 
 pleasant one. At this present moment, she 
 was flushed, breathless, and eager, having run 
 all the way from the house with something to
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 157 
 
 tell. But Patricia's ^^ nerves" could not 
 bear the sudden announcement, though that 
 delicate young lady loved a piece of news 
 fully as well as her sister. Joanna, therefore, 
 stood still, making hasty and awkward apolo- 
 gies, and eager to do something to amend her 
 mistake, while her delicate companion recovered 
 breath. There was something more than 
 nerves in the young lady's discomposure. She 
 was feeble by nature, the invalid of the family, 
 which Joanna, knowing no sympathetic ail- 
 ment in her own vigorous person, sometimes 
 had the ill-luck to forget. 
 
 ^^ And my poor book ! " said poor Patricia, 
 picking up the unfortunate volume, which lay 
 fluttering with open leaves on the very edge 
 of that tiny current trickling over the brown 
 path, which, save that it moved and caught an 
 occasional sparkle of light, you could not 
 have distinguished to be a burn. " Oh, Jo- 
 anna, you are so thoughtless ! what was all 
 this haste about ? "
 
 158 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 '^ Oh, such a story!'' criedJoanna, eagerly. 
 " It's easy to speak about nerves — but when I 
 heard it I could have run to papa and given 
 him a good shake — I could ! and he deserved 
 it ! for they say it was all his blame." 
 
 ** I should like to hear what it was/' said 
 Patricia, with an exasperating and intolerable 
 meekness, which usually quite overpowered the 
 patience of her sister. 
 
 But Joanna was too much interested in the 
 present instance. 
 
 *^ It was Mr. Livhigstone, of Norlaw," she 
 said, sinking her voice ; " he's dead, and his 
 funeral was stopped because he was in debt, 
 and it was papa that did it — and the three 
 boys got up at midnight, and carried him on 
 their shoulders with torches in their hands to 
 Dryburgh, and buried him there. Sinclair 
 says it's true, every word — and I don't know 
 whether Huntley did not swim over Tweed to 
 get the boat. Oh, Patricia ! I feel as if I could 
 bothr greet and cry hurra, if I were to see
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 159 
 
 them ; and as for papa, he deserves — I don't 
 know what he does not deserve ! " 
 
 " I wish jou would talk like a lady, 
 Joanna," said her sister, without taking any 
 notice of this unfilial sentiment; ^^ greet! you 
 could just as well say cry, or weep, for that 
 matter — and it's only common people that say 
 Tweed, as if they meant a person instead of a 
 river ; why don't you say the Tweed, as people 
 of education say?" 
 
 " He's the truest person I know," cried 
 Joanna. ''Tweed and Tyne ! you may say 
 that they're just streams of water, if you like, 
 but they're more to me ; but the question is 
 papa — I knew he was ill enough, and hard- 
 hearted, but I never, never thought he could 
 have been so bad as that — and I mean to go 
 this very moment and ask him how it was." 
 
 "I suppose papa knows better than we 
 do," said Patricia, with a slight sigh; "but I 
 wish he would not do things that make people 
 talk. It is very annoying. I daresay every-
 
 160 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 body will know about this soon, if it's true. 
 If it was all himself it would not so much 
 matter, and you never go out anywhere, 
 Joanna, so you don't feel it — ^but it is very un- 
 pleasant to mamma and me." 
 
 ^^ I was not thinking of either mamma or 
 you; I was thinking of the Livingstones," cried 
 Joanna, with a flush of shame on her cheeks ; 
 " and I mean to go in this very instant, and 
 ask him what it means." 
 
 So saying, the impetuous girl rushed up the 
 path, slowly followed by Patricia. It was one 
 of the loveliest bits of woodland on the whole 
 coui:'se of Tyne. Mosses, and wild flowers, and 
 the daintiest ferns known to Scotland, peeped 
 out of every hollow — and overhead and 
 around, stretching down half way across 
 the river, and thrusting out, with Nature's 
 rare faculty of composition, their most 
 graceful curves of foliage against the 
 sky, were trees, not too great or ancient to 
 overshadow the younger growth ; trees of all
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 161 
 
 descriptions, birches and beeches and willows, 
 the white-limbed ash, with its green bunches 
 of fruit, and the tender lime, with its honey 
 blossoms. You could have almost counted 
 every separate flash of sunshine which burned 
 through the leaves, misty with motes and 
 dazzling bright with that limitation, and yet 
 the shadow overhead trembled and fluctuated 
 with such a constant interchange that the spot 
 which was in shade one moment was in the 
 brightest light the very next. The light 
 gleamed in Joanna's red hair, as she plunged 
 along in her impetuous way towards the house, 
 and fell in touches here and there upon the 
 graceful little figure of her sister, in her close 
 cottage bonnet and muslin gown, as Patricia 
 came softly over the same road, book in hand. 
 But we are bound to confess that neither of 
 the two, perfectly accustomed and familiar as 
 they were, found a moment's leisure among 
 their other thoughts to pause upon this scene ; 
 they went towards the house, the one after the 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE LATRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 other — Patricia with a due regard to decorum 
 as well as to her nerves and feebleness of 
 frame — Joanna totally without regard for 
 either the one or the other ; and both occupied, 
 to the entire neglect of everything else, with 
 thoughts of their own. 
 
 The house of Melmar was placed upon a 
 level platform of land, of a considerably lower 
 altitude than this brae. Pausing to look at it, 
 as neither Joanna nor Patricia did, on the 
 rustic bridge which crossed the Tyne, and led 
 from this woodland path into the smooth lawn 
 and properly arranged trees of '^ the private 
 grounds," Melmar appeared only a large 
 square house, pretentious, yet homely, built 
 entirely for living in, and not for looking at. 
 If Nature, with her trees, and grass, and bits ol 
 garden land, softening the angles and filling in 
 the gaps, had done her best to make it seemly, 
 the house was completely innocent of aid- 
 ing in any such attempt. Yet, by sheer dint 
 of persistence, having stood there for at least a
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW, 16o 
 
 hundred years, long enough to have patches of 
 lichen here and there upon its walls, Melmar 
 had gained that look of steadiness and security, 
 and of belonging to the soil, which harmonizes 
 even an ugly feature in a landscape. The 
 door, which was sheltered by a little portico, 
 with four tall pillars, in reality stone, but look- 
 ing considerably like plaster, opened from 
 without after the innocent fashion of the 
 country. Eunning across the lawn, Joanna 
 opened the door and plunged in, without fur- 
 ther ado, into her father's study, which was 
 at the end of a long passage looking out upon 
 the other side of the house. He was not there 
 — so the girl came rushing back again to the 
 drawing-room, the door of which stood open, 
 and once more encountering her sister there, 
 did her best to disturb the delicate nerves a 
 second time, and throw Patricia out of 
 breath. 
 
 This papa, whom Joanna had no hesitation 
 about bearding in his own den, could not surely 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 be such an ogre after all. He was not an 
 ogre. YoLi could not have supposed, to look 
 at him, that any exaltation of enmity, any 
 heroic sentiment of revenge, could lodge 
 within the breast of Mr. Huntley, of Melmar. 
 He was a tall man, with a high, narrow head, 
 and reddish grizzled hair. A man with plenty 
 of forehead, making up in height for its want 
 of breadth. He was rather jovial than other- 
 wise in his manner, and carried about with him 
 a little atmosphere of his own, a whiff of two 
 distinct odours, not'unusual attendants of elderly 
 Scotsmen, twenty years ago, reminiscences of 
 toddy and rappee. He looked round with a 
 smile at the vehement entrance of Joanna. 
 He permitted all kinds of rudenesses on the part 
 of this girl, and took a certain pleasure in 
 them. He was not in the slightest degree an 
 exacting or punctilious father ; but not all his 
 indulgence, nor the practical jokes, banter, and 
 teasing, which he administered to all children, 
 his own, among the rest, when they were young
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 165 
 
 enough — ^had secured him either fondness or 
 respect at their hands. They got on very well 
 on the whole. Patricia pouted at him, and 
 Joanna took him to task roundly when they 
 differed in opinion — but the affection they gave 
 him was an affection of habit, and nothing 
 more. 
 
 *' I've come to speak to you, papa," cried 
 Joanna. " I've just been hearing the whole 
 story, every word — and oh, I think shame of 
 you ! — it's a disgrace, it's a sin — I wonder you 
 dare look any of us in the face again ! " 
 
 '' Eh ? what's all this ? " said Melmar ; 
 ^^ Joan in one of her tantrums already ? Three 
 times in a day ! that's scarcely canny — I'll 
 have to speak to your aunt Jean." 
 
 ^* Oh, papa !" cried Joanna, indignantly, 
 " it's no fun — who do you think would carry 
 you to Dryburgh if somebody stopped your 
 faneral ? not one ! You would have to stay 
 here in your coffin and never be buried — and 
 I wouldna be sorry I You would deserve it,
 
 166 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and nothing better — oh, I think shame of 
 
 you!" 
 
 " What ? in my coffin ? that's a long look 
 beforehand/^ said Melmar. '' You may have 
 time to think shame of me often enough before 
 that time Joan ; but let's hear what's all 
 this about Dryburgh and a funeral — who's 
 been here ?" 
 
 " Sinclair was here," cried Joanna, ^^ and 
 he heard it all at Kirkbride — every word — 
 and he says you had better not be seen there, 
 after all you've done at Norlaw." 
 
 "I am sure, papa, it's very hard," said 
 Patricia. " You set everybody talking, and 
 then people look strange at us. Mamma 
 knows they do ; and I could cry when I think 
 that we're going out to-morrow, and it would 
 have been such a nice party. But now every- 
 body knows about this, and nobody will speak 
 to us — it's too bad of you, papa." 
 
 ^^ What is it, my darling?" cried Mrs. 
 Huntley from her easy-chair.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 167 
 
 "Eh, fat's this?'' said aunt Jean, wheeling 
 round upon hers. 
 
 A popular commotion was rising ; ^Melmar 
 saw the premonitory tokens, and made his 
 escape accordingly. 
 
 " Joan," he said, pulhng her ear as he 
 passed her, " you're an impudent monkey ; 
 but you may spare your wrath about 
 Norlaw — I knew as little as you did that the 
 man was dead — however, he is dead, and I 
 don't break my heart ; but you can tell 
 Sinclair I'll tell him a word of my mind the 
 next time I'm near Kirkbride." 
 
 " Sinclair doesna care ! " said Joanna ; but 
 Melmar pulled a thick curl of her red hair, and 
 betook himself to his study, leaving the rising 
 gust of questions to wear itself out as it 
 might. 
 }
 
 168 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 The drawing-room of Melmar was a large 
 room tolerably well furnished. Three long 
 windows on one side of the apartment, looked 
 out upon the lawn before the house, carefully 
 avoiding the view " up Tyne," which a little 
 management might have made visible. The 
 fire-place was at the upper end of the room, 
 sparkling coldly with polished steel and brass, 
 and decorated with a very elaborate construc- 
 tion of cut paper. The chairs were all covered 
 with chintz in a large-flowered pattern, red 
 and green — chintz which did not fit on well, 
 and looked creasy and disorderly. A large 
 crumb-cloth, spread over the bright-coloured 
 carpet, had the same disadvantage ; one corner
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 169 
 
 of it was constantly loose, folding up under 
 the chairs and tripping unwary passengers. 
 There was a round rosewood table, sparely 
 covered with books and ornaments, and 
 another oblong one with a cover on it, which 
 was meant for use. By this last sat Mrs. 
 Huntley, with some knitting in her lap, re- 
 clining in a cushioned chau^, with her feet 
 upon a high footstool. She was pale, with 
 faint pink cheeks, and small, delicate features, 
 a woman who had, to use her own expression, 
 " enjoyed very bad health" all her life. She 
 had very little character, not much animation, 
 nothing very good nor very bad about her. 
 It would scarcely have been true even to say 
 that she loved her children ; she was fond of 
 them — particularly of Patricia — gave them 
 a great many caresses and sweetmeats while 
 they were young enough, and afterwards let 
 them have their own will without restraint ; 
 but there did not seem enough of active life 
 in her to deserve the title of any active senti-
 
 170 THE LAIED OF NORLAW. 
 
 ment. She was deeply learned in physic and 
 invalid dietary, and liked to be petted and 
 attended, to come down stairs at twelve 
 o'clock, to lie on the sofa, to be led out for a 
 little walk, carefully adapted to her weakness, 
 and to receive all the little attentions proper 
 to an invalid. Her exclusive pretensions in 
 this respect had, it is true, been rather in- 
 fringed upon of late years by Patricia, who 
 sometimes threatened to be a more serious 
 invalid than her mother, and who certainly 
 assumed the character with almost equal 
 satisfaction. However, Patricia was pretty 
 well at the present moment, and Mrs. Huntley, 
 supported by her maid, had only about half 
 an hour ago come down stairs. She had a 
 glass of toast-and-water on the table beside 
 her, a smelling-bottle, an orange cut into 
 quarters upon a china plate, a newspaper 
 within reach of her hand, and her knitting 
 in her lap. We beg Mrs. Huntley's pardon, 
 it was not knitting, but netting — her industry
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 171 
 
 consisted in making strange, shapeless caps, 
 bags, and window-curtains, which became 
 excessively yellow after they were washed, 
 and were of no use to any creature ; for the 
 refined art of crochet was not then invented, 
 nor had fancy-work reached that perfection 
 which belongs to it now. 
 
 In an arm-chair by one of the windows sat 
 a very different person — an old woman, 
 black-eyed, white-haired, wearing an old- 
 fashioned black dress, with a snowy white mus- 
 lin handkerchief pinned down to her waist 
 in front and behind — a large muslin apron 
 of the same spotless complexion, a cap of 
 clear cambric trimmed with rich old-fashioned 
 ace, and bound round with a broad black 
 ribbon, which was tied in a bow on the top 
 of her head. This was a relative of Mrs. 
 Huntley, known as Aunt Jean in the house 
 of Melmar. She was the last survivor of her 
 family, and had a little annuity, just enough 
 to keep her muslin kerchiefs and aprons
 
 172 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and old-fashioned caps from wearing out. 
 She was quite kindly used in this house 
 where nobody paid any particular regard 
 to her, but where long ago it had seemed 
 very good fun to Melmar himself to get 
 up a little delusion on the score of Aunt 
 Jean's wealth, which, according to the 
 inventor of it, was to be bequeathed to 
 his daughter Joanna. This was a favourite 
 joke of the head of the house ; he was never 
 tired of referring to Aunt Jean's fortune, 
 or threatening Joanna with the chance of 
 forfeiting it, which delicate and exquisite 
 piece of fun was always followed by a 
 loud laugh, equally delicate and charac- 
 teristic. Aunt Jean, however, fortunately, 
 was deaf, and never quite understood the 
 wit of her nephew-in-law; she stuck quietly to 
 her corner, made rather a pet of Joanna, 
 persisted in horrifying Patricia by her dress 
 and her dialect, which breathed somewljat 
 strongly of Aberdeenshire, and by dint of keeping
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW^. 173 
 
 " thretty pennies," as she said, in the corner 
 of her old-fashioned leather purse — pennies 
 which were like the oil in the widow's cruse, 
 often spent, yet always existing — and in her 
 drawers in her own room, an unfailing store of 
 lace, and muslins, and ribbons, old dresses, 
 quaint examples of forgotten fashion, and 
 pieces of rich stuff, such as girls love to tui-n 
 over and speculate on possible uses for — kept 
 up an extensive popularity. Aunt Jean 
 was not in the very slightest degree an 
 invalid — the tap of her little foot, which 
 wore high -heeled shoes, was almost the 
 smartest in the house. She sat in winter 
 by the fii-e, in summer by one of the 
 windows, knitting endless pairs of stockings, 
 mits, and those shapeless little gloves, 
 with a separate stall for the the thumb, 
 and one little bag for all the fingers, in which 
 the hapless hands of babies are wont to be 
 imprisoned. It was from an occupation 
 of this kind that Aunt Jean turned, when
 
 174 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 the din of Joanna's accusation penetrated 
 faintly into her ears. 
 
 ^^Eh, fat's that?" said Aunt Jean; it 
 was something about a debt and a funeral, 
 two things which were not particularly 
 likely to interest Joanna. Something remark- 
 ably out of the usual course must have 
 happened, and the old lady had all the 
 likings of an old woman in the country. 
 Gossip was sweet to her soul. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, so vexatious ! " cried 
 Patricia, in a voice which could not by 
 any possibility reach the ears of Aunt Jean ; 
 *^papa has been doing something to Mr. 
 Livingstone, of Norlaw — he's dead, and there's 
 been something done that looks cruel — oh ! 
 I'm sure I don't know exactly what it is — 
 Joanna knows ; — ^but only think how the peo- 
 ple will look at us to-morrow night." 
 
 ^^ Perhaps I may not be able to go, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Huntley, with a sigh. 
 
 ^^Not able to go? after promising so
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 175 
 
 long ! Mamma, that is cruel ! " cried Patricia ; 
 *^but nobody cares for me. I nev^er have 
 what other people have. I am to be shut up 
 in this miserable prison of a place all my life 
 — not able to go ! Oh, mamma! but you'll 
 all be sorry when there's no poor Patricia 
 to be shut up and made a victim of any 
 more ! " 
 
 ^^I do think you're very unreasonable, 
 Patricia," said Mrs. Huntley; '^ I've gone out 
 three times this last month to please you — a 
 great sacrifice for a person in my weak 
 health — and Dr. Tait does not think late hours 
 proper for you ; besides, if there is anything 
 disagreeable about your papa, as you say, I 
 really don't think my nerves could stand it." 
 
 "Fat's all this about?" said Aunt Jean, 
 " you ken just as well as me that I canna 
 hear a word of fat you're saying. Joan, my 
 bairn, come you here — fa's dun wrang ? Fat's 
 happened? Eh ! there's Patricia ta'en to 
 the tears — fat's wrang ? "
 
 176 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Nothing loth, Joanna rushed forward, and 
 shouted her story into the old woman's ears. 
 It WHS received with great curiosity and interest 
 by the new hearers. Aunt Jean lifted up 
 her hands in dismay, shook her head, made all 
 the telegraphic signs with eye and mouth 
 which are common to people restrained from 
 full communication with their companions. 
 Mrs. Huntley, too, was roused. 
 
 "It's like a scene in a novel,'' she said, 
 with some animation ; " but after all, Mr. 
 Livingstone should not have been in debt to 
 papa, you know. What with Oswald abroad, 
 and you two at home, you can tell Aunt Jean 
 we need all our money, Joanna ; and if people 
 die \^hen they're in debt, what can they 
 expect ? I don't see, really, in my poor 
 health, that I'm called upon to interfere." 
 
 "Fat's this I hear?" said Aunt Jean; 
 " Livingstone o' Norlaw ? Na, Jeanie, if 
 that's true, your goodman's been sair left to 
 himself. Eh, woman ! Livingstone ! fat's
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 177 
 
 a'body's thinking of? I would sooner have 
 cut off my little finger if I had been 
 Me'mar ; that man ! '' 
 
 ^^ Oh, what about him, Aunt Jean ? " cried 
 Joanna. 
 
 ^^Ay, bairn, but I maun think," said the 
 old woman. '^ I'm no' so clear it's my duty to 
 tell you. Your father kens his ain concerns, 
 and so does your mother, in a measui'e, and so 
 do I myself. I canna tell onybody mair than 
 my ain secret, Joan. Hout ay ! I'll teU you, 
 fun I was a young lass, fat happened to me." 
 
 ''' I want to hear about Norlaw," cried 
 Joanna, screaming into the old woman's 
 ear. 
 
 " Aunt Jean ! " cried Mrs. Huntley, making 
 a sudden step out of her chair. '^ If you do, 
 Me'mar will kill me — oh ! hold your tongues, 
 children! Do you think I can bear one of 
 papa's passions — a person in my poor health ? 
 Aunt Jean, if you do, I'll never speak to you 
 again ! " 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Aunt Jean contemplated her niece, with her 
 twinkling black eyes, making a moue of vivid 
 contempt as she nodded her head impatiently. 
 
 '* Fat for can ye no hold your peace for a 
 fool-wife ? '' said Aunt Jean ; " did ye think 
 I had as little wit as you? What about 
 Norlaw? You see the laird here and him 
 were aye ill friends. Hout ay ! mony a ane's 
 ill friends with Me'mar. I mind the 
 bairns just fun you were born, Joan. Twa 
 toddlmg wee anes, and ane in the cradle. 
 Pity me ! I mind it because I was losing my 
 hearing, and turning a cankered auld wife ; 
 and it was them that took and buried their 
 father ? Honest lads ! I would like to do 
 them a good turn.*' 
 
 ^' But I know there's something more about 
 Norlaw," cried Joanna, " and 111 say you're a 
 cankered auld wife till you tell me — I will ! and 
 you would have told me before now but for 
 mamma. Do you hear. Aunt Jean ? " 
 
 '' Hout ay, I hear," said the old woman, who
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 179 
 
 could manage her deafness like most people 
 who possess that defect — (where it is not ex- 
 treme, a little deafness is in its way quite a 
 possession) '^but I maun take time to think 
 fat it was I promised to tell you. Some- 
 thing that happened when I was a young 
 lass. Just that, Joan — I was staying at my 
 married sister*s, that was your grandmother, 
 and Jeanie, there, your mamaw, was a bit little 
 bairn — she was aye a sma' thing of her years, 
 taking physic for a constancy. There was a 
 poor gentleman there, ane of the Gordons, 
 as good blood in his veins as ony man in the 
 kingdom, and better than the king's ain, that 
 was only a German lairdie — ^but ye see this 
 lad was poor, and fat should save him but he got 
 into debt, and fat should help him but he died. 
 So the sheriff's officers came and stopped the 
 funeral ; and the lads rose, a' the friends that 
 were at it, and a' the men on the ground, 
 and fat should ail them to crack the officer's 
 crowns, and lay them up in a chamber ; but 
 
 N 2
 
 180 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 I've heard say it was a sair sicht to see the 
 hearse rattling away at a trot, and a^ the black 
 coaches afterhand, as if it was a bridal — oh 
 f[e ! — nothing else was in everybody's mouth on 
 our side of the water, a' the mair because the 
 Gordon lad that died was of the English 
 chapel, and behoved to have a service o'er his 
 grave, and the English minister was faint- 
 hearted and feared. It wasna done at nicht, 
 but in broad daylicht, and by the strong 
 hand — and that happened — I wouldna say 
 but it was forty year ago ; for I was a 
 young lass and your mamaw there a little 
 bairn. '^ 
 
 " I daresay, mamma,'' said Patricia, who 
 had dried her tears ; '^ that people don't know of 
 it yet ; and at the worst it was all papa's 
 fault — I don't think we should be afraid to 
 go — it wasn't our blame, I'm sure." 
 
 " If I should be able, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Huntley, with her languid sigh — whereupon 
 Patricia exerted herself to arrange her
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 181 
 
 mother's pillow, and render her sundry little 
 attentions which pleased her. 
 
 Poor little Patricia loved ^^ society;" she 
 wanted to shine and to be admired ^' like other 
 girls " — even the dull dinner-parties of the 
 surrounding lairds excited the fragile little 
 soul, who knew no better, and she spent the 
 rest of the dav oblivious of her former terrors 
 concerning public opinion, in coaxing Mrs. 
 Huntley into betterness ; while Joanna, for 
 her part, persecuted Aunt Jean with an un- 
 availing but violent pertinacity, vainly hoping 
 to gain some insight into a family secret. 
 Patricia was successful in her endeavours ; 
 but there never was a more signal failure than 
 that attack upon Aunt Jean.
 
 182 
 
 CHAPTER XV, 
 
 " Bless me, callants ! what are ye doing 
 here ? " said Marget, looking in at the door of 
 the mid chamber, where Huntley and Patrick 
 Livingstone were together. 
 
 It was a small apartment, originally in- 
 tended for a dressing-room, and communi- 
 cating by a door locked and barricaded on 
 both sides with the east room, which was the 
 guest chamber of the house. Almost its sole 
 piece of furniture w^as a large old-fashioned 
 mahogany desk, standing upon a heavy frame 
 of four tall legs, and filling half the space ; 
 it was not like the bureau of romance, with 
 that secret drawer where some important do- 
 cument is always being discovered. The
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 183 
 
 heavy lid was held open by Huntley's head, 
 as he carried on his investigations. There 
 were drawers enough, but they were all made 
 by the hand of the joiner of Kirkbride, who 
 knew nothing of secret contrivances — and 
 these, as well as all the remaining space of the 
 desk were filled with the gatherings of Xorlaw's 
 life, trifles which some circumstance or other 
 made important to him at the moment they 
 were placed there, but which were now pa- 
 thetic in their perfect insignificance and use- 
 lessness, closely connected as they were with 
 the dead man's memory. Old letters, old 
 receipts, old curiosities, a few coins and seals, 
 and trifling memorials, and a heap of papers 
 quite unintelligible and worthless, made up 
 the store. In one drawer, however, Huntley 
 had found what he wanted — the will — and 
 along with it, carefiiUy wrapped in at least a 
 dozen different folds of paper, a little round 
 curl of golden hair. 
 
 They were looking at this when ^larget,
 
 184 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 whose question had not been answered, en- 
 tered and closed the door. The lads were not 
 aware of her presence till this sound startled 
 them ; when they heard it, Huntley hurriedly 
 re-folded the covers of this relic, which they 
 had been looking at with a certain awe. Eye 
 of stranger, even though it was this faithful 
 old friend and servant, ought not to pry into 
 their father's secret treasure. The Mistress's 
 hair was of the darkest brown. It was not 
 for love of their mother that Norlaw had kept 
 so carefully this childish curl of gold. 
 
 '• Laddies," said Marget, holding the door 
 close behind her, and speaking low as she 
 watched with a jealous eye the covering up of 
 this secret, ^^ some of ye's been minding the 
 Mistress of auld troubles. I said to myself I 
 would come and give you a good hearing — the 
 haill three — What's Mary o' Melmar to 
 you?" 
 
 ^'Did my mother tell you?" asked 
 Huntley, with amazement.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAVT. 185 
 
 ^' Her, laddies ! na, its little ye ken ! her 
 name the like o' that to the like o' me ! But 
 Cosmo behoved to ask about the story — he 
 would part Tvith his little finger to hear a story, 
 that bairn — and 'deed I ken fine about it. 
 What for could ye no speak to me ? " 
 
 " There was more than a story in Huntley's 
 thoughts and in mine," said Patrick, shutting 
 up the desk with some decision and authori- 
 tativeness. 
 
 *^ Hear him ! my certy ! that's setting up ! " 
 cried Marget ; " I ken everything about it for 
 a' you're so grand. And I ken the paper in 
 Huntley's hand is the will, and I ken I 
 would run the risk o' firing the haill house, 
 but I would have burnt it, afore he got sight 
 0% if it had been me." 
 
 " Why ? " said Huntley, with a little impa- 
 tience. It was not possible that the youth 
 could read this bequest conferring Melmar, 
 failing the natural heiress, on his father and 
 himself, without a thrill of many emotions.
 
 186 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 He was ambitious, like every young man ; he 
 could not think of this fortune, which seemed 
 almost to lie within his reach, without a 
 stirring of the heart. 
 
 *^ It did nothing but harm to your father, 
 and it can do nothing but mischief to you,'' 
 said Marget, solemnly; ^* you're young and 
 strong, and fit to make a fortune. But I tell 
 you, Huntley Livingstone, if you attempt to 
 seek this lass over the world, as your father 
 did, you're a ruined man." 
 
 '^ Neither Huntley nor me believe in ruined 
 men," said Patie ; " we'll take care for that — 
 go to your kye, and never mind." 
 
 "Don't be angry, Marget," said Huntley, 
 who was more tender of the faithful retainer 
 of the house ; " trust us, as Patie says — and 
 besides, if she should never be found, Melmar's 
 mine." 
 
 " Eh, whisht, lad ! she'U come hame with 
 half a dozen bairns before e'er your feet's 
 across the door," cried Marget ; " tell me to
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 187 
 
 trust you, that are only callants, and dinna 
 ken ! Trust me, the twa of you ! Gang and 
 spend a' the best years of your life, if you like, 
 seeking her, or witness that she's dead. If ye 
 find her, ye're nane the better, if ye dinna 
 find her, ye're aye deluded with the thought of 
 a fortune ye canna claim — and if ye get word 
 she's dead, there's still Melmar himself, that 
 was bred a writer and kens a' the cheats of 
 them, to fight the battle ! They might say it 
 was a false will — they might say, Guid forgive 
 them ! that Xorlaw had beguiled the auld 
 man. There's evil in't but nae guid ; 
 Huntley, you're your father's son, you're to 
 make his amends to her. Dinna vex the 
 Mistress's life with Mary of Melmar ony 
 mair ! " 
 
 " The short and the long of it all, Marget,'' 
 said Patrick, who was at once more talkative 
 and more peremptory than usual — ^^is, that 
 you must mind your own business and we'll 
 mind ours. Huntley's not a knight in a story-
 
 188 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 book, seeking a distressed lady. Huntley's not 
 in love with Mary of Melmar ; but if she's to 
 be found she shall be found ; and if she's dead 
 my brother's the heir." 
 
 ^^ No' till you're done wi' a' her bairns," 
 cried Marget ; ^^ say there's nae mair than 
 three of them, like yoursels — and the present 
 Me'mar's been firm in his seat this thirteen 
 years. Weel, weel, I daur to say Patie's 
 right — it's nae business o' mine ; but I'd 
 sooner see you a' working for your bread, if it 
 was just like labouring men, and I warn ye 
 baith, the day's coming when ye'll think upon 
 what I say ! " 
 
 Marget disappeared, solemnly shaking her 
 head as she said these last words. For the 
 moment, the two youths said nothing to each 
 other. The desk was locked softly, the will 
 placed in an old pocket-book, to be deposited 
 elsewhere, and then, for the first time, the 
 young men's eyes met. 
 
 *^ She's right," said Patie, with sudden
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 189 
 
 emphasis ; '^ if you seek her yourself, Huntley, 
 you'll neither get Me'mar nor fortune, — it's 
 true." 
 
 Huntley paid little attention to his brother. 
 He stood looking out from the window, where, 
 in the distance, to the north, the banks of Tyne 
 rose high among the woods of Melmar — 
 opposite to him, fertile fields, rich in the glow 
 of coming harvest, lay the wealthy lands of 
 his father's enemy — those lands which perhaps 
 now, if he but knew it, were indisputably his 
 own. He stood fascinated, looking out, 
 tracing with an unconscious eagerness the line 
 of the horizon, the low hills, and trees, and 
 ripening corn, which, as far as he could see 
 before him, were still part of the same inheri- 
 tance. He was not a dreamy boy like 
 Cosmo — he thought little of his father's old 
 love, or of the triumph of restoring her to her 
 inheritance. The Mary of Norlaw's fancy was 
 but a shadow upon the future of his own. He 
 thought, with a glow of personal ambition, of
 
 190 THE LAIKD OF NORLAW. 
 
 the fair stretch of country lying before him. 
 Generous, high-spirited, and incapable of 
 meanness, Huntley still had the impulse of 
 conquest strong within him. He could not 
 but think, with a rising heart, of this visible 
 fortune which lay at his feet and seemed to 
 be almost within his grasp. He could not 
 but think, with indignant satisfaction, of 
 unseating the false heir whose enmity had 
 pursued Norlaw to the very grave. All the 
 excitement which had gathered into these few 
 past weeks still throbbed in Huntley^s heart 
 and stirred his brain. He could not moderate 
 the pace of his thoughts or subdue his 
 mind at anybody^s bidding. If it should be 
 hard to get justice and a hearing for his 
 claims, this very difficulty increased the 
 attraction — for it was his claims he thought of 
 while the others were thinking of Mary of 
 Melmar. He was not selfish, but he was 
 young, and had an ardent mind and a strong 
 individual character. Mary of Melmar — a
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 191 
 
 white ghost, unreal and invisible — faded from 
 his mind entirely. He thought, instead, of the 
 man who had arrested Norlaw's funeral, 
 and of the inheritance of which he was the 
 rightful heir. 
 
 With all these fames in his brain it was 
 quite impossible that Huntley could listen 
 soberly to the sober counsels of Patie, or to 
 the warnings of the old servant. They 
 begged him not to think of a search for Mary. 
 He thought of nothing of the kind. Mary 
 had taken no position of romance in the 
 young man's fancy. The romance which 
 blossomed in his eyes was a much less dis- 
 interested one than that which Cosmo mused 
 upon in the old window of the castle. He 
 thought of himself, of his own family, of all the 
 possibilities and powers of an extensive land- 
 owner, and with the flush of youthful self- 
 belief, of a great life. He had stood thus at 
 the window a long time gazing out, and paying 
 no attention to the occasional words of his
 
 192 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 sensible brother, when the sound of some one 
 coming roused them both. It was the 
 Mistress's firm footsteps ascending the 
 stair — they both left the room immediately, 
 agreed, at least, in one thing, to trouble 
 their mother no more with recollections 
 disagreeable to her. Then Patie went 
 about his business, somewhat disturbed 
 by the thought that Huntley meant to 
 throw away a portion of his life in the 
 same fruitless folly which had injured 
 their father ; while Huntley himself, re- 
 membering something that had to be 
 done at Kirkbride, set off along the 
 banks of Tyne at a great pace, which 
 did not, however, overtake the swing of 
 his thoughts. Marget, coming out to her 
 kitchen door to look after him, held up 
 her hands and exclaimed to herself, ^^ The 
 laddie's carried ! " as she watched his 
 rapid progress — which meaning, as it did, 
 that Huntley was fairly lifted off his
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 193 
 
 feet and possessed by a rapid and impetuous 
 fancy, was perfectly correct — though the 
 fancy itself was not such as Marget 
 thought. 
 
 YOL. I.
 
 194 
 
 CHAPTEE XYL 
 
 The village lay bright under the afternoon 
 sun when Huntley Livingstone came in sight 
 of it that day. It was perfectly quiet, as was 
 its wont — some small children playing at the 
 open doors, the elder ones, save here and there 
 an elder daughter charged with the heavy 
 responsibility of a baby, being for the most 
 part safe at school. At the door of the 
 Norlaw Arms an angler- visit or, with his rod 
 over his shoulder, a single figure becalmed in 
 the sunshine, stood lazily gazing about him — 
 and in shadow of the projecting gable of the 
 inn, another stranger stood holding his horse, 
 before the door of the smithy, from whence big
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 195 
 
 John Black, the smith, was about to issue to 
 replace a lost shoe. John was the master of this 
 important rural establishment, and was a 
 big, soft-hearted giant, full of the good- 
 humoured obtuseness which so often accom- 
 panies great personal size and strength. 
 Inside, in the fiery obscurity of the village 
 Pandemonium, toiled a giant of quite a diffe- 
 rent order — a swarthy, thickset little Cyclops, 
 with a hump on his shoulder, and one eye. 
 This was John's brother, the ruling spirit of 
 mischief in Kirkbride, whom all the mothers 
 of sons held in disgust and terror, and whom 
 Dr. Logan himself could make no improve- 
 ment in. Jacob, or Jaacob as he was popu- 
 larly called, was as strong as he was ugly, 
 and it was generally understood, as wicked as 
 both. By natural consequence, his rustic 
 neighbours found a considerable attraction 
 in his society, and liked to repeat his 
 sayings, which were not always funny, with 
 explosions of laughter. Huntley^s errand, 
 
 2
 
 19(] THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 as it happened, was with this individual, who 
 was somewhat of a genius in his way, which 
 was the way of agricultural implements. 
 Jaacob had even taken out what he called a 
 '^ paatent" for a new harrow of his own inven- 
 tion, and was, in right of this, the authority, on 
 all such matters, of the country side. 
 
 " Yell be carrying on the farm then ? " 
 said Jaacob. '^ A plough needs mair than a 
 new coulter to drive it through a furrow — it 11 
 be new work to you, Mr. Huntley, to gang 
 atween the stilts yourseF." 
 
 Huntley had descended suddenly out of the 
 hurry of his fancies about Melmar, of which 
 he already saw himself master. He came to 
 the ground with rather a rude shock when he 
 heard these words, and found himself on the 
 hard earthen floor of the smithy, with the red 
 sparks flying into the darkness over his head, 
 and Jacobus one eye twinkling at him in the 
 fiery light. He was not the laird of Melmar 
 to Jaacob, but only the son of the ruined Norlaw.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 197 
 
 '* What we want in the meantime is the 
 plough," said Huntley, somewhat sharply, his 
 face flushing in spite of himself ; then he added, 
 after a pause, all the humiliation of debt and 
 poverty recurring to his mind, which had 
 been defended for some time against that lesser 
 pain by the excitement of grief, and to-day 
 by the violent flush of ambitious hope. " I 
 believe there is a bill — but if you'll send 
 it up to the house I'll see to it without 
 delay.'' 
 
 Bowed Jaacob was not ungenerous in his 
 way, but he scorned to defend himself from 
 any imputation of ungenerosity. He did not 
 hasten, therefore, as might have been sup- 
 posed, to say that the aforesaid bill was of no 
 importance, and could wait. On the con- 
 trary, he proceeded, with sarcastic dryness in 
 his tone : — 
 
 " You'll find it hard wark to get in your 
 craps. How many acres have ye in wheat 
 the year, Mr. Huntley? You'll no' ken?
 
 198 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Houts, man! that's an ill beginning for a 
 lad that farms his ain land." 
 
 In spite of himself, tears of mortification 
 stole into Huntley's eyes. He turned his 
 head away with a muttered exclamation. 
 
 '^ I don't know that we've half an acre 
 safe ! " cried Huntley, in the bitterness of his 
 heart. His dream was broken. Me' mar, 
 who was their chief creditor — Me'mar, whom 
 he had not yet displaced — might be able to get 
 into his hard worldly hands, for aught 
 Huntley knew, every slope of Norlaw. 
 
 ^^Aweel, aweel, lad," said Jaacob, striking 
 his hammer fiercely upon the glowing iron, 
 '^ a' the better for you — you'll be your ain 
 man — but I wouldna cheat myself with 
 fancies if I was you. Make up your mind 
 ae way or another, but dinna come here and 
 speak to me about ploughs, as if that was 
 what your mind was set on. I'm no' a 
 Solomon — but if you mean to thrive, never 
 delude yourself with a sham."
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 199 
 
 ''What's a' that?" said big John, as his 
 customer mounted the re-shod horse, and 
 trotted off in leisurely fashion as became the 
 day ; '' has Jaacob won to his books, Mr. 
 Huntley ? but I reckon he has his match 
 when he has you." 
 
 John, however, who was rather proud of 
 his brother's intellectual powers, thought no 
 such thing — neither did the little Cyclops 
 himself 
 
 " Mind your ain business," said Jaacob, 
 briefly ; '' what do you think a man learns 
 out of books, you haverel ? Xa, if I'm 
 onything, I'm a man of observation ; and 
 take my word, lad, there never was a man 
 throve yet till he saw distinck where he was, 
 and ordered his ways according. There's 
 mysel' — do you think I could ever make 
 ony progress, ae way or another, if I minded 
 what a' these stupid ideots say ? " 
 
 " What do they say?" said Huntley, who 
 was too much occupied with his own thoughts
 
 200 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 to perceive the drift of Jaacob's personal 
 observations. 
 
 "^Na, d'ye think Fm heeding?" said Jaacob; 
 " a man can rarely be more enlightened than 
 his neighbours without suffering fort. A' this 
 auld machinery of the warld creaks like an 
 auld bellows. There's naething but delusions 
 on every side of ye. Ye canna be clear of 
 a single thing that ye havena conquished for 
 yourser." 
 
 Huntley, who had come out of the languid 
 August afternoon, red in a glow of sunshine 
 and heat, to which the very idea of long 
 labour was alien, which accorded well enough 
 with his own ambitious dreams and thoughts of 
 sudden fortune — could not help feeling some- 
 how as if Jacob's hammer, beneath the stroke 
 of which the sparks flew, struck himself as 
 well as the iron. Melmar dissipated into 
 thin air, in the ruddy atmosphere of the 
 smithy. The two darkling giants, large and 
 small, moving about in the fierce glow of the
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 201 
 
 firelight, the puff of the bellows, plied by an 
 attendant demon, and the ceaseless clank of 
 the hammer, all combmed to recall to reality 
 and the present, the thoughts of the dream- 
 ing lad. In this atmosphere the long 
 labours of the Australian emigrant looked 
 much more reasonable and likely than any 
 sudden enrichment ; and with the uncon- 
 scious self-reference of his age, Huntley took 
 no pains to find out what Jaacob meant, 
 but immediately applied the counsel to his 
 own case. 
 
 " I suppose you're very right, Jacob," 
 said Huntley ; ^^ but it's hard work making 
 a fortune ; maybe it's safer in the end than 
 what comes to you from another man's 
 labours ; but still, to spend a life in gathering 
 money, is no very great thing to look for- 
 ward to." 
 
 ^^ Money!" said Jaacob, contemptuously. 
 "Na, lad; if that's your thought, you're 
 no' in my way. Did you ever hear of a
 
 202 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 ricli philosopher ? ne'er a ane have I heard 
 tell o', though I ken the maist of that fra- 
 ternity. Money ! Na ! it's ideas, and no' that 
 sordid trash, that tempts me." 
 
 " And the mair fuil you!" said big John, 
 half in chagrin, half in admiration. ^^ You 
 might have made your fortune twenty times 
 over, if it hadna been for your philosophy." 
 
 ^^ Whew ! " whistled Bowed Jaacob, with 
 magnificent disdain ; '^ what's a' the siller in 
 the world and a' its delichts — grand houses, 
 grand leddies, and a' the rest of thae vani- 
 ties — to the purshuit of truth ? That's what 
 I'm saying, callant — take everything on trust 
 because you've heard sae a' your days, and 
 your faither believed it before ye, gin ye 
 please ; but as for me, I'm no' the man for 
 sham — I set my fit, if a' the world should 
 come against me, on ideas I've won and 
 battled for mysel'." 
 
 " When they're as reasonable as the harrow, 
 I've nae objection," said big John ; ^' but ilka
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLATf. 203 
 
 man canna ^mte his idies in wud and iron, Mr. 
 Huntley. The like o' that may be a' very well 
 for hiniy but it doesna answer you and me. 
 Eh, man, but it's warm ! If it wasna that 
 philosophy's an awfu' drouthy thing — and the 
 wife comes down on me like murder when I 
 get a gill — I wouldna say but it's the best 
 kind of wark for this weather. Ye'll be goin' 
 up bye to the manse, Mr. Huntley. I hear 
 they're aye very well pleased to see onybody 
 out of Norlaw ; but ye maunna say yeVe been 
 here, for Jaacob and the minister, they're at 
 daggers drawn." 
 
 " Pish ! nae such thing," cried Jaacob, with 
 complacency ; '^ the like of a man like yon 
 shouldna mell with a man like me. It's no' 
 a fair battle — I aye say sae — I can tak his 
 measure fast enough, but he can nae mair 
 tak mine than he can flee. Eh, lad ! have 
 you ta'en the gate ? and no a word mair 
 about the plough ? " 
 
 " I'll take your advice, Jacob," said Hunt-
 
 204 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 ley ; " the plough can stand till we see what 
 use well have for it ; but as for going between 
 the stilts myself, if I do you'll see me draw 
 as fair a furrow as any ploughman about 
 Kirkbride." 
 
 ^^ Hurray ! " said Jaacob ; ^^ the lad has 
 some speerit after a' ; never you mind — 
 we'll send down somebody to see to the 
 plough." 
 
 With this assurance, Huntley left the 
 smithy; but not till Jaacob had begun to 
 sing in the most singular of cracked and 
 elvish voices, beating time with emphatic 
 strokes of his hammer, ^^ the flaxen-headed 
 cowboy," a rustic and ancient ditty, much in 
 favour in the country-side. Whether it was 
 the gestures of the gnome which called them 
 forth, or a ludicrous application of the song 
 to himself, Huntley could not tell ; but big 
 John and the boy accompanied the chant 
 with audible, yet restrained explosions of 
 laughter. Huntley grew very red in spite of
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 205 
 
 himself, as lie hurried along to the little 
 bridge. What a change from the fancy which 
 possessed him as he came up the village street 
 half an hour ago ! He could not have be- 
 lieved that his hypothetical inheritance could 
 have vanished so utterly ; somehow he could 
 not even recall that evanescent splendour. It 
 was no longer the heir of Melmar who as- 
 cended the brae of Tyne, through the trees 
 and scattered cottages towards the white- 
 gabled manse. It was the same Huntley 
 Livingstone who had buried his father at 
 midnight, who had set his face against the 
 evil fortune which seemed ready to overwhelm 
 his house, and who had pledged himself 
 to win in a new country a new and stable 
 fortune for the race of Norlaw. 
 
 But the young man was by no means con- 
 tented to part so lightly with his magnificent 
 vision. He did all he could by dint of thinking 
 to bring it back to his mind ; but even when he 
 paused at the top of the little hill and sur-
 
 206 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 veyed once more the fair fields of Melmar, 
 he could not recover the enthusiasm and 
 fervor of his former thoughts. Bowed Jaacob, 
 with the odd philosophy which perceived 
 other people's mistakes, but could not see its 
 own ludicrous pretensions — big John, who be- 
 lieved in his brother — and the ruddy darkness 
 of the smithy, where reality made a rude as- 
 sault upon his vision — ^had disenchanted Hunt- 
 ley. He stood on the brae of Tyne, seeing 
 everything with practical and undazzled eyes, 
 feeling himself to have a certain claim, diffi- 
 cult and doubtful, yet real, upon the lands 
 before him ; but seeing all the obstacles which 
 lay in its way. And, distinct from this, far 
 apart and separate, with a world between, lay 
 the fortune far more secure and certain which 
 Huntley had to make with his own hands. 
 
 It was with these thoughts that he entered 
 the manse of Kirkbride.
 
 207 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Dr. Logan was in his study writing his 
 sermon — Katie was alone in the manse parlour. 
 It was a cheerful room, looking over the 
 little front garden and down the brae to the 
 roofs of the village from its front window, and 
 peeping out through a flush of foliage upon 
 Tjne and the Melmar woods from the 
 other. The furniture was very simple, the 
 carpet old, the walls painted of an ash-green, 
 which was just one degree better than the 
 drab-coloured complexion of the Norlaw 
 dining-room ; but notwithstanding, the room 
 was perfect and could not have been improved 
 upon. There was only one easy-chair, and that
 
 208 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 was sacred to the minister ; tlie others were of 
 an ancient fashion of drawing-room chairs, 
 once elaborately painted and gilded, but now 
 much dimmed of their pristine splendour. 
 Katie's own hands had made all the pretty 
 chintz covers, which fitted without a wrinkle, 
 and the result was extremely satisfactory — 
 very much more agreeable to look upon than 
 the crumpled covers of the Melmar drawing- 
 room. There was a wonderful screen of 
 needlework, in a very slim ebony frame in one 
 corner, an old-fashioned work-table, with a 
 crimson bag and inlaid top, which could 
 answer as a chess-board, in another — and a low 
 bookcase, full of books, between the door and 
 the end window. On the table, at this present 
 moment, stood a basket of goodly dimensions, 
 full of stockings — and by the side of that a little 
 pile of freshly-mangled linen, pinafores and 
 other small garments in want of strings and 
 buttons. It was Friday, very near the end 
 of the week — so the minister, too wise to leave
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 209 
 
 his preparations to the latest day, made ready 
 for his weekly duty in the study, while Katie 
 did her weekly mendings on the same prin- 
 ciple in her own domain. 
 
 "You may go to the study if you please, 
 Huntley — my father will be glad to see you,'^ 
 said the young mistress of the manse, once 
 more drawing Johnnie's sock over her hand 
 after she had welcomed her visitor. Huntley 
 did not avail himself of the privilege so soon 
 as he might have done, considering that he 
 had come with the intention of asking advice 
 from the minister. It was pleasant to sit 
 down in that quiet, bright, home-like room, 
 which looked as though nothing could disturb 
 its cheerful composure, and see that careful 
 httle woman among her family labours, so 
 fresh, and bright, and young, yet so perfectly in 
 her place among these pleasant cares. 
 Himtley, whose mind was in a tumult of 
 unaccustomed anxieties, and who felt himself 
 
 VOL. T. P
 
 210 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 oppressed with a burden of responsibility, and 
 the new necessity of deciding for himself, 
 sank into a chair opposite Katie, with a sen- 
 sation of rest and relief which he had not felt 
 for weeks before. She looked up to him 
 brightly with those smiling brown eyes which 
 were so young and yet so full of elder-sisterly 
 thoughtfulness. She saw in a moment the 
 shadow on Huntley^s face, and proceeded to 
 minister to it as if it had been a cloud upon 
 the boyish horizon of one of her own young 
 brothers. Katie could not help being half 
 maternal even to Huntley. 
 
 " Something ails you," said the little 
 woman, — ^^ are you tired, Huntley ? Oh, I 
 mind when grief was here, what hard, hard 
 work it was keeping up a smile. Never 
 mind me ; look sorrowful, if you like, and take 
 a rest. It makes me think how I felt myself 
 when dear mamma died, to see you keeping 
 up a face like that." 
 
 '^ Oh, Katie, I wish we had you at
 
 THE LAIRD OF N0RLAT7. 211 
 
 Norlaw ! " cried the lad, with sudden 
 earnestness. 
 
 "Yes," said Katie, simply, "if you had 
 only had a sister, Huntley ! — but Mrs. 
 Livingstone does not care for strangers. 
 And mothers are sometimes fondest of their 
 sons — everybody says so ; but I know you're 
 the eldest, and everything comes on you.'' 
 
 " Patie is the wisest," said Huntley, with a 
 momentary smile ; " I think he could manage 
 better without me — and, Katie, I'll have to go 
 away." 
 
 She looked up at him with a question in 
 her eyes. She asked nothing audibly, but 
 merely suspended her work, and turned, with 
 a friendly anxiety, her steady, kind gaze upon 
 Huntley's face. The young man was not 
 " in love " — he was still too familiar with this 
 sisterly face, and too much occupied with all 
 the sudden troubles in which he had himself 
 been plunged, to think of any such thing ; 
 but, unconsciously, Huntley paused before 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 answering, — paused to take the peaceful scene, 
 the home apartment, the bright serious 
 eyes into his memory, a picture of strange 
 influence and tenderness never to fade. 
 
 *^ I thought of going to Australia," he said; 
 '' they say a man with a will to work and 
 some knowledge, especially of cattle, is sure to 
 thrive there. It matters but little, I think, 
 Katie, whether I'm a hundred or a thousand 
 miles away, so long as I am away ; and I think 
 the best place for me is there." 
 
 ^^ But Australia is many a thousand miles 
 away," said Katie, "at the other end of the 
 world; and you cannot come home to see 
 your friends as you might do from a nearer 
 place. If you go there, Huntley, well never 
 see you again." 
 
 " I'll go there, that I may come back," said 
 Huntley, eagerly ; then he began to play with 
 the ball of cotton which Katie was mending 
 her children's stockings with ; then he looked 
 round the room wistfully once more. " And
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 213 
 
 when I do come home/' said the lad, " Katie, 
 I wonder, I wonder, what changes I'll see 
 here?" 
 
 "Oh, whisht!" cried Katie, with a little 
 overflow of tears ; " papa's not young, but 
 he's no' very old ; and if it's God's will, we'll 
 aye be the same." 
 
 "It might be ten — ^fifteen years," said 
 Huntley; "and I was not thinking of the 
 minister ; I was thinking of — other things." 
 
 Katie did not ask what these other things 
 might be. The colour rose in her cheek a 
 little, but not enough to confuse her. 
 
 " The little ones wiU be all grown up," she 
 said, with a quiet laugh ; " perhaps some of 
 them away too, Huntley, into the battle ; and 
 me an old Katie with a cap, keeping house for 
 papa." 
 
 She glanced across the table for her cotton 
 as she spoke, and, meeting Huntley's eye, 
 blushed a little more, yet was not discomposed. 
 The young man's heart beat louder, he could
 
 214 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 not very well tell why. Some confused words 
 came rushing into his mind, but none of them 
 were fit to say. His own face flushed with 
 a hasty flood of unaccustomed and unascer- 
 tained emotions ; he rose up hastily, scarcely 
 knowing how it was that the repose of the 
 manse parlour was broken, yet feeling it. Dr. 
 Logan called Katie from his study, and Hunt- 
 ley answered the call. He gave back the 
 ball of cotton, and said hurriedly : — 
 
 "Dinna forget me, Katie, when that time 
 comes ; " and so went away. 
 
 That time ! what time ? Huntley could have 
 given no explanation of what he meant ; 
 neither could Katie, who put up her hand 
 softly to her eyes, and smiled a very faint smile, 
 and said, ^^Poor boy!" with a little sigh as 
 the door closed upon him. But perhaps ex- 
 planations would have done but little good, 
 and everything answered perfectly well as it 
 was. 
 
 Huntley came with a blush into the pre-
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 215 
 
 sence of the innocent and unconscious minister, 
 who had forgotten his own youth many a long 
 day ago, and had never yet been roused into 
 consciousness that his little Katie might be 
 something else than a good child and elder 
 sister, in the perverse imaginations of other 
 people. He looked up from his desk and his 
 manuscript, and pushed up his spectacles on 
 his forehead when the young man entered. 
 
 ^'Huntley! is that you? What's wrong, 
 my man?" said Dr. Logan. He thought the 
 lad could not have seen Katie, or he must 
 have become more composed by this time; 
 and the excellent pastor thought of nothing 
 else than some new accident or coil at Norlaw. 
 
 " Nothing's wrong," said Huntley, who only 
 blushed the more in shame-faced self-conscious- 
 ness, " but I wanted to ask your advice." 
 
 Dr. Logan laid down his pen with resigna- 
 tion; it was a new pen, sharply nibbed, such 
 as the minister loved, and he had just got a 
 capital idea for the third head of his sermon,
 
 216 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 an idea which might be nowhere before Hunt- 
 ley had half stated his case. The minister 
 paused a moment, trying very hard to 
 connect his idea with something in the room 
 which might recall it to him when his visitor 
 was gone. He tried the inkstand, the pretty 
 paper-weight on the table, and even his large 
 red and green pocket-handkerchief, in vain. 
 At last he thought he had secured it on the 
 knob of the glass-door of his bookcase; he 
 nodded ruefully to Huntley and made a knot 
 on his handkerchief. 
 
 ^^Now, Huntley, proceed, my boy," said 
 the minister with a sigh ; he held the knot on 
 the handkerchief in his hand, and fixed his 
 eyes on the bookcase. Certainly he had it 
 safe now. 
 
 Huntley, glad to get out of his embarrass- 
 ment so, plunged at once into his tale. He 
 could not quite make out how it was that the 
 excellent doctor looked so steadily at the 
 bookcase, and gave himself such divided and
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLA^. 217 
 
 wandering answers. However, at last the 
 minister forgot his idea, and threw away the 
 handkerchief in despair. 
 
 "Eh? what was that you were saying, 
 Huntley?" said Dr Logan. The story had to 
 be gone over again. But, to Huntley's surprise, 
 his friend knew all about it, more about it 
 indeed than he did himself, and shook his 
 head when Huntley vehemently declared his 
 conviction that he was the true heir of 
 Melmar. 
 
 "I make no doubt," said the minister, 
 " that if she could be found, the will would 
 stand — ^but I mind the writer laying it down 
 very clear to me and Norlaw at the time that 
 ye behoved to produce her alive or dead — that 
 is, by evidence in the last case, no doubt — 
 before your case could stand. It might be 
 well worth a man's while that had enough to 
 keep him, and nothing else to do — ^but I would 
 not advise you to put off your time seeking 
 Mary Huntley. You're the eldest son and the
 
 218 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 prop of your family. I would not advise it, 
 Huntley, my man." 
 
 "" Nor do I mean it," said Huntley, with a 
 blush at his own wild fancies ; *^ and if I had 
 known that you knew it so well, I should not 
 even have troubled you. No, doctor, I've 
 written to your friend in Edinburgh — I want 
 him to take all our affairs in hand, and save, if 
 it is possible, Norlaw itself for my mother. 
 What we'll have to begin upon after, I can't 
 very well tell — but Cosmo is the only one of 
 us too young to set out for himself. I will 
 leave the other matter with Mr. Cassilis, and 
 he can do what he thinks best." 
 
 " Very wise, Huntley, very wise," said the 
 minister, whose mind was still fumbling after 
 his idea ;" and you're thinking of going abroad 
 yourself, they tell me ? — I don't doubt it's a 
 shock to your mother, but I would say it was 
 the best thing you could do. Charlie Cassilis, 
 no doubt, will be coming here. He's aye very 
 willing to come to the manse. I'll make
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 219 
 
 Katie write him a line to-day, to say we'll 
 expect him — and anything I can do to fuither 
 the business, you know you can rely upon — 
 eh ? what was that you said ? " 
 
 '^Nothing," said Huntley, ^^ except that 
 there's little time to lose, and I am inter- 
 rupting you. Good-bye, Dr. Logan — I'll see 
 you again before I go away.^' 
 
 '^ Before he goes away," said the minister, 
 with perplexity, half rising to follow Huntley, 
 as he hurried from the room ; ^^ what does the 
 callant mean ? " But just then Dr. Logan's 
 eye returned to the knob of the bookcase, 
 which no longer recalled that precious lost 
 idea. ^' Poor human nature ! " said the good 
 man, with a sigh. He thought it rather selfish 
 of Huntley to have disturbed his studies just 
 at that particular moment — and it was the 
 young man's human nature over which he 
 sighed. 
 
 Huntley/ meanwhile, went back again to 
 Norlaw in a greater tumult of mind than
 
 220 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 that which had brought him forth. But he no 
 longer thought of Melmar as he had done in 
 that sudden golden vision of fortune and 
 conquest. His heart leaped within him like 
 one on the verge of a new world. These three 
 scenes through which he had passed : — bowed 
 Jaacob's odd philosophy and startling ground- 
 work — "Trust in nothing that you have 
 not conquered for yourself; " Katie's quiet 
 home-parlour, her blush and glance of 
 kindness, which perhaps understood his 
 unspoken and sudden fervour as well as he 
 did himself; and, beyond these, the sober, calm 
 every-day minister, giving only an outside and 
 momentary attention to those matters in which 
 this young life had all its hopes at stake, 
 minding his sermon, and only kindly indif- 
 ferent to Huntley, had brought the youth on 
 a long way in the education of his life. He 
 could not have put it all into words, or ex- 
 plained it to the satisfaction of the philo- 
 sopher ; yet the shock of reality and actual
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 221 
 
 life which brought him back to himself in the 
 little smithy of Kirkbride — the warm light of 
 Katie's eyes which had stirred with something 
 of personal and distinct identity, separate 
 from family interests, and individual in the 
 world, the young man's heart and spirit — and 
 not least, though very different, the composed 
 friendliness of the minister, pre-occupied with 
 his sermon, who had only a very spare 
 amount of attention to bestow upon Huntley, 
 and showed him that the world in general was 
 not likely to be much absorbed by his interests, 
 or startled by his hopes — were all very real, 
 practical and permanent lessons. They sent 
 him back to Norlaw, an older man.
 
 222 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 Mr. Cassilis came to the manse in answer 
 to Katie's invitation and the business of 
 Huntley. He was young and did not particu- 
 larly commend himself to the liking of 
 the young master of Norlaw ; but as he 
 pleased all the other people very tolerably 
 well, there were, perhaps, various reasons for 
 the less friendly sentiment of Huntley. He 
 was, however, a brisk man of business, and 
 not sufficiently overburdened with occupation 
 to prevent him entering heartily into the con- 
 cerns of the half-ruined family. 
 
 All this time Patrick Livingstone had been 
 quietly busy, collecting and arranging all his
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 223 
 
 father's memoranda which seemed to throw 
 any light upon their circumstances ; among 
 these were many hurried, and only half intelli- 
 gible notes of transactions with the former 
 Huntley of Melmar, from which it very 
 shortly appeared that Norlaw's debts had 
 all been contracted to his old kinsman, 
 and had only come into possession of "the 
 present Melmar," when he took possession of 
 the house and property, as heir-at-law, on the 
 old man's death. They had suspected this 
 before, for it seemed very unlikely that one 
 man should borrow of another, whose claims 
 were so entirely antagonistic to his own — but 
 these were their only real evidence — for 
 Norlaw had been so irregular and unsystematic 
 that it was impossible to tell what money 
 might or might not have passed through his 
 hands. 
 
 The lawyer took all these scratchy memo- 
 randums out of Patrick's hands, and examined 
 them carefully in presence of the lads. They
 
 224 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 were in the East room, in the midst of a pile of 
 old papers from which these had been selected. 
 Patie had not completed his task — he was 
 going over his father's letters, to see whether 
 they threw any light on these forgotten trans- 
 actions. It was no small task ; for Norlaw, 
 like most other men of trifling habits and un- 
 important correspondence, kept everything 
 that everybody wrote to him, and even 
 scrawls of his own letters. Some of these 
 scrawls were curious enough — among them 
 were one or two anxious and elaborate epistles 
 to people abroad, whom his search for his lost 
 love had brought him into contact with ; some, 
 dating still further back, were intimations of 
 the birth of his children, and other family 
 events of importance to his wife's relations. 
 They were all composed with considerable 
 care, and in somewhat pompous diction ; 
 they threw wonderful light upon the weak- 
 nesses and vanities of this departed life, and in- 
 different people might have laughed at them —
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 225 
 
 but Huntley and Patie blushed instead of 
 laughing, or folded the scrawls away hurriedly 
 with tears in their eyes. To them these 
 memorials were still pathetic, tender, full of a 
 touching appeal to their affection, too sacred 
 to meet the common eye. 
 
 Presently, however, Patie caught a glimpse 
 of a handwriting still more scratchy than his 
 father's — the trembling characters of old age. 
 It was a letter from old Melmar, the most im- 
 portant they had yet lighted upon — and ran 
 thus : — 
 
 "Dear Patrick, 
 " Touching the matter that was under dis- 
 cussion betwixt us the last time I saw you, I 
 have just this to say, namely, that I hold 
 your receipts and acknowledgments for 
 money in the interests of your wife and 
 family, and not in my own. I know well 
 what would happen if you knew yourself 
 free to incur more responsibility ; so, mind 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 you, though you'll get them all at my death, 
 and most likely Melmar to the boot, I'll 
 take care, as long as Tm to the fore, to keep 
 my hand over you for your good. You can 
 let the Mistress see this, if you please, and 
 I'll wager a bodle she agrees with me. I 
 cannot give you them back — but unless you 
 behave all the worse, they'll never leave my 
 hands until they return to your own. 
 
 '^ H. Huntley." 
 
 "Eh! what's that?" said Mr. Cassilis, 
 looking up from his little lot of papers, as he 
 saw the two brothers pass this letter between 
 them. 
 
 They were half reluctant to show it ; and 
 when Huntley at last handed it across the 
 table, it was with a proud apology. 
 
 "My father was generous and liberal to 
 the extreme. I suppose he was not what 
 people call prudent ; few understood him," 
 said Huntley.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 227 
 
 The lawyer took the paper with a half 
 perceptible smile. He knew already what 
 other people said of Norlaw. 
 
 However, he added old Melmar's letter 
 with care to his own heap of scribbled memo- 
 randa. 
 
 " It's not very much good," he said, " but 
 it shows intention. Unquestionably, neither 
 the giver nor the receiver had any thought of 
 payment for these loans. I had better see the 
 present man to-morrow. What with the 
 will and these he ought to come to reason." 
 
 "Me'mar?" cried Huntley — ^^no, I can 
 have no appeal made to him on our behalf. 
 Do you know how he persecuted my father ? " 
 
 "I'm not much of an appealing man," 
 said Cassilis, " but I had better see him. 
 Don't be afraid — I'll not compromise you. 
 You did not know much of the matter 
 yourself, I understand, till recently. Be 
 charitable — suppose he were as ignorant as 
 you?" 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Patie, " never mind 
 personal feelings — is that all the value 
 of the will ? — to bring him to reason ? " 
 
 " Not if I find Mary Huntley,'', said the 
 young lawyer. 
 
 If / find. The young men exchanged 
 glances — not quite sure that they were 
 pleased with this transference of their 
 interests. 
 
 ^* If she's to be found alive — or if she's dead, 
 and we can prove it, everything, of course, 
 becomes as clear as daylight," said the 
 minister's nephew, " and many a man would 
 tell you that in these days either the one thing 
 or the other is certain ; but I've hadso me 
 experience. I know there have been cases in 
 which every efibrt was baffled; and failing 
 either, I don't see at this moment what's 
 to be done. You expect me to say, 
 go to law, of course, but who's to pay 
 the piper? Law's a very expensive luxury. 
 Wait till you're rich, and then come down
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 229 
 
 upon him — that is to say, if this search 
 fails." 
 
 " But it is at least worth while to make the 
 search ? " said Huntley, hastily, ^' and if it is 
 so, it is too soon to treat with Melmar. 
 Friendship is out of the question. Let us 
 deal with him honestly. I cannot accept a 
 favour from a man one day and commence a 
 lawsuit against him the next. It is not 
 possible." 
 
 '^ In the meantime," said Cassilis, coolly 
 sweeping all his papers up into a pocket-book, 
 — ^'youVe committed your affairs into my 
 hands, and I mean to do my best for my 
 client, begging your pardon, whether my 
 client perceives my tactics or no. Don't be 
 offended. I'll claim these said acknowledg- 
 ments as your right, and not as a favour. I 
 want to see what kind of an animal this is 
 that we're to fight ; and to let you see what I 
 mean, I may as well say that I've heard all 
 the history of the last few weeks, and that I
 
 230 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 understand your feelings. But feelings, 
 Livingstone, recollect, as your brother says, 
 have little to do with the law.'' 
 
 Huntley could make very little further 
 opposition. But he did not respond by any 
 means to his new agent's friendliness. He 
 received it even with a little hauteur and 
 surliness, like a ridiculous young hero, finding 
 out condescension, and superiority, and 
 sundry other of these agreeable figments of 
 the jealous imagination in the natural frank- 
 ness of the young lawyer. If he had been 
 fifty, or had known nothing of the manse, 
 possibly Mr. Charles Cassilis, W.S., would 
 have made a more favourable impression 
 upon Huntley Livingstone.
 
 231 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 "Do I look like a fool?" 
 
 The speaker was Huntley of Melmar, seated 
 at that moment in his large leathern easy- 
 chair at his own study-table ; this was a long 
 dim room, lined with dusty-looking book-cases, 
 and lighted faintly by one window, from which 
 nothing could be seen but a funereal yew-tree, 
 which kept the room in perpetual shade. 
 The whole apartment had a stifled unventi- 
 lated look, as if fresh air never entered it, as 
 sunshine certainly never did ; even in winter 
 no fire could be coaxed into a blaze in Mel- 
 mar's study — everything was dusty, choked, 
 and breathless, partaking in the general want
 
 232 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 of order visible through the house, with 
 private additions of cheerlessness peculiarly 
 its own. 
 
 And there could not well be a greater 
 contrast than the two people in this room; 
 Cassilis was young, goodlooking, rather careless 
 in manner, shrewd and quick as became his 
 profession, but by no means formal as might 
 have become it. He was not the solemn 
 bearer of a legal challenge — a messenger of 
 heroical enmity or hereditary dislike. He 
 was only a morning visitor in a morning coat, 
 quite as ready to talk of the last change of 
 ministry or the ensuing election as of the 
 immediate business which brought him here. 
 Melmar sat watching him like an old cat, 
 stealthy and absorbed. In his days business 
 was managed in a different manner, and the 
 old Aberdeen attorney watched with a chuckle 
 of professional contempt and private satis- 
 faction the informal proceedings of his younger 
 brother and adversary. Mr. Huntley thought
 
 THE LAIRD OF XOELAW. 233 
 
 himself much too "deep" for the fathoming 
 of this careless neophyte, while his visitor, on 
 the other hand, found equal satisfaction in 
 setting down the Laird of Melmar as one of 
 the old school. 
 
 "Not exactly," said Cassilis, *^but it's odd 
 how often a fool and a man of sense are con- 
 vertible terms. A man does a thing from a 
 generous motive, and that's ridiculous, eh, 
 Mr. Huntley? absurd to men of the world 
 like you and me, who don't recognise the 
 principle ; but mind you, there might be 
 circumstances which might induce the most 
 sagacious of us, out of pure self-regard and 
 prudence, to do the very same thing as the 
 blockhead did out of generosity ; the result 
 would be the same, you know, in both cases — 
 and who is to judge whether it is done by a 
 wise man or a fool ? " 
 
 " Ay, man, you're ironical, are you ? " said 
 Melmar, " very good practice, but it does not 
 do with me — I'm too old for inuendoes ; come,
 
 234 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 to the point. YouVe got a foolish case by the 
 hand, though of course, as an older man and 
 member of the profession, I think it perfectly 
 right of you not to seem conscious of that — 
 perfectly proper. I highly approve of your 
 demeanour in a professional point of view, my 
 young friend." 
 
 " Which is very kind of you," said Cassilis, 
 laughing; "I think it all the more so because I 
 can't agree with you. Do you know, I hear 
 everywhere about the country that there could 
 not be a greater difference than between 
 young Livingstone and his father? — quite a 
 different man, I understand." 
 
 " Eh ? and what's that to me ? " asked 
 Melmar, sharply. 
 
 "Well, you know, between ourselves as 
 professional men," said Cassilis, laughing and 
 speaking with the most delightful frankness, 
 " if this Norlaw had been a man of spirit and 
 energy like his son, or indeed worth his salt, 
 as people say, you know just as well as I do
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 235 
 
 — possibly far better, for I bow to your 
 experience — that you could not have had a 
 chance of reigning here as you have done for 
 so many years." 
 
 " What the deevil do you mean, sir ? " cried 
 Melmar, growing red and half rising from his 
 chair; "is this language to hold to me, in my 
 own house ? " 
 
 " Nay, I was only appealing to your profes- 
 sional knowledge," said the young man, care- 
 lessly. " When you speak to me of the profes 
 sion, of course I necessarily conclude that you 
 are, at least, as well-informed as I am — and 
 this is clear to anybody with half an eye. Mind 
 you, I don't mean to say that young Living- 
 stone's claim is weaker than his father's — you 
 know it is not. I feel indeed that the whole 
 matter is immensely simplified by having a 
 professional man like youi'self to deal with — for 
 I don't presume to suppose that I am telling 
 you anything that you don't know already; 
 but possibly — I can't tell — the young man may
 
 236 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 not feel it for his interest to push his claims 
 at this moment. It's for my interest that he 
 should, of course, for it will be a capital case — 
 but we can both wait; however, under the 
 circumstances, I am perfectly justified in asking 
 you to consider whether the little restitution 
 I suggested to you would be the act of a fool 
 or of a wise man." 
 
 Melmar had been gazing with a kind of 
 hazy, speechless wrath at the speaker, who 
 passed so jauntily and lightly over this 
 subject, and took his own perfect acquaintance 
 with its right and wrong, for granted, with so 
 much coolness. When Cassilis came to this 
 pause, however, no explosion followed. The 
 florid face grew redder with a bursting fiery 
 fulness, in which even the grizzled red 
 fringes of hair sympathized — but, in spite of 
 himself, Melmar was afi:"aid. His "young 
 friend," whom he had patronised and despised, 
 seemed somehow to have got him completely 
 in his power — seemed to see into the very
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 237 
 
 thoughts of the old worldling, who thought 
 himself so much wiser than his adversary. 
 He made a pause of consideration, and felt 
 much the reverse of comfortable. The uncon- 
 cerned air of his visitor, which had relieved 
 him at first, seemed somehow to give greater 
 weight to his words now. If these downright 
 blows were given in play, what should the 
 serious strokes of the same hand be? and 
 Melmar knew very well that the strength of 
 his opponent's case lay in plain right and 
 justice, while his was only to be held by art 
 and stratagem. While he pondered, a sudden 
 thought stinick him — he rose, went to the 
 window, glanced out there for a moment — then 
 to the door, opened it and glanced along the 
 long passage to make sui'e there were no 
 listeners — then he returned to his chau^, and 
 bent towards the young lawyer, who had been 
 watching all his proceedings with a half 
 amused curiosity. 
 
 *^ To make an end (jf all this," said Melmar,
 
 238 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 with a very good imitation of impatience, 
 "and because they are relatives of the old 
 family and friends, and all the rest of it — and 
 to prove that I'm sorry for what took place at 
 Norlaw's funeral — I'll tell you what I'll consent 
 to do—" 
 
 "Well?" said Cassilis, quietly. 
 
 " I'll consent," continued Melmar, " because 
 I'm not a man to have a will, or a bill, or 
 anything of the sort stuck into my face every 
 moment of my life — I'll consent to give up 
 all Norlaw's papers, every one of them, as a 
 matter of favour, on condition that this docu- 
 ment, that you've all made so much work 
 about, shall be placed in my hands. After 
 which I'll be able to look after my kins- 
 woman's interests in the proper way — for, as 
 for the fiction about those Livingstones, who 
 have no more claim to Melmar than you 
 have, tliafs quite beneath any notice from me. 
 But on that condition, and to be done with 
 the business, I'll consent to give up all my
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 239 
 
 claims against Norlaw; and a more liberal 
 offer never was made." 
 
 The young man looked steadily, and with a 
 smile, into the old man's face — indeed Mr. 
 Cassilis went a step further, and did what is 
 sometimes extremely impertinent, and always 
 embarrassing. He looked into Melmar's eyes 
 with a keen, yet laughing gaze, which his com- 
 panion could by no means bear, and which 
 made the florid face once more fiery red with 
 a troubled and apprehensive rage. 
 
 " Would you advise me to accept this offer 
 as one professional man might advise another ?" 
 said Cassilis, quietly, with his smile. That 
 smile, and that look, and that question, 
 silenced Melmar a thousand times more 
 effectually than a vehement refusal of his 
 proposition. This man was sometimes bold, 
 but he was never brave. He saw himself 
 found out in the laughing eyes of his young 
 antagonist. He thought he had committed 
 himself and exposed his weak point — some-
 
 240 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 how he seemed to stand self-betrayed and un- 
 veiled before this stranger, whose gaze was in- 
 tolerable, and whose question he should have 
 liked to answer with a curse, proper man as he 
 was, if he had dared. But he did not dare, 
 though the self-restraining effort brought the 
 perspiration to his forehead. He scattered 
 some papers on the table with an irrestrainable 
 movement, a little safety-valve for his secret 
 fury. 
 
 " Do as you please, you'll get no better," 
 he said, hoarsely, gathering them up again, 
 and turning his face from his young adversary, 
 who did not now seem quite an opponent to be 
 despised. 
 
 '' I tell you frankly," said Mr. Cassilis, with 
 that engaging candour of his, " that it's very 
 much for my interest that young Livingstone 
 should carry on his suit at once. It's for my 
 interest, in short, to protract the whole 
 business to my utmost ability ; and a highly 
 attractive case I have no doubt we should
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 241 
 
 make of it — especially, Mr. Huntley — esioe- 
 cially permit me to say, after the proposal you 
 have just made. However, we understand all 
 that, both you and I, and I must ask you again 
 to consider what I said at first ; here is this old 
 man's letter, proving his intentions pretty dis- 
 tinctly ; on our part we will not pay a penny 
 under less than compulsion. I leave it en- 
 tirely in your own hands — what will you 
 do?" 
 
 Patricia Huntley was all alone in the drawing- 
 room. She knew when Mr. Cassilis entered ; 
 she knew he had been shut up with papa for 
 a very considerable time. She did not know 
 anything of the questions which were being put 
 in the study, or how hard they were to 
 answer. Though she read poetry-books, this 
 poor little creature had very little to occupy 
 her, save her bad health and her limited ima- 
 gination — a visitor was an event to Patricia — 
 especially when the visitor was young, rather 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 handsome, and newly come from Edinburgh. 
 She thought she might as well take an acci- 
 dental stroll into the garden, and see what the 
 gentlemen were about in the study. Accord- 
 ingly, with her poetry-book in her hand, 
 Patricia stole behind the yew tree just at this 
 particular moment and crisis of the conver- 
 sation. She could see them both through the 
 dim window, papa tumbling about his papers, 
 and looking very stormy, Mr. Cassilis, smiling 
 and genial as he always was. Perhaps the 
 younger face of the two, being much the 
 pleasanter, was, spite of filial veneration, 
 the most attractive to Patricia. She thought 
 Mr. Cassilis, who had been so long a time 
 in the study, must surely have some very 
 pleasant news to tell — but at the same time, 
 with sincere and disinterested concern, felt 
 that he must be dreadfully bored by so long an 
 interview with papa. With a generous impulse 
 she approached the window, and knocked on 
 the glass playfully with her fingers.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 243 
 
 "Papa, when do you mean to come to 
 luncheon ? " cried Patricia. 
 
 Melmar started up, opened the window, 
 cried " Get away, you little fool ! — who 
 wanted you?" and shook his fist at her me- 
 nacingly. Poor Patricia sprang back in 
 terror, and lost her breath immediately. She 
 did not know, and perhaps if she had known, 
 would not have appreciated, the great relief 
 which this little ebullition was to Melmar. 
 He went back quite refreshed to finish his 
 fight; but his ' poor little daughter, who did 
 not understand it, first fell a-crying, and then, 
 drying her eyes, proceeded to revenge herself. 
 She sought out Joanna immediately, and in- 
 formed that young heroine of something extra- 
 ordinary and mysterious going on in the 
 study — and of the unaccountable and inex- 
 cusable affront to herself, "before Mr. Cassilis!" 
 which Patricia could not forgive. Luncheon 
 was ordered immediately, half an hour before 
 its time, and Joanna herself went off* to the 
 
 r2
 
 244 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 study like a gale of wind, to order papa into 
 the dining-room. But the scene had changed 
 by this time in Melmar^s private apartment. 
 Mr. Cassilis was writing when Joanna entered, 
 while her father stood by him holding some 
 papers, and looking, stealthily watchful, over 
 the young man's shoulder, so like an old 
 brindled big cat in the most feline concen- 
 tration of vigilance, that Joanna's irreverent 
 imagination was tickled with the resem- 
 blance. 
 
 "Eh, papa," cried the girl, with a sudden 
 laugh, "I would not like to be a mouse in 
 your way ! — ^but Mr. Cassilis is too big for a 
 mouse," added Joanna ; " come to luncheon, 
 it's ready — but I don't believe Patricia will 
 ever speak to you again — what are these?" 
 
 "No business of yours, you gipsy!" said 
 Melmar, as she pulled at his papers. 
 
 "Eh, but it is — I can see Norlaw's name!" 
 cried Joanna ; " Mr. Cassilis, tell Mrs. Living- 
 stone that we know — and that I think shame
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 245 
 
 of papa ! — and if it was not that I could not 
 help it, I never, never, would have spoken to 
 him again ! What are you getting all these 
 papers for ? If it's to hurt the boys, you 
 shanna take them out of Melmar ! You 
 shan't, whatever he may say ! " 
 
 ^^ Softly — Mr. Huntley of Melmar will hurt 
 the Livingstones no more," said Cassilis. 
 
 Meanwhile Melmar read the young lawyer's 
 receipt for these precious bits of paper with 
 no very pleasant face. It was a great deal 
 too carefully worded to be of any ulterior 
 service. Even the pettifogging ingenuity of 
 the " old school" did not see at present any 
 capabilities in it.
 
 246 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 On the afternoon of the same day the 
 young lawyer dropped in quietly, with a smile 
 on his face, to Norlaw. 
 
 Huntley was busy in the out-buildings of 
 the farm. He was taking an inventory of 
 all their stock and belongings, and making 
 such an estimate as he could, which was a 
 very correct one on the whole, of the value of 
 this primitive property. Everything about 
 the house was going on very much as usual. 
 The Mistress was seated at the end window 
 of the dining-room, in a position which not 
 only commanded the kitchen door and all its 
 comings and goings, bat was likewise a good 
 post of observation for the farm-yard in which
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 247 
 
 Huntley was. The stillness and heat of 
 summer brooded over the old castle walls, 
 and even over the farm-yard, where the very 
 poultry drowsed in their afternoon siesta. 
 The apples were growing ruddy on the Nor- 
 law trees, and the slope of the hill brightened 
 in russet gold towards the harvest. An 
 Irish '^ shearer," with his sickle over his 
 shoulder, waited at a humble distance, till the 
 young master was ready to hear his appli- 
 cation for work ; the weather was unusually 
 favourable and the season early. In another 
 week or ten days everybody prophesied the 
 harvest would begin. 
 
 Huntley Livingstone, however, was not 
 thinking of the harvest. His mind was busy 
 with thoughts of the wild bush far away, 
 the savage young colonies then but little 
 advanced in their progress, and the long 
 years of solitary labour which lay before him. 
 He was not by any means in high spirits. 
 Melmar had faded out of his fancy like a
 
 248 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 dream. He thought he perceived just what 
 degree of probability there was in that vision 
 of fortune, and turning his back upon it, he 
 set his face towards the sober, homely, real 
 future which must begin by the serious and 
 solitary toil of so many years. 
 
 So that Huntley was by no means delighted 
 to be interrupted in the midst of his task by 
 the salutation of the young lawyer. He 
 turned round immediately and put down his 
 memorandum-book, but not with much cor- 
 diality. Cassilis was smiling — he always 
 smiled ; on the whole, this rather aggravated 
 Huntley. 
 
 " I've got something for you," said the 
 lawyer, holding up the same pocket-book into 
 which he had put Norlaw's memoranda. He 
 spoke with real glee and triumph. Inde- 
 pendent altogether of the interests of the 
 family, he felt he had made quite a pro- 
 fessional success, and enjoyed it accor- 
 dingly.
 
 TUE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 249 
 
 ^^What?" said Huntley— he was half 
 unwilling to perceive that this was some 
 advantage gained over the enemy. He had 
 made up his mind in a different direction, and 
 did not want to be moved back again by any 
 new shift of fortune. But when the pocket- 
 book was opened and its contents disclosed — 
 when Huntley saw before him, safe and certain, 
 those old yellow bonds and obligations signed 
 with his father's name, the young man 
 was startled — and the first idea of his unfriend- 
 liness was, that they bad been purchased by 
 some concession. 
 
 " You have given up our interests in the 
 more important matter ! '' cried Huntley ; "I 
 warn you I will not adopt any such bargain ; 
 better ruin now than any sacrifice either of 
 right or of honour." 
 
 '^For what do you take me, Mr. Living- 
 stone ?" said the other, coldly ; but as he was 
 too good-natured and much too triumphant to 
 keep malice, he continued after a moment in
 
 250 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 his usual tone : — " Don^t be foolish ; take 
 these affairs and burn them — they're better 
 out of harm's way ; and go in, gather the 
 family together, and hold a council of war. 
 Now I've seen the man and understand the 
 question, I'm ready to fight it out. We can 
 but take our chance. You have everything in 
 your favour — he nothing but blood and pos- 
 session. You are not ruined, Livingstone, 
 you have enough to begin with — I am inclined 
 to change my advice ; if I were you, I should 
 wait no longer, but put it to the touch. The 
 chances are ten to one in your favour." 
 
 " This is quite different from your former 
 opinion," said Huntley, in amazement. 
 
 '^ Not opinion, say advice," said Cassilis,who 
 was now somewhat excited ; ^^ I believed, beg- 
 ging your pardon, Livingstone, that you were 
 likely to need for your own immediate uses every 
 penny you could scrape together ; I thought 
 your father had seriously injured your cause 
 by taking no steps in the matter, and that the
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 251 
 
 Other side might think themselves justified in 
 saying that he knew this will either to be un- 
 fairly got or invalid. But my visit to Mel- 
 mar has dispelled these doubts. I think 
 the course is quite clear if you choose to 
 try." 
 
 This sudden suggestion took away 
 Huntley's breath ; the colour mounted in his 
 cheek in spite of himself — it was impossible 
 to think of such a prospect unmoved — for 
 Melmar, Avith its moderate rank and easy 
 fortune, was very much more agreeable to 
 think of than the Bush and all its perad- 
 ventures of hardship and solitude. He lis- 
 tened with only a half- attention while Cassilis 
 explained to him how Mr. Huntley had been 
 induced to relinquish these valuable scraps of 
 paper. The whole sum represented by them 
 was not very considerable, but it made all the 
 difference between bare, absolute, stripped po- 
 verty, and the enough which would satisfy 
 everybody's demands, and leave a little over
 
 252 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 for themselves. There were still heavy mort- 
 gages upon the little property of Norlaw, but 
 when Huntley took his father's canceled 
 bonds in his hand, he knew there was no 
 longer cause to apprehend a forced and 
 ruinous sale of all their stock and crop and 
 little possessions. He heard the lawyer 
 speak of Melmar s fears, his proposal about 
 the will — his gradual and growing appre- 
 hensions ; but all that appeared visible to 
 Huntley was the fact of their changed circum- 
 stances, and the new position in which the 
 family stood. His companion perceived after 
 a while that the young man was absorbed in 
 his own thoughts, and paid no attention to 
 what he said, and Cassilis wisely left him, 
 once more bidding him hold a council of war. 
 When he was alone, Huntley put aside his me- 
 morandum-book, drew his cap over his eyes, 
 and set off on a rapid walk to the top of the 
 hill. He scarcely drew breath till he had 
 reached the summit of that fertile slope from
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 253 
 
 whence he could just see in the distance the 
 grey towers of Melrose and the silvery gleam 
 of Tweed shining in the hazy golden sunshine 
 beyond the purple Eildons. The broad 
 country shone before him in all its tints of 
 colour and glow of summer light, wide, great, 
 and silent as the life upon whose brink he 
 stood — and at his feet lay Norlaw, with its 
 humble homestead and its ruined castle, where 
 sat this lad's mother, who was a widow. He 
 stood there perfectly silent, full of thought, 
 turning over half unconsciously in his mind 
 the words of his adviser. 
 
 " He either fears his fate too much, 
 Or his deserts are small, 
 Who dares not put it to the touch, 
 To gain or lose it all." 
 
 Somehow these lines floated in upon 
 Huntley's mind as he stood gazing upon the 
 summer landscape. To win Melmar with all 
 its wealth and influence, or to lose what
 
 254 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 remained of Norlaw, with all the associations 
 and hereditary bonds that belonged to that 
 home of his race — should he put it to the 
 touch? A conflict, not less stormy that it 
 was entirely unexpressed, rose within the 
 young, ambitious, eager mind, gazing over 
 those fields and hills. A certain personifi- 
 cation and individuality came to the struggling 
 powers within him. On either side stood a 
 woman, one a pale, unknown shadow, hovering 
 upon the chances of his triumph, ready to 
 take the prize, when it was won, out of his 
 hands — the other his own well-beloved, home- 
 dwelling mother, whose comfort and certain 
 habitation it was in Huntley^s power at once 
 to secure. Should he put it to the touch? 
 should he risk all that he might win all ? — 
 and the tempters that assailed Huntley 
 suddenly veiled over to his eyes all that sunny 
 home landscape, and spread before him the 
 savage solitudes of the far country, the flocks 
 and the herds which should be his sole com-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 255 
 
 panions — the hut in the strange woods; oh 
 beautiful home valleys, glorious hills, dear 
 gleams of water-springs ! oh, love, hiding 
 sweet among the trees, whispering ere it 
 comes ! — oh tender friends and bonds of 
 youth ! — shall he put it to the touch ? The 
 council of war held its debate among the dust 
 and din of battle, though the summer sun- 
 shine shone all the time in an undisturbed and 
 peaceful glory upon the slope of Norlaw.
 
 256 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 '•'Do you think / could bear the thought — 
 me ! '' cried the Mistress energetically ; ^* have 
 ye kent me all your days, Huntley Living- 
 stone, and do ye dare to think your mother 
 would baulk your fortune for ease to herseF? 
 is it like me? would any mortal even me 
 with the like, but your ainseF ? " 
 
 The Mistress stood by herself in the middle 
 of the room, with her hand on the table — her 
 eyes shone with a mortified and grieved 
 fire through unshed tears — her heightened 
 colour — her frame which seemed to vibrate 
 with a visible pang — the pain of unappreciated 
 love, which looked like anger in her face — 
 showed how little congenial to her mind was
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 257 
 
 Huntley's self-abnegation. There was no 
 sacrifice in the world which she herself could 
 not and would not have made for her chil- 
 dren ; but to feel herself the person for whom a 
 sacrifice was needed, a hindrance to her son's 
 prospects, a person to be provided for, struck 
 with intense and bitter mortification the high 
 spirit of the Mistress. She could not be con- 
 tent with this subordinate and passive position. 
 Poverty, labour, want itself, would have come 
 easier to her proud, tender motherhood, than 
 thus to feel herself a bar upon the prospects of 
 her boy. 
 
 When Huntley looked into his mother's 
 face, he thanked God silently within himself, 
 that he had held his council of war upon the 
 hill-side, and not in the Norlaw dining-parlour. 
 It was the first time in his life that the young 
 man had made an arbitrary personal decision, 
 taking counsel with none ; he had been natu- 
 rally somewhat doubtful in his statement of it, 
 being unused to such independent action — but 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 no\t he rejoiced that he had made his conclusion 
 alone. He came to his mother with tender- 
 ness, which perhaps if it touched her secretly, 
 made her displeasure only the greater so far as 
 appearance went —for the mother of this house, 
 who was not born of a dependant nature, was 
 still too young and vigorous in her own person, 
 and too little accustomed to think of her sons 
 as men, to be able to receive with patience the 
 new idea that their relative positions were so 
 far changed, and that it was now her children's 
 part to provide for her, instead of hers to pro- 
 vide for them. 
 
 ** Mother, suppose we were to fail — which 
 is as likely as success," said Huntley, '^ and I 
 had to go away — after all, should you like me to 
 leave no home to think of — no home to return 
 to? — is that not reason enough to make you 
 content with Norlaw ? " 
 
 " Hold your peace!" cried the Mistress — 
 " hame ! do you mean to tell me that I 
 couldna make a cothouse in Kirkbride, or a
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 259 
 
 lodging in a town look like hame to my own 
 bairns, if Providence ordained it sae, and their 
 hearts were the same? What's four walls 
 here or there? — till you've firesides of your ain, 
 your mother's your hame wherever she may be. 
 Am I a weak auld wife to be maintained at 
 the ingleside with my son's toil — or to have 
 comfort, or fortune, or hope sacrificed to me ? 
 Eh, laddie, Guid forgive ye ! — me that would 
 shear in the harvest field, or guide the kye, 
 or do any day's work in this mortal world, 
 with a cheerful heart, if it was needful, for the 
 sake of you ! " 
 
 *^ Ay, mother," cried Cosmo, suddenly spring- 
 ing up from the table where he had been sitting 
 stooping over a book in his usual attitude, with- 
 out any apparent notice of the conversation. 
 "Ay, mother," cried the boy, "you could 
 break your heart, and wear out your life for 
 us, because it's in your nature — but you're 
 too proud to think that it's our nature as well, 
 
 s 2
 
 260 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and that all you would do for your sons, your 
 sons have a right to do for you ! " 
 
 The boy's pale face shone, and his eyes 
 sparkled ; his slender, tall, overgrown boyish 
 figure, his long arms stretching out of 
 the narrow sleeves of his jacket, his long 
 slender hands, and long hair, the entire and ex- 
 treme youthfulness of his whole appearance, 
 so distinct from the fuller strength and man- 
 hood of his brothers, and animated by the 
 touch of a delicate spirit, less sober and more 
 fervid than theirs, struck strangely and sud- 
 denly upon the two who had hitherto held 
 this discussion alone. An instantaneous 
 change came over the Mistress's face ; the fire 
 in her eyes melted into a tender effusion of 
 love and sorrow, the yearning of the mother 
 who was a widow. Those tears, which her 
 proud temper and independent spirit had 
 drawn into her eyes, fell with a softness which 
 their original, cause was quite incapable of. 
 She could not keep to her first emotions ; she
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 261 
 
 could not restrain the expansion of her heart 
 toward the boy who was still only a boy, and 
 his father's son. 
 
 " My bairn ! '' cried the Mistress, with a 
 short sob. He was the youngest, the ten- 
 derest, the most like him who was gone — 
 and Cosmo's words had an unspeakable 
 pathos in their enthusiasm — the heroism of a 
 child ! 
 
 After this the mother dropped into her 
 chair, altogether softened, while Huntley spoke 
 to her low and earnestly. 
 
 " Melmar is nothing to me," said her eldest 
 son, in the half- whispered forcible words which 
 Cosmo did not hear, but in which his mother 
 recognised the distinct resolution of a nature 
 as firm as her own ; " nothing at least except a 
 chance of wealth and fortune — only a chance 
 which can wait ; but Norlaw is everything — 
 house, family, ancestors, everything that makes 
 me proud of my name. Xorlaw and the 
 Livingstones must never be disconnected while
 
 262 THE LATRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 we can prevent it — and, mother, for Cosmo's 
 sake!" 
 
 " Eh, Huntley, God forgive me if I set 
 more weight upon him than I -should set ! '^ said 
 the Mistress, with tears ; "no' to your detri- 
 ment, my own son ; but look at the bairn ! 
 is he not his very image that's gane ? " 
 
 Not a single shadow of envy or displeasure 
 crossed Huntley's face ; he stood look- 
 ing at his young brother with a love 
 almost as tender as their mother's, with 
 besides an unconscious swell of manhood 
 and power in his own frame. He was the 
 eldest brother, the head of the house, and the 
 purest saint on earth could not have con- 
 demned the generous pride which rose in 
 Huntley's breast. It was not a weak effusion 
 of sentimental self-sacrifice — his own hopes, 
 his own heart, his own life, were strong 
 with an individual identity in the young 
 man's nature. But the tender son of this 
 house for the first time had made his own
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 263 
 
 authoritative and masterly decision. To set 
 aside his ambition and let it wait — to postpone 
 fortune to labour — to do the first duty of a 
 man on his own sole and unadvised responsi- 
 bility — to provide for those of his own house, 
 and set them above the anxieties of poverty. 
 He was proud when he thought of it, to feel 
 the strength in his own arm, the vigor of his 
 own step — but the pride was such as almost 
 an angel might have shared. 
 
 When Huntley left the room, the Mistress 
 called Cosmo to her side. She had resumed 
 her seat by the comer window, and they could 
 see him going out, disappearing behind the old 
 castle walls, in the glory of the autumn 
 sunset. 
 
 "Do you see him, Cosmo," said the Mis- 
 tress, with renewed tears, which this time were 
 of mingled pride and tenderness; '^ I resisted, 
 but I never wronged his thoughts. Do ye see 
 your brother? Yonder he is, a young lad, 
 proud, and bold, and masterful — he's no like
 
 264 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 you — he has it in his heart to seek power, and 
 riches, and honours, and to take pleasure in 
 them — and he's that daring that the chance of 
 a battle would be more pleasant to Huntley 
 than anything in this world that was secure. 
 Yet — do you hear me, laddie ? he's put them 
 all aside, every ane, for the sake of this hame 
 and name, and for you and me ! " 
 
 And the colour rose high upon the Mistress's 
 cheek in a flush of triumph ; the necessity and 
 blessing of women came upon her in a sudden 
 flood — she could not be heroic herself, though 
 she might covet the glory — but with a higher, 
 tenderer, more delicious pride, she could rejoice 
 and triumph in the courage of her boy. Her 
 voice rose even in those restrained and mode- 
 rate words of common speech as if in a song ; 
 there was an indescribable something in her 
 tone which reminded one involuntarily of the' 
 old songs of Scripture, the old triumphant 
 Hebrew parallelisms of Miriam and Deborah. 
 She grasped Cosmo's shoulder with an
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 265 
 
 emphatic pressure, and pointed with the other 
 hand to the retiring figure of Huntlej, 
 passing slowly and with a thoughtful step by 
 the wall of the old castle. Cosmo leaned out 
 beside her, catching a flush upon his delicate 
 cheek from hers, but gazing upon the scene 
 with a different eye. Insensibly the poetic 
 glance of the boy left his brother, to dwell 
 upon the other features of this picture 
 before him. Those stern old walls with their 
 windowless sockets, through which once the 
 sunshine shone and the summer breezes 
 entered to former generations of their name 
 — that sweet evening glory of sunshine, 
 pouring aslant in a lingering tender flood 
 upon the world and the day, which it seemed 
 sad to leave — that sunshine which never grew 
 old — insensibly his own romance stole back 
 into Cosmo's mind. He forgot, with the 
 inadvertence of his years, that it was not 
 a romance agreeable to his mother, or that, 
 even if it had been, she was not of a temper
 
 266 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 to bear the intrusion of other subjects when 
 her mind was so fully occupied with concerns 
 of her own. 
 
 " Mother, Huntley is right," cried Cosmo ; 
 ^* Melmar cannot be his if she is alive — it 
 would not become him to seek it till he 
 has sought her — and as Huntley cannot seek 
 her, for her sake and for my father's, 1 will, 
 though it should take the half of my life 1 " 
 
 Once more the Mistress's face changed ; a 
 glance of fiery impatience flashed from her 
 eyes, her cheek grew violently red, the tears 
 dried as if by a spell, and she put Cosmo 
 away hastily with the same arm which had 
 held him. 
 
 "Get away to your plays, bairn — dinna 
 trouble me ! " cried the Mistress, with a 
 harsh contempt, which was as strong as it was 
 unjust ; "to think I should open my heart to 
 you that thinks of nothing but your romances 
 and story-books ! Go ! I've different things to 
 think of — dinna trouble me ! "
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 267 
 
 And she rose with a murmur of indigna- 
 tion and anger, and went hurriedly, with 
 a flushed cheek, to seek her usual work, 
 and take refuge in occupation. If the lost 
 heiress had been her dearest friend, she 
 would still have resented urgently the intro- 
 duction of an intruder into her sudden burst 
 of mother-pride. As it was, it overturned 
 temper and patience entirely. She brushed 
 past Cosmo with a hasty contempt, which 
 humiliated and mortified the boy beyond 
 expression. He did not attempt to justify 
 himself — perhaps a kindred spark of resent- 
 ment, and the bitterness with which youth 
 appreciates injustice, helped to silence him — 
 but when his mother resumed her seat and 
 worked on hurriedly in a disdainful and angry 
 silence, Cosmo withdrew out of the room and 
 out of the house with a swelling heart. Too 
 proud to betray how much he was wounded, 
 he stole round behind the farm offices to his 
 favourite perch among the ruins, where the
 
 268 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 lad brooded in mournful mood, sinking into the 
 despairing despondency of his years and 
 temperament, feeling himself misunderstood 
 and unappreciated, and meditating a hundred 
 melancholy heroisms. Mary of Melmar, so 
 far, seemed as little propitious to Norlaw's son 
 as she had once been to Norlaw.
 
 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Go wherever you like, bairns, or travel 
 straight on, if you please — I canna see a step 
 before me, for my part — it's you and no' me 
 that must take the lead," said the ^listress, 
 with a heavy sigh. The words were said as 
 the little party, Huntley, Patrick and herself, 
 were left standing by a little pile of luggage, 
 in the dusk of a harvest evening, in front of 
 the coach-office on the Edinburgh pavement. 
 They were on their way to Liverpool, from 
 which place Huntley was to sail in an 
 emigrant ship for Port Philip. Princes 
 Street was full of the open-ak and street- 
 loving crowd which gives to that splendid
 
 270 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 promenade, on summer nights, so much of a 
 continental aspect. The dusk of the twilight 
 fell softly in the valley which lay behind, the 
 lights in the high houses on the other side 
 hung softly midway in the air, the voices of 
 the passengers, and sounds of the city, though 
 doubtless many of these were sad enough, 
 mingled in the soft-shadowed air to a har- 
 monious hum of pleasant sound, which echoed 
 with a mocking gaiety into the heavy heart 
 of the mother who was about to part with 
 her boys. She was bewildered for the 
 moment with her journey, with the unknown 
 place and unusual animation around her, and 
 it was only very slowly and by degrees that 
 her mind regained its usual self-possession. 
 She stood gazing blankly round her, while 
 the boys made arrangements about their super- 
 fluous packages, which were to be left at the 
 coach-office, and finally came up to her, 
 carrying between them the little trunk which 
 contained the necessaries for their journey.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 271 
 
 Cabs were not in those days, and the Mistress 
 would have been horrified into perfect self- 
 possession by the preposterous idea of "a 
 noddy." When they were thus far ready, she 
 turned with them briskly enough, leading the 
 way without any uncertainty, for, in spite of 
 her exclamation, it had been already arranged 
 where they were to go, and the Mistress had 
 been at school in Edinburgh in her young 
 days, and was by no means unacquainted 
 with the town. They went along in this order — 
 Mrs. Livingstone carrying a considerable bag 
 on her own arm, and the young men with 
 the trunk between them — across the North 
 Bridge towards the old town, that scene of 
 magic to every stranger ; the valley, the 
 hill, the dim grey turrets of Holyrood, the 
 soft darkness of the night full of sounds, lying 
 beneath them — the rugged outline, picturesque 
 and noble, of the lofty old street before — the 
 lights shining here and there like fairy stars 
 in irregular specks among the high windows,
 
 272 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 and everywhere the half-seen, unrecognisable 
 throng of wayfarers, and the world of subdued 
 sound on every side made but small impression 
 upon the absorbed minds of the little party. 
 They knew it all before, and their thoughts were 
 otherwise occupied ; yet involuntarily that noble 
 landscape, which no one could look upon with 
 absolute indifference, soothed them all, in 
 spite of themselves. Their destination was 
 the High Street, where, in one of the more 
 respectable closes, and at the top of an 
 interminable ascent of stairs, there lived a 
 native of Kirkbride, who was in the habit of 
 letting lodgings to students, and with whom 
 they were to find accommodation for the night. 
 Mrs. Purdie gave to the Mistress a little room 
 boasting " a concealed bed," that is to say, a 
 recess shut in by folding-doors, and just large 
 enough to contain a bedstead, and to the 
 lads a bed-closet, with a borrowed light, both 
 of which inventions specially belong to the 
 economy of flats and great subdivided houses,
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 273 
 
 and are the most unfavourable features in 
 the same. But the wmdow of Mrs. Livmg- 
 stone's room, where they had tea, looked 
 abroad over that great panorama, bounded by 
 the gleam of the Frith, and the low green line 
 of the Fife hills, which makes it worth while 
 to ascend stairs and watch at lofty windows in 
 Edinburgh. The yellow harvest moon had 
 risen ere they had finished the simple meal, 
 which none of them had any heart for, and 
 Huntley drew his mother to the window to bid 
 her look at the wonderful broad moonlight lying 
 white upon the long line of street below, and 
 thrusting out all the monuments of the little 
 hill into bold and striking relief against the 
 luminous sky. The Mistress turned away 
 from the window, with big tears in her 
 eyes. 
 
 ^^ Eh, Huntley, laddie, what do I care? — 
 if it was the grandest view that ever was, 
 do you think I could see it ? '' cried his 
 mother, " when I ken that I'll never see the 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 light of the moon raair, without weary 
 thoughts and yearning to where my bairns 
 are, hundreds and thousands of miles away 
 from me ! " 
 
 '^ But, mother, only till we come home,'' 
 said Huntley, with his arm round his mother, 
 speaking low in her ear. 
 
 The Mistress only turned towards the dim 
 little table, with its dim candles, hurriedly 
 wiping the tears from her eyes. This was en- 
 durable — but the night, and the calm, and the 
 glory of the heavens and the earth, were too 
 much for the mother. If she had remained 
 there looking out, it almost seemed to her as 
 if she must have wept her very heart 
 dry. 
 
 The next morning they set out once more 
 upon their journey — another day's travel by 
 the canal to Glasgow. The canal was not to 
 be despised in those days — it was cheaper, and 
 it was not a great deal slower than the coach ; 
 and if the errand had been happier, the mode
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 275 
 
 of travelling, in that lovely harvest weather, 
 with its gradual glide, and noiseless progress, 
 was by no means an unpleasant one. Glasgow 
 itself, a strange, unknown, smoky Babel, where, 
 after Huntley was gone, the Mistress was 
 to part with her second son, bewildered her 
 mind completely with its first aspect — she 
 could make nothing of it as they pursued their 
 way from the canal to the river, through a 
 maze of perplexing and noisy streets, where 
 she felt assured hundreds of people might lose 
 themselves, never to be found again. And 
 with a feeling, half of awe, and half of dis- 
 gust, Mrs. Livingstone contemplated the place, 
 so unlike the only other large town she knew, 
 where Patie was to pass the next half dozen 
 years of his life. Instinctively she caught 
 closer hold of him, forgetting Huntley for 
 moment — Huntley's dangers would be those of 
 nature, the sea and the wilderness — but temp- 
 tation ! — ill-doing ! The Mistress grasped her 
 son's sleeve with tenacious fingers, and looked 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 into his face with half an entreaty, half a de- 
 fiance. 
 
 " If I should ever see the like of that in a 
 bairn of mine ! " she cried aloud, as they 
 passed a corner where stood some of those 
 precocious men, haggard and aged beyond 
 double their years, whom it is the misfortune 
 of a great town sometimes to produce. The 
 idea struck her with an impatient dread which 
 overcame even her half-apprehensive curiosity, 
 about the voyage they were going to under- 
 take; and she had scarcely overcome this 
 sudden alarm, when they embarked in the 
 snorting steamer which was to convey them to 
 Liverpool. Standing on the deck, surrounded 
 by the pile of boxes which formed Huntley's 
 equipment, and looking with startled and dis- 
 approving eyes upon the arriving passengers, 
 and the crowded sheds of the Broomielaw, the 
 Mistress saw the same moon rising above the 
 masts, and housetops, and smoke of Glasgow, 
 without anything like the same feelings which
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 277 
 
 had moved her on the previous night. Her 
 mind was excited, her active spirit stirred, her 
 very nerves, steady as they were, influenced 
 a little by the entirely new anticipation of the 
 voyage ; a night at sea ! — it seemed almost as 
 great looking forward to it, as Huntley's 
 journey, though that was to the other end of 
 the world. 
 
 And so they glided down the beautiful 
 Clyde, the breeze freshening about them, as 
 hills began to rise black in the moonlight, and 
 little towns to glimmer on the water's edge. 
 The mother and the sons walked about 
 the deck together, talking earnestly, and when 
 the vessel rose upon the bigger waves, as they 
 stole out to sea, and everything but the water, 
 and the sky, and the moonlight gradually 
 sank out of sight, the Mistress, with a little 
 thrill of danger and adventure at her heart, 
 forgot for the moment how, presently, she 
 should return alone by the same road, and 
 almost could suppose that she was setting out
 
 278 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 with Huntley. The fancy restored her to 
 herself: she was not much of an advice-giver. 
 Her veiy cautions and counsels, perhaps, were 
 arbitrary and slightly impatient like her 
 nature, but she was their true mother, heart 
 and soul — and the lads did not forget for long 
 years after, what the Mistress said as she 
 paced about the deck between them, with a 
 firm, yet sometimes uncertain foot, as the 
 midnight glided into morning, and the river 
 disappeared in the bigger waters of the 
 sea.
 
 279 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The voyage, as it happened, was a very fa- 
 vourable one — even the Mistress's inland 
 terrors were scarcely aroused by the swell ol 
 that summer sea; and Huntley himself, 
 though his ideas expanded to a much longer 
 journey, unconsciously took it as a good omen 
 that his first night at sea should be so calm 
 and fair. They came into the great seaport, 
 late on another summer evening. It was not 
 nearly so extensive then as it is now, but still 
 the masts were in forests, the ships in navies, 
 and their inexperienced eyes, unenhghtened by 
 the hasty and darkling glimpse of the Clyde, 
 and knowing nothing greater or busier than
 
 280 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 the Forth, with its great bosom diversified by 
 an island and a sail, the one scarcely more 
 plentiful than the other, opened wide with 
 amazement at the fleets of vessels in the 
 Mersey. Insensibly to herself, the Mistress 
 drew a certain comfort from the fact, as the 
 Glasgow steamer went gliding up the river, 
 in the late summer sunset. Ships were 
 moored in the deep calm and shadow of the 
 banks ; ships were coming and going in the 
 midwaters of the river, and lines of spars and 
 masts, indistinguishable and without number, 
 fringed the whole water-edge, from which the 
 smoke of the town, reddened by a last ray 
 of sunshine, rose inland, out of sight, in a 
 great overhanging cloud. The sight of such a 
 throng brought a momentary comfort to the 
 heart of Huntley's mother. The very sea, it 
 almost seemed, could not be so lonely, when all 
 these big wayfarers and thousands more were 
 tracking its waters day by day. 
 
 " Mony a mother's son is there," she said to
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 281 
 
 herself softly, as she stood gazing about her — 
 and even the community of hardship had a 
 solace in it. As the steamboat puffed and 
 snorted to its destmation, a big ship, crowded 
 with pensive faces, bare of sails, and tugged 
 along by a little steamer, came lumbering 
 silently along through the peaceful evening 
 light, going out to sea. Two or three voices 
 round announced it, ** an emigrant ship,'' and 
 the Mistress gazed into it and after it, clasping 
 her son's arm with a thrill at her heart. 
 Evening ; the sweet daylight fading into a 
 charmed and tender twilight — the sky growing 
 pale with very calm ; the houses and churches 
 and piles of buildings beginning to stand out 
 black against the colourless mysterious light 
 which cast no shadows ; the water gleaming 
 in long, still ripples as pale as the sky — every- 
 thing softening and darkening into natural 
 rest — yet, through all, the great ship departing 
 silently, with her throng of travellers, be- 
 ginning to unfold the sails of her wayfaring,
 
 282 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 beginning to vibrate to the quickening wave, 
 as she neared the sea. 
 
 *^ God go with them ! " said the Mistress, 
 with a sob out of her full heart. '^ Oh, 
 Huntley, laddie! mony a mother's son is 
 there ! '^ 
 
 The landing, when they came to it ; the 
 rush of porters and vagabonds from the pier ; 
 the half light in which it seemed doubly ne- 
 cessary to the Mistress, roused into prompt 
 and vigorous self-defence, to keep the most 
 vigilant watch on the luggage — and the con- 
 fusion with which both mother and sons con- 
 templated the screaming, shouting crowd who 
 surrounded them with offers of service, and 
 bawled to them from the shore, made alto- 
 gether a very serious business of the arrival. 
 The Mistress never knew how she came 
 through that ordeal; the "English tongue," 
 which had a decidedly Irish brogue in that 
 scene, and under these circumstances, deafened 
 the rural Scottishwoman. The crowd of spec-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 283 
 
 tators, and the foray upon everybody's 
 luggage made by some scores of ragged 
 fellows, whom her uncharitable imagination 
 set down as robbers or madmen, filled her 
 with indignation and a strong propensity to 
 resistance ; and it was not till she found her- 
 self safely deposited in an odd little sitting- 
 room of a little inn, close to the docks, with 
 all her packages safe and undiminished, that a 
 measure of calmness returned to the rufiied 
 bosom of Mrs. Livingstone. Then, after they 
 had rested and refreshed themselves, Huntley 
 and Patrick went out with natural curiosity to 
 see the new scene and the new country — for 
 the whole party fully considered that it was 
 " England," not Liverpool, in which they 
 now found themselves — and the Mistress was 
 left alone. She sat in the little parlour under 
 the unfamiliar gaslight, looking round with 
 forlorn eyes upon the room. There was a 
 little model of a ship upon the mantel-piece in 
 front of the little mirror, and another upon a
 
 284 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 small side-table under the barometer; other 
 odd little ornaments, such as sailors bring 
 home, shells and curious boxes, and little 
 painted glass cups of Dutch art, gave a very 
 nautical aspect to the shabby apartment, 
 which, further, bore traces of having recently 
 been smoked in, which disgusted the Mistress. 
 Then all the noises of a noisy and not very 
 well-behaved quarter seemed to rise up to her 
 window, mingled with a jar of music from a 
 big blazing drinking-place, almost next door — 
 and the private tumult of the inn itself, voices 
 and footsteps, shutting of doors and ringing 
 of bells, still further oppressed the solitary 
 stranger. 
 
 ^^ Mercy on me ! is that what they ca' 
 speaking English ? " cried the Mistress to 
 herself, disturbed, lonely, sick at heart, and 
 almost offended with her sons for leaving her. 
 She put her hands to her ears with a gesture 
 of disdain ; the unfamiliar accent was quite an 
 aggravation and insult to her solitude — and
 
 THE LAIRD OF XOELAW. 285 
 
 then her thoughts settled down upon the 
 cu-cumstances which brought her here. But 
 a day or two more, and she might never see 
 Huntley again. 
 
 Meanwhile the boys were straying through 
 the mean, noisy streets, blazing with light, 
 which only showed their squalor the more, 
 where a whole disreputable population seemed 
 to be exerting all its arts for the fascination 
 of the sailors, who were the patrons and 
 support of all this quarter. It was quite a 
 new phase of life to the lads, fresh from their 
 rural solitudes, and all the proprieties of a 
 respectable Scottish family — but the novelty 
 beguiled them on, though it disgusted them. 
 They went wandering about, curious, aston- 
 ished, revolted, till they found themselves 
 among dark mazes of warehouses from which 
 it was not easy to find their way back. When 
 they did get back it was late, though the 
 noise remained undiminished, and the Mistress's 
 temper was not improved, if truth must
 
 286 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 be told, by her solitude. She had been trying 
 to look out from the window, where opposite 
 there was nothing but the high brick wall of 
 the docks, and beneath upon the lighted 
 pavement only such scenes as horrified the 
 soul of the Mistress within her. 
 
 " It's a marvel to me what pleasure even 
 thoughtless laddies could find wandering about 
 a place like that," said the Mistress ; ^' Eng- 
 land, quotha! I thought mysel' there must 
 be something worth seeing in a place that 
 folk make such a wark about ; but instead of 
 that, it's waur than the Cowgate ; pity me ! 
 and sharp tongues that gang through my 
 head like a bell!" 
 
 "But Liverpool is not England," said 
 Huntley, coming to a slow perception of that 
 fact, and laughing at himself as he said 
 it. 
 
 "And maybe this is not Liverpool," 
 said Patie, with still greater enlighten- 
 ment.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 287 
 
 '^ Hold your peace, bairns," cried the 
 Mistress, peremptorily ; *^what canyon ken, 
 twa laddies that have no more insight into 
 life than babes unborn — how can the like of 
 you tell ? Do I no' see sin outbye there with 
 a painted face, and sounds of fiddling and 
 laughing, and light enough to burn up the haill 
 town? Eh, bairns, if ever ye touch such 
 dirt with but the ends of your fingers, the 
 mother that bore ye will think shame of ye 
 — burning shame ! It sounds like pleasure 
 —do ye hear? — but it's no' pleasure, its 
 destruction ! — and I canna tell, for my ain part, 
 how a decent woman can daur to close 
 her e'en, kenning what evil's nigh. But I'm 
 no' meaning that for you," added the Mistress, 
 changing her tone ; ^^ the like of you young 
 things need sleep and rest, and though I 
 canna tell where we're to get the things we 
 want in a miserable place like this, we'll have 
 to be stirring early the morn." 
 
 "And we'll find a better place," said
 
 288 THE LAIRD OF NORLIW. 
 
 Huntley ; *^ don't be afraid, mother — but for 
 that and all the rest that we have to do and 
 to bear, you must try to rest yourself" 
 
 "Ay, laddie," said the Mistress, hurriedly 
 wiping her eyes, "but I canna get my 
 thoughts out of that ship that's on the sea 
 this nicht ; and maybe, mony a lone woman 
 sitting still with nae sons to come in to her — 
 and whiles I canna but mind what's coming to 
 mysel'." 
 
 " I am only twenty, mother, and Patie but 
 eighteen," said Huntley ; " would you like us 
 to remain as we are, knowing nothing of life, 
 as you say ? or are you afraid to trust your 
 sons in the battle, like other men ? " 
 
 " Na ! no' me ! " cried the Mistress ; 
 "you're baith right, and I approve in my 
 mind — but only just this, bairns ; — I'm your 
 mother — and yon ship is sailing in the dark 
 before my very e'en, as plain as if I saw her 
 now ! " 
 
 And whether it was thinking of that ship.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 289 
 
 or of the sons of other mothers who were errant 
 in her, or of her own boj, so soon to join their 
 journey, the Mistress heard the last sound 
 that disturbed the house that night, and the 
 earhest in the morning. Her eyes were dry 
 and sore when she got up to see the daylight 
 aspect of the unknown and unlovely world 
 around her; and the lads were still fast 
 asleep in their privilege of youth, while their 
 mother stood once more wistfiilly looking out 
 upon the high black wall of the dock, and the 
 masts appearing over it. She could not see 
 the river, or anything more gracious than this 
 seaman-tempting street. There was nothing 
 either within or without to divert her from 
 her own thoughts ; and as she watched the 
 early sunshine brighten upon a scene so dif- 
 ferent from that of her own hills and streams, 
 these thoughts were forlorn enough. 
 
 During the day, the little party went out to 
 make some last purchases for Huntley. The 
 young man was to carry with him, in the 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 securest form which they could think of, a 
 little fortune of a hundred pounds, on which 
 he was to make his start in the world, nothing 
 doubting to find in it a nucleus of wealth ; and 
 the Mistress, spite of the natural economy of 
 her ideas, and her long habit of frugality, was 
 extravagant and lavish in her anxiety to get 
 everything for Huntley that he could or 
 might require. When they came into the 
 region of shops, she began to drop behind, 
 anxiously studying the windows, tempted by 
 many a possible convenience, which, if she had 
 acted on her first impulse and purchased 
 each incontinently, would have made Huntley's 
 outfit an unbelievable accumulation of pedlery. 
 As it was, his mother's care and inexpe- 
 rience freighted the young man with a consi- 
 derable burden of elaborate conveniences 
 — cumbrous machines of various forms, 
 warranted invaluable for the voyage or for 
 the bush, which Huntley lugged about with 
 many a year after, and tried to use for his
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 291 
 
 motlier's sake. When they got back to their 
 inn, the Mistress had suffered herself to be 
 convinced that the noisy street outside the 
 docks was not Liverpool, much less England. 
 But the "English tongue," which "rang 
 through her head like a knife," to vary the 
 image — ^the mean brick houses at which the tri- 
 umphant Scotchwoman pointed her finger with 
 unspeakable contempt, the narrow streets, and 
 noise and dust of the great commercial town, 
 filled her patriotic spirit with a disdainful com- 
 placency. 
 
 "Weel, laddies," said Mrs. Livingstone, 
 when they reached the inn, very tired, that 
 night ; and the Mistress spoke with the na- 
 tural satisfaction of a travelled person ; "I 
 have aye heard a great wark made about 
 England — but I'm very sure, now that weVe 
 been in it, and seen for ourselves, none of us de- 
 sires to gang any further. Bits of brick houses 
 that you can mostly see through ! — streets that 
 neighbours could shake hands across ! — and 
 
 u 2
 
 292 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 for my part, ilka time I hear them speak, I 
 think they're flyting. Eh, bairns, such 
 sharp tongues I I wouldna gie Melrose though 
 its wee-er and hasna sae mony shops, for twenty 
 of this place — and as for Edinburgh — ! " 
 
 But the contrast was unspeakable, and took 
 away the Mistress's breath.
 
 293 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 They were detained for some days waiting 
 the sailing of the ship, which already the 
 little party had gone over, the Mistress with 
 awe and solemnity, the brothers with eager 
 interest and excitement, more than once. The 
 barque Flora, Captain Gardner master, bound 
 for Port Philip, — through those days and 
 nights of suspense, when they hoped and 
 feared every morning to hear that this was 
 the last day, this name might have been 
 heard even among the dreams of Huntley's 
 mother. Yet this procrastination of the
 
 294 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 parting was not good even for her. She said 
 her farewell a hundred times in the bitterness 
 of imagination before the real moment came, 
 and as they all went down every morning 
 early to one of the piers, opposite to which in 
 the river the Flora lay, and made a mournful, 
 anxious promenade up and down, gazing at 
 the anchored ship, with her bare cordage, the 
 emigrant encampments on her big deck, and 
 the fresh vegetables strung in her bows, 
 noting with sharp and solicitous eyes any 
 signs of preparation there, the pain of parting 
 was indefinitely repeated, though always with 
 a pang of joy at the end — another day ! 
 However, even emigrant ships have to make 
 up their minds some time. At last came the 
 last night, when they all sat together, looking 
 into each other's faces, knowing that, after to- 
 morrow, they might never meet again. The 
 Mistress had not a great deal to say on that 
 last night ; what she did say was of no one 
 continuous tone. She could not make sermons
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 295 
 
 to her boys — it might be that there was 
 abruptness and impatience even in her mo- 
 therly warnings. The grief of this farewell 
 did not change her character, though it pierced 
 to her heart. 
 
 *^ Try and get a decent house to live in — 
 dinna be about inns or such like places," 
 said the Mistress ; ^^ I ken by myseV, just the 
 time we've been here, Huntley — and if it's un- 
 settling to the like of me, what should it be 
 to a young lad? — but dinna be owre great 
 friends either with them that put you up — 
 I'm no fond of friendship out of folks' ain 
 degree, though I ken weel that nobody that's 
 kind to my bairn will find an ungrateful 
 thought in me ; but mind aye what ye are, 
 and wha ye are, and a' that's looked for at your 
 hands." 
 
 *^ A poor emigrant, mother," said Huntley, 
 with rather a tremulous smile. 
 
 " Hold your peace, laddie, dinna be un- 
 thankful," said the Mistress, ^' a lad with a
 
 296 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 good house and lands at hame, and a hundred 
 pound clear in his pocket, no' to say how mony 
 conveniences and handy things in his boxes, 
 and a' the comforts that ye can carry. Dinna 
 sin your mercies, Huntley, before me." 
 
 " It would not become me," said Huntley, 
 "for I might have had few comforts but for 
 you, mother, that thought of everything; as 
 everything I have, if I needed reminding, 
 would make me think of home and you." 
 
 " Whisht, whisht, bairn ! " said the Mistress, 
 with a broken voice and a sob, two big tears 
 falling out of her eyes upon her trembling 
 hands, which she wiped off hurriedly, almost 
 with a gesture of shame ; " and yell no 
 forget your duty, Huntley," she added, with 
 agitated haste, " mind what the minister said ; 
 if there be nae kirk, as there might not be, 
 seeing it's a savage place, never let the 
 Sabbath day slip out of your hand, as if 
 there was nae difference. Kirks and ministers 
 are a comfort, whiles — but, Huntley, mind
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 297 
 
 God's aye nigh at hand. I bid ye baith mind 
 that — I'm no' what I should be — I canna say 
 a' that's in my heart — but, oh, laddies, mind if 
 you should never hear another word out of 
 your mother's lips ! They speak about ships 
 and letters that make far-away friends nigh 
 each other, but, bairns, the Lord Himsel' 
 is the nighest link between you and me — as 
 He's the only link between us a' and him 
 that's gane." 
 
 There was a long pause after this burst out 
 of the desolate heart of Norlaw's widow and 
 Huntley's mother ; a pause in which words 
 would have been vain, even if any one of 
 them could have found any words to say, and 
 in which the fatherless sons, and the mother 
 who was a widow, turned their faces from each 
 other, shedding those hurried, irrestrainable 
 tears, which they dared not indulge. It was 
 the Mistress who found composure first, but 
 she did not prolong the emotion of the little 
 party by continuing the same strain. Like
 
 298 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 herself, she had no sooner found her voice, 
 than, shy of revealing the depths of her heart, 
 even to her children, she resumed on a 
 totally different theme. 
 
 "If ye gang up into the country, Huntley, 
 dinna bide aye among the beasts," said the 
 Mistress, abruptly ; " mind, it's no' that I put 
 very much faith in this lad Cassilis, but still, 
 whatever's possible shouldna be forgotten. 
 You might be Melmar, with a great estate, 
 before mony years were past, and, at any rate, 
 you're master of your ain land, and have as 
 good a name to bear as ever came of that 
 house. It's my hope to see you back at the 
 head of your household, a man respected — so 
 dinna you sink into a solitary, Huntley, or dwell 
 your lane ower lang. I've nothing to say 
 against the making of siller — folk canna live 
 without it in this world — but a fortune's no 
 equal to a man — and if ye canna make the 
 ane without partly sacrificing the other, come 
 hame."
 
 THE LAIRD OF XORLAW. 299 
 
 ** I will, mother," said Huntley, seriously. 
 
 " And there's just one thing mair," added 
 the Mistress, not without a look of uneasiness, 
 " be aye particular about the kind of folk you 
 make friends o' — and specially — weel, we el, 
 you're baith young lads. I canna keep ye 
 bairns — you'll soon be thinking of the like of 
 that • yoursel'. I'm no fond of strangers, 
 Huntley Livingstone, I dinna understand 
 their ways ; dinna bring me a daughter of that 
 land to vex me as the fremd women vexed 
 Eebecca. No' that I'm meaning to put 
 bondage on you — na — I wouldna have it said 
 I was jealous of my sons — but you're young, 
 and young lads are easily beguiled ; wait till 
 you come home." 
 
 '^ I give you my word for that, mother ! " 
 cried Huntley, eagerly, the blood rushing 
 over his face, as he grasped the Mistress's 
 hand with a quite unnecessary degree of 
 fervor. 
 
 Perhaps his mother found him rather more
 
 300 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 in earnest than the vague nature of her 
 advice seemed to justify. She looked at him 
 with a startled glance of suspicion and dawn- 
 ing displeasure. 
 
 " Ay, laddie ! '' cried the Mistress ; " ane 
 w ould think you had made up your mind ! " 
 and she turned her eyes upon the glow and 
 brightening of Huntley's face, with a little 
 spark of impatience. But at that moment 
 the clock below stairs began to strike twelve ; 
 it startled them all as they sat listening — and 
 gradually, as stroke followed stroke with that 
 inevitable regularity, the heart of Huntley's 
 mother sank within her. She took the hand, 
 which she had been half-angry to find grasping 
 hers in confirmation of his earnestness, ten- 
 derly between her own — she stroked the strong 
 young fingers with that hand of hers, some- 
 what large, somewhat wrinkled, without an 
 ornament upon it save its worn wedding-ring, 
 the slow, fond, loving touch of which brought 
 hot tears to Huntley's eyes. The Mistress
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 301 
 
 did not look up, because her own face was 
 moved with a grief and tenderness un- 
 speakable and beyond the reach of words — 
 she could not say anything — she could 
 only sit silent, keeping down the sob 
 in her throat, the water that gathered in 
 her eyes, fondly holding her son's hand, 
 caressing it with an indescribable pathetic 
 gesture, more touching than the wildest 
 passionate embrace. 
 
 Then they all stood up together to say 
 good-night. 
 
 " Laddies, its no more night ! — it's morning, 
 and Huntley sails this day," said the Mistress; 
 " oh, my bairns ! — and I canna speak ; dinna 
 say a word to me ! — but gang and lie down 
 and take your rest, and the Lord send sleep 
 to us a', and make us ready for what's to 
 come." 
 
 It was with this good-night, and no more, 
 that they parted, but the sleep and rest for 
 which she had prayed did not come to the
 
 302 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 mother. She was up by daybreak, once more 
 looking over the last box which Himtley was 
 to take with him on board, to see if anything 
 could be added to its stores. 
 
 She stole into her sons' room to look at 
 them in their sleep, but would not suffer any- 
 one to wake them, though the lads slept long, 
 worn out by excitement and emotion. Then 
 the Mistress put on her bonnet, and went out 
 y herself to try if she could not get something 
 for their breakfast, more delicate and dainty 
 than usual, and, when she returned, arranged 
 the table with her own hands, pausing often to 
 wipe away, not tears, but a sad moisture with 
 which her eyes were always full. But she 
 was perfectly composed, and went about all 
 these homely offices of love with a smile more 
 touching than grief. The emergency had 
 come at last, and the Mistress was not a 
 woman to break down or lose the comfort of 
 this last day. Time enough to break her 
 heart when Huntley was gone.
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 303 
 
 And the inevitable hours went on, as hours 
 do before one of those life-partings — slow, yet 
 with a flow and current in their gradual pro- 
 gress, which seemed to carry them forward 
 more forcibly than the quickest tide of plea- 
 sure. And at last it was time to embark. 
 They went down to the river together, saying 
 very little ; then on the river, in a boat, to 
 reach the ship. 
 
 It was a gloiious harvest-day, warm, sunny, 
 overflowing with happiness and light. The 
 opposite bank of the river had never looked so 
 green, the villages by its side had never de- 
 tached themselves so brightly from the fields 
 behind and the sands before. The very water 
 swelling under their boat rippled past with a 
 heave and swell of enjoyment, palpitating un- 
 der the sunshine ; and the commonest boat- 
 man and hardest-labouring sailor on these re- 
 joicing waters looked like a man whose life was 
 holiday. People on the pier, ignorant by- 
 standers, smiled even upon this little party as
 
 304 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 their boat floated off into the midway of the sun- 
 bright stream, as if it was a party of pleasure. 
 Instinctively the Mistress put down her thick, 
 black veil, worked with big, unearthly 
 flowers, which made so many blots upon the 
 sunshine, and said to Huntley, from behind its 
 shelter : — 
 
 '^ What a pleasure it was to see such a day 
 for the beginning of his voyage ! " 
 
 They all repeated the same thing over me- 
 chanically at different times, and that was 
 almost the whole substance of what they said 
 until they reached the ship. 
 
 And presently, the same little boat glided 
 back again over the same gleaming, golden 
 waters, with Patie, very pale and very red by 
 turns, in one end of it, and the Mistress, with 
 her black veil over her face, sitting all alone 
 on one side, with her hands rigidly clasped in 
 her lap, and her head turned towards the 
 ship. When the Flora began to move from 
 her place, this silent figure gave a con-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 305 
 
 vulsive start and a cry, and so Huntley was 
 gone. 
 
 He was leaning over the bulwark of the 
 ship, looking out at this speck in the water — 
 seeing before him, clearer than eyes ever saw, 
 the faces of his mother, his brothers, his dead 
 father — perhaps even of others still — with a 
 pang at his heart, which was less for himself than 
 for the widow who could no longer look upon 
 her son ; his heart rising, his heart sinking, 
 as his own voyage hence, and her voyage home, 
 rose upon his imagination — living through the 
 past, the present, and the future — the leave- 
 taking to which his mind vibrated — the home- 
 coming which now seemed almost as near and 
 certain — the unknown years of absence, which 
 fled before him like a dream. 
 
 He, too, started when the vessel moved 
 upon the sunny river — started with a swell of 
 rising enterprise and courage. The daring of 
 his nature, and the gay wind blowing down 
 the river, fresh and favourable, dried the tears 
 
 VOL. 1. X
 
 306 THE LATRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 in Huntley's eyes ; but did not dry that per- 
 petual moisture from the pained eyelids of the 
 Mistress, as she turned to Patie at last, with 
 faltering lips, to repeat that dreary congratu- 
 lation : — 
 
 " Eh, Patie ! what a blessing, if we could 
 but think upon it, to see such a day as this 
 for a guid beginning on the sea ! "
 
 307 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 It was very well for the Mistress's spirit, 
 though scarcely for her purse, that she was 
 roused the next day to horror and indignation, 
 scarcely restrainable, by the supposed exorbi- 
 tant bill of the inn. She thought it the most 
 monstrous imposition which ever had been 
 practised, and could scarcely be persuaded to 
 depart from her first resolution of seeking 
 out a "decent writer," "if there is such a 
 person in this wicked town,'' as she added, 
 scornfully — to arbitrate between her and the 
 iniquitous publican. At last, however, Patie 
 
 X 2
 
 308 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 succeeded in getting his mother safely once 
 more within the Glasgow steamer. 
 
 It was a melancholy voyage, for every 
 breath of wind that blew, agitated Huntley's 
 mother with questions of his safety ; and she 
 had no better prospect than to part with 
 Patie at this journey's end. They reached 
 their destination in the afternoon, when 
 the great, smoky, dingy Glasgow, looked 
 almost hotter and more stifled than the 
 other great seaport they had left. From 
 the Broomielaw, -they went upon their weary 
 way, through the town, to a humble lodg- 
 ing recommended by Dr. Logan, whose 
 letter to the manager of one of the foun- 
 dries Patie carried in his pocket. The 
 house which the travellers sought was up 
 three long flights of stairs, in a dark-com- 
 plexioned close, where each flat was divided 
 into two houses. The "land," or block of 
 buildings in which it was placed, formed one 
 side of a little street, just behind the place
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 309 
 
 where Patie was to work ; and the wmdows 
 of their lodging looked across the black yard 
 and big buildings of this great, noisy foundry, 
 to a troubled, smoky glimpse of the Clyde, 
 and Glasgow green upon the other side. 
 
 After he had seen his mother safely 
 arrived in this shelter, Patie had to set 
 out immediately to deliver his letter. The 
 Mistress was left once more by herself to 
 examine her new resting-place. It was a 
 little room, with a little bed in the corner, 
 hung with dark, unlined chintz. It was also 
 what is called in these regions ^' coomcieled," 
 which is to say, the roof sloped on one side, 
 being close under the leads. A piece of 
 carpet in the centre, a little table in the 
 centre of that, three chairs, a chest of 
 drawers, and a washing-stand, completed the 
 equipment of the room. Was this to be 
 Patie's room — the boy's only substitute for 
 home? 
 
 The Mistress went to the window, to see if
 
 310 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 any comfort was to be found there ; but there 
 was only the foundry — the immense, black, 
 coaly, smoky yard into which these windows 
 looked ; and, a little to the right, a great cot- 
 ton-factory, whence, at the sound of a big 
 bell, troops of girls came crowding out, with 
 their uncovered heads shining in the even- 
 ing sun. The Mistress turned abruptly in 
 again, much discomposed by the prospect. 
 With their coloured petticoats and short- 
 gowns, and shining, uncovered hair, the Glas- 
 gow mill-girls were — at this distance, at least 
 — rather a pretty sight ; and a perfectly un- 
 interested person might have thought it quite 
 seemly and natural that the black moleskin 
 giants of the foundry, issuing from their own 
 cavernous portals at the same time, should 
 have exchanged sundry jokes and rough en- 
 counters of badinage with their female neigh- 
 bours. 
 
 But the Mistress, whose son was to be left 
 at this same foundry, awoke in a horror of
 
 THE LAIED OF NORLAW. 311 
 
 injured pride and aristocracy to contemplate 
 an unimagined danger. 
 
 " A barefooted lassie from a mill ! — a bairn 
 of mine ! " cried the Mistress, with looks 
 aghast ; and she drew a chair carefully out of 
 reach of the window, and sat down at the 
 table to consider the matter. 
 
 But when she looked round upon the bare, 
 mean room, and thought of the solitary lad, 
 who knew nobody in Glasgow, who had been 
 used to the kindly cares of home all his life, 
 and who was only a boy, although a " bairn 
 of mine!" it is not very wonderful, perhaps, 
 that the Mistress should have done even the 
 staid and sensible Patie the injustice of sup- 
 posing him captivated by some one of that 
 crowd of dumpy daughters of St. Mungo, who 
 were so far beneath the dignity of a son of 
 Norlaw. Even Huntley, far away at sea, dis- 
 appeared, for the moment, from her anxious 
 sight. Worse dangers than those of sea or 
 storm might be here.
 
 312 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 Patie, meanwliile, thinking of no womankind 
 in the world, not even of his mother, was ex- 
 plaining very forcibly and plainly to Dr. Lo- 
 gan's friend, the manager, his own wishes and 
 intentions ; railways were a very recent inven- 
 tion in these days, and steamboats not an old 
 one — it was the bright day of engineering, 
 while there still lingered a certain romance 
 about those wondrous creations of steel and 
 steam, with which the world had not yet grown 
 too familiar — gentlemen-apprentices were not 
 uncommon in those great Cyclopean workshops 
 — ^but Patrick Livingstone did not mean to be 
 a gentleman-apprentice. He wanted to put 
 himself to school for a couple of years, to learn 
 his craft like a man, without privilege of gen- 
 tility — he was too old for the regular trade- 
 apprenticeship, but he desired nothing more 
 than a lessening of the time of that probation 
 — and whatever circumstances might lead him 
 to do at the end of it, Patie was not afraid of 
 being found wanting in needful skill or know-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 313 
 
 ledge. Dr. Logan had given a most flattering 
 description of his family and ^^ station/' partly 
 stimulated thereto by the zeal with which his 
 nephew Cassilis took up the cause of the 
 Livingstones — and Mr. Crawford, the Glas- 
 gow manager, was very civil to the lad, who 
 was the son of a landed proprietor, and whose 
 brother might, in a few years, be one of the 
 first gentlemen in the county of Melrose ; the 
 interview on the whole was a very satisfactory 
 one, and Patie plodded his way back to the 
 little room where he had left his mother, en- 
 gaged to return next day with her, to conclude 
 the arrangement by which he should enter the 
 foundry ; the lad was satisfied, even exhila- 
 rated, in his sober fashion, to find himself thus 
 upon the threshold of a more serious life. 
 Though he observed perfectly the locality 
 and appearances around him, they had not so 
 much effect upon Patie as they might have had 
 on a more imaginative temper. His calmer 
 and more practical mind, paradox though it
 
 314 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 seems to say so, was less affected by external 
 circumstances than either his mother or Huntley, 
 and a thousand times less than Cosmo would 
 have been. He did not concern himself about 
 his surroundings — they had little debasing or 
 depressing influence upon his thoughts — ^he 
 scarcely noticed them indeed, if they were 
 sufficient for his necessities. Patie could very 
 well contrive to live without beauty, and could 
 manage to get on with a very moderate degree 
 of comfort, so long as his own vigorous mind 
 approved his life, and he had plenty to do. 
 
 In consequence of which it happened that 
 Patie scarcely comprehended his mother's dis- 
 satisfaction with the room; if he remained here, 
 it was the only room the mistress of the house 
 could give her lodger. He thought it very 
 well, and quite as much as he required, and 
 apprehended no particular cheerlessness in 
 consequence of its poverty. 
 
 ^^ It is not home, of course," he said, with 
 great nonchalance, ^^but, granting that, mo-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 315 
 
 ther, I don't see what difference it makes to 
 me. It's all well enough. I don't want any- 
 thing more — it's near the work, and it's in a 
 decent house — that should be enough to please 
 you." 
 
 ^^ Hold your peace, Patie — do you think I'm 
 careless of my bairn's comfort? " cried the Mis- 
 tress, with a half tone of anger, ^* and wha 
 was ever used to a place like this, coming out 
 of Norlaw?" 
 
 '^ But there cannot be two IS'orlaws," said 
 Patie, ^^nor two homes. I want but one, for 
 my part. I have no desire at present to 
 like a second place as well.'' 
 
 ^^Eh, laddie, if you can but keep that 
 thought, and be true ! " cried the Mistress, 
 ^^ I wouldna heed, save for your ain comfort, 
 where you were then." 
 
 " Do you doubt me, mother ? what are 
 you feared for ? tell me, and I'll know what to 
 do," said Patie, coming close to her, with his 
 look of plain, unmistakeable sincerity.
 
 316 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 " I'm no feared," said the Mistress, those 
 ever-rising, never-falling tears dimming her 
 eyes again, while yet a little secondary emo- 
 tion, half shame of her own suspicions, half 
 petulance, rose to her voice ; " but it's a poor 
 place for a laddie like you, bred up at hame — 
 and it's a great town, full of temptations — and 
 night and day in a place like this, ilka street 
 is full of evil — and naething but bare bed and 
 board instead of hame. Oh ! Patie, if I was 
 feared, it was because I knew mony a dreary 
 story of lads that meant as well as your- 
 sel' ! " 
 
 "Perhaps I was presumptuous, mother," 
 said Patie, "I will not say there's no fear; — 
 but there's a difference between one man and 
 another, and time and your own judgment will 
 prove what's temptation to me. Now, come, if 
 you have rested enough — the air will do you 
 more good than sitting here." 
 
 The Mistress was persuaded, and went out 
 accordingly with her son, feeling strangely for-
 
 THE LAIRD OF NOELAW. 317 
 
 lorn and solitary in the crowded thorougfares, 
 where she was struck with the common sur- 
 prise of country people, to meet so many and 
 to know no one. Still there was a certain 
 solace in the calm summer evening, through 
 which the moon was rising in that pale 
 sky so far away and clear, above the hanging 
 smoke of the town — and in Patie's arm, which 
 seemed to support her with more pride and 
 tenderness now that Huntley was gone. The 
 soft moon shining down upon the river, which 
 here was not the commercial Clyde, of ships 
 and steamers, the many half-distinguishable 
 figures upon the green opposite, from which 
 colour and light were fading, and the tran- 
 quillity of the night even here, bore back the 
 thoughts of the mother into a tenderer chan- 
 nel. She put up her hand to her eyes to clear 
 them. 
 
 " Eh Patie ! I think I see my son on 
 the sea, looking up at that very sky," said
 
 318 THE LAIRD OF NORLAW. 
 
 the Mistress, with a low sob ; " how will I look 
 at it from Norlaw, where Cosmo and me will be 
 our lane ? — and now but another day more, 
 and I'll lose you ! " 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 R. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT'S PARK.
 
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