^M 
 
 
 r A, 
 
 ^K' '"flp- 1 ^" ^f^S^Pff^t 
 
 
 arl 
 
 
 ■wr — twT" 
 
 
 L I B HA FLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 8Z3> 
 
 
 5bSZ* 
 
 
 v. 1
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/sedgelycourttale01stir
 
 SEDGELY COUBT
 
 ^c^^y^/^xC, 's£L?c<~ 
 
 SEDGELY COURT 
 
 A TALE 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "FANNY HERVEY 
 
 " But I have solemn vows to pay, 
 And may not linger by the way, 
 
 To fair St Andrews bound, 
 
 Within the ocean-cave to pray, 
 
 Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, 
 
 From midnight to the dawn of day, 
 
 Sung to the billows' sound. " 
 
 — Marmion. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. T. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXV
 
 fr.2 3 
 v,l 
 
 TO 
 
 HER DEAE NIECES, 
 
 WITHOUT THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF WHOSE 
 
 
 YOUTHFUL SYMPATHIES 
 
 IT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN, 
 
 THIS TALE 
 
 <3 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 4
 
 SEDGE LY COURT 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 A WINTER DAY AT BALBEATON. 
 
 At a short distance from the pleasant old city 
 of St Andrews, stood, for many more years 
 than a century, a somewhat rudely-fashioned, 
 and latterly ill-conditioned, mansion-house, 
 known by the name of Balbeaton. It was 
 pulled down, I am sorry to say, two or three 
 years ago, when the little estate of which it 
 was the central point — " consisting besides," as 
 the advertisement set forth, " of arable land, 
 woodland, and pasture, with the parts and 
 pertinents thereunto belonging" — after having 
 VOL. i. a
 
 2 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 been for a long time in the market, was at 
 last, in despair of a more eligible mode of dis- 
 posal, partitioned into lots, and sold to several 
 neighbouring lairds ; and losing, as was na- 
 tural, its good name, along with its integrity, 
 has become mere part and parcel of the lands 
 of its respective purchasers : so that those who 
 once knew it, will know it now no more for 
 ever. The house, like most others of its day 
 and class, had been originally built tall and 
 square, and of narrow dimensions, but had 
 often been added to since. Sundry wings and 
 odd gable-ends had been from time to time 
 stuck on to the old building, but all suitable 
 rather to the more modern requirements of 
 increased space and airiness, than with much 
 attention to architectural effect. 
 
 The domicile had certainly no particular 
 claim to preservation and regard from pictur- 
 esque position, high antiquity, or association 
 with deed or name of renown ; but such as it 
 was, it has not disappeared from the landscape 
 either unmissed or unreoretted. To the o-ood 
 townspeople, as well as to their ancestors be-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 3 
 
 fore them, its well-known face, looking out 
 from a • rough setting of dark green fir-trees, 
 had always seemed like that of an old and 
 true friend, grim and homely enough perhaps, 
 but dear and unchanged, and most familiar ; 
 bringing back to mind the social meetings of 
 other days — the friendly gossiping morning 
 visit or pleasant tea-drinking on long summer 
 evenings ; while to some it was suggestive of 
 still dearer and more cherished recollections — 
 of stolen walks and low- whispered words of pas- 
 sion — of moments of deep and never-to-be-for- 
 gotten interest, when life was new and sensation 
 keen, when the heart beat high and rapturously, 
 and each reality showed like a lovely dream. 
 
 Yes ! the old place has vanished from the 
 broad hill-side, and we feel that a landmark 
 has been removed — a link broken from the 
 chain of memory — a witness departed, that 
 stood ever ready to testify to the truth of that 
 crowd of recollections so closely connected 
 with its grey walls and sombre woods. These 
 bygone actualities also, like millions and mil- 
 lions of others, will now pass quickly into
 
 4 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 oblivion, or be mixed up and confounded with 
 the unreal dreams of Fancy ! 
 
 But about fifty years ago, the time at which 
 my story begins, the old mansion-house was 
 still a tolerably comfortable place of residence, 
 and, with its pretty surrounding fields, was 
 the property of Captain Beaton, a retired 
 military officer, in whose family it had been 
 for many more generations than could be 
 reckoned up by anybody now alive. It was 
 but a meagre inheritance, the very best year s 
 rental of which rarely exceeded £500 ; and its 
 possessors, scarcely able to rank as county 
 gentle-folks, had always been content to be- 
 long to the town rather than the county. The 
 present laird, perhaps, had he been so inclined, 
 might have held up his head a little higher 
 than most of his . predecessors ; but besides 
 that, like them, he was rather unambitious, 
 there were circumstances in his domestic lot 
 which seemed to forbid the hope that the 
 family should for some time at least take a 
 higher position in the social scale. 
 
 A remarkably handsome man, he had entered
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 the army early, and had, when a gay young officer 
 of twenty-five, married an English girl of good 
 family, with a fortune of £10,000. But it had 
 been a hasty ill-assorted match, productive of 
 disappointment to both parties, particularly to 
 the ]ady; and after some years of the uncom- 
 fortable gaiety of a regimental life, which, seen 
 in the light of youthful passion, had seemed so 
 alluring, and been found by experience so un- 
 satisfying, she had become low-spirited and dis- 
 contented, and, even before the loss of several 
 children, would willingly have quitted it for one 
 of the strictest seclusion. The idea, therefore, 
 of settling down at Balbeaton — of being able, 
 amidst its quiet shades, to rear her remaining 
 child in healthfulness and comfort — had not 
 been without some attractions for her : but, 
 alas ! the look forward had been rather to a 
 release from the discomfort and most distaste- 
 ful frivolity of the life she was leading, than 
 to the new opportunity a sojourn there might 
 afford her of better performing her duties as a 
 wife ; of fulfilling more ably than she had 
 hitherto done the high destiny of woman —
 
 6 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 that of brightening with the soft and pure 
 light of the affections the spot of earth on 
 which it had pleased Providence to place her, 
 and cherishing the flowers, however lowly, 
 that are springing up at her feet, till, by the 
 genial culture of love, they became invested, 
 even in the coldest and bleakest of regions, 
 with the gold and purple hues of heaven itself. 
 
 As it was, the death of Captain Beaton's 
 father, which took place about ten years after 
 their marriage, had found them both quite 
 ready to retire there. She, to nourish the 
 gloomy fancies of a disappointed heart and 
 naturally stern mind ; and he to the possession 
 of his partially-regarded paternal acres, and 
 to such " dignified leisure" as was likely to be 
 enjoyed by an indolent-minded pleasure-loving 
 man, ill-suited with a wife, and exposed to the 
 temptations of easy, attractive St Andrews, 
 with its healthful inviting links and social 
 Union parlour — its pleasant golfing, betting, 
 and billiard-playing society. 
 
 It was on a cold afternoon, quite at the end 
 of February, that two ladies were stationed
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 7 
 
 near the bottom of the grounds at Balbeaton, 
 where, through an opening in the woods, might 
 be seen the spires and picturesque ruins of the 
 city below. The younger of the two, a blue- 
 eyed Hebe, about fourteen, was the only 
 daughter of Captain and Mrs Beaton ; and 
 the other was Miss Hope, her governess. Well 
 defended by warm cloaks and snow-boots, they 
 had been walking about for the last hour and 
 half, quite regardless of the snow, which lay 
 deep all around them, and had now stopped to 
 look out along the rustic footpath, which led 
 through pleasant fields directly to the town. 
 
 An old man-servant approached them from 
 the house. 
 
 " If you please, Miss, your mamma wishes 
 you to come in directly. Miss Hope, Mrs 
 Beaton thinks Miss and you are staying out 
 far too long in this dreadful cold night. She 
 bade me call you in, and say she was going to 
 order up dinner now." 
 
 "Yes — directly, Joseph," said Miss Hope. 
 "Come then, Katherine," turning to her pupil, 
 who still stood perched upon a low wall which
 
 8 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 skirted the park, that she might command the 
 widest possible outlook. " Give me hold of 
 both your hands, dear, and pray jump on the 
 foot- track. How sadly draggled you are al- 
 ready ! " 
 
 " Then he has come by the highroad, after 
 all ! " exclaimed the impetuous Katherine, as, 
 in spite of the caution, she jumped heedlessly 
 down, scattering the light snow over her own 
 and her governess's petticoats. " How provok- 
 ing we did not try for him that way ! Ah, 
 Miss Hope, why are you always right 1 " 
 
 " If you please, Miss, the Captain's not come 
 yet," said the obsequious Joseph. " But your 
 mamma does not expect him to dinner now.'"' 
 
 "Why not, Joseph'? — what o'clock is it? 
 Almost six, do you say ! — impossible, and 
 such broad daylight yet ! Oh, Miss Hope, do 
 look back once more for a minute. What a 
 splendid sky now ! " 
 
 The evening was indeed singularly beautiful. 
 and the scene altogether a striking one. 
 
 After two entire days of violent wind and 
 snow — a storm, the disastrous effects of which
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 9 
 
 had been felt more or less along the whole 
 north-east coast of Scotland — the sun had 
 just set behind the low straggling outline of 
 the Seidlaw hills, in full view of where the 
 ladies stood. The sky, lately lowering and 
 leaden - coloured, was now high and clear, 
 lighted up with streaks of pale blue shaded 
 into wintry green, and light feathery clouds, 
 which were every moment changing their 
 lovely hues from white into golden, and from 
 golden into the brightest and deepest of crim- 
 son and purple. At the distance of a couple 
 of miles the still vexed sea might be heard 
 moaning sullenly, as heavy billows rose from 
 the depths of its dark bosom, and furiously 
 dashed themselves into light foam against the 
 rocks which opposed them, or with spent 
 strength rolled quietly forward over the low 
 smooth sands, which stretched far away to the 
 west. The little park was strewed all over 
 with broken boughs and uprooted shrubs, and 
 every familiar object lay thickly invested with 
 the same white and shroud-like garment. In 
 the cold clear evening atmosphere there was
 
 10 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 now a hushed, an almost awful stillness, that 
 might well have suggested to the fancy 
 that unnatural calm in which passion, after it 
 has lived its hour of fierce and uncontrolled 
 dominion, sometimes leaves the worn - out 
 human breast — a state at once death-like and 
 terrible. 
 
 But, fortunately for Miss Hope and her 
 youthful pupil, no such unpleasant association 
 disturbed their full enjoyment of the extreme 
 beauty and stillness of the scene. Happy and 
 robust, delighted to be once more in the clear 
 open air, after an unusually long confinement 
 to the house, they were both exhilarated rather 
 than chilled by the bracing frosty atmo- 
 sphere, and the difficulty of making their 
 way about in the snow. Gladly would they 
 have lingered longer, but Joseph's message was 
 imperative; and, with only an occasional pause 
 to look round on the ever-changing glories of 
 the sky, they now, with bright eyes and glow- 
 ing cheeks, made their way to the house, and 
 after a speedy toilet were ready to join Mrs 
 Beaton.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 11 
 
 They found that lady with a graver brow 
 even than usual. The Captain's non-appear- 
 ance had of course particularly discomposed 
 her. 
 
 Totally indifferent about her own appear- 
 ance, and always chilly, she still wore her 
 dark cloth morning -gown, with a large plaid- 
 shawl thrown carelessly round her ; while 
 tresses of her once fine hair, now dim and 
 slightly grey, were straying un smoothed and 
 unthought of from under the plain morning- 
 cap. Mrs Beaton had certainly never been 
 beautiful, but few people who recollected the 
 tall, blooming, well-appointed Elizabeth Arun- 
 del nineteen years before this time — when, 
 contrary to the advice of brother and guardian, 
 she had at twenty-one years of age obstinately 
 persisted in giving her hand to the dashing 
 young Captain whose handsome looks and gay 
 light temperament, the very opposite of her 
 own, had so completely captivated her youth- 
 ful fancy — could probably have recognised her 
 in the thin, stooping, grey-complexioned woman 
 she now was. The whole aspect and character
 
 12 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 seemed entirely different ; occasionally, per- 
 haps, as she looked at or spoke to her daughter, 
 there might be a relaxation of the frowning 
 brow, a parting of the usually compressed lips, 
 a bright smile momentarily indulged in, which 
 seemed to recall something of her former self ; 
 but even with her she was generally reserved, 
 and with all others grave, cold, and almost 
 stern. 
 
 She received them rebukingly. "What 
 pleasure can you have possibly had in drag- 
 ging about for two hours in such an after- 
 noon 1 It was quite shocking to look at you ! 
 Of course you will both have sore throats 
 to-morrow, but you will know exactly what 
 to blame, if there be any comfort in that." 
 
 Katherine linked her arm caressingly within 
 her mother's, and put her bright warm cheek 
 to hers. 
 
 " Oh no, no ! not a bit, dear mammy ! I 
 only wish you had come out yourself. It was 
 so refreshing — so perfectly delicious ! We 
 were a wee bit dull in the school-room ; but 
 now I feel as if I could jump over the moon,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 13 
 
 only I am too hungry. What has become of 
 papa, I wonder 1 " 
 
 The cloud which the sight of Katherine's 
 radiant looks had had power to banish for an 
 instant from her mother's brow, now quickly 
 returned, and settled there permanently ; and 
 the dinner was eaten in far deeper discomfort 
 to all than cold viands, inconvenient waiting, 
 or, indeed, any evil short of an unpleasant 
 temper in the most important person of the 
 party, has usually power to produce in an 
 otherwise happy little family circle.
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 Just as the ladies had finished dinner, Joseph 
 announced the arrival of Davie Kobertson, the 
 Captains cadie (i.e., the boy Avho carried his 
 clubs at golf), who had come for a change of 
 clothes, as the Captain had got himself wet. 
 " And something had also come over Davie," 
 Joseph was sure, " for he was terrible rluthered 
 like. He admitted having been sent off be- 
 fore five o'clock ; and though it was now past 
 six, there he was, puffin' and blawin like a 
 porpoise, as if he had been runnin' the whole 
 road out." 
 
 Katherine, too glad of any break or diver- 
 sion, was off her seat in a moment. "Oh ! 
 may we not have Davie up-stairs, mamma ?
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 15 
 
 Do let us hear what he has to say for himself;" 
 and Davie was forthwith handed into the room 
 by Joseph, looking red in the face and much 
 out of sorts. 
 
 " What's the matter, Davie % " cried Kathe- 
 rine. " How did papa get wet % And where 
 can you have been all this time, keeping him 
 waiting, Fm afraid, in his wet clothes \ " 
 
 Davie thrust his red swollen Augers through 
 his wet tangled hair, by way of bow, and al- 
 lowed that he had certainly been " far ower lang 
 on the road oot, having been peppered wi' sna J - 
 ba's by some students in the Abbie wa', and 
 bude to stop till he had given them at least as 
 gude's he got." He was tolerably soon ready, 
 however, to inform the ladies that he had 
 left Captain Beaton at the Black Bull Inn, 
 where he was to dine with Sir William Scott 
 and some other gentlemen ; that all was well 
 with him, and quiet in the town now ; but 
 that there had been a terrible hubbub all the 
 forenoon on account of a ship being ashore on 
 the rocks, which had been making signals of 
 distress ever since daylight. It had turned
 
 16 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 out to be the Heinrich, a Prussian bark, with 
 timber from the Baltic, bound for Dundee ; 
 which, owing to the hazy weather, had missed 
 the somewhat difficult entrance into the Tay, 
 and had been driven by the fearful gale of last 
 night right upon the Kinkell rocks, with such 
 damage to her bottom that no pumping could 
 keep her from filling fast with water. In that 
 raging sea her own boats were quite useless, and 
 if there had been no help from the shore, she 
 must certainly have gone to pieces, with every 
 soul of the crew on board. The town lifeboat 
 had therefore been got out early in the fore- 
 noon ; but owing to some neglect it had not 
 been found in good order, and had to be 
 repaired, which had caused great delay ; and 
 when, at last, it was ready, there was a want 
 of hands, from so few seamen being at pre- 
 sent about the place. None of the town lads, 
 gentle or simple, seemed to like the look 
 of the sea at all ; and Davie fully believed 
 the attempt to save the crew would have 
 altogether fallen through, if it had not been 
 for Captain Gourlay of the Preventive Service,
 
 SEDGELY COUB.T. 17 
 
 and Daviess own Captain. They had been 
 looking at the bark through their glass on 
 the Kirkhill, and been watching how surely 
 she was settling down. The poor fellows 
 aboard of her seemed to have lost all hope, and, 
 quite worn out, had climbed to the rigging, 
 and were hanging on to it as helpless, Davie 
 said, as if they had been as many herrings 
 upon a string, one disappearing after another, 
 either from being washed off by a wave, or, as 
 he thought more probable, from their hands 
 growing " tebbitless " with the cold and unable 
 to hold on longer. An awful sight it was ! 
 and the two gentlemen could not stand the 
 spectacle, and the long delay there was, and 
 at last came running down, and into the boat 
 with themselves ; and several among the on- 
 lookers, spirited up with their example, jumped 
 in also and took to the oars, and away they 
 went through the thick surf that was working 
 and seething, just like so much barm in a vat, 
 and oh ! what a fearful thing it was to look 
 at them then in the cockle-shell of a thing — 
 far more like a cork it was than a boat ! — 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 sometimes as if it were up in the sky on the 
 white tip of a wave, and then down, down 
 again as suddenly to the very bottom, out of 
 sight altogether indeed, and, as the bystanders 
 often thought, " whomled " right upside down ; 
 but when they had quite lost her, there she 
 was, careering as high as ever and all right 
 again, and always nearer and nearer the bark 
 as if by magic, for nobody would have be- 
 lieved that oars could have worked her through 
 such a sea. But even after they had got quite 
 near, it was long before they could get the 
 crew brought off. The sea was still running 
 mountains high, and they could only near the 
 bark for one moment at a time, and always 
 with the risk of being dashed against her 
 deck, which was lying towards them. At last 
 seven men out of the eleven that remained 
 were got safe off, among whom were the cap- 
 tain and mate. Four had missed the boat, and, 
 dropping into the sea, had been dashed far out 
 of sight. Before the lifeboat had quite reached 
 the shore, the good ship had gone to pieces, — 
 scarcely leaving a spar visible above the water.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 19 
 
 Davie's little narrative was given with the 
 truth and spirit of an intelligent, deeply 
 interested eyewitness, the excitement of his 
 auditors of course greatly heightening his own. 
 Private griefs and grievances were for the mo- 
 ment quite forgotten. Mrs Beaton was pain- 
 fully agitated with anxiety about her husband 
 and pity for the suffering sailors, and Kathe- 
 rine and Miss Hope asked innumerable ques- 
 tions and shed abundance of tears. Davie 
 then showed a kind-hearted desire to bring on 
 a happier flow of ideas by going on to describe 
 how all the town had come down to the shore 
 to see the landing, how the folk " hurraed and 
 shouted out, Long life and every blessin to 
 them that had so bravely been riskin' their 
 lives to save the lives of their fellow-creatures ! 
 and had wanted to carry them up the brae 
 shoulder high, and could only be stoppit by 
 the provost, who stood up on a barrel and 
 made a grand speech, thankin' the gentlemen 
 in the name of the whole city for their gallant 
 conduct ; " and then went off to the past and 
 present sufferings of the ship's crew, "who were
 
 20 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 lying," he said, " in the lifeboat yet, far more 
 like the dead than the livin , and fully entitled 
 to the care and kindness of a benevolent public. 
 It was amazin then how soon most of the folk 
 slippit away quietly home ! " 
 
 No time was now lost in despatching Davie 
 with the clothes, and Katherine and Miss Hope 
 were left to a full discussion of the adventure. 
 Mrs Beaton retired to her own room, where 
 she passed two gloomy and unhappy hours, 
 five minutes' time of which were spent by her 
 in returning thanks to God for her husband's 
 escape from the very jaws of death, and the 
 remainder in darkly pondering what would 
 have been the fate of his immortal soul had 
 it pleased the Almighty to have required it of 
 him that night — that very night, in the midst 
 of his careless, thoughtless career — so unfit, 
 so totally unprepared as he was for the awful 
 change — so incredibly thoughtless and light, 
 that even the imminent danger from which he 
 had been so mercifully delivered, had had no 
 power to sober him, to awaken him to a sense of 
 his true position and deep responsibility ! Was
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 21 
 
 it conceivable — would it indeed be believed — 
 that any rational being could have acted the 
 part he had just done, could have had pleasure, 
 without the pause of a moment in which he 
 might have humbled himself before his Maker, 
 in rushing into a scene of empty noise and 
 frivolous merry-making 1 That the repose of 
 his home, the bosom of his family, should have 
 had no attractions for him at such a time — was 
 it not indeed a bitter thought \ Alas, poor 
 woman ! the sins of her husband must indeed 
 have been as scarlet to have so dazzled her 
 eyes — so completely blinded her to all hope 
 for him — as to all else except their glaring 
 magnitude. For no idea that there might be 
 a per eontra side to the account ever dawned 
 upon her. Never, in all this noting down 
 and summing up, did the consideration occur 
 once to her vexed mind, of how little care she 
 had ever taken to make that home a place of 
 repose for him, or how few attractions the 
 bosom of his family, as far at least as she was 
 concerned, had habitually presented to one of 
 his temperament and character.
 
 22 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 It was very late before Captain Beaton re- 
 turned. After a day of great exertion, the ex- 
 citements of which had been carried far into the 
 evening, he had walked home two miles through 
 the snow, and arrived there as confused in 
 mind as he was exhausted in body. Katherine 
 had begged hard for leave to sit up to receive 
 him and hear all particulars, but after a ready 
 and fervent embrace of her, and a word or two 
 of endearment more doubtfully proffered to 
 his wife, it was evident to them all that he 
 was in no condition to make a farther discus- 
 sion of any sort agreeable, and ought imme- 
 diately to be left to the quiet and refreshment 
 of a good night's rest. 
 
 But this blessing was not vouchsafed to him. 
 The efforts he had so courageously made under 
 the impulse of strong feelings, the long sitting 
 in wet clothes, and subsequent excitement, had 
 been too trying to a frame not quite robust. 
 He passed an uneasy, restless night, with shiv- 
 ering, oppressed breathing, and every symptom 
 of having caught a violent cold ; and next 
 morning the doctor was sent for, and pro-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 23 
 
 nounced his disease to be inflammation of the 
 lungs. The disease rapidly gained ground, and 
 for many days his life seemed to be in consi- 
 derable danger. 
 
 Mrs Beaton and Katherine nursed him care- 
 fully and tenderly. The sight of real suffering 
 invariably subdues all asperities ; and, in the 
 depression and gentleness of his sickness, his 
 wife's better feelings quickly revived towards 
 him ; for days, indeed, she found nothing to 
 offend her, and had almost begun to hope that 
 an important and beneficial change had been 
 wrought upon his mind by his own sufferings 
 and her fervent prayers. He gratefully ac- 
 cepted her cares and ministrations, listened 
 to suggestions and advice uttered in such soft- 
 ened tones, and met the affectionate glances of 
 her eye with a reflected expression of tender- 
 ness that deeply touched her heart at the time, 
 and ought to have convinced her that there 
 might possibly be better, as well as more 
 agreeable, means of influencing him than that 
 of cold disapprobation or silent and gloomy 
 disregard. Such an idea certainly did occur
 
 24 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 to her, and was not without its results; for 
 never before since the first clays of their mar- 
 riage had a right understanding seemed so 
 nearly possible between them, never had they 
 come so near giving each other full credit for 
 the good feelings and intentions that really 
 existed in each, but of which their unfor- 
 tunately different temperaments, and a thought- 
 less indulgence of the humour of the hour, had 
 too often left scarcely the faintest trace. And 
 so sovereign a balm is real affection, that dur- 
 ing the whole of this dangerous illness they 
 might almost be said to have lived happily 
 together. But alas for the happiness, or rather 
 the affection, which will ever be found to spring 
 out of such crises in the life or feelings ! For 
 an hour, a day perhaps, it may live and ex- 
 pand, and by the loveliness of its nature may 
 shed perfume and delight all around it; but 
 having no root in principle, no development 
 in congenial habits, what is it better than the 
 lovely-hued and delicate exotic, which the very 
 vapours of evening will chill — the first rude 
 blast lay waste for ever !
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A GAME AT BACKGAMMON. 
 
 With his restoration to health, Captain Beaton's 
 desire unfortunately returned for the kind of 
 amusement and excitement to which he had 
 been so long habituated. LoDg before he was 
 able to resume his usual occupations in the 
 Links and Union parlour, or to leave the house 
 at all, he began to tire of the stillness of the 
 sick-room, and much more of Wilberforce and 
 Hannah More, and indeed of all the books his 
 wife had ever since his illness been reading to 
 him with so much satisfaction. Even after 
 she had at his request, and not without an 
 exertion of indulgent feeling, laid aside her 
 own favourite studies for the last number of 
 ' Blackwood,' and then ' Blackwood' for the
 
 26 SEDGELY COUET. 
 
 newspaper, which at all times he preferred to 
 any book in the world, he was restless and 
 inattentive, and could scarcely bear to listen. 
 At last he ventured this gentle remonstrance. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, Lizzy ; but don't 
 fatigue yourself reading so long, dear. Now 
 that I can walk up and down the room again 
 I don't so much care for it, and need not 
 plague you." 
 
 " But I am not at all tired. I like to read ; 
 and I have not got above half through the 
 debate about reducing the army that you 
 wanted to hear/' 
 
 "Well, I suppose not; but what a set of 
 long-winded fellows they are! and from what 
 you have read, I should think most of them 
 have mighty little notion of what they all are 
 so ready to talk about. It isn't that alto- 
 gether, but rather that I am doubtful whether 
 listening to reading be very good for me; I 
 get so deucedly stiff and cramped if I keep 
 long in the same position, or I go over asleep, 
 which, you know, spoils one's night's rest. 
 Heigh-ho ! don't I seem to want something a
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 27 
 
 little more stirring now, dear — something to 
 do with my hands rather 1 I wonder if Bamsay 
 could not find time to come and play a game 
 or two at backgammon with me, now and 
 then, merely for the sake of variety." 
 
 " I daresay he could/' she said, still strong in 
 her improved feelings, one of the bright but too 
 rare smiles showing her pleasure at this proof 
 of his returning health. " I wish I could play 
 with you, I am sure ; the movement of the arms 
 might be beneficial ; could not I soon learn 1 " 
 
 " Perhaps you could. You may try, if you 
 like, clear." 
 
 But oh the wretchedness of such an enter- 
 tainment ! She had never played at any game 
 of the kind — had no natural turn that way, 
 and, of course, did not take it up at all readily ; 
 and he played so well and so rapidly that her 
 slowness and difficulty appeared to him incom- 
 prehensible stupidity. He soon lost patience, 
 " pshawed " and " poohed," and declared it to 
 be incredible that she should not immediately 
 understand what was so perfectly simple. 
 
 After a srame or two, in which he had him-
 
 28 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 self played for both sides, with only a running 
 commentary by way of teaching her, be began 
 to try whether she had learned anything. 
 
 " There, you have thrown size-ace ; now 
 what ought you to do % " 
 
 A long pause. "Oh! I see. One, two, three, 
 four, five ; yes, here I go to six. Then for the 
 ace ; yes, one for the ace with this — that's 
 quite right, isn't it 1 " 
 
 " No, indeed ; quite bad, Lizzy. Why not 
 go on one more with the first you touched, 
 and then you cover your point % Haven't I 
 told you, you know, fifty times, that your first 
 care should be to cover your point % " 
 
 " Once or twice, I believe, you have." 
 
 " Well, once or twice ought surely to be 
 telling enough about anything that is as 
 simple as that two and two make four ! " 
 
 " Of course, it is all very simple to you." 
 
 " Well, well, go on. There you have cinque- 
 deuce this time — a capital throw in your posi- 
 tion. Now, what do you do \ " 
 
 " Oh! — one, two, three " 
 
 " No, no, no, no — not that at all ! — and don't
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 29 
 
 you see you are going the backward way — 
 right into my chequer instead of your own \ 
 How very extraordinary ! It seems incredible, 
 after three games." 
 
 " Two of which, recollect, you played entirely 
 yourself. This is the first time that you have 
 asked me to try what I could do, and only for 
 the purpose, as it seems, of " 
 
 " Well, well, Lizzy, I'm sure you need not 
 be so desperately serious about it. Come, let 
 me see now that you really know what to do. 
 Take care ! — not that, — this is what you ought 
 to move." 
 
 " This i Well, one, two, three, four " 
 
 " But, good heavens ! my dear Lizzy, must 
 you always spell over the points in that hor- 
 ridly tedious way, as if you were a child taking 
 its second reading lesson % Look here! haven t 
 I told you, over and over again, that quite 
 across the board is six — that from black to 
 black are the even, from black to red the odd 
 numbers \ Well, then, why can't you move 
 your man at once — so % I don't in the least 
 comprehend your difficulty."
 
 30 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 " You cannot comprehend the possibility of 
 a difficulty that is not one to yourself. What 
 a philosopher you are ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear — go on." 
 
 " It is quite true, Captain Beaton — you for- 
 get how strange it all is to me — that 1 do not 
 spend half my life as you do, playing games of 
 one kind or another ; but even if I were as 
 stupid as you would make me out to be, I do 
 think a little more patience on your part would 
 not be unbecoming/' 
 
 " Oh ! if you talk like that, — only mind i" 
 said nothing about stupidity. But come, 
 come, come, Lizzy — all this is such nonsense — 
 you know it is ; only go on, and do your best, 
 that is all I ask." 
 
 But it was only the longer the worse. A 
 more unlucky expedient for making the time 
 pass pleasantly could not possibly have been 
 hit upon by any two people in the world. At 
 the end of three-quarters of an hour he was 
 bored to death, and had almost cracked his 
 jaws with yawning ; and she, put thoroughly 
 out of humour by his want of patience and ill-
 
 SEDGELY COUKT. 31 
 
 disguised contempt, was, in spite of her late 
 softened feelings towards him, obliged to fly 
 to the refuge of her own room, and not till 
 after a long fit of crying, in the passionate 
 vehemence of which she, of course, recognised 
 neither impatience nor ill-humour, and only 
 then with the help of some very martyr-like 
 and supporting whispers to herself, was she 
 able to take her place once more in the sick- 
 room. It need not be told that the rest 
 of the evening passed very much less plea- 
 santly than the time had lately done between 
 them. 
 
 Next day, as soon as he was up and dressed, 
 Katherine's happier suggestion was that Miss 
 Hope should try a game at backgammon with 
 papa. Miss Hope had often played with her 
 old uncle, and could play very quickly indeed ; 
 and this was so great an improvement upon 
 the previous attempt, that for a few games he 
 was tolerably well entertained, enjoyed the 
 rattle and lively movement, and was amused 
 by the interest Miss Hope seemed to take in 
 the throws, and the eagerness she showed to
 
 32 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 win a game, although there was nothing more 
 at stake than the credit of the players. 
 
 But even this was only tolerable as a novelty. 
 Although Miss Hope was lively, and played 
 readily enough, her playing was very inferior 
 to his own ; and had they been ever so equally 
 matched, Captain Beaton had been too long 
 accustomed to the additional stimulus of a 
 high money-stake in all games, to be long in- 
 terested by a mere trial of skill. Mr Kamsay 
 was therefore again longed for ; and only when 
 he came was there anything like continued 
 animation and satisfaction shown in the occu- 
 pation. 
 
 Mr Kamsay, who was Captain Beaton's 
 brother-in-law, liked any game at which there 
 was a tolerably liberal exchange of crowns and 
 half-sovereigns, almost as well as the Captain 
 himself did ; and none the less that, having 
 many other things to attend to, he had not 
 always time to enjoy one. 
 
 He was the great man of affairs in the town 
 below — banker, writer, factor, town-councillor, 
 and elder of the kirk ; the factotum of many
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 33 
 
 of the principal landed proprietors in the 
 neighbourhood, and general adviser of most of 
 the people in the town. His father, a hardy 
 farmer of the humblest grade, had, like many 
 of his class in Scotland, thought no labour on 
 his own part too hard, no personal privation 
 too strict, which enabled him to give his son 
 such an education as would fit him to rise 
 respectably in the world ; and the son had 
 not been slow in availing himself of his 
 advantages. 
 
 Without great talent, or any higher moral 
 or intellectual gifts than those of strict hon- 
 esty, practical good sense, and the power of 
 steady application, the young man had suc- 
 ceeded in all he aimed at, and had early earned 
 the right to enjoy himself in the way that 
 best suited his disposition and tastes. 
 
 About twenty years before this time, when 
 he had married Captain Beaton's* only sister, 
 some old servants of the Balbeaton family, — 
 as well as some ancient spinsters in the town 
 who ought to have known better, — had had 
 the folly to disparage the match, to compare 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 34 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 genealogies, and to recall to mind the time 
 when his father, old Andrew Bamsay, had first 
 come to the neighbourhood, " naething better 
 than a wee tinkler laddie, who had been only 
 too glad to be taken in to herd the cows at 
 Balbeaton." It was even whispered that the 
 young Captain, who was then paying his ad- 
 dresses to the handsome and well-born Miss 
 Arundel, of Sedgely Court, Kent, had, in 
 answer to his father's letter, communicating 
 the proposed alliance, expressed the utmost 
 contempt for his intended brother-in-law ; had 
 pretended that he could not distinguish him 
 in his memory from any other of the street- 
 playing reptilia of his school-days, every one 
 of whom, however, he knew he had often 
 kicked for general or particular misdemeanour 
 and impertinence ; had drawn on one corner 
 of his letter an equestrian sketch of old 
 Andrew Ramsay, the ploughman, whom he 
 perfectly remembered to have seen jolting into 
 town to the Monday markets, mounted on a 
 thick-ankled clumsy cart-horse, and dressed in 
 hodden-grey, with staff and blue bonnet ; and
 
 SEDGELY COUET. 35 
 
 on the other a pedestrian figure of the same 
 respectable individual, setting forth, in all the 
 malice of thoughtless and insolent exaggera- 
 tion, the worthy old man's bow -legs and 
 turned-in toes; the sight of which nether ap- 
 purtenances, he had added, as he now figured 
 them on his paper, had for the first time 
 brought the hero in question, Andrew Jils, back 
 to his recollection ; yes, candour compelled 
 him to admit the fact ! — a second pair of these 
 remarkable limbs did certainly now distinctly 
 revive in his memory — smaller, slightly modi- 
 fied, perhaps, but with sufficient resemblance 
 to enable him completely to identify the man ! 
 But all this had been long ago forgotten. 
 Old Mr Beaton, though he had not scrupled to 
 laugh heartily with one or two favourite old 
 cronies over his son's clever caricatures, was 
 possessed of far too much tact and saving 
 knowledge either to disturb his daughter's 
 entire satisfaction in the appearance of her 
 lover with a sight of them, or to allow such 
 thoughtless folly and impertinence to interfere 
 with his own distinct perception of the ad-
 
 36 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 vantage of the match to himself as well as 
 to her. As fond of idle pleasures and petty 
 speculation in his own way as his fine son 
 was in his, he had always been a wretched 
 guide of his small means, and he had owed it 
 to Andrew's honest and skilful management 
 that he was not long ago irretrievably ruined ; 
 of which fact the judicious Andrew had not 
 failed to make him sufficiently aware, as well 
 as of the lasting benefit to the family his own 
 admission into it must certainly be. 
 
 The marriage had therefore gone forward 
 without a dissentient voice being heard, at 
 least by those who were the most interested. 
 And it was well for Captain Beaton that his 
 father had been so prudently silent, for he was 
 no sooner himself fairly settled at Balbeaton 
 than he began to see everything concerning 
 Andrew with different eyes, or in a more becom- 
 ing light, and to feel all the value of the wise 
 suggestions, interventions, and general friendly 
 furtherance he was at once made welcome to 
 at the hands of his brother-in-law, whose zeal 
 for the good of kith and kin never slumbered
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 37 
 
 or even grew weary. In short, as the one 
 was as fond of obliging as the other was of 
 being obliged, they suited each other admir- 
 ably, and were usually the best friends in the 
 world.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR RAMSAY TS REBUFFED, BUT NOT CAST DOWN. 
 
 " And now, Monsieur le Capitaine, I suspect I 
 must leave you/' said Andrew, looking at his 
 watch, after a couple of hours at ecarte and 
 backgammon on one of these recovery days, 
 " complete master of the field, as I must allow. 
 Let us just see, now, how far you have got the 
 better of me ; — first, seven games out of nine 
 at ecarte, — five, and now three at back- 
 gammon, — ay, eight in all ; not that ill at all 
 for a sick man, is it \ Yes, yes ; your right 
 hand has by no means forgot its cunning ! 
 "Well, there's your gold, sir, and welcome ; 
 we're now quits ; and I must come and have 
 my revenge some day soon again." 
 
 "The sooner the better, Eamsay," said the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 39 
 
 Captain, pocketing his money in high good- 
 humour. "Do come back to-morrow if you 
 can spare the time, like a good fellow ! Dull 
 enough work it must be for you, no doubt ; 
 but only think of me tied up here like a dog 
 in a kennel for half a lifetime, as it seems ! 
 However, I mean to give the Doctor his conge 
 one fine day soon, that I can tell him. Let 
 him twaddle as he likes about the necessity 
 of care and cordials ; the best cordial for 
 me will be to find myself down among you 
 all again ; — and see, I walk quite stoutly 
 now ! " 
 
 " Ay, but take care, my good sir ! — fair 
 and softly, you know, goes far. Oh, I see ; 
 yes, very smartly indeed ! but you must not 
 overdo, — no ; the knees have not altogether 
 recovered their well- drilled firm look yet, and 
 we must not try to hasten matters, in case 
 worse speed may come of it in the end. No 
 doubt there's an amazing progress within the 
 last ten days, and with another week or two's 
 care and good nursing, I'll be bound you'll be 
 quite up to a round of the links with the best
 
 40 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 of us ; but long sick, soon well, was aye a true 
 proverb ! " 
 
 "I've certainly been long enough sick, if 
 that's likely to insure me of anything good," 
 said the Captain, peevishly, relapsing into 
 gloomy looks at the idea of a protracted con- 
 finement. " I believe this is the eighth or 
 ninth week I have been on my back, or at 
 least caged up here entirely hors de cowkat? 
 
 " No doubt of it, sir," replied Andrew, in his 
 brisk tones ; " but as we say to the lying-in 
 ladies, be thankful you have something to 
 show for your pains ! It will indeed be eight 
 weeks to-morrow since that most noble exploit 
 of yours, which has made both town and 
 country ring more loudly, I believe, than any 
 other performance since the doughty deeds 
 that were done on the 18th clay of last June 
 twelvemonth, which set all Europe in a glow ! 
 Certainly, you must confess that the thoughts 
 of what you were able to achieve on that 
 memorable occasion, ought to be something in 
 the way of compensation." 
 
 A slight relaxation of the gloomy looks was
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 41 
 
 the only answer ; but as that was enough to 
 show the well-disposed Andrew that his at- 
 tempts at consolation were not altogether in- 
 effectual, he went cordially on. 
 
 " And I'm sure, sir, there has been abun- 
 dance of interest expressed in your state of 
 health ever since that day, both by gentle and 
 simple. You have certainly not put your life 
 in danger to have the work lightlied. Such a 
 fracas as there has been ! Luckily here you 
 were a little out of the way of the demon- 
 stration ; and as you were known to be ill, 
 it was too discreet to follow you. But I 
 don't believe our door-knocker ever stopped 
 thundering for two minutes of any day 
 during the first week." 
 
 " Nonsense, Eamsay ! " said the Captain, 
 though he now smiled more decidedly. 
 
 " Perfectly true, sir, upon my word and 
 honour ! Our maids declared they never once 
 got leave to dust out a room, or make a bed, 
 without being called off in the middle to an- 
 swer the door ; and even now, I assure you, I 
 can neither walk up or down the South Street
 
 42 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 without having half-a-dozen tender and loving 
 inquiries made about you." 
 
 " Very kind ! but I did nothing worth all 
 that," said the Captain, in a careless tone, 
 though evidently gratified. " I'm only sorry, 
 if it should be so, that the bother of such 
 troublesome popularity should have fallen so 
 hard upon all of you." 
 
 " Bless you, my dear sir, do you really sup- 
 pose it was a bother ? Not at all ! just the 
 farthest thing in the world from it — rather 
 one of the greatest pleasures we ever met with 
 — one and all of us — from myself, down to 
 little Jamie, your namesake, who will have it, 
 the impudent rogue ! that he has some chance 
 of succeeding to uncle James's fame and glory, 
 because, forsooth, cousin Katherine is only a 
 lassie ! ha, ha ! — set him up, indeed ! And I'm 
 sure it would have highly diverted you to have 
 seen Mrs Anne sitting smiling up in state, as 
 she did for several days, receiving congratula- 
 tions from all quarters on her gallant brother's 
 bravery, and all the rest. Of course, nobody 
 could take it upon them to intrude on Mrs
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 43 
 
 Beaton while you were ill, — or perhaps at any 
 time would have taken such a liberty with her, 
 — but as to Anne and the Misses, they were 
 quite on the outlook, and were just as proud 
 as so many peacocks of the whole concern, and 
 made themselves as busy as bees with the poor 
 sailors, and one thing and another. Doubtless 
 they were idle enough about their own works 
 for a time. I allege there was neither a button 
 sewed on a shirt, nor even the heel of a stocking 
 darned, for near a fortnight ! " 
 
 " But, Eamsay, shouldn't I have given these 
 poor fellows something to help them home 1 I 
 certainly ought. My good fellow, you should 
 have taken care of that for me when I could 
 not do it for myself." 
 
 "Indeed, and I do think you did quite 
 enough for them, my dear sir. What was 
 anybody's sovereign, or even five sovereigns, 
 compared to your gift to them, I would 
 like to know, of their very lives \ — always 
 under Providence, of course. To be sure I 
 would, to the best of my judgment, have acted 
 for you in the circumstances, but nothing was
 
 44 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 necessary ; they were admirably seen to in 
 every respect, and in two of the cases it was 
 only a loan that was needed. Both the cap- 
 tain and the mate have like honest men re- 
 turned the money, and, indeed, a small sum 
 along with it, to help the subscription for our 
 monument/'' 
 
 " Ah ! you think of raising one for the poor 
 fellows whose bodies were cast on shore after- 
 wards \ " 
 
 " So far for them that their names will be 
 mentioned on it, if we can get them properly 
 identified ; but our chief design is to com- 
 memorate the deeds of those gallant men who 
 so nobly risked their own lives for the chance 
 of saving the lives of unfortunate strangers ; 
 they certainly are well entitled to the highest 
 honours their admiring townsmen can pay 
 them ! » 
 
 It was quite impossible to resist the in- 
 fluence of Andrew's really kind and heartening 
 ways ; and Mrs Beaton, who happened to re- 
 turn to the room just as he had finished this 
 soothing subject, saw her husband looking so
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 45 
 
 cheered up and animated, that for once she 
 felt inclined to be complimentary. 
 
 "Keally, Mr Kamsay," she graciously said, 
 " I believe your visits do us more good than 
 the doctor's often do." 
 
 But Andrew was never long in her favour. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am," he answered ; " yes, I 
 have just been telling our friend here, that if 
 he will only attend to your good advice and 
 the doctor's, I haven't the smallest doubt he 
 will get a clean bill of health one of these 
 days, and we shall soon be having him down 
 in the links among us again, of a certainty 
 much to the detriment of all our purses — ha, 
 ha!" 
 
 Unfortunate Andrew ! Her smiling aspect 
 took instant flight at words so suggestive of 
 all she most disliked and disapproved of in her 
 husband's manner of life. But his attention 
 being drawn another way, Andrew had no 
 glimpse of the sudden darkness, and went on, 
 nothing doubting. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Katherine too ! How do you 
 do, my dear % but I need not ask, seeing your
 
 46 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 fair face as fresh and sweet as the first spring 
 go wan. And you come just in time to remind 
 me of a petition I undertook to make to you in 
 the name of your fast friends Mary and Jane 
 — or rather I believe it was to be made, more 
 properly, to your good mamma, and in all our 
 names — to the effect that she would kindly 
 allow you, and you be graciously pleased to 
 come to a juvenile ball — or party, by the by, 
 as I was instructed modestly to call it (though 
 I know, to my cost, that baith Andrew Wallace 
 and the man with the bass fidd]e are already 
 bespoken for the occasion) — which the young 
 folks have, with much ingenuity I must say, 
 wheedled their mother and myself into letting 
 them have on Friday the 26th instant. Mary 
 and Jane's birthday it is, and not far, I pre- 
 sume, from your own, as I often hear them say 
 you have but two days the advantage of them 
 in age ; which interesting fact, besides every- 
 thing else, makes us all particularly desirous of 
 the pleasure of your company on the occasion. 
 Well, I hope I may take back a favourable 
 answer % "
 
 * SEDGELY COURT. 47 
 
 How brightly did poor Katherine's eyes 
 sparkle at the very first mention of the word 
 ball ! Oh, the charm there seems to be in the 
 mere sound of that happy combination of letters 
 to the ears and heart of joyous light-footed 
 fourteen, gay as a bird, untiring as a wave of 
 the sea ! But the pleasure was not long un- 
 alloyed to her. In a moment she was glanc- 
 ing at her papa, as if in doubt whether he 
 were yet well enough to make an entertain- 
 ment of Mr Bamsay's proposal possible even 
 by herself ; and when he nodded his smiling 
 approbation, and looked towards her mother, 
 she also turned her eyes, but now more slowly 
 and far from confidently, in the same direction. 
 She might, indeed, at once have despaired. 
 Nothing could be more improbable than that 
 her consent should be obtained in the circum- 
 stances. Besides her general disapproval of 
 such pleasures, — a scruple, by the by, the com- 
 ponent parts of which were about one tithe 
 reason to nine of temperament, — she particu- 
 larly disliked the notion of them in connection 
 with the Kamsay family, whose gay, careless,
 
 48 SEDGELY COURT. ■ 
 
 and free-and-easy manners were as little to her 
 taste as was the arc of their life circle, as seen 
 and understood by her, to her klea of what was 
 right and fitting for rational and accountable 
 beings. But had the harmless young people 
 been each and all as straitlaced as herself, she 
 would on another principle have been no less 
 inclined to discourage any greater intimacy 
 between Katherine and them than what was 
 unavoidable in the circumstances of their near 
 relationship. Mr Arundel, her only brother, 
 had now been many years married without 
 children, and failing him the fine old family 
 estate, worth £3000 a -year, must, by strict 
 entail, devolve on herself and her heirs. Her 
 marriage, by severing her in a great degree 
 from more aristocratic associations, had by no 
 means dimmed to her eyes the lustre of such 
 distinctions, nor had her distaste for most of 
 the pleasures that riches may command at all 
 diminished their value in her imagination. 
 Neither in gloomy reverie, nor in more exas- 
 perated asceticism of feeling, did she ever forget 
 that the name of De Arundel associated with
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 49 
 
 that of Seclgely Court had been honourably 
 registered in Doomsday Book, or that her 
 daughter was now the heiress-presumptive of 
 that ancient house. 
 
 Katherine had learned to dance along with 
 her cousins ; her mother had with difficulty 
 consented to this, even while merely consider- 
 ing it as a healthful exercise of the limbs, and 
 improving to the carriage of the body. It 
 will easily be imagined, then, how little likely 
 she was to approve of it as a means of social 
 enjoyment in such companionship. The ques- 
 tion, indeed, did not seem to her to admit of 
 one moment's doubt, and with her usual cold 
 politeness she was immediately ready to answer. 
 
 " You are very good, — you are all very good, 
 I am sure, — but you must excuse Katherine. 
 I hope she will not, at any time of her life, 
 desire to go to many balls ; and certainly I 
 shall not allow her to go to one at present." 
 
 Captain Beaton made a sudden movement 
 of impatience, and Katherine's countenance 
 visibly lengthened, but neither of them spoke. 
 Even the less easily daunted Mr Bamsay felt 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 rather discouraged, and there was a pause of a 
 moment on his side ; but he recollected the re- 
 quest of his little girls that he should take no 
 denial from Mrs Beaton, who was sometimes 
 dreadfully cross, but make her let Katherine 
 come, as, besides that they wanted her very 
 very much for herself, they really could not 
 do without her for the cotillion and Lancers 
 quadrille, both of which were to be danced for 
 the first time in public that evening. He 
 must, therefore, make another attempt. 
 
 " I quite agree with you, ma'am, I am sure. 
 Yes, I should be sorry too to see our misses 
 taking up their heads much with balls, and 
 they are certainly not likely to be tempted with 
 many at home. Indeed we don't keep birth- 
 days at all in general — no, no, we have long been 
 obliged to dispense with these indulgences. It 
 would be a sad waste of time to hold ten extra 
 high days in addition to Saturdays and Sun- 
 days ; but the truth is, that the monkeys got 
 us to go into this, entirely on the plea of there 
 being only one pair of twins among us, which 
 I am happy to say cannot be denied, ha, ha !
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 51 
 
 Nor is it much of a grown- up affair, for though, 
 of course, the elder misses and Andrew must 
 have in their companions, the most of the party 
 will be very young ; and as it is to be but once 
 and away, we were really in hopes Miss Kather- 
 ine, accompanied of course by Miss Hope — we 
 are always particularly happy to see Miss 
 
 Hope * 
 
 " You're very good." 
 
 Katherine thought all these reasons quite 
 unanswerable, and with her face once more 
 lighted up she hung over her mother, and even 
 ventured one word in her own favour. 
 
 " Ah, mamma ! for this once, and with Miss 
 Hope, mayn't I V 
 
 "Don't, my dear. No, indeed — you know 
 very well that it can't be. Mr Eamsay is very 
 good, but he must excuse you." 
 
 And even Mr Ramsay could urge the matter 
 no further. 
 
 "Well, well, I am sure I am very sorry. 
 This will be quite a damper— will cast a very 
 dark gloom indeed on a certain house in the 
 South Street that you and I know of, Miss 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNU*
 
 52 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 Katherine ; but there's no help for it. Good 
 morning — good morning;" and off he went, 
 really annoyed for a moment that his little 
 girls and Katherine should be so unreasonably 
 opposed and disappointed, but with too many 
 little interests ready to meet him in the aspect 
 of every field, the condition of every cottage, 
 ditch, or enclosure by the way, to be much 
 longer damped by it ; and leaving something 
 much darker behind him than the gloom likely 
 to rest long on the cheerful and numerous party 
 he found ready to take their places along with 
 him round his plainly but plentifully furnished 
 dinner-table in South Street. 
 
 " I wish you would call Joseph to shut that 
 cursed hall-door, Kate," said Captain Beaton in 
 an ireful tone, a few minutes after Mr Ramsay 
 had so meekly bowed himself out. " I really 
 wonder how long he means to leave it slam- 
 slamming there, splitting one's ears through, and 
 letting in a draught of damp air that makes me 
 shiver like a man in a palsy ! " 
 
 Though generally too indolent to interfere 
 with what did not immediately cross his own
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 53 
 
 freedom and pleasure, he was at all times an- 
 noyed when his wife's crotchets — as he con- 
 sidered such restrictions — were thus ruthlessly- 
 interposed between Katherine and the innocent 
 attractions which the town occasionally pre- 
 sented to her fresh mind, and gay, youthful 
 spirits ; and to-day the offence was double- 
 dyed from being coupled with an evident slight 
 to the good-natured Eamsay family. 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Katherine, and not to lose 
 a moment she ran down to shut it herself. The 
 poor child had seen in her quiet way her father's 
 temper ruffled too often on similar occasions, 
 not to understand pretty accurately how little 
 the hall-door had probably to do with the pre- 
 sent jar ; but she was glad so harmless a scape- 
 goat had been found; and, returning alertly, 
 she poked the fire brightly up, threw her plaid 
 shawl over him, and shook up and smoothed 
 his cushions, rightly supposing, perhaps, that 
 whatever might be the matter, he would be all 
 the more easily soothed if he were once more 
 warm and comfortable. 
 
 " There, there — don't smother me, child ! that
 
 54 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 will do very well," he said, much more gently, 
 and slightly kissing her forehead as she care- 
 fully arranged the shawl around him. " So, 
 your birthday is close at hand it seems, 
 Kate?" 
 
 She smiled and nodded. 
 
 " And you will be fifteen years old ! " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, papa." 
 
 * Quite a woman." She shook her head. 
 
 "Yes, actually taller than Miss Hope, I 
 declare ! " 
 
 " Taller than Miss Hope, certainly, but " 
 
 she stopped, smiling consciously. 
 
 " But what, Kate \ I hope Miss Hope is 
 not displeased with you % " 
 
 "Not displeased, papa, I don't think, — only 
 disappointed a little, I'm afraid. Last year, if 
 you recollect, she said I ought by my next 
 birthday to be able to play the opera of Don 
 Giovanni quite through as well as she did, and 
 to read German as readily. Now, I know I 
 can do neither the one nor the other, one-half 
 so well." 
 
 "Ah, that's a pity; but you will, I have no
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 55 
 
 doubt, work the harder next year, Kate, that 
 you see you have been idle this V 
 
 " I hope so, papa/' 
 
 " And are you to have no presents this time 
 ■ — prizes, as I believe she calls them V 
 
 " Oh yes, a prize for drawing, and one, I be- 
 lieve, for giving so good an account of what I 
 read." 
 
 "That's pretty fair, I think, Kate. Well! 
 you shall have a prize from me also — for gene- 
 ral good conduct we shall say. I think you 
 have been quite a good girl, Kate, and I have 
 fixed, too, what it shall be — a very nice 
 book indeed. Next time Miss Hope and you 
 walk into town, she shall order two copies of 
 Miss Edgewortk's pretty new tales, to be hand- 
 somely bound in green morocco with gold, and 
 you shall have both of them, one to keep, and 
 the other to present from yourself to Mary and 
 Jane Ramsay on their birthday ; you will like 
 to do that, I am sure/' 
 
 " Oh yes, thank you, dear papa !" then, after 
 a moment's thought, "I should like of all things 
 to give Mary and Jane the Tales, but I know
 
 56 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 dear mamma " (glancing anxiously at her) u has 
 already ordered a great many books to be ready 
 for me on my birthday — all Mrs Sherwood's 
 Scripture Lessons, in six volumes, I believe. 
 Now, wont all that be too much V 
 
 " No, Kate ! I suppose there is no law made 
 against clear papa venturing ouce now and 
 then to give you a present for being a good 
 girl. I hope clear mamma does not insist that 
 all rewards as well as punishments should be 
 dictated only by her sovereign will and pleas- 
 ure?" 
 
 And Katherine could not venture on one word 
 more. Most gladly would she have given up 
 her own half of her father's present to have 
 had the other approved of by her mamma, — to 
 have seen a single kind look pass between her 
 parents on the occasion. But as Mrs Beaton 
 liked Miss Edgeworth no more than she did 
 Mary and Jane, and had, moreover, good reason 
 for her suspicion that papa's gift was meant 
 quite as much to mark his disapprobation of her 
 severity as his sense of his daughter's merits, 
 she kept her head gloomily bent over her knit-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 57 
 
 ting; and Katherine, after another disturbed 
 glance from the one to the other, left the room, 
 her heart very early made heavy with " that 
 bitterest of all griefs, to see clearly, and yet be 
 able to do nothing/'
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ST ANDREWS FIFTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 In spite of these evident symptoms of displeas- 
 ure on the part of her husband, which gave her 
 great pain, Mrs Beaton did not relent in favour 
 of Katherine's going to the birthday ball. 
 
 A day or two, however, before it took place, 
 another attempt was made on the part of the 
 good-natured Eamsay family to obtain the de- 
 sired consent. With this view, all the four 
 girls, accompanied by some of their choice com- 
 panions, walked in a body to Balbeaton, quite 
 regardless of the inclemency of the weather — 
 the state of the roads, almost ankle-deep in 
 melted snow, seeming, indeed, rather to give a 
 higher zest to the friendly undertaking. After 
 much wetting of shoes and unseemly splashing
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 59 
 
 of petticoats — every footslip being duly chor- 
 ussed by a burst of innocent merriment — the 
 light-hearted party, in no very admirable dis- 
 order, at last reached the stackyard, which a 
 plantation of old fir-trees kept conveniently out 
 of view of the windows. 
 
 And here a halt was called by the more con- 
 siderate elder sisters, in order that a council 
 should be held as to the person or persons who 
 could be most properly intrusted with the 
 delicate mission of entering the house, for of 
 course they must not all think of going in. 
 
 "No, thank you, indeed; that would never 
 do." 
 
 On the contrary, no one was at all anxious 
 to have the honour. There was abundance of 
 zeal professed — all were ready to go or not go 
 as might be thought best, but each felt quite 
 persuaded of being the very last person in the 
 world fit to be intrusted. 
 
 " Well, but somebody must go — Mary and 
 Jane, suppose \ " 
 
 " Ay, to be sure, Mary and Jane !" 
 
 As the ball was to be in honour of their
 
 60 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 birthday, and they were, besides, Katherine's 
 especial friends, there could be no doubt in 
 any one's opinion (except their own) that they 
 would be, out of all sight, the most natural 
 and proper messengers, and the devoted Mary 
 and Jane were by acclamation desired to stand 
 forth and receive instructions. With shrugs of 
 unwillingness, and looks of forced gravity, they 
 did so. 
 
 " Well, then, Mrs Wisdom," to their eldest 
 sister, " and what are we to say when we go in?" 
 
 They were both so be-draggled, it might well 
 have been supposed they had been dragged 
 through a pond, and in such high spirits from 
 talking nonsense, and giggling over the slippery 
 perils of the way, that at the mere sound of 
 the discreet words and quiet looks necessary 
 for their difficult mission, they glanced excit- 
 edly at each other, and at once gave way to an 
 immoderate fit of laughter, in which they were 
 soon joined by most of the party. 
 
 Miss Ramsay first recovered her power of 
 speech. 
 
 "How intolerably absurd you two always
 
 SEDGELY COUET. 61 
 
 are ! I thought how it would be. And this 
 is your concern for your friend. I verily be- 
 lieve you would laugh at her funeral !" 
 
 " Nonsense, Anne — go on and tell us." 
 
 " I need not tell you, for you' must know it 
 already, that giggling ever so little before Mrs 
 Beaton would at once set her against letting 
 Katherine come to us." 
 
 " As if we didn't know that ! or were likely 
 to laugh in her presence ! Do go on with 
 your directions, Anne, and not put off time 
 lecturing ; we shall be as grave as Solomon 
 the moment we see her face, you may be sure." 
 
 But Miss Eamsay felt by no means sure ; 
 the excited state of their spirits made her 
 dread their want of tact and prudence quite 
 as much as command of countenance. If the 
 twins were really to go, she suggested the pro- 
 priety of some steadier person going with them, 
 who might put in a word in season and keep 
 things straight. Would Mr Temple go % If he 
 would undertake the task, nobody could be so 
 fit — such a favourite as he was with Mrs Beaton. 
 
 Mr Temple was a tall, fair Ei]glish youth,
 
 62 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 about twenty or twenty-one years of age, with 
 soft blue eyes, well-nursed whiskers, and a fine 
 waist. He was a student at college, and had 
 accidentally joined the party on the road. He 
 certainly could not flatter himself that he had 
 received any mark of Mrs Beaton's favour, that 
 lady being quite unaccustomed to make de- 
 monstrations of her regard ; but he was the 
 only -individual present, out of the Eamsay 
 family, who had even the plea of acquaintance- 
 ship to offer in excuse for such an intrusion. 
 Being the brother of Mrs Arundel of Sedgely 
 Court, he had brought letters of introduction 
 from Mr Arundel to his sister, and on this 
 account had been once or twice invited to dine 
 at Balbeaton. He had left the town that day 
 with the intention of calling there, but had 
 seen fit to change his mind by the way. Deep 
 in a flirtation with Millicent, the second Miss 
 Eamsay, who was the beauty of the family 
 — indeed, of the town and neighbourhood — 
 he had pretty well determined against making 
 his visit at present at least, unless she were to 
 be one of the deputation.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 63 
 
 " I % — just the very worst person in the whole 
 universe, my dear Miss Kamsay, to be intrusted 
 with so delicate a commission ! I assure you, 
 upon my honour, I could no more keep my 
 countenance for half a moment in company 
 with these merry yourjg ladies than I could 
 fly. No, no — if you and Miss Millicent are 
 disposed to go, I shall attend you with pleas- 
 ure ; and I do think, after all, that that would 
 be the most rational and probably successful 
 plan of operation." 
 
 But Miss Eamsay knew intuitively that it 
 would be quite the reverse, — that Mrs Beaton, 
 though she might not object to such children 
 as Mary and Jane being accompanied by Mr 
 Temple, would utterly disapprove of his attend- 
 ance on herself and Millicent ; she therefore at 
 once negatived his proposal, and it was at last 
 agreed that only the two discreet elder sisters 
 should venture to present themselves in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Their visit was therefore quietly paid, due 
 caution observed in making proper preliminary 
 inquiries and remarks, and a favourable oppor-
 
 64 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 tunity patiently waited for of again urging 
 their suit. But equally in vain were the per- 
 severance, hearty goodwill, and simple little 
 arts. At another time, perhaps, the respectful 
 and polite demeanour, quiet manner, and care- 
 ful choice of words and subjects, might have 
 somewhat propitiated Mrs Beaton ; but on 
 this occasion she was quite inexorable. Forced 
 thanks and cold bows were all the civilities 
 they could elicit. On asking to see Katherine, 
 they were told that unfortunately she was busy 
 with. her governess — to see their uncle, that he, 
 too, had unfortunately just lain down. Tired 
 out and provoked, they were obliged to aban- 
 don the attempt and take leave ; and the 
 defeated, but by no means cast down little 
 party, splashed merrily back again to the town 
 through mud and mire, with light heads and 
 happy hearts. 
 
 On the birthday morning, however, which 
 was bright and clear, poor Katherine was gra- 
 ciously permitted by her mother to walk to the 
 town, accompanied by Miss Hope, for the pur- 
 pose of calling on her aunt and cousins, and
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 65 
 
 presenting her father's gift of Miss Edgeworth's 
 
 Tales to Mary and Jane. 
 
 •» 
 
 The St Andrews of fifty years ago, it must 
 be remembered, was very far from being the 
 stirring locomotive St Andrews of the present 
 day — bustling with carriages, omnibuses, and 
 hotels, and with all the other appliances of a 
 gay, well-frequented watering-place. No able 
 " Man of Boss" had yet arisen to disturb the 
 ancient solitary reign, or ruffle the raven- down 
 of darkness there ; to set his firm foot on the 
 neck of prejudice in this her last stronghold ; 
 let in the dayspring of modern science on street 
 and market-place, and repair the old waste 
 places, the desolations of many generations. 
 
 It was a quiet isolated old town, always in- 
 teresting to the eye and mind of the thought- 
 ful, from its picturesque views, and associations 
 with the early Christian saints ; but it could 
 not then boast of a single daily conveyance in 
 any one direction. 
 
 Of mercantile business of any kind, except 
 what was involved in the shopkeeping neces- 
 sary to supply the simple wants of the frugal 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 inhabitants, there may be said to have been 
 none. The fishing trade was carried on by the 
 poorer part of the population, but, owing to 
 the difficulty of transit, not to any consider- 
 able extent ; and therefore the price of such a 
 perishable commodity was of course very low — 
 a shilling, or even sixpence, being thought re- 
 muneration sufficient for a dozen of good had- 
 docks, a capital codfish, or for a whole hundred 
 of herrings ; and as the catching of these, 
 generally performed in the night, on a rocky 
 dangerous coast, often imperilled the lives 
 of those who practised it, it is little to be 
 wondered that the employment was not attrac- 
 tive to strangers, and was only engaged in from 
 father to son by those inured and subdued to 
 it for many generations, to whom it did not 
 seem to occur that bread, even of the poorest, 
 could be got in any other way. 
 
 Hardy, weather-beaten men, old and young, 
 unwarned, as in the present day, of coming 
 storm by scientific note of alarm, went duly 
 forth with the evening tide, and brought home 
 their spoil in the early morning, leaving it to
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 67 
 
 be disposed of by their scarcely less hardy help- 
 mates, who " cried " it at every door in the 
 town in creelfuls — haggling for a penny with 
 thrifty housewives, and generally ending by 
 taking a third of what they had asked, and 
 often throwing the bargain, at last, unceremo- 
 niously into the passage after the retiring maid, 
 or even mistress, if she had been, as they said, 
 " owre hard upon them the clay." Sometimes, 
 however, by no means hard themselves, parti- 
 cularly with any of the juvenile members of 
 the family who might have been accidentally 
 intrusted to make the bargain, to whom they 
 have not unfrequently been known to give back 
 a penny or two on the plea of seeing they were 
 but " young buyers yet." 
 
 The east end of the fishers' street looked, 
 indeed yet looks, quite picturesque — the wo- 
 men, old and young, in their blue coats, white 
 caps, and short striped petticoats, seated out- 
 side their humble cottages busily employed in 
 baiting the lines for the next take, their curly- 
 headed, dirty enough, but healthy children play- 
 ing round them.
 
 68 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 Another manner of employing the fair sex 
 has fortunately been put an end to in the pro- 
 gress of decent civilisation. But at that time, 
 walkers on the West Sands might daily see the 
 curious and puzzling spectacle of a couple of 
 stout young women so bent down under the 
 loads they carried, that they looked like two 
 anomalous animals, the creels on their backs 
 like the enormous heads belonging to their 
 thick red bare legs, as they trudged content- 
 edly backwards and forwards to bring home 
 bait from the mussel-beds of the river Eden. 
 
 The students came and went at the appoint- 
 ed seasons ; but the regular inhabitants, unable 
 to go round the world every day, and to criti- 
 cise what was said and done at the antipodes, 
 stayed primitively at home ; were obliged to 
 content themselves, instead, with a humdrum 
 tour round the healthful Links ; and to keep 
 their sympathies awake by the intensity of their 
 interest in the affairs of each other, and of the 
 neighbourhood. Strangers, members of larger 
 societies, particularly money-getting people of 
 all sorts, found life there, if life it could be
 
 SEDGELY COUHT. 69 
 
 called, a most miserable affair. Three days 
 from London, and but one post a-day, and that 
 not over regular ! It was the merest vegeta- 
 tion — the existence of a dormouse ! Bat to 
 those accustomed from early habit to the idea 
 of the great world of progress going on without 
 the support of their constantly-manifested sym- 
 pathies, it was a pleasant enough place to live 
 in for all that. Everybody knew everybody; 
 and if there were sometimes, owing to a dearth 
 of the more intellectual elements, a little more 
 zeal shown in noting and commenting on the 
 shortcomings of the improvident, and the esca- 
 pades of unwary young men — in the discussion 
 of such delicate affairs as flirtation, love, and 
 new-fangled intimacies, such inconveniences 
 were often found to be more than made up for 
 by the warm and friendly sympathy shown in 
 the really important events of life. A birth, a 
 marriage, most of all a death, were not mere 
 incidents to be read of in the newspaper and 
 straightway forgotten. If such contingency 
 concerned a neighbour even remotely, it was 
 then marked, learnt, inwardly digested, and
 
 70 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 socially taken to heart by the whole inhabitants 
 as one family. No wonder, then, that they, on 
 their parts, liked it, with all its faults, far better 
 than they would have done a better place, on 
 the same principle that people generally come 
 to prefer the thraldom which importance con- 
 fers to a liberty that is born of insignificance. 
 
 However that may have been, to poor Katbe- 
 rine "the Town," in contrast with her grave, 
 still home, seemed an epitome of the whole 
 world's interests. Her visions of gaiety and 
 pleasure were bounded by its ancient walls 
 and sea-girt steeps. She could imagine nothing- 
 grander in ancient times than the early splen- 
 dour of the buildings — nothing more interest- 
 ing than the present old halls and colleges. 
 Oh ! the charm of that fine old South Street, 
 where everybody might be seen, and yet over 
 which an academical stillness and silence 
 seemed to brood, as, long, open, and irregu- 
 larly picturesque, it swept majestically i 
 ward, and was so finely terminated by the 
 singular spires of the ruined Cathedral ! 
 
 Even the clumsy modern Town Hall, where
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 7l 
 
 balls and flower-show meetings were held, and 
 into which she had never been allowed to set 
 foot except to a dancing lesson by daylight, 
 seemed to her imagination a palace of enchant- 
 ment as she pictured it lighted up and gar- 
 landed, and filled with happy young people. 
 Her uncle's plain, substantial house, with its 
 roomy square parlours and innumerable bed- 
 closets, was her beau ideal of cheerful social com- 
 fort. There she had always been the most wel- 
 come of guests, and had happily spent the few 
 rare hours and half-hours she had ever passed 
 from home, surrounded and caressed by her 
 good-natured and affectionate cousins. Every 
 spot was interesting to her : the airy court be- 
 hind, connected with her childish days, and now 
 the paradise of the younger children and their 
 companions — familiar, indeed, to all who de- 
 lighted in swings and see-saws, rabbits, squirrels, 
 and tame magpies ; the more orderly and ample 
 garden, sloping gently to the south, and bor- 
 dered all round with rows of trim box, within 
 which grew, with little more culture than the 
 spring digging and occasional weeding, a vast
 
 72 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 profusion of hardy, showy, perennial flowers — 
 primroses, early wallflowers, white lilies, lav- 
 ender, clove-pinks, and the. delicious cabbage- 
 rose ; and, beyond these, what store of goose- 
 berry bushes and apple trees ! — an immense 
 Lammas pear-tree regally crowning the centre, 
 and in its season showering down on eao-er 
 gatherers its treasures of mellow pears — almost 
 as liberally as the cloud its raindrops. She 
 delighted in it all — in her uncle's brisk tones 
 and cordial ways, her aunt's imperturbable 
 good-nature ; even her aunt's over-indulgence 
 of the children and everlasting and indis- 
 criminate call-making were complacently re- 
 garded by her. There was life, vivacity, ease, 
 bonhommie — above all, an entire harmony and 
 toleration throughout the whole menage, which 
 contrasted only too favourably with the fre- 
 quent misunderstandings, the restraint, the 
 almost puritanical sternness she witnessed so 
 often and so painfully at home. 
 
 But to-day this usually attractive domicile 
 was by no means seen to the best advanti 
 It could not be expected that it should. Proper
 
 SEDGELY COUET. 73 
 
 preparations for such a fete as that intended 
 in the evening could not possibly go forward 
 in an establishment to which each day brought 
 its full complement of avocations, without a 
 dangerous disruption of the ordinary routine. 
 The usual washing, cooking, shoe - cleaning, 
 and nursery work was enough, and more than 
 enough, entirely to secure the four active 
 maid-servants from any danger of eating the 
 bread of idleness ; and now, not only were 
 stores of jellies, creams, and cheesecakes to be 
 prepared, silver-plate polished up to shine its 
 brightest, and the whole house put into high 
 company trim, but the dresses and decorations 
 of every member of the family were to be 
 consulted about, decided on, looked to, and set 
 in order. All this required no small amount 
 of previous care and arrangement, and could 
 not be accomplished without the energetic ex- 
 ertions and full co-operation of every female 
 in the house — mistresses as well as maids ; but, 
 as it was altogether a labour of love, the 
 trouble was pleasure and the fatigue unfelt, 
 The young ladies were elbow-deep from early
 
 74 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 morning in every description of work, but in 
 such a cause nothing was either considered 
 derogatory or executed perfunctorily; and then 
 it was but once and away, and as all the town 
 must know very well what was going on, no- 
 body, it was concluded, unless some very ill- 
 natured person, spitefully desirous to view the 
 land in its nakedness, would ever dream of 
 calling.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AT THE KAMSAYS ON A PAETY DAY. 
 
 Unfortunately no consideration for the con- 
 venience of the Ramsay family had occurred 
 to deter Katherine and Miss Hope from call- 
 ing there on the morning of the ball, and, 
 accordingly, for once they found themselves a 
 little in the way. It was very long indeed 
 before the ring at the door-bell was responded 
 to — a violent noise in the back-yard, as of the 
 screaming of fowls and squalling of children, 
 apparently occupying the attention of all who 
 were in the house. They listened patiently, in 
 some trepidation that an accident had oc- 
 curred ; and before they had gained admit- 
 tance, Mrs Ramsay came leisurely down the 
 street, and greeted them very smilingly at the
 
 76 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 door. Never very helpful at home, she had 
 gone out early to give some orders for the 
 evening, and happening to hear at the con- 
 fectioner's that the infant of one of her 
 cronies had been seized in the night with 
 a violent teething fit, had just called in, 
 intending only to stay a moment, and see 
 the child, but had unconsciously stayed most 
 of the morning, quite forgetful of time and 
 business at home, in the agreeable occupa- 
 tion of detailing at full length, and with some 
 very excusable exaggerations, her own large 
 experience in the dreadful afflictions of tooth- 
 cutting in general, and the eye-teeth in par- 
 ticular : all she said tending greatly, it must be 
 owned, to the support and consolation of the 
 mamma of the present sufferer, if not the 
 sufferer himself. She seemed far more an- 
 noyed at the ]adies being allowed to stand so 
 long at the door than alarmed at the sounds 
 she now heard from within. 
 
 " Bless me, what can they be all about. I 
 wonder ! and all the four girls by way of 
 helping too ! But, as I always say, Miss Hope,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 77 
 
 the more helps you have the worse is the 
 service, for they just trust to one another. I 
 hope you will excuse this, my dears." 
 
 They assured her they were not in the 
 slightest hurry ; after another ring, 
 
 "I don't know, Katherine," she said, "how 
 you get on at Balbeaton on company days— 
 to be sure you will not have such a constant 
 ring, ringing ; but here I never can manage 
 to get the door properly attended to ; I often 
 say it would not be a bad plan to leave it 
 open altogether. Your uncle is afraid of the 
 beggars ; but, as I say, we serve them all, 
 and what would they steal from us for? 
 What is the meaning of this extraordinary 
 delay, Beatrice 1 " (to a hurried-looking damsel, 
 who, with her sleeves pinned above her elbows, 
 and hands hastily wiped, at last came to their 
 assistance.) " I verily thought we were not to 
 get in at all. Where are all the Misses 1 " 
 
 On hearing her mother's voice, Miss Kam- 
 say called out from the back-court, " Oh, 
 mamma, is that you at last \ I thought you 
 would never come home : do come here (hush,
 
 78 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 hush, Peggy dearest !) ; dear little Peg has hurt 
 herself — cut her poor lip ; oh, I daresay it's 
 only a little ; dearest Katherine, is it you 1 I 
 am quite ashamed of your having been kept 
 standing at the door so long, but dear little 
 Peg was crying so loud, that we could attend 
 to nothing else." 
 
 " My dear, dear little Peggy ! and what on 
 earth is the matter that your little mouthie is 
 bleeding that way like a sheep V cried mamma, 
 startled out of her usual composure by the 
 sight of the bloody heroine ; a self-willed 
 chubby little flaxen - haired girl of four, the 
 youngest of the family, who was petted and 
 adored by everybody in the house, and who, 
 now that her case was meeting with proper 
 attention, was content only to frown with 
 tearful cheeks, and hold out her sore lip in a 
 pitiable manner. 
 
 " Beatrice, woman " (to the nurse), " how on 
 earth did you let this happen ? " 
 
 " I could not help it, mem." 
 
 " Dear little innocent, what a cut ! I'm 
 sure, Beatrice, you know that the darling is
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 79 
 
 just at the mischievous time of life, and cannot 
 be safe a moment without being watched. I 
 have told you a hundred times never to let 
 her out of your sight on any account." 
 
 " Yes, mem, and I never does," said Beat- 
 rice, not usually over-meek under reproof, but 
 now serene, in the strength of having received 
 contrary orders ; " but Miss Eamsay said 
 Betty could not do without me in the kitchen, 
 to whip the cream for the trifles ; and as I 
 could not get Peggy to keep her fingers for 
 one minute out among the cream, I thought 
 there was no harm in asking Bobby and Jamie, 
 who were at their own games in the court, to 
 let her play beside them for half an hour. 
 Didn't you promise to take great care of her, 
 my lads 1 " 
 
 " And so we did," cried Bobby stoutly ; 
 " and we gave her a swing, and did everything 
 she wanted for ever so long." 
 
 "Then, how did this happen, you little 
 varlef?" said the mother; "you must have 
 let her fall off the swing. I have told you 
 often we must have that swing dismissed — -
 
 80 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 there's no end to the accidents that have hap- 
 pened since papa let you put it up." 
 
 " We did not let her fall ; but we could not 
 be swinging her all day," said Jim ; " we told 
 her to stay quiet for one minute till Bill and I 
 had looked at the new cleckin of rabbits, but 
 she would see them too ; and when we would 
 not let her, because she always wants a hold of 
 the young ones, and hurts them, she ran into 
 the hen-house like mad, and set up the clock- 
 ing hen, and it flew at her, and knocked her 
 right over ; and so she fell, and cut her lip on 
 the broken side of the duck's plate ; now that's 
 the whole story." 
 
 " But it's better now," said Beaty (in the 
 confident, wheedling tone that is often suc- 
 cessful on like occasions) ; and wiping off the 
 blood gently with her finger ; " see, mamma, 
 there's no more blood coming now, is there % 
 no, not one drop ; and Beaty's own dear 
 pretty little Peggy is to be a good good girl 
 now, and not greet one other word." 
 
 It was not a very serious injury. Soothing 
 words, and a few sw T eeties from mamma's
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 81 
 
 pocket, were successful in setting the lip 
 miraculously free from its rigidity ; and a fine 
 orange, presented by Anne, to be eaten as soon 
 as "the poor lippie" was well enough, com- 
 pletely perfected the cure. 
 
 " Do sit down by the fire, Miss Hope," said 
 Miss Ramsay, undoing her apron, and smooth- 
 ing her hair at the glass, on the dismissal of 
 the children — who had been privately in- 
 structed, in a whisper from their mother, to go 
 and take a piece, or anything else they could 
 get, and not be troublesome about dinner 
 to-day when the maids were all so busy. 
 
 " I do hope, cousin Katherine, you have 
 come to say we are to have you and Miss 
 Hope this evening — and then we shall have 
 nothing else to wish for. No \ dear ! what 
 a pity ! so provoking, isn't it, of Aunt % "We 
 have been thinking of you so much : and 
 were saying at breakfast you would surely be 
 allowed to come ; we had been so fortunate in 
 getting everybody else we had set our hearts 
 on having. Andrew offered to take any wager 
 you would be here. It seems he dreamt last 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 night, that when he was told to take you to 
 the top of the first country-dance, he could 
 not get near you, the crowd pressed so on him 
 that he could neither move nor breathe ; and as 
 dreams are always contrary to fact, you know, 
 he felt perfectly sure that he and you would 
 be figuring away delightfully iu the cotillion 
 without let or hindrance. Papa, indeed, 
 hinted it was all owing to the cheese he ate at 
 supper — the jelly having unfortunately inter- 
 fered with the porridge-making — and so, I sup- 
 pose, it must. But I am so sorry ! " 
 
 " So am I, Anne," said Katherine, heartily ; 
 " very, very sorry. It is the only party I ever 
 had much wish to go to. It will be so very de- 
 lightful ! I know one thing, and that is, that 
 I shall never in all my life care to go to any 
 other ball — no, never ; for I am quite sure 
 there never could be another in the world 
 that I should think half so nice." 
 
 Mrs Kamsay shook her head commiserat- 
 ingly, and said aside to Miss Hope. * that it 
 was really a pity her sister, Mrs Beaton, was 
 so over-strict with Katherine — that young
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 83 
 
 folks would be young folks, and ought to go 
 about occasionally to little ploys such as this, 
 though it was only to show them how little 
 there was in them." 
 
 Miss Hope smiled, but did not venture to 
 give an opinion. Katherine fancied that Miss 
 Hope did not look quite sorry enough for her dis- 
 appointment, and she went on rather pettedly. 
 
 " It is quite true, Miss Hope. You are 
 laughing. You know how very little I usually 
 care about going anywhere ; and that last 
 winter, when mamma would not let me go to 
 the children s party at Eavenstruther, I did 
 not mind it much at all, and was very happy 
 all the evening hearing you read ' Marmion/ 
 To-night is very different ; you will see that 
 I shall be quite miserable." 
 
 " I hope I shall see nothing of the kind, my 
 dear — nothing so improper and unreasonable. 
 Do you think if a pain in your head, or a 
 sprained ankle, had prevented you from being 
 with your cousins, that you would have been 
 miserable at the thoughts of their being happy 
 without you V
 
 84 SEDGE LY COURT. 
 
 " Of course not ; because then I really could 
 not have gone, or had any enjoyment if I had." 
 
 " And could you really go now, or have any 
 enjoyment if you did V 
 
 " Yes, if mamma would only allow me." 
 
 Miss Hope smiled again. " Ay, Katherine, 
 that if— but when mamma won't allow you \ " 
 
 Katherine reddened a little and said, with 
 less confidence, that there was no use talking 
 about it, she knew very well she was not to go ; 
 all she meant to say was, that Miss Hope could 
 scarcely expect her to be as well pleased to stay 
 at home. She did not think there was much 
 harm in saying she would be miserable, for she 
 really would. 
 
 " If it were quite fair to take back anything 
 once given," said Miss Hope, dryly, " I confess 
 I should be rather inclined to recall a prize I 
 lately gave to a young lady, who convinced me 
 she was thoroughly conversant with the nature 
 of a moral obligation, by citing, as an example, 
 that of ' the cheerful obedience of children to 
 parents ! ' " 
 
 Katherine now looked rather ashamed of
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 85 
 
 herself, and said, tremulously, that one was 
 apt to forget the rules of moral philosophy 
 when birthday balls were in question. She 
 believed she had thought too much of her own 
 disappointment on this occasion, but was sure 
 she had never for a moment grudged her 
 cousins the pleasure they were likely to have ; 
 and then, with more firmness, that she had 
 been delighted to be allowed to call now, to 
 wish Mary and Jane many happy birthdays, 
 and to hear how nicely all the preparations 
 were going on. 
 
 On beiDg inquired for, Mary and Jane were 
 speedily summoned by Beaty from the little 
 park at the lower end of the garden. There 
 they had been, for the last hour or two, busily 
 employed in picking ivy leaves from the great 
 ivy tree, which covered, with an everlasting 
 fresh green mantle, the fine old turreted Abbey 
 wall, which was part of the southern boundary 
 of these little grounds. As heroines of the 
 evening, they had entreated to be indulged in 
 wearing a lovely ivy -leaf trimming, misi 
 robe, round their thin white muslin frocks. It
 
 86 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 would be so charming, they thought, so cool, 
 so distinguished-looking. Not that they were 
 at all afraid of being confounded either with 
 their sisters or with any other girls. The re- 
 semblance between the two was so strong, it 
 was difficult even for their friends to distin- 
 guish the one from the other when they were 
 separate; and nothing was so piquant and de- 
 lightful to them as the small mystifications 
 they were in consequence occasionally able to 
 inflict on shy awkward students, or innocent 
 strangers of any kind, who might accidentally 
 be at their mercy. But they knew they were far 
 too constantly in the eye of the St Andrews 
 public to be in danger of being any further 
 mistaken. 
 
 As it must be put on the frocks immediately 
 before being worn, the ivy was rather a trouble- 
 some trimming ; but they had quite set their 
 hearts on having it, and were now deep in the 
 selection of proper leaves — smooth, well veined, 
 and all exactly of a size ; while their sister 
 Millicent, too much of a belle perhaps to be 
 naturally so notable as her more homely eldest
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 87 
 
 sister, and yet quite good-natured and ready 
 to be helpful in her own way, had been all the 
 morning closeted in the front attic, diligently 
 tacking them on, making up rosettes for shoes, 
 trimming gloves, and arranging such bouquets 
 as March afforded, with the additional interest 
 and recreation to herself of seeing from the 
 window everybody that passed to and fro in 
 the street, humming over the songs she was 
 pretty sure of being entreated to sing in the 
 evening, and glancing very frequently indeed 
 into the little mirror beside her, which cer- 
 tainly gave back the image of a face and form, 
 the possessor of which might well have been 1 
 excused for regarding with some complacency. 
 The twins received Katherine with the 
 greatest cordiality, and her congratulations to 
 them were given with no less warmth. The 
 pretty books were presented, and accepted 
 with equal pleasure; and, with the view of 
 saving both parties the agitation of further 
 expressions of regret, Miss Hope then insisted 
 on taking leave and hurrying home.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BALL AT MR EAMSAY's. 
 
 Kathepjxe had immediately acknowledged to 
 herself the reasonableness of Miss Hope's re- 
 proof, for the want of cheerful acquiescence she 
 had shown in her mother's decree against her 
 being present at the birthday fete ; and she 
 had a moment's anxiety, lest, in the tempting 
 opportunity afforded by their walk home to- 
 gether, the subject of her sin against filial duty 
 might be renewed and enlarged upon. But she 
 might have felt herself quite safe. Her contri- 
 tion had not been unobserved ; and as her pupil 
 had very rarely shown any disposition to a re- 
 pining spirit, Miss Hope, though she had not 
 thought it right to allow even this slight ex- 
 hibition of it to pass unrebuked, had a distinct
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 89 
 
 perception that enough had been said for the 
 occasion. 
 
 That lady was, both from temperament and 
 reason, in the habit of leaning to the side of 
 tolerance and indulgence. Endowed by a 
 bountiful Providence with the healthy enthu- 
 siasm which so often accompanies a strong 
 mind and wide sympathies, she was unusually 
 qualified to steer herself through the many 
 difficulties of her trying position in the world. 
 The slights and scorns of vulgar parents, the 
 stupidity and stubbornness of children, those 
 shoals and quicksands in the course of the poor 
 governess, on which so many of the well-mean- 
 ing but feeble make shipwreck of happiness 
 and hope, sometimes of life itself, would have 
 been borne up against by Miss Hope with 
 courageous self-respect, or used by her as 
 exercises to patience and self-command. 
 
 But at Balbeaton her powers of endurance 
 had never been fully taxed. Her good sense 
 and right feeling had enabled her to witness 
 and to pity Mrs Beaton's unhappy temper and 
 gloomy disposition, without once misconstruing
 
 90 SEDGELY COUKT. 
 
 the very ungenial manners of which these were 
 the source, into any particular displeasure with, 
 or contempt of, herself; and in Katherine's 
 lively mind, and open affectionate nature, she 
 had found a constant source of interest and 
 enjoyment. She had uow been upwards of 
 seven years a member of the family ; and 
 though in the course of that time she had not 
 been without her full share of private anxieties, 
 as a governess she felt that she had been un- 
 usually fortunate. There was, indeed, so much 
 love as well as confidence between her and her 
 pupil, that in their social communings the in- 
 struction had ever been addressed to the heart 
 rather than the head ; and even in the school 
 hours, while strictly enforcing attention to 
 rules and lessons, she had invariably practised 
 the art so finely recommended by the Italian 
 poet, and by inciting rewards and amusing 
 illustrations, had contrived " to sprinkle with 
 sweets the edge of the medicine cup." Instead, 
 therefore, of further chiding, or even grave looks, 
 Katherine found Miss Hope's conversation, 
 during the walk, even more animated and dis-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 91 
 
 cursive than usual. And as soon as the tea 
 was over in the evening, and they had retired 
 to the school-room, instead of a certain rather 
 formidable German lesson which then and 
 there ought to have been gone through, 
 Katherine was smilingly despatched to fetch 
 from one of Miss Hope's tidy repositories a 
 packet of books which had been, secreted there 
 for the last two days, only in order that it 
 might make its appearance now with proper 
 eclat. The fire was then poked brightly up, 
 the candles snuffed, work was drawn from the 
 baskets, and the packet undone ; and oh ! 
 delight of delights, there were the three uncut 
 volumes of the new novel of ' Guy Mannering ! ' 
 When quite two hours after the usual bed- 
 time Katherine was at last prevailed on to lay 
 aside the book and go to bed, — the finest emo- 
 tions of her nature having been called forth — 
 her heart filled with pity for poor old Ellan- 
 gowan's grief at the loss of his son, his dot 
 and death ; her curiosity strongly awakened 
 by the mystery of little Harry's disappearance ; 
 her whole mind deeply interested and excited
 
 92 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 by the truth, nature, and reality of every de- 
 lineation — the innocent, affectionate Dominie ; 
 the almost sublime Meg Merrilees ; and last, 
 and most delicious and complete, the incom- 
 parable menage at Charlie's Hope, — she could 
 not help whispering to Miss Hope, in her 
 good-night embrace, that the time had passed 
 delightfully, that she had been very very 
 happy, and now regretted nothing at all about 
 the ball, except Mary and Jane's disappoint- 
 ment, and (with a closer embrace) that she 
 herself had not behaved quite well on the 
 occasion. 
 
 The ball, however, though in another way, 
 had been productive of quite its full share of 
 amusement and pleasure, as well as of some 
 emotions over and above, which, if less safe 
 and salutary than those which had so plea- 
 santly " fleeted the time " to Katherine, were 
 certainly by no means less interesting to 
 those who experienced them. 
 
 In large societies, a great assembly with its 
 glittering accessories, its purple and perfume, 
 its festive wreaths and dazzling effulgence
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 93 
 
 of light, must always be a striking spectacle 
 to the eye ; it may be even highly gratifying 
 to the taste and mind of the beholder, from 
 the refinement and elegance, the beauty and 
 grace therein displayed, and yet it may pass 
 away quickly from the memory, and leave 
 behind it only a vague impression of splendour 
 and brilliancy, heat and noise — " a burning 
 forehead, and a parching tongue." The youth- 
 ful portion of the company, whom it chiefly 
 concerns, are for the most part strangers to 
 each other ; are introduced indiscriminately 
 to suit the momentary convenience of the 
 entertainer ; are acquainted for the length of 
 a polka or quadrille, and then may not meet 
 again for a month or a year, if ever. The 
 snowy arch of a neck may have attracted the 
 eye ; a smile or a glance, indicative of the 
 beautiful soul within, for a moment captivated 
 the fancy, or the ear may have been charmed 
 by a few words gently and sweetly spoken. 
 But straightway the crowd closes on the ad- 
 mired object, or etiquette forbids a second 
 engagement, or a new companion is forced on
 
 94 SEDGELY COUKT. 
 
 the attention, while as yet the impression 
 made has been far too transient to have dis- 
 turbed the repose even of the most impressible. 
 • It is often dangerously otherwise, however, 
 in a small simple society like that which 
 the birthnight assembled at Mr Ramsay's. 
 Though the elements of which it was com- 
 posed might at first sight have seemed alto- 
 gether less dazzling and attractive, yet there 
 was there ample room and opportunity enough 
 for the birth and growth of those feelings of 
 our nature which, though lovely and interest- 
 ing in themselves, are unfortunately too apt 
 to make all other pursuits appear by com- 
 parison flat and unprofitable to the youthful 
 fancy. A drawing-room, neither gilded nor 
 pictured nor mirrored, but neat and comfort- 
 able, and bright with cheerful faces — the com- 
 pany deficient perhaps in polish and tournure, 
 meagrely enough supplied with the luxurious 
 appliances of wealth or the refinements of 
 fashion, but essentially rich in the possession 
 of youth and health, good spirit?, and the 
 power of enjoyment.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 95 
 
 Those who met there knew each other far 
 too well to make the ceremony of introduction 
 any part of the hostess's duty. Partners for 
 the dance, or to sit by, were chosen entirely 
 on the natural grounds of personal preference. 
 Where all were well acquainted, interesting 
 topics could not be wanting ; and as etiquette 
 was no master of the ceremonies, lively con- 
 versation was in every corner freely indulged 
 in. 
 
 Mr Kamsay's usually cordial spirits were 
 raised almost to the pitch of rapture in con- 
 templation of the smiling aspect of his home, 
 the good looks and popular manners of his 
 wife and daughters, and the happiness of the 
 whole family. He was only vexed that the 
 young quadrille dancers could not contrive 
 to put a little more mettle into their steps, 
 and showed them a good example by himself 
 going down a few couples of a country -dance, 
 snapping his fingers, cutting, wheeling, and 
 jumping, certainly with much greater activity 
 than elegance; but finding such unwonted 
 exertions rather exhausting at the beginning
 
 96 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 of the evening, lie soon retired to the inner 
 room with two or three select friends, to the 
 more suitable enjoyment of a rubber at whist, 
 valorously threatening, however, to resume the 
 dance after his limbs — "not so supple, alas! 
 as they had been p — were properly fortified for 
 action by an after-supper draught or two. Mrs 
 Eamsay, comely and serene, sat chatting com- 
 placently with one or two favourite associates, 
 chosen to bear her company on the occasion 
 because of their coincidence with herself in lik- 
 ing, above all things, to see the young people 
 happy ; looking on at all the frolic and gaiety 
 goiug forward with the sympathy and full 
 toleration, rather than the anxiety of a mother; 
 and if troubled with any anxiety, it was only 
 "that Millie would sit in the draught of that 
 window, and Andrew insist on drinking largely 
 of small beer when in a violent prespiration." 
 Miss Eamsay, on whom the cares of arrange- 
 ment chiefly devolved, was scarcely less in 
 her element. Managing and alert, she took 
 both pride and pleasure in her duties, in mar- 
 shalling the dancers, settling the proper figures
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 97 
 
 and tunes, occasionally slipping out to keep 
 an eye on the preparations going on for sup- 
 per in the dining-room, or to suggest that 
 Andrew Wallace and his supporter with the 
 bass-fiddle should be timeously refreshed by 
 a copious draught of stout porter ; and was 
 wonderfully little put out of humour though 
 much tried with the children, who every one 
 persisted in sitting upon some good-natured 
 lap or knee, till, one after another, they had 
 all dropped soundly asleep, and were carried to 
 bed. Millicent looked very lovely, and sang 
 like a syren ; and the highly-inflammable Mr 
 Temple, more in love than ever, hovered con- 
 stantly about her, his every breath being cut 
 short by a little sigh. The twins, excited by 
 the eminent success of their ivy decorations, 
 and the general approbation which had at- 
 tended their dancing of the cotillion and 
 Lancers quadrille, got rather boisterous to- 
 wards the close, indulged in romping, and 
 performed several practical jokes, by no means 
 in the best taste, which unfortunately their 
 parents, with more consideration of their claims 
 vol. i. G
 
 98 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 to indulgence as 'prime donne of the evening 
 than of either good manners or propriety, took 
 no pains to check. But all was cheerfulness, 
 frankness, and ease ; a hearty hospitality pre- 
 vailing, which more than made up in sub- 
 stance whatever might be wanting in show. 
 Unfortunately, however, there is nothing 
 quite perfect under the sun. Such reunions 
 are certainly very pleasant : they are only too 
 delightful in the circumstances of those who 
 enjoy them the most. Such free communings 
 among the young, amiable and impressible, 
 are apt to touch too near the heart not to 
 subvert plans of study, and make the task 
 of self-government still more difficult — to be 
 too exciting and dangerous for the very 
 threshold of life — for unformed minds and 
 unripe judgments.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAIRED — NOT MATCHED. 
 
 Captain Beaton made good his threat of 
 finding himself as soon as possible down 
 among his friends again ; much sooner, indeed, 
 than was at all favourable to the restoration 
 of his health, which had sustained so great a 
 shock. Before his strength was equal to the 
 exercise of walking, he daily perambulated the 
 town and links mounted on a pony, took large 
 bets at golf, stopped at the Union parlour by 
 way of resting, and having spent a couple of 
 hours there in pretty deep play at billiards, 
 would return home either low, morose, and 
 exhausted, or, after staying to dine with a 
 bachelor friend, in free bachelor fashion, 
 with spirits unnaturally excited, morbidly de-
 
 100 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 sirous of sympathy ; and when coldly received 
 by his wife, which he usually was, irritable, 
 tenacious, and argumentative. She, poor soul ! 
 felt all this to be dreadfully trying ; saw his 
 hollow cheek and feeble step with pity and 
 sorrow, and was painfully aware of all that 
 was wrong in his life and conversation. But 
 unfortunately she had no genius for setting 
 wrong things right. Under a strong self-delu- 
 sion, by no means uncommon to a narrow 
 intellect, she had so habitually mixed up and 
 confounded with her duties the promptings 
 of a cold and gloomy temper, that any at- 
 tempt to separate them now would probably 
 have been made by her in vain. No wonder, 
 then, that she had but little practical tolera- 
 tion — small share indeed of that perennial 
 fountain of love which flows deep and full 
 in many an otherwise humble bosom, nourish- 
 ing into strength and vigour the graces of 
 faith, hope, and charity, and ever ready, like 
 the soft rains and heavenly dews, to well forth 
 in sweetness and beauty, in winning ways and 
 gentle wiles.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 101 
 
 " My dear Lizzie, how dismal you look shut 
 up in this horrid little den'!" said the Captain 
 to his wife on his return one summer evening 
 from dining with his hospitable little friend 
 Peter Cheyne. " How the deuce should you 
 choose to sit in this dull closet, rather than in 
 your pleasant, airy drawing-room above stairs'? " 
 
 She was sitting or rather leaning down over 
 a large volume of old Calvinistic theology, 
 looking pale and grave, and, as was her habit 
 even at midsummer, wrapped carelessly round 
 with a large grey shawl ; her whole appearance 
 in strict accordance with the sombre little bou- 
 doir in its summer coverings of dingy brown 
 holland, its no fire, and but one small window. 
 
 Before answering, she looked steadily and 
 searchingly at him for a moment or two, her 
 eyes, though dim enough before with poring over 
 her studies in the grey twilight, now brightening 
 transiently in alarm for what she might see. 
 He stood before her in the doorway, and cer- 
 tainly in complete contrast to herself; with 
 sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, his tall figure 
 more erect than it had been since his illness, in
 
 102 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 consequence, probably, of his friend Peter's hos- 
 pitalities having on this occasion been only 
 carried so far as to lend him a little of that 
 unnatural impulse which is commonly known 
 by the name of Dutch courage. Apparently 
 she saw nothing in his appearance to disturb 
 her, for she only cast her eyes down on her 
 book again, and quietly said, 
 
 " You know I always prefer this room, Cap- 
 tain Beaton." 
 
 "Extraordinary taste, my dear Lizzy, to turn 
 your back on the splendid northern sky at this 
 time of the year. I never in my lifetime saw 
 a more brilliant evening." 
 
 " I daresay it is a fine evening," she said 
 with a half yawn. " It ought to be ; the wea- 
 ther is always tolerable at this season — about 
 the longest day, I think V 
 
 He was in too good humour to be so easily 
 offended with her cold reception as he some- 
 times was. Besides he was softened by what 
 had just been occupying his thoughts. Putting 
 away his hat he approached her, and patting 
 her shoulder, said,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 103 
 
 " The sun is far down now, Lizzy, and it all 
 looks different. But half an hour ago, do you 
 know, just as I was leaving Peter's snuggery, 
 the brilliant gold and purple of the sky brought 
 me so strongly in mind of the gorgeous sunsets 
 we used to watch together in Egypt — how 
 many years ago now, dear \ — that, upon my 
 soul, I began quite unconsciously to hum the 
 air of a little song you used sometimes to sing 
 to me then. I have never heard it since. How 
 did it go, Lizzy % ' Marlbrook s'en va-t-en 
 guerre' — or how was if? That is something 
 of the tune, I know ; but I cannot for my life 
 recall the words. I wish you would come up- 
 stairs and sing it to me now ; do !" 
 
 She smiled, but very slightly. 
 
 " My dear, you are dreaming ! I don't be- 
 lieve I have sung a note these twenty years. 
 You know I never cared the least in the world 
 about music." 
 
 " More's the pity, Lizzy." 
 
 " And I can't think how I could ever have 
 been so unusually merry in Egypt of all places ; 
 I know I was, generally speaking, wretched
 
 104 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 enough there, in body and mind and circum- 
 stance! No indeed ! you must excuse me, Bea- 
 ton. I have really no desire to recall the memory 
 of these days." 
 
 " Nonsense, Lizzy," he said, turning from her 
 with a gesture of impatience. " You were as 
 happy as other people there — as you might be 
 now, only you are most perversely determined 
 to be otherwise, — I believe, chiefly because you 
 see how terribly it bores me to see you ever- 
 lastingly moping as you do ; bat for God's sake 
 don't begin talking that way to-night. Come 
 up-stairs at all events, will you 1 for I declare 
 I cannot breathe in this dark dungeon. Where's 
 my little Kate?" 
 
 " Katherine has just gone to bed ; it is past 
 ten o'clock." 
 
 " Well, then, where's Miss Hope % I am de- 
 termined she shall sing to me if you won't." 
 
 " I am sure I have no objection, Captain 
 Beaton ; but I rather think Miss Hope has not 
 returned yet, or, if she have, that she will not 
 be much more inclined to sing than myself. 
 Mr Oliphant has been to see her this afternoon,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 105 
 
 and she went out as soon as we had drunk tea 
 to walk with him, I believe, part of the way 
 back to Pitmurie." 
 
 His thoughts were quite ready to take any 
 tolerably agreeable direction. 
 
 " Oh ho ! " smiling, and putting his ringer to 
 the side of his nose, " I thought it was only of 
 a Saturday evening that that faithful swain was 
 able to make his appearance here V 
 
 " He usually comes only every second Satur- 
 day, but it seems something unpleasant has 
 occurred between that odious woman, Mrs Bal- 
 four, and him ; and I am sorry to say, Beaton, he 
 seems to think he really must give up his situa- 
 tion. Some fine people (as she thought them) 
 were dining there yesterday, and I believe 
 she sent one of his pupils to tell him she was 
 sure he would feel more comfortable in his own 
 room. He came to talk it all over with Miss 
 Hope, and had not quite made up his mind 
 what to do, when he left this." 
 
 " You don't say so ! Poor Archie ! How I 
 have always pitied that nervous little man liv- 
 ing so long subjected to the upstart impertin-
 
 106 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 ences of a woman like Mrs Balfour, not half 
 so well born, I believe, as himself ! for Archie, 
 if he were not too modest to put forth his 
 claims, might count kindred with the best blood 
 in the Highlands !" 
 
 " Mr Oliphant is a good man, and a humble 
 Christian, Captain Beaton, which in his situa- 
 tion is of far greater importance than any other 
 claim he could put forward." 
 
 "But tell me about it all, Lizzy," he said, 
 drawing a chair beside her, forgetting, in a sub- 
 ject which really interested him, even his horror 
 of the boudoir. " It is curious that Peter 
 Cheyne was telling me only this day that the 
 old parson at Ravenstruther was certainly going 
 at last, and that it was generally believed Bal- 
 four meant to present Archie Oliphant with 
 the living, in consideration of his long and zea- 
 lous services as tutor to his sons, as well as that 
 he was monstrously popular in the parish as a 
 preacher. I immediately thought of Archie's 
 seven years' courtship of Miss Hope, and that 
 we must expect very soon to lose her good ser- 
 vices. But we are well off in having had her
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 107 
 
 so long. I should be quite sorry if anything 
 were to come between Archie and the church 
 of Eavenstruther ; for it is certainly his best 
 chance." 
 
 " So would Miss Hope, I assure you," said 
 Mrs Beaton, dryly. " It will certainly not be 
 her fault if this affair end in an entire rupture 
 with the Balfours — which Mr Oliphant seemed 
 to hint that it ought. I never saw any one 
 try so hard as she did to-night to persuade 
 him that he had misunderstood something or 
 other. Eeally, I did not make out exactly all 
 that had happened, but I could see he was 
 very much hurt. I am sure I wish them both 
 extremely well, but I cannot think they are 
 at all a well-suited couple, so very unlike as 
 they are in every way — he so timid and sen- 
 sitive, and she so very strong and self-pos- 
 sessed. At all events, she ought certainly to 
 have been the man!' 
 
 " Nonsense ! my dear Lizzy, how you do 
 talk ! they are admirably suited to each other. 
 It is a mighty thing, I think, that there 
 should be a little strength of nerve and
 
 108 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 mind between them ! Poor Archie has but 
 a small share of either. Miss Hope will 
 make the very best of him, you may depend 
 upon it." 
 
 "What you call the best, Captain Beaton, 
 I daresay. I know she can often talk him 
 into cheerful spirits, which with you is un- 
 fortunately all-in-all. But I am sure I should 
 prefer him as he usually is, — a humble Chris- 
 tian man, heavily weighed down by the sin 
 which, you must confess — however you may 
 choose to gloss it over — really, and truly, 
 and constantly besets us all during the whole 
 course of our lives ; and by the misery which 
 is its proper consequence, and ought, therefore, 
 to be in due proportion." 
 
 " Most extraordinary notions you have, 
 Lizzy ! I suppose you would think them 
 better suited if you could see Miss Hope 
 shivering and shaking like poor Archie him- 
 self, half distracted with bile or dyspepsia, 
 and often looking as if he wished that the 
 earth would open its jaws and swallow him 
 up, or some good-natured friend have the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 109 
 
 charity to run him through the body. A fine 
 couple they would then be ! " 
 
 " I have no such wish, Captain Beaton ; but 
 neither do I at all like the way Miss Hope 
 has of making out everything to be so fair 
 and comfortable in this world, and for the 
 best, in her sense of it. I think it absolutely 
 sinful — highly deceitful and self-seeking. The 
 right effect of all God's dispensations towards 
 us, in my opinion, is to rend our hearts and 
 put our mouths in the dust. I have no faith 
 in the suffering which can be endured with 
 a smiling countenance. As you say, she has 
 done well enough with Katherine in commu- 
 nicating those trifling accomplishments which 
 may not be an unsuitable occupation for very 
 early youth ; but I confess I should dread 
 her influence with her were she old enough 
 to bear the burthen of the knowledge, or, 
 rather, indeed, the mystery of her real situa- 
 tion in a world of sin and misery." He was 
 seized with a violent fit of coughing. 
 
 " My God, Lizzy ! what a pain in the chest 
 your gloomy notions have given me ! I de-
 
 110 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 clare I never felt more comfortable in my life 
 than when I came into this room scarcely a 
 quarter of an hour ago, and now I can scarcely 
 breathe, and feel as if the devil were pricking 
 me through the breast with ten thousand 
 needles and pins. A fine Job's comforter truly 
 you would make to a poor fellow troubled 
 with blue devils ! I wish you joy of your 
 pleasant fancies, Lizzy, but as I can't stand 
 either the discussion or application of them, 
 Fm off to bed at once."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE TUTOE. 
 
 Soon after his hasty exit, Miss Hope made her 
 appearance, but only for a moment, and to bid 
 Mrs Beaton good-night. She looked worn out 
 and absent, and so very near being depressed, 
 that even that lady could have found no fault 
 with the over- elasticity of her spirits. She 
 had walked quite half way to Pitmurie with 
 her nervous, disconsolate lover ; and though, 
 during the two hours they had passed to- 
 gether, she had left no topic unurged, no 
 means untried, to soothe and comfort him, for 
 once she had found it altogether impossible to 
 talk him into any approach to cheerful spirits. 
 Born with a feeble constitution, his sensitive 
 childhood morbidly watched over and nursed
 
 112 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 into greater irritability by the never slumber- 
 ing tenderness and devotion of a widowed 
 mother, poor Archie was far less able than 
 Miss Hope to struggle with the evils of their 
 common lot. An earnest, pious, Christian soul, 
 he had full faith in the goodness of God theo- 
 retically. Alone with Him upon the mountain 
 he felt strong ; his heart was ever expanded 
 with love, and his soul lifted up in holy joy 
 and adoration ; but in his intercourse with his 
 fellow-creatures he was weak and helpless as a 
 child. Without the support he was constantly 
 deriving from that well-spring of affection 
 which had so long subsisted between Mary 
 Hope and himself, he must, long before this 
 time, have sunk under the petty and paltry 
 annoyances to which his residence in the Bal- 
 four family was perpetually subjecting him. 
 Often and often in the course of it had the 
 feeble light of hope within his breast seemed 
 to flicker and grow dim, and must have been 
 altogether extinguished in so rude an atmo- 
 sphere, but for the protecting mantle he felt 
 ever wrapping him closely round in the pos-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 113 
 
 session of her steady affection. It was at once 
 his sword and his panoply, the one alleviation 
 to the trials and troubles of his earthly lot, the 
 window of his dungeon through which he could 
 look out upon a fair world which otherwise 
 would have been dark enough for him. 
 
 But to-day the balm had been much less 
 sovereign. Numerous as had been the slights 
 and abundant the contumely he had for five 
 long years writhed under at the hands of the 
 thoughtless, overbearing woman whose upstart 
 pride and folly Providence seemed to have 
 made use of as the elements by which his 
 patience should be tried, and his whole mind 
 and character hardened to the standard of 
 practical duty and usefulness, never before 
 to-day had he felt his heart so faint and his 
 spirit so utterly quenched. And it was some 
 time before he could find courage to enter on 
 a full explanation of the dreadful grievance 
 even to Miss Hope — not till the oil of her kind 
 looks and loving tones had flowed freely over 
 the troubled waters of his bosom and some- 
 what stilled the tumult. 
 
 VOL. I, H
 
 114 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 As she already knew, his treatment by Mrs 
 Balfour had of late been growing worse and 
 worse. Ever since her return from Argyle- 
 shire, some weeks ago, in particular, he had 
 observed a marked increase of contempt and 
 impertinence in her behaviour towards him. 
 She had gone there for the important purpose 
 of inspecting and pronouncing on the merits of 
 the beautiful Inverardel property, then on the 
 eve of being purchased by her only brother, a 
 successful Glasgow merchant ; and on her re- 
 turn home had been accompanied by a certain 
 Miss Flora Cameron, the daughter of the parish 
 minister of Inverardel, between whom and her- 
 self had arisen one of those sudden and violent 
 intimacies that are born of the ruling passions 
 of both — of pleasing adulation and the desire 
 of patronage in the one, and inordinate vanity 
 and the love of power in the other. 
 
 To this young lady, as he had early confided 
 to Miss Hope, Archie had at once conceived a 
 feeling of distrust and dislike. For the first 
 few days of their acquaintance she had been 
 perfectly civil, flattering rather in her manners
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 115 
 
 towards him ; had more than once joined him 
 in the garden with the evident design of draw- 
 ing him into an easy intercourse with herself ; 
 had praised his preaching ; had talked famili- 
 arly of her friends the Duke and Duchess of 
 Argyle and other great people ; of genealogies 
 in general, and rather grandly of her own in- 
 teresting descent, in particular on the mother's 
 side, from one of the main branches of the 
 great Campbell tree. But as he had little in- 
 terest in such subjects or in any of the other 
 frojyos de la societe with which she had per- 
 severingly tried him, he had felt it quite im- 
 possible to conquer the shyness and repugnance 
 he had begun with ; the consequence of all 
 which was, that not only had her favour very 
 soon turned to disfavour, at which he could 
 not wonder, but she had somehow contrived, 
 as he believed, by some of her accursed High- 
 land cantrips, to gain a horrible species of 
 mesmeric influence over his poor nerves, as 
 mischievous to him as it was totally unac- 
 countable. Entirely as she might seem to be 
 occupied in conversation with other people in
 
 116 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 the room, tie was convinced she both listened 
 to, and heard, every syllable he ever uttered in 
 her presence, were it only addressed to one of 
 his pupils and in the lowest whisper ; and the 
 moment she chose to direct her large light- 
 grey eyes fall upon him, he felt as if paralysed 
 and constrained to commit some trifling, per- 
 haps, but always tormenting piece of awkward- 
 ness which covered him with shame and con- 
 fusion. Once he had snuffed out a candle ; 
 once shaken the pepper-pot lid into his soup ; 
 several times he had trod on the tail of Mrs 
 Balfour's pampered and ill-natured spaniel ; 
 and once — oh moment of agony ! — when hur- 
 riedly making way for his formidable patroness, 
 he had unguardedly jerked back his chair and 
 overturned an argand lamp which stood on 
 the table behind him, breaking the shade, and, 
 still worse, spilling oil on the carpet ; and on 
 every such occasion the glances of intelligence, 
 the smiles of wonder and derision he felt, 
 rather than saw, pass between her and Mrs 
 Balfour, added tenfold sharpness to the torture 
 he had already experienced.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 117 
 
 All these petty annoyances had been con- 
 fided to Miss Hope on Archie's last fortnightly 
 visit, had been patiently listened to by her, 
 combated, and at last playfully talked away. 
 The harp of David was not more potent to 
 disperse the clouds which darkened the mind 
 of Saul, than were her kindly spiritings to re- 
 store poor Archie to the measure of calmness 
 and self-respect possible to so nervous a tem- 
 perament. He had returned to his post in- 
 spired with new courage, firmly resolved, like 
 Macbeth, after his interview with the stronger 
 spirit which made up the complement of his 
 life, if not to " be bloody/' at all events to be 
 " bold and resolute " in defying all the ma- 
 chinations of the enemy. Only three days had 
 passed since then, and here he was again over- 
 borne, defeated — yea, in the very depths of the 
 Slough of Despond ! 
 
 In presence of Mrs Beaton he had told of 
 Mrs Balfour's message, brought to him, too, by 
 one of his pupils, the one he liked the least, a 
 bold unfeeling boy, who had rather pointed the 
 arrow by knowing looks and suppressed smiles,
 
 118 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 " That as there would be a pretty large party 
 at dinner to-day, mamma thought he would 
 feel more comfortable in his own room •" this 
 was so perfectly true, that but for the covert 
 insult evidently meant to be conveyed by it, 
 he would have felt nothing but gratitude to 
 her for the permission. As it was, he said he 
 felt dreadfully hurt ; he had not been able to 
 close his eyes all night, and having got over 
 the morning lessons as he best could, had de- 
 clined going down to dinner, pleading a head- 
 ache and the necessity of taking a long walk, 
 but in reality that he might be able to come 
 and tell her what had occurred, that he was 
 more wretched under it than he had ever been 
 in his life, utterly miserable indeed, and con- 
 vinced that, in spite of all considerations to the 
 contrary, he must and ought to give up his 
 situation immediately. 
 
 Miss Hope, as she always did, felt his wrongs, 
 whatever they might be, keenly, and with the 
 quick sympathy of a true woman ; but, look- 
 ing at this message in its very worst aspect, 
 her natural shrewdness led her at once to the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 119 
 
 conclusion that it could not have caused the 
 amount of suffering attributed to it. There 
 must be something kept back. The wound 
 had evidently a deeper seat ; and must, she saw, 
 be reached by careful probing before it could 
 either be soothed or cicatrised. 
 
 At last the heart was plucked out of his 
 mystery ; but not till they had walked full 
 two miles towards his dreaded home in close 
 and uneasy conversation. The strong mid- 
 summer sun, which throughout the long and 
 weary day had been pouring overwhelming 
 floods of light over the poor tutor's face as if 
 in mockery of its pallid sadness, had at last 
 gone clown to the north, behind the Seidlaw 
 range of hills, its slanting rays now kindling 
 into rosy glory the light summer clouds which 
 had before been almost invisible, as the reflec- 
 tive glances of declining life often brighten 
 into poetry and beauty the unmarked, almost 
 unconscious pleasures of youth. The dews of 
 heaven were falling softly through the clear 
 air upon the hot, parched ground ; and as the 
 fresh breeze of twilight fanned his aching brow,
 
 120 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 and loving words sounded soothingly in his 
 ear, he was at last able to unbosom himself 
 freely. 
 
 His youngest and favourite pupil, little 
 Arthur, now about seven years old, had been 
 from his birth rather an object of aversion to 
 Mrs Balfour for reasons which would have 
 recommended him only the more to an ordinary 
 mother's care and tenderness. He was a puny 
 child with rickety limbs ; he squinted slight- 
 ly, and w r as, over and above, to her especial 
 annoyance and disgust, constantly subject to 
 spots and specks all over the head and face. 
 There was a strong attachment between Oli- 
 phant and little Atty, as he was commonly 
 called. A fellow-feeling in misfortune would 
 probably have drawn them together, even if 
 the boy had not been, as he was, a grateful 
 and affectionate child, and Archie in great 
 want of something in the house to love. 
 
 On the day of this important dinner-party, 
 only the two elder boys dined at table, and 
 when the other children were fully prepared to 
 go down as usual to dessert, a message came
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 121 
 
 from mamma to say, that as there were still 
 some spots on Master Arthur's face, he must 
 on no account be allowed to appear in the 
 dining-room. The poor little feeble boy, worn 
 out with hair-curling and hope deferred, and 
 soon left quite alone in the nursery — his maid, 
 who was a favourite with the housekeeper, 
 having been tempted into her room to pass 
 judgment on the remains of a newly invented 
 corner-dish — disconsolately wandered out into 
 the passages, and espying light under the door 
 of Mr Oliphant's room, looked timidly in, and 
 was cordially invited to enter. There, seated 
 on his kind master's knee, much refreshed by 
 a sip of his tea and a morsel of bread and 
 butter, and patiently shown by him for the 
 hundredth time the entire store of his humble 
 ornaments — the large, old-fashioned silver 
 watch, outside and in, the triple-bladed pen- 
 knife, the jeweller's-gold locket, containing a 
 lock of Miss Hope's hair tied into a curl with 
 gold thread and hung inside his vest by a neat 
 braid chain of her making — an equally pleasant 
 and tranquil hour was passed by the two for-
 
 122 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 lorn ones. Eight o'clock had struck, it was 
 quite little Atty's bed-time, and the evening 
 would have closed in peace and comfort to 
 both parties, had not the boy, as he nestled his 
 drowsy head on Archie's breast, unfortunately 
 chanced to remark, in the fulness of his con- 
 tent, 
 
 " I'm so glad you are not a gentleman, Mr 
 Oliphant!" 
 
 " What do you mean by that, my dear 1 " 
 asked Archie, not a little startled from his plea- 
 sant composure. 
 
 "Just that you will always stay here with 
 us and never go to live at the manse, as papa 
 once told us you would, when poor old Dr 
 Barclay died ; for he is very very near dead 
 now, mamma says." 
 
 Archie was now nervously awake, and he 
 could not help asking the boy very quickly 
 indeed, 
 
 " And who says I'm not a gentleman, Atty V 3 
 
 " Mamma said so ; I heard her to-day telling 
 Flora Cameron that you were not — that she 
 was determined to have her papa, Dr Cameron,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 123 
 
 come to live always at the manse, because lie 
 was a gentleman, and would be a companion to 
 ladies and gentlemen — that you were only fit 
 to preach to poor people, or to teach children 
 lessons ; and I am very glad, for I want you 
 so much to stay here always, dear Mr Oliphant, 
 to teach me and to show me all your pretty 
 things." 
 
 Poor Oliphant's heart sank within him. He 
 knew that for some weeks past old Dr Barclay, 
 now upwards of eighty, had been considered as 
 quite in a dying way. For the last eighteen 
 months, he had, as his assistant, preached twice 
 every Sunday in the church of Eavenstruther, 
 was much liked by the congregation, and as 
 Mr Balfour was the sole patron, it was as con- 
 fidently believed, as it was generally desired by 
 the whole parish, that he should succeed to the 
 living. 
 
 Even Archie himself, for the most part, be- 
 lieved in it. Although, when frequently in- 
 vited by Mr Balfour, who was a hon vivant, in 
 the entire absence of convivial friends, to act 
 the part of boon-companion, he had, from tern-
 
 124 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 perament as well as principle, invariably 
 declined the honour, and was consequently no 
 particular favourite ; yet, neither had he, as he 
 believed, any powerful rivalry to dread ; and 
 from many hints let fall in his favour in ac- 
 knowledgment of the excellent progress made 
 by the boys, or on some report of his popularity 
 as a preacher, he had, without any positive 
 promise, in spite of a general distrust of receiv- 
 ing good at the hands of man, as well as of 
 moments of constitutional hopelessness and 
 misery, been latterly able to look forward in 
 tolerable security to an early deliverance from 
 bondage — to the conclusion of a weary pil- 
 grimage — to the blessed Canaan of his own 
 vine and fig-tree — and last and best, oh im- 
 measurably best and dearest ! to the crowning 
 hour of his existence, when he should be able 
 to take Mary Hope to his bosom and his home, 
 and there, in her cheering companionship, be, 
 by the blessing of God, so built up anew and 
 fortified, that he would be far better fitted than 
 he had yet been to do the work appointed to 
 him — to deliver faithfully his heavenly Mas-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 125 
 
 tex s message of peace and goodwill to men — 
 to adorn His holy doctrines, and to labour 
 diligently and with all his might for the estab- 
 lishment of His kingdom upon earth. 
 
 No wonder, then, as he was now able to tell 
 Miss Hope, that he felt overcome, heartsick, 
 and so dreadfully nervous that it was with 
 difficulty he could hold the child longer on 
 his trembling knees. Making a violent effort, 
 however — in the idea, he said, that there was 
 probably some scheme on foot against these 
 dear interests, of the exact nature of which he 
 ought to be no longer in ignorance — he had 
 shaken up the drowsy boy, kissed and patted 
 his cheek, and gone on with the subject by 
 asking him, in a voice as calm as he could 
 command, what Miss Cameron had answered, 
 when mamma said he was Bnly fit to teach 
 children \ 
 
 "Nothing particular," at first the boy 
 thought ; then, after a moment of more wake- 
 ful recollection, he smiled, pretended to shiver, 
 to look frightened, and winking with his eyes 
 said,
 
 126 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 " She did, so — like you do sometimes ; and 
 then she laughed like anything." 
 
 Poor Archie's sallow brow was blood-reel 
 with shame and indignation as he described 
 the boy's grimaces, in imitation of his own 
 miserably nervous manner, and his hand which 
 held one of Miss Hope's suddenly relaxed its 
 hold, and as she involuntarily grasped it with 
 both of hers, it felt deadly cold and moist. She 
 dared not look at him ; she only murmured a 
 kind syllable and pressed the poor arm she 
 held closer to her warm heart. So encouraged, 
 he was able to go on with his story, his face as 
 suddenly pale again. 
 
 '"And mamma would laugh tool' I asked him. 
 
 " ' Oh, terribly ! she could hardly speak for a 
 minute, then she said Flora was a dear, clever 
 creature, and th^t she must have her always 
 near her, only she feared she would make her 
 die of laughing/ 
 
 '"And was Flora pleased?' 
 
 " l Awfully ! for she ran and put her arms 
 round mamma's neck and kissed her, and said 
 she loved her dearly and never wanted to go 
 away/
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 127 
 
 " ' And that was all, Atty V 
 
 " ' Yes. Mamma only said something about 
 sounding papa immediately, and making him 
 go to Inverardel ; but I didn't know what she 
 meant/ " 
 
 Miss Hope, however, as Archie himself had 
 instantly done, could guess too readily what 
 she meant — what the drift of the whole cabal 
 must be, of which the prohibition against his 
 appearing at dinner was probably but a slight 
 preliminary hint. It threatened nothing less 
 than the total annihilation of that fair edifice 
 which through long and weary years they had 
 built up between them, stone by stone, until 
 it was all but completed. The living of In- 
 verardel was probably small, as the district 
 was remote and thinly peopled, while that of 
 Kavenstruther, they knew, wa? one of the best 
 in the Church, and the parish so plentifully 
 supplied with small proprietors, over whom 
 Mr Balfour had the superiority, that a clergy- 
 man, whose manners at all fitted him for it, 
 might count on dining out several times 
 a-week all the year round, and on being every-
 
 128 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 where esteemed a vast acquisition. It was all 
 only too intelligible — too horribly probable. By 
 a series of petty insults poor Oliphant was at 
 this eleventh hour to be driven into a quarrel 
 with the family, and thus ignobly got rid of, 
 in order that the more seemly and courtly Dr 
 Cameron, whose praises had already been pain- 
 fully sounded in his ears, might be preferred in 
 his stead ! Even Miss Hope's buoyant spirit 
 sank visibly under the sudden over-clouding 
 of dear and long-cherished prospects. For a 
 moment or two she could neither suggest 
 remedy nor counsel, and Oliphant, so accus- 
 tomed to be comforted by her that he had 
 grown insensibly to believe there was no evil 
 under the sun that she could not in some way 
 ameliorate, felt in far greater despair during 
 her short silence* than he had done even at the 
 first rude shock. 
 
 A single glance, however, at his quivering 
 lip and pale cheek at once quickened her 
 powers of resource, and unlocked the genial 
 current of her feelings, which fiery indigna- 
 tion against the promoters of this diabolic
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 129 
 
 scheme had momentarily chained up and 
 paralysed. 
 
 " An evident plot against you, Archibald ! " 
 she said, as firmly as she could, "but one that 
 is too wicked, I trust, to be successful. My 
 friend, we must not be too much cast down " 
 — (" if we can help it," he muttered in a paren- 
 thesis) ; " but rather," she went on, " let us 
 spur our brains to find some means of counter- 
 acting the two ladies in their fair scheme." 
 
 " But what on earth can be clone % " he 
 gloomily asked her. " I have no positive 
 promise, you know, from Mr Balfour — no title 
 to say one word, and could not, I believe, even 
 if I had. No, no, Mary — I'm afraid our part 
 of the affair must be to suffer rather than to 
 do." 
 
 "We can get Captain Beaton to speak to 
 Mr Balfour immediately — that's one thing we 
 can do, Archie, which may possibly help us. 
 This Highland Flora cannot surely have got 
 such an ascendancy over him as well as his 
 wife in three short weeks, that he will refuse 
 to listen to the suggestions of reason and jus- 
 
 VOL. I. i
 
 130 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 tice, even should he have forgotten them for a 
 moment." 
 
 " His wife will never rest until he listen to 
 her suggestions, Mary, and we know her wishes 
 and intentions. Ah ! Mary, you laughed at 
 my instinct against this Highland witch — see 
 now whether or not it was a true one % " 
 
 "Just at first, surely not, Archibald," she 
 said, trying for her old playful manner. " It 
 was /, rather than you, who ought then to 
 have been afraid of her machinations, as no 
 doubt she intended to rival me in your good 
 graces ; but I certainly did not think the 
 worse of her that she seemed to be fully aware 
 of your merits." 
 
 "You were grateful, rather, that any one 
 could pretend to be so," he said, humbly, "for 
 it was nothing more than pretence, Mary. 
 You see she meant nothing towards me but 
 mischief from first to last, and I always knew 
 it. There was deceit in her smile, in her flat- 
 tering ways, even in the very tones of her 
 voice. I verily believe she had some design in 
 every syllable she uttered."
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 131 
 
 Miss Hope could now laugh a little. " So do 
 I, Archibald ; only I think in your humility you 
 mistake the nature of the design. I shrewdly 
 suspect if you had received her velvet-patting 
 as gratefully and kindly as she meant you 
 should, you might never have suffered from 
 the claw that was folded down under it ; and 
 which, I allow, may scratch deep enough now 
 that your bristling up against it has forced 
 its points fairly out. Come, now, let us try 
 to do the young lady full justice between us ; 
 you see I feel so secure of your favour that I 
 can afford to be quite magnanimous towards 
 her ; and I say the goodwill she showed you 
 was no more a false pretence than it was alto- 
 gether nattering to you in the best sense. 
 Like many other people in the world, she was 
 actuated by mixed motives. Accustomed from 
 her childhood to foggy hills and boggy glens, 
 she does not regard these beauties in the pic- 
 turesque light that you and I do — probably she 
 may have no eye that way; at all events, it is 
 plain that she takes kindly to the Lowland 
 novelties she has lately been launched among —
 
 132 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 to the rich cornfields and blooming gardens, 
 the dressing and the dinnering, the gossiping 
 and gaiety. Naturally enough, perhaps, she 
 looks round her with Highland sharpness to 
 find whether there may not be a snug corner 
 somewhere in this Goshen in which she may 
 cast anchor, and be able to enjoy a continua- 
 tion of the delightful peace and plenty ; for, 
 alas ! the Highland prospect looks only more 
 bleak and barren in the remote distance, and 
 lo ! one presents itself at her very elbow ! Her 
 patroness, her beloved friend, has a living to 
 bestow, and one quite according to her ideal, 
 not the less desirable, surely, that it is promised 
 to a youth of good parts, also within reach, 
 and whose only fault is over-modesty. What 
 can be more natural and convenient — there is 
 nobody even to be circumvented by it (for, of 
 course, she knows nothing of my claims) ; she 
 has only then to draw him in. Ah, Archibald, 
 confess now that you have been ungrateful ! " 
 
 " How can you, Mary ! " he said, with a 
 grim smile; "and yet I am thankful that you 
 have spirit to talk so in the middle of the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 133 
 
 darkness which surrounds us both. Ah ! if I 
 could not say both, Mary/' he continued, after 
 a short pause, pressing her arm to his poor 
 palpitating heart and looking into her kind 
 eyes with a sort of timid confidence which 
 always affected her, "it would indeed be the 
 very blackness of darkness for me — a night in 
 which I could no longer pretend to work ; but 
 let us not waste time, but consider. Even you 
 don't think I shall be able to go on with my 
 tuition in these circumstances % " 
 
 She did not think it, nor could she wish him 
 to be exposed to a repetition of such preme- 
 ditated insults. She proposed, therefore, he 
 should leave Pitmurie next day, on the plea of 
 bad health, and take lodgings at St Andrews for 
 a time. It would be the more politic as well 
 as agreeable course, to avoid if possible coming 
 to an open rupture with Mrs Balfour. Archie, 
 much relieved to find her of this opinion, most 
 readily agreed to do so, and they parted with 
 steady but heavy hearts.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE OLD RETAINER. 
 
 It was no wonder that next morning Captain 
 Beaton had quite forgotten his last night's 
 lively interest in Oliphant, and the living of 
 Eavenstruther. His cough had been very 
 troublesome in the night. Mrs Beaton, half 
 through her broken sleep, had uttered in- 
 numerable gloomy reflections on his state of 
 mind, and the manner of his life. His head 
 ached severely ; and neither health nor temper 
 were at all improved by a gentle reminder 
 from Mr Kamsay, which reached him by the 
 hands of Davy Eobertson, before his eyes were 
 open in the morning, that a certain bill, a 
 very old acquaintance indeed of his, which 
 had been drawn by t him on the bank to pay
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 135 
 
 off some heavy betting losses long ago in- 
 curred, and to which Mr Kamsay had oblig- 
 ingly appended his name, would fall due on 
 that clay, and could not very conveniently for 
 that worthy be again renewed. 
 
 "Hang him!" cried the poor Captain, in 
 sudden and most unjust wrath. "I wonder 
 what the devil he thinks I'm to do with this 
 now % Not a single sixpence have I, either in 
 house or pocket — nor haven't had for months 
 past ! and he very well knows I could quite as 
 easily raise the ghost of my grandmother this 
 day as I could four hundred pounds without 
 his help. These accursed sharks from Leith ! 
 Confound me, if I ever touch a cue against one 
 of them again ! Fairly or unfairly, it's little 
 matter to me which ; they have thoroughly 
 cleaned me out — left me as bare as a beggar — 
 worse than bare ! — bankrupt, I vow to God ! — 
 for the money they did me out of was no more 
 mine than a bankrupt's full purse is his — 
 every stiver of it belonged to my shoemakers 
 and tailors — and now, I can neither walk up 
 nor down that cursed South Street; without
 
 136 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 imagining I hear a dun at my heels. By 
 Jove, I am frightened at my own shadow ! " 
 
 There was nothing for it, in the mean time, 
 but to hurry out of bed, ill at ease as he was, 
 that he might get early to the town, and there 
 try what could be done to patch up his credit, 
 which now seemed out at both elbows. He 
 came down- stairs, looking wretchedly pale 
 and shattered, and was so nervous that he 
 could not, on attempting it, swallow a single 
 morsel of breakfast. His wife sat with com- 
 pressed lips, looking almost as pale as himself, 
 and scarcely uttered a word, except to remark, 
 as he left the room with unsteady steps, 
 " that all this was exactly as she expected it 
 would be — if that were any comfort." The 
 tears rushed plentifully from poor Katherine's 
 eyes, as she looked in sore perplexity from 
 one parent to the other ; and Miss Hope, dis- 
 tinctly perceiving that this was no time for 
 the discussion of her subordinate affairs, 
 uttered a sigh of sincere sympathy for the 
 suffering she witnessed, and patiently allowed 
 to herself that there were deeper griefs, and
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 137 
 
 far more painful anxieties in the world, than 
 any that had as yet been her portion. 
 
 But things took a better turn before the 
 evening. Mr Bamsay, as usual, was found 
 most friendly and helpful. Owing to a build- 
 ing speculation, in which he was involved, and 
 which had unexpectedly required every penny 
 of his available resources, he was unfor- 
 tunately unable to pay up the money himself ; 
 nor did his position with his partners in the 
 bank admit of his again putting his name to 
 the bill without damage to his credit. No- 
 thing short of this danger would have made 
 him hesitate a single moment to stretch a 
 point for the accommodation of his excellent 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 " Bless you, sir, it would have been a trifle ! 
 a mere nothing between friends ! " But the 
 affair should be settled somehow, on that the 
 Captain might depend. In the course of the 
 forenoon, he managed to fish out a client of 
 his own, who had a sum of money lying in 
 the bank at low interest, until an unexcep- 
 tionable investment should turn up ; and this
 
 138 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 he proposed to obtain for Captain Beaton, in 
 the only way it could be had — namely, by 
 means of a mortgage on the fair lands of 
 Balbeaton. At first, the worthy banker rather 
 demurred about borrowing the sum in ques- 
 tion, as it was by two hundred pounds larger 
 than that wanted for the bill, and the party 
 refused to have it divided. But a few words 
 eagerly stammered out by Captain Beaton, in 
 explanation of his position with his trades- 
 people, at once obviated the objection. Mr 
 Kamsay looked blank for a moment, at hear- 
 ing of this new involvement, and then, with a 
 friendly, compassionate shrug, agreed that, if 
 that were the case, there need be no hesita- 
 tion, for, no doubt, he must be clear with the 
 townspeople, or there would be the very devil 
 and all to pay with his character : — And the 
 affair was completed. 
 
 As this was by no means the first trans- 
 action of the kind into which a passion for 
 speculation, in one shape or another, had 
 driven the Beatons, father and son, it would 
 leave the Captain little better than the nonii-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 139 
 
 nal possessor of his proudly-regarded paternal 
 estate ; but what else could be expected 1 
 They had both loved their pleasure better 
 than their lands ; and what wonder if the 
 affronted acres should at last take unto them- 
 selves wings, and flee quite away ! In the 
 mean time, he felt that buoyant sense of relief, 
 which seemed to put new life into every fibre 
 of his frail body — not so much in consequence 
 of having got rid of the bill, for never before 
 that morning had he been allowed to feel the 
 full inconvenience that might have arisen to 
 him from it ; but his appropriation to gamb- 
 ling purposes of that part of his income 
 which ought to have been paid to his trades- 
 people, till now unconfessed even to his indul- 
 gent friend and factor, had weighed upon him 
 like a nightmare. For months past he had 
 been haunted by the ghosts of duns in his 
 sleep, and in constant alarm through the day, 
 lest some craving note should find its way to 
 Balbeaton in his absence, and, by opening up 
 the whole affair, deepen into absolute gloom 
 the shadow which his wife's unhappy temper
 
 140 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 had so long thrown round his home. Xow, as 
 he believed, all was safe — the reduction to his 
 income could not be so great as Eamsay had 
 slightly hinted it would — or better luck, per- 
 haps, might — but no ; he would run no risks 
 for the future ; he would be hanged, drawn, 
 and quartered if he ever played billiards again 
 at all — -no, never once — or, if once, merely a 
 pool, now and then, by way of keeping his 
 hand in, and to keep people from talking — 
 but, certainly, never, while he lived, again 
 with any of these Leith fellows — little better 
 than blacklegs, as they were, whom the devil's 
 own skill seemed never to fail. 
 
 This, and sundry other good resolutions, 
 flickered dimly up through his brain as he 
 crossed the street from the bank to his brother- 
 in-law's house, where he generally looked in of 
 a morning, merely to say, " how d'ye do \ " to 
 his sister and nieces ; and to hear from them 
 all how well he was looking, or any little bit 
 of cheerful news that might be stirring in the 
 town. 
 
 He found Mrs Eamsay shut up in the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 141 
 
 dining-room below — the little heroine of the 
 duck's - plate accident playing beside her, 
 tyrannising, riotously enough, it must be 
 owned, over a good - natured puppy - clog, 
 dressed in her own cap and pinafore, which 
 she was forcing, nolens volens, to sit upright 
 in her little chair with the bar across it — and 
 in close confabulation with old Katie Gourlay, 
 a well-remembered retainer of the house of 
 Balbeaton, who had been cook there from his 
 very earliest days, had nursed him through 
 many a fit of childish sickness, and had, long 
 ago, and after forty years of faithful service in 
 the family, contentedly retired to a couple of 
 small rooms, and the otium of her spinning- 
 wheel, clown a narrow close, far west, in the 
 shabby part of the South Street. 
 
 Katie was a worthy-looking, little, ill-made 
 woman, dressed in a rusty black silk bonnet 
 and cloak, with a grave pale face, and sensible 
 earnest grey eyes. She still, though in a low 
 pleasant voice, used the vernacular in accent 
 and idiom, which is now rather antiquated, or 
 at least rarely heard in its full breadth anion g
 
 142 SEDGELY COUET. 
 
 the class of domestic servants in well-educated 
 Scotland. 
 
 Justly considered as a wise woman in her 
 generation, Katie was often in requisition by 
 the various members of the Eamsay family, and 
 had been specially sent for that morning to be 
 consulted about little Peggy. Her mother was 
 sure the child had worms, because, though she 
 had a large appetite, she looked white-faced 
 and ill, chirmeel even on with griping pains, 
 and was, moreover, so desperately ill to deal 
 with — the poor little lamb ! — there was just no 
 possibility of living in the house with her ! 
 Old Kate, though an interpreter of dreams, and 
 in many other respects entirely of the old 
 school, was luckily by no means a quack in 
 medical matters. She had, therefore, after ex- 
 amination, immediately repudiated the idea of 
 worm medicine ; and having with her usual 
 gentle candour hinted at the greater probability 
 of " owre mony berries/' and finally recom- 
 mended total abstinence for a time from " the 
 busses, and maybe a sma' dose or twa of sinny 
 with plenty of manna," was now sitting with
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 143 
 
 outspread handkerchief, a yet untasted glass of 
 currant wine and handsome piece of shortbread 
 on her lap, whispering to Mrs Eamsay some very 
 confidential cautionings against a cook lately 
 taken into her service. Half a minute before 
 the Captain appeared she had got to her grounds- 
 for the caution. Oatmeal, she feared, had been 
 unrighteously disposed of. 
 
 "No merely gi'en awa' in nievefu's at the 
 door/' she said, "as some impudent, careless 
 hizzies made a practice o\ and thocht nae ill 
 o'd, but rather wha but them for charity ! 
 Waur nor that — if it was ony thing — deliber- 
 ately putten in amang the swine's meat, to 
 mak it mair worth that greedy cormorant 
 Wully Adie's while to pay for d." 
 
 Poor Mrs Eamsay looked quite confounded. 
 
 " Ay, mem, heard ye ever o' sic a prank % I 
 dinna ken for my pairt what the world '11 come 
 to belyve — no that I can a'thegither certify 
 the fack aither — a' I really ken about it is, 
 that a puir cretur, ane Tammy Petherie, — ye 
 ken him, I daursay, mem, that bides doon oor 
 close, — as he was gaun by your back door to
 
 144 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 his wark in the mornin', and sud ha' seen Betty 
 toomin' her cog into the milk-laddie's pitcher, 
 minted as muckle to me as that, to the best o' 
 his belief, there was mair gude aitmeal on the 
 tap o' the usual orts than would hae parritched 
 a hungrie Christian." 
 
 Mrs Ramsay, with whom the suspected dam- 
 sel was decidedly a favourite, here with a re- 
 lieved air hinted at the possibility of what the 
 person saw being porridge and not meal. Some 
 of the little monkeys, she knew, were by no 
 means so partial to that wholesome article of 
 diet as they ought to be — that little varlet Bob, 
 in particular, she more than suspected, often 
 left his plate * no half supped out j " and the 
 consequence was, he was everlastingly at her 
 tail, through the forenoon, demanding pieces of 
 bread, or what he could get. 
 
 "AVeel-a-weel, mem," the candid Kate re- 
 sponded, " there's naething impossible — the best- 
 that is 'ill be sometimes mista'en ; but look 
 you weel after her yoursel', mem, that's a'." 
 Then after a pause, "Na, mem, that's no just 
 a', either. I've raeson to think, too, that that
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 145 
 
 misguided cretur, Mally Price, — her, ye ken, 
 that buys the hare-skins, an's aye scoungin' 
 about kitchens whan she can win in, — I ken 
 led dies disna like Mally, for she had ance the 
 word o' bein' light-fingered, but I never saw 
 naething o ? the kind about the cretur myseF, 
 and Fve kent her pretty weel, noo, this five- 
 and-forty year and mair, and mony's the quar- 
 ter o' pund o' tea and pund o' sugar she carried 
 honestly eneugh out to me, when I w r as wi' 
 your mamma at Ba'beaton- — though, nae doot, 
 she aye likit a drappy." Mrs Earn say here in- 
 dicated, by several rather impatient nods, that 
 she had completely identified the person alluded 
 to, and Kate hurried on. "Weel, mem, the 
 short is, that Mally sud 'a said — an' she disna 
 lee — that mair nor ance, or twice aither, 
 she had ha'en an offer at your door fae Betty, 
 of gude hen's feathers, as weel as the customary 
 hare-skins, and had at last been just obleegecl 
 to tell her plainly that she had nae ruse o' deal- 
 in' in sic dangerous merchandise ! " 
 
 " The Lord be good unto me ! " Mrs Ramsay 
 exclaimed, with uplifted hands and eyes, and 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 now thoroughly alarmed about her goods and 
 chattels. " Hen s feathers, did ye say, Kate % 
 an' where on the face of the earth could Betty 
 have got hen's feathers to sell, I would like to 
 know, if not out of my good handsome feather- 
 beds % Oh dear ! oh dear ! and does not that 
 tally only too well with what I said to Mr 
 Eamsay not three nights ago 1 ' My dear/ 
 says I, 'it seems to me, either that this bed, 
 that I thought there wasn't the like of any- 
 where for comfort, grows harder and harder 
 every night, or else these maids of ours grow 
 lazier and lazier every day in the shaking of it 
 up/ ' Tut, Annie/ says he, — you know his way, 
 Kate, — 'hold your tongue and lie still and 
 sleep like a woman ; it must be your bones 
 that are getting sharper and sharper, I doot, if 
 there's anything wrong, — at least I find the 
 bed soft enough, and only wish I could get out 
 of it easier in the morning than I do sometimes, 
 ha ! ha ! My leddy ! if ye had tramped twice 
 round the Links the day, as I did after my 
 morning's work, ye would maybe be glad to lie 
 down ; ay, and find your nest as comfortable
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 147 
 
 too, as ever weary bird did ! ' But oh ! I fear, 
 I fear, Kitty, that I must have been right after 
 all, that something was very very wrong with 
 the bed!" 
 
 Kate felt morally certain of it, and that 
 without any regard to Betty's probable misde- 
 meanours, for what entitled Mr Kamsay to be 
 any judge of such delicate matters \ Though 
 for many years past she had highly respected 
 his character, both public and private, Kate 
 had been one of those who, at the time, had 
 violently disapproved of the son of auld Andrew 
 Eamsay presuming to match with "the best 
 blood in the county," as, with natural partiality, 
 she always considered that which flowed in the 
 Balbeaton veins ; and could not even now for- 
 get his origin, or suppose him any authority in 
 matters of gentility or refinement. On no oc- 
 casion, since the marriage had been irrevocably 
 fixed, had she uttered one word of direct dis- 
 paragement ; but neither was her praise of him 
 ever quite unqualified. At times, when her 
 sister Fanny, who was the scholar, would, for 
 the benefit of both, read out of old newspapers,
 
 148 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 carefully kept for the purpose by Mrs Eamsay, 
 and sent to them half-a-dozen together at the 
 end of a month, some fine Conservative speech 
 made at a political meeting in the Town Hall, 
 and reported with innumerable " hear, hears," 
 cheers, and flourishes of applause, she would 
 mutter, " Hear to him indeed ! set him up, and 
 shute him forrit ! " or to the mention of some 
 prudent suggestion at the council-table, would 
 answer, "No that ill ettled, Maister Andrew!" 
 or, "Ay, ay, he kens fine what he's about, 
 that ane. Depend upon it, Fanny, Maister 
 Eamsay 11 bring naething forrit but what 
 he'll baith stand to and redd his feet about. 
 Ay, Fanny, he's really a wonderful body, 
 a' thins; considered." But she had far too much 
 good feeling, as well as good sense, to insinuate 
 any doubt in presence of Mrs Eamsay, either of 
 her husband's acumen or polite experience in 
 the matter of feather-beds, any further than to 
 say, with a commiserating smile, " I would ex- 
 pect sae, mem — of coorse gentlemen are no 
 azactly the best judges o' sic matters." 
 
 But at that moment her attention was un-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 149 
 
 pleasantly drawn in another direction, by des- 
 crying from her seat at the window Captain 
 Beaton, whom she had not seen since his illness, 
 feebly crossing the street, and, in spite of the 
 impulse he had newly received, needing to stop 
 short in the middle, on pretence of looking east 
 and west in search of somebody, but in reality 
 that he might rest for a moment to take breath. 
 
 "Lordsake, mem, wha on the face o' the 
 earth's yon 1 " she cried, with a scared look — 
 "sic havers! but yon's no — I verily believe 
 I'm demented — yon shurely canna be the 
 Captain ! Oh ! 'deed is't, mem," she went on 
 in real distress ; " as shure's death if I didna 
 at the first glisk tak him for his papaw ! " 
 then, seeing Mrs Eamsay look rather shocked, 
 "Never heed me, mem, ye ken I was aye as 
 blind as a bat ; but eh ! mem, I'm real sorry 
 to see the Captain lookin' sae silly. I thocht 
 ye a' said he was gettin' fast weel ! " 
 
 "So we think, and so he is," Mrs Eamsay 
 said, offended as well as shocked ; " but for 
 any sake whisht, Kate ! " for at that moment 
 he opened the door.
 
 150 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 ft Come away, James ! how are you 1 but I 
 need scarcely ask, having seen you in the 
 town so early in the day, and whisking so 
 briskly out and in at the bank door half-a- 
 dozen times already. Here's an old acquaint- 
 ance that's very anxious to shake hands w r ith 
 you, — our good friend Katie Gourlay." 
 
 " Ha ! my friend Katie ! " he said, frankly 
 shaking her by the hand ; " I don't know when 
 I have seen you, old woman. How have you 
 been this long time \ " 
 
 " Moderately weel, sir, thank ye kindly," 
 said Kate, demurely ; "I really canna com- 
 pleen." 
 
 He was troubled with a fit of cous-hing ; as 
 soon as he could speak, he said — 
 
 "I'm glad of that, Katie, and only wish 
 I could say the same ; but I can't help 
 complaining of this cursed cough, when it 
 bothers me, which, as you see, it does now 
 and then, ever since my illness, though I 
 know it's nothing — a mere dryness of the 
 throat." 
 
 Katie looked anxiously at him ; her ear had
 
 SEDGELY COUET. 151 
 
 been too much experienced in the family cough 
 to like the sounds she now heard, but she only 
 said soothingly — and strong always in the 
 simplest remedies, " Wae's me ! if you would 
 try a wee bit sugarally, sir ; it's a fine thing for 
 a kittelin' in the throat." 
 
 " Ah, so it is, Kate ! " he said, laughing and 
 in renewed spirits ; " I daresay you could give 
 me a bit, couldn't you 1 Many and many a 
 sweet morsel have I rolled under my tongue 
 that came out of that interesting pocket of 
 yours. I recollect you used to keep a store 
 of it broken up into little bits, in what you 
 called your barley-box" 
 
 " An' I'm shure ye sail no want that, Maister 
 Jeems," said Kate, heartily, and producing from 
 her pocket the identical little box, shaped like 
 a barrel, from which she unscrewed the lid, 
 and exhibited the same convenient little mor- 
 sels of liquorice that were so familiar to his 
 boyhood. " It'll maybe no taste quite sae 
 weel as it did in thae days, Captain, but it's 
 the same article, sir, for a' that, bought aye out 
 o' ITairry Henderson's — that's young Hairry's
 
 152 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 now, ye ken, for the auld man's been lang lang 
 awa. Pit twa-three crumles o'd in your waist- 
 coat pocket, sir. I'm shure it's far afore the 
 doctor's lozengers, that's never o' ony use that 
 I can hear tell o', excep' jist to sicken folk's 
 stamicks. I hope ye're aye able to tak your 
 vittals pretty weel, sir % " 
 
 " Only moderately well of late, Katie — not 
 at all as you recollect. Gad ! how sharp-set I 
 used to feel in the clear frosty afternoons of 
 those long-ago days — and how famously good 
 your messes of green broth tasted, after an 
 hour or two's skating on Mr Cheape's loch, or 
 of sliding on the beaten snow-paths ! Ay, these 
 were the days ! — now, alas ! I cannot even touch 
 the simplest barley-broth with impunity; though 
 I do think, Katie, I should relish one of your 
 pancakes even if I were at death's door. I 
 believe there was never anything invented so 
 perfectly delicious as they used to be — so hot 
 and soft and savoury ! " 
 
 With modest complaisance, Kate told him 
 that maybe her auld airms might toss up a 
 pancake no just that ill yet, if he could only
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 153 
 
 fancy't ; and after a little more talk with her, 
 he proceeded up-stairs to the drawing-room in 
 search of his nieces. 
 
 There, all was brightness and gaiety, choice 
 flowers, canary-birds, and white nmslin cur- 
 tains. The boys and the twins being every one 
 at school, had left the house, for the time, a 
 perfect paradise of neatness and quiet. Light 
 summer airs, whispering pleasantly of roses 
 and mignionette, stole softly through the wide 
 open windows from the flower-beds below. 
 The two elder girls, in their cool, nicely-fitting 
 buff gingham dresses, neat linen collars, gay 
 neck- ribbons, and little black silk aprons, 
 vandyked all round — their pretty glossy hair 
 daintily braided over very white brows, and 
 turned round in a smooth knot behind — looked, 
 as they fluttered busily among drawings and 
 worsted -work, very like the little birds, the 
 larks and linnets, that were hopping about 
 so gaily among the flowers and bushes outside 
 in the garden. 
 
 Though pleased to find them so agreeably 
 occupied, their uncle would not be prevailed
 
 154 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 on to stay with them above a minute. He found 
 Millicent at the piano, deep in musical sym- 
 pathy with Mr Temple, who, dressed with a 
 delicate neck-tie exactly matching his grey- 
 blue eyes, was accompanying her with his 
 flute, forgetful that there was a world beyond 
 the room. The Captain's unexpected entrance 
 so startled and threw him into blushing confu- 
 sion, that that gentleman, hating of all things 
 to feel himself a marplot, was fain to take him- 
 self off in double-quick time. The duet was 
 not renewed that day, — the young innamorato 
 having prevailed on the young ladies to put 
 their bonnets on and go out with him for a 
 walk on the Links — on the healthy breezy 
 Links, that most delightful of rambling ground 
 — so dry and elastic to the tread, so clean and 
 green, so flower-enamelled and furze-scented, 
 and (what will always render it invaluable to 
 ramblers like the present) so innocently public, 
 yet so full of devious paths, that, with ordinary 
 precaution, the most intimate friend may be 
 conveniently avoided without legitimate offence 
 being given.
 
 SEDGELY COUET. 155 
 
 But the gossip in the dining-parlour did 
 not come to so speedy a termination. As soon 
 as the Captain had left the room, his old 
 friend Kate naturally desired to hear some 
 particulars of his state and symptoms, but 
 could get no sort of satisfaction. To her 
 reasonable pertinent questions Mrs Ramsay 
 answered vaguely, or quite at cross purposes. 
 Accustomed to the change in her brother's 
 appearance, and having besides scarcely room 
 in her mind for one very important idea, that 
 perplexed matron with flushed cheeks and 
 dry lips sat gloomily revolving the unpleasant 
 aspect of her own household affairs. Like all 
 good-natured indolent women, nothing was 
 so disturbing and hateful to her as any threat- 
 ening of what she called a " stramash" in the 
 house ; but, like many of the same sluggish 
 temperament, she was apt to go from one 
 extreme to another, if suspicion or the con- 
 sciousness of neglected duties were once fairly 
 awakened. She was, therefore, entirely and 
 miserably preoccupied ; a dark vision was 
 shaping itself painfully out to her imagination
 
 156 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 of dreadful accusations, lying excuses, laying 
 open of trunks, weeping, vehemence, bickering, 
 and final turning to the door. 
 
 The sagacious Katie was not long in per- 
 ceiving the huge mountain on which her poor 
 wits had so evidently gone a-wool-gathering ; 
 and well knowing the absolute molehill out 
 of which it had sprung, came speedily to the 
 rescue. " Lorclsake ! mem," she pithily said, 
 " what are ye dreamin about \ What in a' 
 the world ails ye % If ye're to flee awa that 
 way wi' a sma' friendly cowshun, the deil be 
 i' my tongue if it ever gies ye anither o' ony 
 kind whatever ! A body would think I had 
 telt ye that yer hoose had been clean harried 
 out and rubbit, and a I meant to do was just 
 to hark low in to ye that it might be as weel 
 for ye no to be a'thegither just sae trustfu' o' 
 some folk as ye are ; or, at the warst, that 
 maybe ye might hae been wranged to the 
 valey o' a nievefu' or twa o' meal and a wee 
 curn feathers ! But what supposin the very 
 warst 1 a that ye've to do is just to look gey 
 an' glegly aboot ye after this, and, in a mode-
 
 SEDGELY COUET. 157 
 
 rate way, to challenge ony little thing ye may 
 find oot to be gaun wrang." 
 
 "But how can I find it out, Katie V 9 said 
 Mrs Eamsay, still staggering helplessly under 
 the shock her poor nerves had got. "Was 
 there ever a thief, think you, that was not 
 also as clever as an eel in slipping out of the 
 way of detection \ Do you think Betty is 
 likely ever to let me catch her opening up my 
 good handsome feather-beds, and " 
 
 "But wha ever said she had opened up 
 yer feather - beds, mem \ " said the amazed 
 Kate. 
 
 " How on earth else, Katie, could she have 
 had feathers to sell, I should like to know V 9 
 
 " Plenty o' ways else, mem. Fm shure, i' 
 the time I was wi' yer mamma, mony and 
 mony's the stane o' guid feathers I micht hae 
 made flee to a' the fower airts in randy -wives' 
 pocks if I had been ony sic gipsy ! and then 
 I wonder where you would hae lookit for that 
 fine bed o' yer ain — Maister Eamsay may weel 
 ca d saft, mair nor half-doon as it is, or wus — 
 that I gathered thegither sae carefully, and
 
 158 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 yer mamma laid by, alang wi' half-a-dizzen o' 
 pair of bonny home-spun sheets, forenent ye 
 should need them % I'm shure mony's the 
 pike I had at the feathers o'd before yer 
 mamma would tak' them aff my hands ! Hon- 
 est woman ! I mind she would aye, raeson or 
 nane, ca' the grit feathers hens' heads, an that 
 was sometimes like tae mak' a pley between us ; 
 but waes me, mem! leddies are no half sae care- 
 fu' noo as they were in thae days ony mair nor 
 servants ; and yet, for ought I see, heyther 
 the tane nor the tither's ony easier to deal wi' 
 or ony less set on their cretur comforts. I 
 dinna oonderstand it!" 
 
 "But then at Balbeaton, you know, Katie, 
 there were plenty of kain hens feathers to be 
 gathered. Here, you know, we have nothing 
 of the kind, and " 
 
 " Of coorse, mem," interrupted Katie, briskly. 
 " ye're shurely no supposin' that I could expeck 
 you to be makin' feather-beds out o' the hail] 
 claith, as a body may cad, for the bonny tyken, 
 too, was every bit oor ain spinnin' in thae 
 days. But ye ken very weel, mem, that for-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 159 
 
 bye what ye buy, ye're aye gettin' presents o' 
 turkeys and fools o' a' kind fae gentlemen 
 that Maister Eamsay serves, like — and that 
 wuss to keep guid freends wi' him ; and right 
 it should be so, for I claursay he stands be- 
 tween them and muckle cheating and giff-gaff, 
 as they say, maks aye gude freends. Noo 
 the feathers o' thae, if they were lookit after, 
 micht nae cloot in time mak' a pillie or twa, 
 or eke up an aulcl bed fine ; but that's no the 
 present "quaston." 
 
 " I daresay that's it, Katie," said Mrs Eam- 
 say, relieved from her worst fears by the 
 suggestion. " We do get a great many pre- 
 sents at Christmas, and at other times too. 
 I've no doubt that's exactly where she gets 
 them, though I don't in the least see that they 
 are honestly appropriated." 
 
 " Certainly far fae honestly, mem — at ony 
 rate in the auld sense o' the word," said Kate, 
 sturdily, j/" I'm shure if aither Jenny Imrie 
 or me had been sae far left to oorsels as to 
 have selt a nievfu' o' feathers, or a single 
 unce of kitchen^/ee, as the limmers have the
 
 160 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 impudence to ca' the drippin' noo, an' coont 
 it a parqueeseet o' their ain, to sell or troke 
 awa' at the door for cups and sassers, or what 
 they can get, an' 'ill mak difeekwelties to their 
 mistress aboot fryin' fish, or even makin' a 
 pancake, unless, forseuth, she supply them wi' 
 a muckle pigfu' o' swine's seam to waste — ay, 
 though the fee they get for wages is far mair 
 nor the dooble o' what oors used to be, — I'm 
 sayin', mem, if Jenny or me had dune sic a 
 thing even ance, I'm shure we wadna hae 
 sleepit a wink that night for thinkin' that the 
 deil micht weel come an' flee awa' wi's." 
 
 " I daresay not, Katie ; and I don't see how 
 they can reconcile such doings to their con- 
 sciences more than you could have done." 
 
 " An' yet they wull, mem, by some hook or 
 crook," said Kate, shaking her head wisely. 
 " There's an unco cheenge in the morals of 
 servants noo, as there is in a' thing else i' the 
 worald ; and I'se warrant the present set o' 
 lang-tongued hizzies 'ill hae plenty o' raesons 
 to render wha heard them at it !" 
 
 "There's abundance of religious profession
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 161 
 
 among them, that I know," said Mrs Eamsay, 
 who was herself the very pink of moderation 
 in all things. "-This Betty, now, 's a strict 
 Seceder." 
 
 - "-I ken that, mem," said Kate, gradually 
 subsiding into her usually philosophic modera- 
 tion of tone, "and I canna help lookin' that 
 way sometimes to accoont for the cheenges I 
 referred to. Ye see, mem, few o' them are 
 a'thegither content noo to gang to the aukl 
 kirk as we did aye sae willingly langsyne ; an' 
 really, mem, considerin' the milk-and-water 
 discoorses blattered aff their papers by some o' 
 the present Establishment gentlemen, and the 
 cauld careless ways o' maist o' them, it's no 
 to be wondered at if even sic a ranter as 
 Jonathan Wilson (Betty, I ken, 's ane o' his 
 folk) should draw them till him. No that I 
 can bide the body mysel' ; it gars my very 
 flesh creep to hear him as I'm gaun by his 
 kirk- door roarin' and skriechin' a mile aboon 
 his breath, as if his folk were ane and a' horn 
 deaf ; but he's strong, the body ! there's some 
 fushion in Jonathan ! and that taks wi' mony 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 ane. But what I wucl be at is, that, forbye 
 dressin' themsels up like ledclies, which is a' the 
 faushion amon' them, they've their meenisters 
 to mainteen noo — set them up ! and no end 
 o' collections wi' greedy ladles and itherwise 
 for this, that, and the tither thing, till, as I 
 hear, some o' them, puir things ! 'ill hae gien 
 up, between minister and dominie, as muckle 
 as three or fowre pounds in a year." 
 
 Mrs Earn say held up her hands and eyes. 
 
 " As shure's death, mem, it's true," said the 
 sagacious Kate. " Noo, it's certain that a' that 
 cannut be dune without nippin' and scrapin' 
 the dooble o' even the lairge wage they get aff 
 their maister and mistress, in some shape or 
 anither ; and it's shurely a cry in' sin to put 
 it into ignorant folk's heads that gi'en' awa's 
 sic a fine thing, as if sic deevil's parin's as I 
 drither maist o' their gi'en's maun be, are ony 
 way fit aither to be lent to the Lord or to 
 mainteen his Kirk ! " 
 
 Mrs Kamsay entirely agreed with Katie's 
 views, and with restored composure of mind, 
 from feeling somewhat reassured as to the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 163 
 
 safety of her feather-beds, and the considera- 
 tion of how universal was the evil of being a 
 little cheated, was now able to thank her pro- 
 perly ; and having been promised a better 
 supervision of the suspected damsel's future 
 proceedings, the worthy old woman took her 
 leave.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A WARNING. 
 
 When Captain Beaton had fairly closed the 
 drawing-room door on his nieces and Mr Tem- 
 ple, his recollection naturally wandered back to 
 the letter his wife had received from her bro- 
 ther on the subject of that youth. 
 
 In recommending him to such attentions as 
 it might entirely suit Mrs Beaton's inclinations 
 and convenience to pay to Mr Temple as his 
 brother-in-law, Mr Arundel had spoken of him 
 as a good-humoured, gentlemanly young man, 
 a younger brother, and not over steady, who 
 had been intended for the profession of a 
 British merchant, in which honourable calling 
 (had he been disposed towards it) he would 
 probably have soon risen to a partnership with
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 165 
 
 his estimable uncle, a first-rate Liverpool mer- 
 chant. But besides having an unfortunate 
 partiality for the military life, he had falleu 
 into frivolous society at Liverpool ; had been 
 in some danger of contracting a foolish and 
 most unsuitable marriage there ; and was now, 
 on Mr Arundel's recommendation, sent by his 
 mother (his father having been long dead) to 
 attend classes at St Andrews — less, it was 
 owned, with the hope of his following out any 
 particular course of study, than to be safely out 
 of harm's way until his uncle should succeed 
 in obtaining for him a commission in the army. 
 
 This account, dignified, candid, and moderate 
 as he remembered it to sound, seemed to the 
 Captain rather unpromising of any particular 
 advantage to his nieces in the intimacy which 
 he had now observed for the first time. 
 
 "What a spoony the fellow must be!" he 
 muttered laughingly to himself as he crossed 
 the street. " What the devil is he after now % 
 — evidently getting up another of his ' foolish 
 and most unsuitable love affairs/ no doubt, as 
 hard as he can ! If his mother could only see
 
 166 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 him now, I wonder if she would consider him 
 safely out of harm's way % Pooh ! as if a fel- 
 low with a pair of eyes like his is ever out of 
 some such scrape for two days together ! But 
 I have no doubt the Temples, mother and son, 
 can take good enough care of themselves. I'm 
 not afraid of them, and only wish the other 
 party were as safe. Ramsay — their mother 
 rather — is absurdly careless of these two girls 
 — as good girls they are as ever lived, and 
 Millie grows quite pretty ; but who expects 
 the wisdom of Solomon from petticoats in their 
 teens \ They are both certainly a little given 
 to philandering, and ought to be better looked 
 after than they are. I hate to meddle in such 
 matters, but I think in this case I am bound to 
 give their mother a hint. No ; she's certain to 
 put her foot clumsily in it, and probably do 
 harm rather than good. One of themselves 
 would be better, if I could only determine with 
 certainty which of the two is not the favoured 
 she. I shall venture it to Anne — she has a 
 grain more of steadiness than the other. Yes, 
 on the first convenient occasion Miss Anne
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 167 
 
 shall know, and take her own way of enlighten- 
 ing her sister, that this tender-hearted youth 
 is not to be trusted — must be looked upon as 
 rayiher slippery, and fully expected to slide out 
 of sight on the first tuck of drum !" 
 
 And the opportunity very quickly presented 
 itself. He had mounted his pony at the Black 
 Bull, but had got no further towards the Links 
 than the Post- Office, when, as he waited there 
 till his letters were brought out, he saw the 
 young ladies and their attendant sally forth on 
 their walk. As they came quite close to him, 
 nodding and smiling, poor Anne unwarily 
 stopped an instant to pat his pony, and say a 
 kind word, while the others passed on. Though 
 rather at a loss how to entamer so delicate a 
 subject all of a sudden, the Captain, taking hold 
 of her hand to detain her, determined if pos- 
 sible to get rid at once of a disagreeable duty. 
 At that moment he luckily happened to espy on 
 the opposite side of the street a pleasant-look- 
 ing young man, dressed in black, with a snow- 
 white neckcloth, whom he remembered to have 
 frequently seen with his nieces, and rather sus-
 
 168 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 pected of being an admirer of Anne's ; and who 
 now, in letting himself into the library with 
 a pass-key, stopped short before shutting the 
 door on pretence of rubbing his shoes, which 
 could not be at all dusty, but in reality to wait 
 until Miss Eamsay should turn round and re- 
 cognise him. 
 
 This opened something like an avenue into 
 the subject. "Yes!" he said, not to be too 
 abrupt, " Kory's coat looks very smooth, as you 
 say, though we did gallop into town this morn- 
 ing much harder than was good either for him 
 or me ; but I mean only to walk him once 
 round the Links, and then trot slowly home. 
 Eh ! Must you go \ They're waiting at the 
 corner % Oh ! well, but Anne, I see somebody 
 else waiting too ; much better worth you or 
 Millie's smiling on than your present spark. I 
 wonder, by the by, you should have struck 
 up such an intimacy with a vapouring fel- 
 low like him ! Look there, Anne ! Mr Duff 
 will not shut himself up among his dusty books 
 this morning without a smile from you to cheer 
 him. What a pleasant face he has ! In my
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 169 
 
 opinion, now, he's worth a whole wilderness of 
 Temples!" 
 
 Anne visibly reddened. She turned her head 
 for a moment, nodded slightly to Mr Duff, and 
 then said rather anxiously, 
 
 " Aren't you terribly severe on poor Mr 
 Temple all of a sudden, dear uncle \ What has 
 he done to set you so against him \ I thought 
 he had been quite a favourite at Balbeaton, he 
 seems so very good-natured. I assure you ive 
 all like him exceedingly." It was plain that, 
 though he was no lover of hers, the caution had 
 not come too soon. 
 
 The Captain felt rather nonplussed by her 
 pained, serious inquiry; but, considering him- 
 self what he called fairly in for it, he said, as 
 carelessly as he could, 
 
 " I daresay he is quite good-natured, Anne ; 
 but depend upon it he's a spoony sort of fel- 
 low, always getting into a scrape of one kind 
 or another — not at all the sort of man to kick 
 up an intimacy with." 
 
 " What kind of scrape?, uncle % " asked 
 Anne, uneasily.
 
 170 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 " Oh ! — falling foolishly in love — and, of 
 course, falling out with his mother in con- 
 sequence ; something of that kind, I remem- 
 ber, was said to be the cause of our being 
 favoured with his company. She probably 
 thought the northern sea-breezes would cool 
 his blood. But, after all, who cares about 
 him % I daresay he's as good as another. I 
 only meant that he's one of these here-to-day- 
 and-away-to-morrow sort of fellows that don't 
 deserve to be made a pet of: the moment he 
 gets his commission, you know, he's off — and 
 a fair wind to him, say I !" 
 
 Anne nodded assentingly, and went thought- 
 fully on ; and the Captain, though he could 
 not flatter himself he had managed so delicate 
 a subject in the most able and judicious 
 manner, felt that he had clone his best, and 
 could now trot off with a tolerably easy con- 
 science on all subjects. 
 
 Miss Hope gladly availed herself of the im- 
 proved aspect of affairs at Balbeaton in the 
 afternoon, to interest Captain Beaton in poor 
 Oliphan t's embarrassmen ts.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. l7l 
 
 Without hinting at what had been elicited 
 from the little boy, or her own suspicion of 
 Miss Flora Cameron's first intentions in re- 
 gard to her friend, she spoke of the rude 
 message he had received, and the increased 
 coldness and contempt on the part of Mrs 
 Balfour towards him ; moderately expressing 
 her fears that some undue influence was at 
 work, which might not improbably induce Mr 
 Balfour to pass over his claims in the dis- 
 posal of the living of Kavenstruther at Dr 
 Barclay's death, and pointing out to observa- 
 tion the sudden and extreme intimacy between 
 the two ladies, which had not unnaturally 
 suggested the suspicion of Miss Flora's father 
 being the favoured rival. 
 
 Mrs Beaton, as well as the Captain, entered 
 readily into her fears. There was a difference 
 of opinion between the two as to what could 
 or should be done in the matter ; Captain 
 Beaton boldly proposing to write directly to 
 Mr Balfour, demanding a declaration of his 
 intentions, and Mrs Beaton being rather in 
 favour of a dignified and disdainful silence,
 
 172 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 at least until some overt act were committed 
 (when, as the Captain put in, any interference 
 would of course be too late). But they were 
 entirely at one in feeling indignant at the 
 intriguantes, as, without scruple, they desig- 
 nated the two ladies, as well as in wishing 
 success to Oliphant ; and Katherine, — though 
 vexed that " Hope - ie," as she sometimes 
 endearingly called her, who knew so much 
 about everything in the world — who actually 
 understood, and could explain, why the sun 
 and moon did not always rise and set at the 
 same times and places — should be puzzled 
 and perplexed by anything under these great 
 luminaries, — entered keenly into all the pros 
 and cons, and made even her mother smile by 
 her zealous, though rather Utopian, schemes 
 of circumvention and retribution. In short, 
 there was a degree of harmonious excitement 
 throughout the discussion that was almost as 
 pleasant as it was rare. 
 
 Next morning, the difficulties in Oliphant's 
 way seemed to be still further complicated. 
 A letter from him to Miss Hope, written at
 
 SEDGELY COUKT. 173 
 
 St Andrews on the evening before, stated that 
 Dr Barclay had died at noon that day — that 
 scarcely two hours previous to the event he 
 had, by a painfully concocted note to Mr 
 Balfour, made his request to be allowed a 
 short leave of absence, on the plea of bad 
 health, which had been curtly and coldly 
 assented to — and that, even before the arrival 
 of the post-gig (by which humble vehicle he 
 was to travel to St Andrews), Miss Flora 
 Cameron, in all the dignified importance of 
 Mr Balfour's carriage and pair, had suddenly 
 set off to Queensferry on her way home, 
 charged (as he had no doubt) with full powers 
 to offer the living of Kavenstruther to her 
 father, and to explain to him its numerous 
 advantages. 
 
 There was evidently, therefore, no time to 
 be lost. But Mr Kamsay, on his being con- 
 sulted by the Captain, strenuously advised the 
 adoption of the smoothest and most moder- 
 ate of measures. He had Ions; managed Mr 
 Balfour's affairs, knew him thoroughly, had 
 heard him often speak favourably of Oliphant
 
 174 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 in reference to the living, but as there had 
 been no promise, did not think it impossible 
 (on hearing how much reason there was for 
 such a suspicion) that Mrs Balfour might 
 work on him to pass him by. At all events, 
 he said, it was clearly no case for taking the 
 bull by the horns. Oliphant had a good right 
 to apply — Captain Beaton, as his friend, 
 might, without the smallest offence, solicit the 
 living for him, as soon as the worthy auld 
 man was laid decently in the mools — the 
 people might make a humble petition in his 
 favour — which certainly ought, morally con- 
 sidered, to be conclusive — each and all — no 
 harm in the multitude of hackers any more 
 than of counsellors; — but whatever was done 
 must be in forma solicitation is. As the law 
 now stood, the right to present belonged un- 
 doubtedly to Mr Balfour — " And bless you, 
 sir, no man likes to have what's his own either 
 meddled or made wi', far less his patronage 
 taken for granted." 
 
 All this was far too true to be controverted ; 
 and as Oliphant shrank from putting himself
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 175 
 
 in any way forward — at all events, till after 
 the fnneral — a miserable enough week would 
 have been spent by him, but for the reception 
 of sundry cheering billets, which found their 
 way to his lodgings in the College Wynd from 
 Balbeaton — a long walk one delicious evening, 
 which Miss Hope was at full liberty to take 
 with him through the pleasant fields of the 
 Pipelands, and round by bare old Scoonie Hill, 
 now rich with yellow corn, from which they 
 had seen the sun set gloriously behind the full 
 and silvery Eden, and, with clasped hands and 
 rapturous hearts, had asked each other, in all 
 sincerity, if any earthly scene could be love- 
 lier % — and the quiet Sunday afternoon passed 
 at Balbeaton, where, as the Captain dined out, 
 most of the time was, by universal consent, 
 given to humble and fervent devotions. 
 
 Within a month, all anxiety on the subject 
 was painfully brought to a close by an an- 
 nouncement in the 'Fife Herald/ that "the 
 Rev. Dr Cameron, of Inverardel, had just been 
 appointed to the church of Ravenstruther, va- 
 cant by the death of the venerable Dr Barclay,
 
 176 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 for fifty-one years minister of that parish." 
 In vain had poor Oliphant made his petition 
 with due respect and formality, been hand- 
 somely backed by Captain Beaton and other 
 friends, as well as by testimonials without 
 number from competent judges, of his ability, 
 and fitness for the office of a parish priest ; 
 and equally in vain was the petition hastily 
 got up in his favour, and signed by all the 
 heads of families in the parish, with the ex- 
 ception of one or two pensioners and com- 
 pulsory satellites of Mrs Balfour — merely 
 enough to swear by, that the people were not 
 unanimous. But the ground taken was, that 
 the necessity of a call from the people had 
 Ion 2 been obsolete, and that a well-educated 
 patron was surely a better judge of a candi- 
 date's fitness than a set of ignorant dema- 
 gogues — even had they been unanimous, which 
 they really were not. And it was no consola- 
 tion to Oliphant to hear from one set of his 
 old supporters after another, who came to 
 condole with him and themselves, that " they 
 would secede from the Kirk altogether before
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 177 
 
 they would consent to sit oonder Dr Cameron, 
 or ony ither auld Hielant lick-spittle that 
 might be intruded on them this way, without 
 sayin wi' yer leave, or by it. Ay, far rather 
 would they walk three miles every Sabbath- 
 day — be it fair or fool — an' hear worthy 
 Ebenezer Prouclfit, the Auld-Licht Burgher at 
 Pittenweem." 
 
 On the contrary, his sincere attachment to 
 the Kirk made bis misfortune seem only the 
 more bitter to him, that it threatened thus 
 to be a stumbling-block in the path of some 
 of those who had hitherto been amono; the 
 worthiest and most earnest of her followers. 
 And he left nothing untried to soothe their 
 minds, and to keep them on the right path. 
 Great aud wide was the discontent ; and as 
 " soughs " of it reached the ear of Mr Balfour 
 he felt rather uncomfortable. Weak rather 
 than ill-intentioned, he had taken momentary 
 offence at some trifling want of tact and bien- 
 sSance on the part of Oliphant, which had 
 been aggravated by his wife's misconstructions 
 into an intended insult ; and, by a series of 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 malicious innuendoes, half-truths, and myster- 
 ious bursts of laughter constantly passing 
 between her and Miss Flora, their simple- 
 minded victim had not only been rendered 
 miserable himself, but made to look ridiculous 
 and contemptible in the eyes of his patron at 
 the critical moment of Dr Barclay's death — 
 full advantage of which was taken to gain him 
 completely over, and, as Oliphant rightly sup- 
 posed, the successful . adventuress had returned 
 to her mountains the bearer of a written offer 
 to her father of the living. But there was 
 little harmony at Pitmurie during the week 
 which succeeded Dr Cameron's appointment ; 
 and many were the bitter taunts Mrs Balfour 
 had to endure on the trouble and permanent 
 unpopularity likely to be the consequence of 
 her headlong zeal in favour of " these flattering 
 Highland beggars," as her new favourites were 
 now unceremoniously styled. 
 
 On Monday, Mr Balfour drove to St An- 
 drews to consult Mr Ramsay on some farm 
 business, but no comfort met him at the Bank. 
 No attack had previously been made on him
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 179 
 
 from that quarter. Mr Ramsay, though very 
 friendly to Oliphant on his own account as 
 well as on that of Miss Hope and her friends, 
 had been too wise to interfere in the heat of 
 the matter, evident as it was to his shrewdness 
 that he could do no good to Archibald, and 
 might pretty seriously damage himself. On 
 the first hint from Mr Balfour, however, he was 
 ready to enter on the subject in Archie's in- 
 terest, though always with clue care against 
 offending so considerable a client. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, my dear sir, I can enter into 
 your feelings ; you are far too good and con- 
 scientious not to be annoyed with all this 
 clamour ; but what an outcry there is ! Who 
 could have imagined that the body Oliphant 
 would have set folk's tongues agoing at this 
 rate — set him up ! And yet I'm sure, as far as 
 he himself is concerned, a better creature, or 
 one more respectful to you and yours, does not 
 exist. The fuss they're making about him is 
 none of his seeking, I'll be bound, but quite 
 the contrary. I hear that he positively refused 
 to listen to the clavers about leaving the
 
 180 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 Church, and all the ill-language the ignorant 
 cottars about Hillend came pouring out to 
 him, against your family and Dr Cameron. He 
 told them plainly that their duty was to listen 
 humbly and prejudge no man's ministrations 
 — that as to your being under any promise to 
 him, they were quite mistaken if they imagined 
 it — that your preferring another to him, was 
 neither setting yourself up against him, nor 
 being his enemy, as they would have it you 
 were ; — but that, even supposing it so, what 
 was that to the folly and sin of their becoming 
 enemies to the Kirk that their ancestors had so 
 nobly struggled and bled for % " 
 
 " I believe it of him, Ramsay," Mr Balfour 
 said, feeling more and more wretched as the 
 meek virtues of his victim were made to shine 
 so brightly forth. " I always thought well of 
 Oliphant, and I am glad he does me the justice 
 of not supposing me his enemy. I daresay 
 you yourself don't look on him as exactly the 
 sort of — hem — the kind of easy, gentlemanly 
 person in society that it would certainly be 
 agreeable to have in the clergyman of the
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 181 
 
 parish when he happens to live near one ; but 
 he has always done admirably with the boys, 
 and though he really had no promise, I dare- 
 say he had some reason to expect — in short, I 
 now wish it were otherwise, and am quite cut 
 up at the notion of being supposed to have 
 used him ill. Was Thomson, the miller, talk- 
 ing of it now \ He passed me as I came in at 
 your door, looking very red in the face, and 
 scarcely touched his hat. It will be devilish 
 awkward if he sets the mill people up to clam- 
 our against me, and he is always at the head 
 of any such mischief." 
 
 Mr Ramsay laughed. 
 
 " Yes, yes, it must be owned that the miller 
 has an ill-scrapit tongue in his head when his 
 blood's up ; but he is a just man when the 
 passion's off him, and is far more listened to 
 and respected than would be looked for, con- 
 sidering he is but a mere flour-miller. But, 
 as I was this moment telling him, he is quite 
 mistaken in supposing you to have any design 
 of keeping down — crushing, as he calls it — 
 ha! ha! — a respectable, God-fearing man like
 
 182 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 Archibald Oliphant. No, no, Thomas, says 
 I " 
 
 " Of course not, Eamsay," interrupted Mr 
 Balfour. " On the contrary, I have the highest 
 opinion of his learning and ability, and shall 
 be ready and happy to recommend " 
 
 " That's it — that's it," interrupted Eamsay in 
 his turn, eager to seize this favourable moment 
 to unfold the scheme he had been revolving in 
 Archie's favour. " Depend upon it, Thomas, 
 says I, Mr Balfour knows what he's about. 
 Wait till you see, and you'll find he has other 
 views for Oliphant quite as suitable, maybe, 
 both to his taste and abilities. Do you think 
 he is likely to forget either his faithful ser- 
 vices, or that, besides his Greek and Latin, 
 Archie, being from Braemar, has probably not 
 forgotten his vernacular \ and take mv word 
 for it, man, that if he thinks, as I daresay he 
 may, that Dr Cameron is the fittest man to be 
 company for the Fife gentry round Pitmurie, 
 he knows as well as either you or I that Archi- 
 bald is no less fit to take his place as minister 
 among the cottars of Inverardel."
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 183 
 
 " A capital idea," said Mr Balfour, much 
 relieved. "Would he be pleased with that, 
 think you % I wish I had spoken of it imme- 
 diately to Buchanan. I know the living is but 
 small, but no doubt he would do excellently in 
 such a place. Buchanan is to be with us next 
 week, and as far as my interest with him goes, 
 Oliphant may count upon it." 
 
 " I told Thomas that," said Andrew, zeal- 
 ously. "Mr Buchanan will have everything 
 to say in that quarter, with his farms to relet 
 and all the rest. But, my good sir, if I were 
 you, I would not wait till next week. Bless 
 your heart ! he'll have a whole shoal of Hielant 
 preachers down like the Philistines upon him 
 already ! and though I think he would hardly 
 promise without consulting you, seeing you 
 have taken Dr Cameron off his hands, who, 
 whatever he may be with you, was no great 
 shakes for that remote district, where the folk 
 would fain look on their minister as if he were 
 a kind of God upon earth ; yet it will be safe 
 not to trust to that, but just to write him a 
 line at once. Here's pen and ink if you like,
 
 184 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 sir, and there's plenty of time yet for this day's 
 post." 
 
 And Mr Balfour, thus judiciously urged, 
 and too glad to see any easy path leading out 
 of his dilemma, sat down forthwith at Andrew's 
 well-used scritoire, and, with a pithy hint now 
 and then from that worthy, managed to indite 
 so strong an appeal to his brother-in-law in 
 Oliphant's favour that it was immediately suc- 
 cessful. There was an answer almost by return 
 of post, assuring him of his support ; and in 
 little more than a week, a more formal missive 
 addressed to Oliphant himself, inviting him 
 to preach at Inverardel on trial, with a pri- 
 vate assurance that he might depend on being 
 presented to the living, if it would suit him to 
 accept it. 
 
 For a moment poor Oliphant's delight and 
 thankfulness were deeper and more unmixed 
 than any feeling he had ever before experienced. 
 In spite of his popularity with a certain portion 
 of his late hearers, and his long-cherished desire 
 to be able to place Miss Hope in a home so suit- 
 able to her tastes and wishes as the cheerful
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 185 
 
 neighbourly manse of Ravenstruther, with its 
 sunny aspect, pretty garden, and innumerable 
 neat appointments, he had always had serious 
 and well-founded misgivings as to his own fit- 
 ness to be a useful adviser, far less a social 
 companion, in the Pitmurie and other similar 
 circles. As far as his own feelings were con- 
 cerned, therefore, the relief from such appre- 
 hensions would always have been beyond any 
 proportion to the difference of income, and 
 even to the greater evils of novelty and re- 
 moteness. But soon the idea of the sacrifice 
 it would certainly be to the better part of 
 himself, as he always considered Mary — of 
 how she would look upon it, and the forlorn 
 consequences which might possibly ensue, 
 brought on a return of his nervous tremors, 
 and made his walk to Balbeaton, within an 
 hour of the reception of his letter, seem any- 
 thing rather than a triumphal progress. 
 
 As will easily be believed, however, Mis* 
 Hope's reception of his news was very different 
 from these unsanguine anticipations. 
 
 Without thinking that two hundred a-year
 
 186 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 was better than four, and immediately forming 
 a romantic idea of the delights of a mountain 
 home, where her duties and pleasures must lie 
 among people whose manners and language 
 would be different and strange to her, she w T as 
 ready to enter fully into such advantages as 
 the prospect afforded, and to talk of every 
 particular of it within their knowledge, cheer- 
 fully, sensibly, and affectionately; and Archie 
 as he walked back to the town seemed to tread 
 on air, and as if he almost pitied every man 
 he met who could have no such source of 
 buoyant happiness as his own.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE GOOD NOT ALWAYS INTERRED WITH 
 THE BONES. 
 
 Though the summer had done something to- 
 wards restoring Captain Beaton's strength, it 
 had only stayed the disease for a time, and in 
 the autumn his health again gave way. He 
 would not yield to his increasing weakness, 
 however, but persisted in going out shooting 
 or to the Links every day on his pony. Mrs 
 Beaton, who saw him visibly losing the ground 
 he had gained, coldly told him it was madness, 
 incredible madness — that it was inconceivable 
 to her how a rational being could so trifle 
 with the life lent him for so very different a 
 purpose; and in private wrung her hands ami 
 wept bitterly over his infatuation and utterly
 
 188 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 lost condition. And Katherine, too young to be 
 aware of the power there might have been in 
 her persuasions, could only look anxiously for 
 the hour of his return, walk out to meet him, 
 and though it went sharply to her heart to see 
 him look every day paler and more feeble, 
 receive him with all the cheerfulness she could 
 command, because she intuitively felt that 
 any other reception would be painful or dis- 
 pleasing to him. 
 
 The winter set in early with unusual sever- 
 ity. The equinoctial winds had suddenly 
 whirled down showers of perfectly green leaves, 
 and even before the hardier beech-tree leaves 
 had fully reddened in the autumnal sunshine, 
 the earth was completely frost-bound, and the 
 sturdy bare trees again thickly festooned with 
 snow-wreaths, But poor Katherine had no 
 heart now to enjoy the crackling of the crisp 
 snow under her foot, or to slide over the more 
 beaten paths — to watch the increasing sea-line 
 as the tide flowed darkly in over the icy sands, 
 or to stand in admiration of how long these 
 snowy diamonds were able to resist yielding
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 189 
 
 themselves to the sun's bright beams. The 
 severity of the weather and his increasing in- 
 firmities had at last compelled her father to 
 keep the house, and even his bed, and the 
 doctor looked graver and graver on every visit. 
 At last the end came, suddenly and terribly, 
 as it always does come to those most deeply 
 interested — so complete is the change to death 
 from even the feeblest life. The shock was in 
 this case the greater, that as Captain Beaton 
 had never, even by implication, alluded to the 
 inevitable conclusion of his long and dangerous 
 illness, it seemed impossible to his wife and 
 daughter to approach the subject with him, 
 or even with one another. No doubt he had 
 had many a dark and anxious thought, which 
 might have been in some degree lightened 
 and soothed away, could lie have unburdened 
 himself by confiding them to another, as is 
 easy, or even necessary, to a more spiritual 
 nature. Ideas of heaven and immortality 
 flickered feebly up as sense decayed ; and there 
 were moments of prayer, and the power of rising 
 above the suffering and confusions by which
 
 190 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 he was surrounded. Had his wife been simply 
 a loving woman, possessed of that intuitive 
 comprehension of a nature, however different 
 it might be from her own, Avhich strong affec- 
 tion so often lends to the feeblest of her sex, 
 how invaluable to him would now have been 
 her support and companionship ! But though 
 he was for the most part gentle, and often 
 responded affectionately to her glances of 
 anxiety, and was neither unobservant of nor 
 ungrateful for her unwearying care and night- 
 long watchings, something stern and formidable 
 in his idea of her religious belief — a fear that 
 unless he could evolve to her a faith and 
 hopes far stronger and more distinct than he 
 could truthfully lay claim to, there could be 
 no sympathy or even indulgence looked for at 
 her hands — seemed constantly to rise up and 
 prevent anything like confidence between them 
 in these important points. 
 
 If there were any opening at all towards 
 such subjects, it was rather with Katherine. 
 Several times when alone with her he would 
 call her to him, and as she knelt down by his
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 191 
 
 bed with her face nestled close to his, he 
 would fondly stroke her hair, kiss her childlike 
 forehead, bid God bless her and keep her 
 always good and innocent, and then would ask 
 her to say over some of her pretty psalms and 
 hymns to him, as she used to do on Sunday 
 evenings long ago ; and sometimes he was 
 soothed, but oftener agitated, by these repeti- 
 tions. On the last evening of his life, he asked 
 her to say over to him the prose version of the 
 23d Psalm, if she could recollect it ; and when 
 she began it, and in an eager, hushed voice was 
 going through that beautiful verse which has 
 spoken comfort to thousands of feeble, trem- 
 bling hearts, "Yea, though I walk through the 
 valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
 evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy 
 staff they comfort me," the tears rushed over 
 his hollow cheeks, and he whispered to her to 
 pray God for him, that he might be able one 
 day to find this comfort. Choking tears and 
 a feeling as if her heart would burst prevented 
 poor Katherine from either going on witli the 
 psalm or uttering a word more of any kind.
 
 192 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 She could only take Lis emaciated hand in 
 hers and press it fervently with her burning 
 lips and forehead. He was the first to regain 
 composure enough to speak again, and might 
 possibly have said more, but just then he heard 
 Mrs Beaton giving some orders as she entered 
 through the dressing-room, and, hastily wiping 
 away his tears and turning his face to the other 
 side, he motioned to Katherine to leave the 
 room by the opposite door, saying he felt 
 exhausted, and would try to sleep now. A few 
 hours later his sufferings increased so much 
 that nothing seemed possible to him except to 
 moan or try for an easier posture, and this was 
 succeeded by many hours of those hard, ter- 
 rible breathings, which so often immediately 
 precede death. As the cold, grey winter 
 morning advanced, these too had ceased, and 
 he suffered no longer. 
 
 And so, without horrors or affright, or further 
 sign of sensibility towards those he was leaving, 
 passed quietly away the last Laird of Balbeaton ; 
 exhibiting in his death, as in his life, little of 
 that elevation of character, and dignified yet
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 193 
 
 humble composure of mind, which can make 
 even a troubled and struggling existence seem 
 a noble privilege, and death as but the opening 
 into a new and more perfect life — the grand 
 solution at last of the otherwise inscrutable 
 mystery which broods over erring, striving, in- 
 consistent humanity. A few days later, and 
 all that remained of him was borne slowly and 
 solemnly clown the broad hillside, and then 
 " east the town," as the old-fashioned inhabi- 
 tants were wont to term the bleak old sea- 
 girt churchyard, with its many pointed pictur- 
 esque ruins, which, once seen, can never be 
 forgotten ; and laid decently beside those of his 
 ancestors, at the foot of the grand old square 
 tower, which looks as if it had stood there for 
 ever, and would stand there for evermore. 
 
 But though no pattern of self-denial or lofty 
 endeavour, Captain Beaton did not go " east 
 the town" without the meed of many affection- 
 ate tears. Katherine could hardly have felt 
 a greater shock or more true-hearted sorrow 
 had she lost the most exalted of parents; and 
 Mrs Beaton suffered agonies of grief, accom- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 parried by bitter self-reproach, and the convic- 
 tion which at such times comes as surely as it 
 comes too late, that had her own feelings and 
 conduct been totally different from what they 
 had been — had she better studied his character, 
 and made due allowance for his temperament — 
 better practised the self-denial which was only 
 her duty, by substituting gentleness for sever- 
 ity, cheerfulness for the indulgence of depres- 
 sion and gloom, — the course of his life might 
 have been longer as well as happier ; and, oh 
 bitter bitter thought, the end how very differ- 
 ent indeed ! and she was now as ready to take 
 upon her own poor shoulders the weight of 
 the ruin of his immortal prospects, as she had 
 before been to lay it on his own levity and 
 thoughtlessness. 
 
 The Eamsay family also mourned very sin- 
 cerely for him after their own fashion. Neither 
 his aristocratic marriage, nor its gloomy conse- 
 quences to himself, had in any degree lessened 
 their pleasure in his society, nor their simple 
 pride in their connection with him. Even the 
 turbulent schoolboys, Bob and Jamie, wept for
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 195 
 
 poor uncle James, and for a whole day neither 
 played at shinty in the court, nor once quar- 
 relled as to which of the two's turn it was to 
 fondle and torment an unfortunate Skye terrier 
 puppy that Mr Temple had tired of, and inju- 
 diciously given as a present between them. 
 The elder girls were tearful and quiet, helped 
 with the children's mourning, and were not 
 once seen either on the Scores or Links for 
 quite a fortnight ; and though the twins, when 
 caught by Anne on the evening of the funeral 
 day, practising a minuet in their stockings 
 in their own room, and severely reprimanded 
 by her, retorted that it was less of a sin, they 
 thought, than flirting as they had seen her and 
 Millie doing at the park-gate last night, in the 
 half-dark, with Mr Temple, it is certain that 
 that devoted youth had not been able to make 
 his way once into the house, though he had 
 made innumerable attempts, and left many 
 sympathising messages. 
 
 Mrs Ramsay felt greatly shocked. Though 
 not without moments of apprehension about 
 him, she had never allowed herself to believe
 
 196 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 that her brother, so much younger than herself, 
 and hitherto so handsome and strong, could 
 really be dying. She sobbed violently, and 
 wept till her eyelids were red and swollen, 
 and she was so worn out, that though she had 
 just got up when the news came, she was 
 forced to go to bed again with a racking head- 
 ache. There she lay the whole day, and no 
 doubt thought long and tenderly of her poor 
 brother — felt a little gentle indignation at her 
 sister-in-law for not having sent for her to take 
 leave of him — recalled many instances of his 
 good-nature and kindness to herself and the 
 children, and vainly wished she could have 
 seen him once more and thanked him for them 
 all. But yet when she came down to tea she 
 looked wonderfully composed. She had not a 
 wide range of intellect, and having had to 
 think over every particular of the mourning 
 which would be necessary in the family, from 
 herself in deepest crape to the servants who 
 must have black ribbons, the settling of how 
 this was all to be accomplished — got ready in 
 time, and with proper regard to economy, — had
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 197 
 
 been successful in bringing on a less agitating 
 flow of ideas. As to Mr Eamsay, though quite 
 as fond of the Captain as either sister or nieces, 
 it could scarcely be said that he suffered at all, 
 so little did he think of himself in the matter, 
 and so completely occupied was every moment 
 of his time in doing a thousand things which 
 he thought might be useful to the afflicted 
 family at Balbeaton. Three times a-day, at 
 least, did he walk there to make some sugges- 
 tion to Miss Hope, by which Mrs Beaton and 
 Katherine might be spared puzzling questions, 
 or having painful orders to give. Nothing was 
 forgotten by him, or considered too trifling to 
 be attended to. And as they, poor souls, were 
 far too much worn out with watching and 
 grief to be able to enter into the last sad 
 arrangements, it was an unspeakable comfort 
 to them to have support and assistance so 
 ably and affectionately afforded. 
 
 Besides those so nearly related, "all the 
 town/' as Davy Eobertson might well say, felt 
 sorrowfully over Captain Beaton's early fate. 
 Added to his being universally known, and
 
 198 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 that lie had a nod or smile for every old ac- 
 quaintance, his gallant exposure of himself at 
 the time of the shipwreck, which was rightly 
 supposed to have been the cause of his death, 
 made the sympathy and regret unusually wide 
 and deep even for St Andrews. And this 
 being a kind of public event, a funeral sermon 
 was preached for him, in the course of which 
 his social virtues generally, and his gallant 
 self-sacrifice in particular, were so affectingly 
 set forth, that there was scarcely a dry eye in 
 the huge and well-filled town church. Mrs 
 Beaton was confined to bed, and seriously ill, 
 as well as miserable, and Katherine would not 
 venture to be present, which, though a disap- 
 pointment to others, was a fortunate circum- 
 stance for herself. Such an amount of interest, 
 and direct notice and sympathy, must have 
 quite overwhelmed her. Even Miss Hope 
 thought she should be obliged to leave the 
 church, so overpowering were the many tearful 
 glances turned towards her in the absence of 
 those more nearly concerned. 
 
 And on the following Sunday also, when
 
 SEDGELY COUKT. 199 
 
 Katherine walked to church leaning on Miss 
 Hope's arm, though Miss Kate Clarkson, the 
 second-rate dressmaker, who felt injured that 
 the Balbeaton mourning had not been intrusted 
 to her, was heard to make disparaging remarks 
 on the appearance of the ladies as the) r walked 
 through the Eastburn Wynd, saying Miss Hope 
 "was like a saulie, and that Miss Beaton's 
 cloak and bonnet were puir, pookit-like things, 
 not half so wise-like as the Miss Kamsays', 
 which she had made from a handsome, fashion- 
 able Edinburgh pattern," hers was the only note 
 of dissent. Every other eye expressed interest 
 and admiration ; and as Katherine took her 
 old place in the Balbeaton pew, she could not 
 but feel that if these kind glances ivere fast 
 undermining her composure, there was some- 
 thing consolatory in the knowledge that, be- 
 reaved as she was, she was still surrounded by 
 friends. 
 
 " Wae's me ! ay, as you say, Fanny, this'll 
 hae been a sair week at Ba'beaton," said good 
 old Katie Gourlay, as the sisters were enjoying 
 their Sunday cup of tea, always made extra
 
 200 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 strong, for the double purpose of refreshing 
 them after two church services, and keeping 
 them awake if possible during the third, which 
 was yet to come, and was called " the exer- 
 cise." " Ay, and I'm shure this has been a sair 
 day too to a that belangs them. Ill as I was 
 before about the Captain, it was naething to 
 the state I was putten into the day when the 
 au]d Doctor began a-charactereesin' the faimly 
 sae weel, as kind freends to the poor, and a 
 credit and ornament to the neighbourhood. 
 Ye ken I canna bide to mak' a fraise, and I 
 thocht my very heart wad hae burst tryin' to 
 keep in the greet. I gang aye back to them I 
 kent langest and liket best, and I could just 
 imagine I saw my Mrs Beaton in her negledgee, 
 as she aye ca'ed her white wrapper, sittm wi' 
 the bit bairnie on her knee the first day she 
 was able to be doon the stair again after the 
 Captain was born — white-faced but bonny, and 
 straught as a rash, as she aye was — and the 
 Laird lookin in at the laigh paurlor windy at 
 them wi' sic a prood, pleased e'e. Eh sirs ! 
 it's hard to live and see sic cheenges."
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 201 
 
 " But the Captain wasna their first bairn, 
 Kate 1 " asked Fanny, who had neither the 
 sense nor the strong feelings of the elder sister. 
 She had been an equally steady servant, but 
 having had to take charge of her old mistress, 
 and to listen for years to her maunderings 
 about genealogies and hairbreadth distinctions 
 in gentility, had somehow taken an idea that 
 she herself was no longer "just a common per- 
 son, like her sister Kate for instance, who had 
 been all her lifetime cook at Balbeaton." The 
 result of which was, that when at her mistress's 
 death she had found it convenient to retire aloug 
 with Kate to the before-mentioned house at 
 the foot of the close, though she had no objec- 
 tion that they should take their meals together, 
 she had chosen the upper room for her sphere 
 of action ; where in satisfied dignity she pre- 
 ferred sewing her " white seam " through many 
 a chilly morning and afternoon, rather than in 
 the warm, comfortable kitchen beside Kate and 
 her cheerful spinning-wheel ; while Kate, who 
 fully understood her character, as well as the 
 safety and advantage of the arrangement to
 
 202 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 herself, had at once made her, as she called it, 
 " mair than welcome." " Mrs Bamsay, Miss 
 Anne that was, was far aulder than the Cap- 
 tain, wasna she V 
 
 " She was that," responded Kate, who never 
 forgot the most insignificant circumstance con- 
 nected with the family in which her life-long 
 interests were concentrated — " three years and 
 a month aulder. The bits o' twin lassies cam' 
 atween them. Puir little mites ! they hardly 
 lived a week, and a sair heart their death was 
 to their mamaw, and mony weary reflections 
 she had, because they gaed baith aff without 
 bein' bapteesed. But for a' that, neither her 
 nor the Laird were ever half sae ta'en up wi' 
 the misses, as they were wi' the bit laudie 
 when he cam'. Eh ! that was a time ! I mind 
 o' Mrs Beaton ance laughin' and tellin' me that 
 for twa-three nichts after he was born she was 
 feared to fa' asleep because she dreamt regu- 
 larly he had grown into a lassie ! Miss Anne 
 was awfu' like her papaw ; she had his blue een, 
 his licht hair, and his bonny round shouthers. 
 But the Captain, though he grew his very
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 203 
 
 image at the last, was mair like his mamaw 
 when he was born. We a' thocht it ; and 
 though the Laird pretended to mak' believe 
 he thocht him just like ither bairns, eh ! but 
 he was vogie about him. I mind even after 
 he was speaned, when Effie Kinsman cam' 
 hame to keep him, he would aye be makin' 
 some pretence or anither to come slippin' into 
 the nursey, just to see how she was gaun on 
 wF him/' 
 
 "An' little satisfaction he wad hae," ejacu- 
 lated Fanny, " for a mair ill-redd-up haingle of 
 a cretur than Effie, was never in ony gentle- 
 man's nursey." 
 
 " Maybe," said Kate, moderately • " nae doot 
 they micht ha' been better trysted, but for a' 
 that Effie was aye real canny among the bairns, 
 and sang fine auld-warld ballants to them ; 
 and she wad often crack awa' for hours about 
 naething at a', and divert them far better than 
 mony a mair sensible person could hae dune." 
 
 "An muckle better she had stayed at Ba'- 
 beaton as lang as they would ha' keepit her," 
 said Fanny, bending still further back, " and
 
 204 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 no demeaned hersel' fae a moderate sitywa- 
 tion to tak' up vn! Davit Brown ; nae better 
 even when they were mairrit than a shachled, 
 ill-putten-thegither wricht lad at Kingsbarns, 
 and no likely ever to be better either, for ye 
 ken he belangs to the very lowest class o' 
 Browns." 
 
 " Tut, nonsense, Fanny," Kate said. " Davit 
 was a very decent laud, and was only owre 
 easy, and ga'e Effie far owre muckle o' her ain 
 way ; an' nae great shakes o' a wife she's made 
 to him, lettin' a' thing aboot the house gang 
 barkin' and fleein' for want o' method and a 
 needle and threed ; and has aye berried baith 
 hersel' an him, by ham' swarms o' her sisters' 
 bairns hinging about them in dirt and idleset, 
 — but that's nae business o' oors." 
 
 " I could never awa' wi' Effie, for my pairt," 
 resumed Fanny, in her thin cracked tones ; " she 
 had aye a nasty scoungin', thriftless way wi' 
 her, and was as ready to fling awa' as she was 
 graspin' to get, which is a puir carrater." 
 
 " She's certainly a fule of a cretur," Kate 
 went on musingly ; " I'm positive she disna
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 205 
 
 mean ony ill, and would be ready to do a gude 
 turn to ony puir cretur that comes in her way. 
 But nae doot she does real provokin' things. 
 The present Leddy Ba'beaton, ye ken, 's no at 
 a' a furthy leddy. She ca'ed here ance or twice 
 wi' the Captain shortly after they cam', and 
 was very ceevil, but cauld and distant-like, nae 
 doot — no like the auld faimly ; but what for 
 sud she % a' the world canna be like oor ain 
 folk, and what cud the like o' me expec but 
 fair gude-een and fair gude-day fae a grand 
 stranger leddy like her, that I had neither had 
 dunts nor dealin's wi' lang syne. Weel, ye 
 wud hae thocht Erne, who was but five years 
 a'thegither wi' the faimly, micht ha' considered 
 a that, as weel's me ; but na ! what dis she 
 do, but, the very week after they cam' hame, 
 trails a' the way ower fae Kingsbarns ae rainy 
 day, wi' a her warst claes on, and insistit on 
 seem the leddy — sendin' in word that she 
 was the lass that had sae laug keepit the 
 Captain." 
 
 " An' a proper dry welcome she would get, 
 as she was weel wordy o'," said Fanny, adding
 
 206 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 maliciously, " and a grand notion it would gi' e 
 the stranger leddy o* them that ance belanged 
 the Ba'beaton folk." 
 
 " As shure's death it was an affront to the 
 faimly," cried Kate, waxing wrathful at the 
 bare recollection of how they must all have 
 been compromised. "I canna bear to think o'd 
 yet. At first Mrs Beaton thocht she was a 
 beggar wife, and was frichtened at her when 
 she cam' forrit, and mintit to shake hands wi' 
 her, the impedent, menseless fule that she was ; 
 but when she oonderstood that she had ance 
 belanged to the faimly, she was very kind. 
 She ga'e her half-a-guinea, and Effie aye says, 
 askit her to ca ; back again. I doot Effie 
 didna tell her just the richts o'd though ; for 
 that day Mrs Beaton telt the Captain at 
 denner-time that she had had a visit in the 
 morn in frae his nurse." 
 
 "Nurse, indeed !" cried Fanny, indignantly, 
 " and her never a' her days onything aboon a 
 bairnsmaid ! My certy, she was no blate ! " 
 
 "And supposhV she had been fit for sic a 
 chief office," Kate went on, thinking as well as
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 207 
 
 Fanny that a ivet-nmse alone was entitled to 
 the name, " oor bairns had never ony need to 
 come to sic close quarters wi' the like o' her. 
 Their mamaw was aye baith able and wullin' 
 enough to nurse them, and weel she did it,- 
 and a' on sweet milk and whey, and never 
 slaistered wi' ale and porter as some lecldies 
 do. And fine strong little creteries they baith 
 were ; and a mair gallant handsome gentle- 
 man than Mr Jeemes was, when he put on his 
 regimentals, I never saw ; and yet, ye see, 
 puir fellie, he's awa' already, and him no forty- 
 three year auld till Caunlemas — eh dear! eh 
 dear!" 
 
 " Ay, an ye may say that the Ba'beaton race 
 is like ended wi' him," said Fanny, who was 
 something of a Job's comforter. " Ye'll hardly 
 like to coont Andrew Ramsay's faimly a pairt 
 o' them. Miss Beaton, if she be spared, 'ill 
 lickly soon leave baith name and hame. Isna 
 it curous noo, to think that a fine auld race 
 like them '11 gang clean out like the end o' a 
 caunle, and a set o' half-pace gentles like thae 
 Thamsons, the writers — or, waur than them,
 
 208 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 Baillie Lormer's folk, risen fae naething before 
 oor very een, 11 be flourish in' and spreadin' 
 like a green bay tree \ Od, I mind o' auld 
 Nathan Lormer, the faither o' the present baillie, 
 in a wee bit hoosey wast in Argyle, w? twa- 
 three coos butt and ben wi' him. He supplied 
 Mrs Monypenny wi' eggs and milk, and often 
 brought the milk in the mornin's himsel' — and 
 skrimpit enough measure he ga'e, and never 
 but twel' to the dizzen o' effffs, when ithers 
 
 DO ' 
 
 thocht naething o' gi'en' thirteen or fourteen. 
 And Mrs Monypenny mindet o' his faither 
 again keepin a wee bit hardware shop in the 
 nairey o' the Market -Gate, and sellin' nails, 
 and buyin' in auld roosty locks and keys, and 
 broken bits o' horse-shoon — but haith! they've 
 scrapit weel atween them. They tell me the 
 Baillie's worth £10,000, and has twa o } his sons 
 fine Edinburgh waiters, and anither o' them a 
 doctor in Glaskey, ridin' in his ain chaise, set 
 him up! and twa o' his sons again were here 
 a' the last winter at the college, and wan I 
 canna tell ye how mony prizes for bein' fine 
 scholars, and ye may swear they'll be mair up-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 209 
 
 settin' yet than them that's gane before them. 
 I carina oonderstand it a " 
 
 " Weel, a weel," said Kate, getting in despair 
 back to her philosophy, "we canoa help it, 
 Fanny. The warld maun aye wag, it seems, 
 and we needna wonder if the tail sometimes 
 comes round to whaur the head sud be. But 
 gudesake, woman, haste ye dune ! — if there's 
 no the exerceese bell begun, and neither your 
 bonnet on, nor my cups washed up ! " 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A PARTING. 
 
 The people of Inverardel were satisfied with 
 Oliphant's preaching, both in Gaelic and Eng- 
 lish. Of course, it could not fail to be re- 
 marked by the females, old and young, that, 
 " truly, he was nae great things to look at ; " 
 but as they had had so late an experience of 
 how few virtues or qualities useful to them 
 may sometimes accompany a fine presence and 
 courtly manners, they were now rather more 
 than content that these should be absent. He 
 was, therefore, received without a single dissent 
 or murmur, which greatly strengthened his 
 nerves, and gave him heart for his new duties. 
 The manse was in good repair, and as he had 
 saved money enough to buy the simple furni-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 211 
 
 ture necessary, the marriage would have taken 
 place without further delay, but that the state 
 of affairs at Balbeaton made it seem to Miss 
 Hope impossible that she could at present 
 leave her situation there, and Archie, though 
 feeling more and more every day and hour 
 the want of her advice and affectionate com- 
 panionship, and sometimes uncertain as to the 
 extreme beauty of the smooth loch and lonely 
 hills on which the manse looked out, or even 
 of the nearer delights of his sunny garden in 
 all its white glory of apple-blossom and lily of 
 the valley, because she had not been able to 
 put the stamp of her approval upon them, was 
 far too unselfish to think it possible she should. 
 It was June when he took possession, and the 
 summer had almost passed away, and still in 
 uncheered bachelorhood he was working vali- 
 antly on, getting every week more ease and 
 flow in the composition and delivery of his 
 Gaelic discourses, and striving with his whole 
 might, and sometimes with a degree of success 
 that astonished himself, against that timidity 
 and sinking of the spirit which made personal
 
 212 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 intercourse with his people so difficult and 
 formidable to him. 
 
 It was many months since Captain Beaton's 
 death. Katherine's spirits had so far recovered 
 their youthful elasticity that, had her mother 
 been less miserable and less of a confirmed 
 invalid, she could have taken pleasure again in 
 her summer walks, occasional intercourse with 
 the Eamsays, and the easy cheerful routine of 
 lessons with dear Miss Hope. But ever since 
 her husband's death, Mrs Beaton had been in 
 such a state of despondency and utter prostra- 
 tion of both mind and body, that it seemed as 
 if she must soon sink under it. The clouds 
 seemed to gather closer over the devoted Bal- 
 beaton. Mr Ramsay had carefully examined 
 into the morteia-es which had been oiven over 
 it, and found them so heavy that, unless Mrs 
 Beaton would consent to sacrifice more than 
 half her fortune to pay them off, the greater 
 part of the estate must be sold for that pur- 
 pose. With much pains and thought he had 
 managed to make a temporary arrangement 
 with the creditors ; the difficulty of discussing
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 213 
 
 business at all, far more of opening up such a 
 state of matters to Mrs Beaton at present, 
 proving too great even for his intrepidity. 
 
 He was too entirely occupied with the 
 thousancl-and-one affairs of client and friend 
 to notice something of rather a painful nature, 
 which was going on in his own usually cheer- 
 ful family, and which a little timely caution, 
 on his own or his wife's part, might possibly 
 have averted. Anne and Millie were good, 
 honest girls, but they were thoughtless, ill- 
 trained, and confident in their own powers of 
 self-government. Such entire liberty in mak- 
 ing rash intimacies, walking out with young 
 men — often of high station, and more refined 
 manners than the usual companions of their 
 father and brothers — could not always be 
 safely indulged in by girls at once careless, 
 artless, and warm-hearted. It was more by 
 chance than prudence that Anne was safe in 
 an attachment to Mr Duff, an accomplished 
 young divinity student. Millie's extreme 
 beauty, and a certain graceful indolence of 
 disposition and manner, made her far more
 
 214 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 admired, as well as in greater danger, than her 
 sister. She seemed formed by nature, as well 
 as inclination, to be a fine lady, and adored. 
 She sang Scotch songs with sweetness and 
 a singular delicacy of expression, and em- 
 broidered neatly. She was tolerably familiar 
 with Shakespeare and Lord Byron, and still 
 more so with the Minerva press of the day, to 
 which there was, unfortunately, but too easy 
 access, through the intervention of Mr Duff, 
 who was one of the College librarians, and 
 who, though he rather disapproved of such 
 indiscriminate voracity in that unprofitable 
 line of study, could rarely resist the long lists, 
 accompanied by soft pencilled entreaties, that 
 one or other of these must surely be forth- 
 coming ! But though Anne was often talked 
 by him into an interest in, and perusal of, 
 something of a more bracing tendency, his 
 suggestions were uniformly scouted by her 
 sister, who liked her ease, and read only for 
 her delectation ; and who, though kind- 
 hearted and charitable to the distressed or 
 poor who could manage to gain her attention,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 215 
 
 and perfectly good - natured about all the 
 world so long as it did not attack or show 
 contempt of her or hers, took but little in- 
 tellectual interest in it, and neither felt nor 
 pretended to much real sympathy with people 
 or things with which she had no personal 
 relation. 
 
 It may be supposed that, with such a tem- 
 perament, and well-exercised sensibilities, she 
 could hardly have reached her present age of 
 nineteen years without some disturbance of 
 this indolent epicurean state of existence. 
 But though she had had several distinct 
 preferences as to walking and dancing part- 
 ners, with whom, to sharper or less sym- 
 pathetic eyes than her mother's, it might 
 distinctly appear that she flirted, it is certain 
 that, until Mr Temple's advent, her heart had 
 never been really touched. 
 
 This youth, though decidedly her inferior 
 in ability, strength of feeling, and real refine- 
 ment, had unfortunately many of the qualities 
 and graces which were irresistible to her taste 
 and inexperience. He was handsome, with
 
 216 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 light brown hair, soft eyes, a well-modulated 
 voice, and easy, high-bred manners. He was 
 easily flattered, careless about expense, hated 
 work, science, and tiresome people of all kinds 
 — his professors in particular ; and was de- 
 voted to the pleasure and interest of the hour. 
 These virtues and accomplishments had not, 
 however, flashed out all at once before poor 
 Millie's admiring eyes. On his first arrival at 
 St Andrews he was in very low spirits. He 
 intended to hate the place, and despise every- 
 body in it. He was only to be seen galloping 
 Byronically on the sands, or taking gloomy 
 walks over the crags and less frequented ways. 
 But even then he began to be an object of 
 some interest to her. Although she had known 
 that he had been sent there for the purpose of 
 breaking off an imprudent love-affair at Liver- 
 pool, it is possible she might not have been 
 quite safe ; but she did not know ; and when 
 he began to be in love with her, which he soon 
 did, she had no scruple to struggle with in 
 returning his passion. It was no excuse for 
 him that the inferior beauty at Liverpool was
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 217 
 
 equally inconstant — having within two months 
 of his departure been induced to marry her 
 former admirer, Mr Joyce, one of Mr Sorner- 
 ville's clerks, for whom that gentleman had 
 very conveniently found a much better situa- 
 tion in the branch of the house which was at 
 Calcutta — for his own inconstancy had rather 
 anticipated hers ; but it eased his conscience, 
 and left him at full liberty to prosecute the 
 new pursuit. The love which had sprung up 
 rather suddenly between him and Millicent 
 had gone on increasing through the winter 
 and spring months, and had been nourished 
 by almost daily paradisiacal walks and talks, 
 dances and glances. As they had soon under- 
 derstood each other, and had also some idea of 
 the world they lived in, a good deal of pru- 
 dence had been shown in avoiding such mani- 
 festations as would have called on them the 
 general observation ; and though the curi- 
 ous in such matters, and the whole Ramsay 
 family, except the parents, had a shrewd guess 
 that there was something between them, no 
 one but Anne, who was in their full con-
 
 218 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 fidence, knew how deep the feeling was on 
 one side, and how really ardent on both. Mr 
 Temple was not inconstant in the very worst 
 sense of that word. He was only weak and 
 facile. He did not grow weary, or cold, or 
 satiated, but present interests alone held him 
 with a strong hand. His passion needed the 
 support of constant looks and words ; and 
 absence had hitherto been as fatal to it as the 
 want of oil to the flame of the lamp. This 
 time he felt convinced that he was attached 
 for life. He had no distinct plan for the 
 future ; but Millie had grown dearer and 
 dearer to him every day, and he v now con- 
 sidered her as absolutely necessary to his 
 existence. 
 
 It will easily be conceived, then, how com- 
 pletely thrown down he was by the receipt of 
 a letter from his uncle, announcing that at 
 last he had been successful in obtaining the 
 promise of a commission for him, in the -4th 
 Eegiment of Foot, now stationed at Chelten- 
 ham, and desiring him to leave St Andrews 
 on the day following, proceed immediately to
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 219 
 
 London, where he himself would meet him, 
 and, after seeing him through the slight 
 examinations which were then necessary, 
 accompany him to Cheltenham to join his 
 regiment. 
 
 He was as much taken by surprise as if his 
 uncle had suddenly dropt down on him from 
 the clouds, and this the very first hint he had 
 had of going into the army at all, although it 
 had been, as he had often told his uncle, the 
 crowning wish of his heart to do so. In utter 
 despair, a distracted note was despatched, en- 
 treating to see Millie and Anne instantly, and 
 a dreadful interview took place with them at 
 the foot of the park, where for some time he 
 could only rave, say he should go mad, and 
 make the most impracticable proposals. Poor 
 Millie felt as if she had been turned into 
 stone ; she was forced to sit down to prevent 
 herself from falling ; and even Anne was more 
 distressed than she had ever felt in her life 
 before, and had her eyes suddenly and violently 
 opened to the monstrous folly and imprudence 
 of the whole affair.
 
 220 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 " What on earth can be done, Frederick 1 " 
 she asked him, as soon as she saw he could 
 listen to her. " Must you go at once, think 
 you % or had you not better write and ask for 
 a week's delay, and tell Mr Somerville frankly 
 how you are situated \ There's no actual sin 
 in your having engaged yourself, you know ; 
 it's only very imprudent : and though he may 
 be ever so angry at first, if he is a good man 
 he will not insist on your giving Millie up — 
 and after a time — you can't expect it imme- 
 diately — will help you to make some arrange- 
 ment : He is very rich, you say \ " 
 
 Temple listened to her for a moment, but 
 soon shook his head gloomily. Confess frankly, 
 indeed ! As if he could ever forget the double- 
 quick time in which his uncle had marched 
 him off to be out of Isabella Parkers way. 
 after meeting him one day walking arm-in- 
 arm with her in the outskirts of the town. To 
 be sure he could hardly blame him, now that 
 he thought of it all ; she was not like darling- 
 beautiful Millie — could never have cared for 
 him, as she evidently does — oh, how much !
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 221 
 
 looking fondly at her as she sat silent, deadly 
 pale, and almost fainting. Her father, too, 
 only a clerk, and her aunt, the wife of his 
 uncle's partner, such a shocking vulgar woman ! 
 It was different, but still he had no hope: no, 
 no, no, that would never do — at least, certainly 
 not at present. Having quickly revolved all 
 this — 
 
 " You don't know my uncle, Anne," he said ; 
 " an old bachelor himself, he has no more 
 feeling than a stockfish ; and don t you see 
 he orders me to meet him in London, and is 
 to go there on Thursday evening to make 
 arrangements for this cursed examination % A 
 letter from here would be too late to prevent 
 him. A pretty fix I am in altogether. I wish 
 to God I had had a month's warning. A fine 
 figure I'll cut ! I don't believe I'll be able to 
 answer half their stupid questions. Well, I 
 can only be plucked, and that's perhaps the 
 best thing that can happen to me." 
 
 Anne could not see how this would in any 
 way mend the prospect before them, and after 
 a little more reflection, could only advise him
 
 222 SEDGELY COUET. 
 
 to try to compose his feelings, and go at once 
 and get over his examination as well as he 
 could. Millie and he must both exert them- 
 selves for the sake of one another. It seemed 
 impossible to her that people so attached as they 
 were could be kept long separate. He would 
 surely be able to interest some one who would 
 help them in some way or other. There was 
 his mother, why not go to her as soon as he 
 had passed % If he confided to her how truly 
 and. firmly he loved her sister, she would surely 
 enter into his feelings, and. might induce his 
 uncle to be more indulgent. And Anne, in 
 glancing mentally at her own mother's pro- 
 bable feelings in any such conjuncture, felt 
 more hopeful than she had yet done. 
 
 Temple was striding up and down in heavy- 
 footed despair. He now stopped suddenly and 
 looked at Anne in blank amazement. For a 
 moment he forgot how little she could know of 
 that formidable personage, his mother. She 
 had been herself a Temple, heiress in her own 
 right of the ancient abbey and estate of Eed- 
 cliffe. Her father had died soon after her
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 223 
 
 birth, and she had been, by the advice of in- 
 judicious trustees, peculiarly educated, with 
 the view that, as she had a large property, she 
 ought to understand business sufficiently to 
 be able to manage it herself. Her mother had 
 married a second time, and as neither she nor 
 her second husband had anything besides her 
 jointure, their only son, Walter Somerville, 
 had, at their death, chosen the profession of 
 a merchant, in which he had been quite suc- 
 cessful. But Mrs Temple, though she had not 
 offered to share her means with her young 
 brother, had felt quite indignant at his ignoble 
 choice of a profession, and had taken but little 
 notice of him since. She had married early a 
 cousin of her own, a handsome younger son, 
 with nothing but his commission, and had 
 never forgiven herself the folly of her love- 
 marriage. It was said she had half broken her 
 husband's heart by her discontent and imperi- 
 ous conduct — at all events he had died young, 
 leaving her with three children, of whom Fre- 
 derick was the youngest, and Mrs Arundel the 
 eldest.
 
 224 SEDGELY COUKT. 
 
 Much of this was, of course, unknown to 
 Frederick himself ; but he knew quite enough 
 of his mother's ideas and feelings to be aware 
 that, if there was a person in the world less 
 likely than another to sympathise with his 
 love, or help him in the present strait, that 
 person was certainly his mother. He could 
 not help a slight shudder at the very idea of 
 how she would receive such a communication, 
 and he said quickly and inconsiderately, " My 
 dear Anne, you don't in the least know what 
 you are talking about. You seem to think 
 that everybody's mother must be as good- 
 natured and easy as your own. My mother 
 enter into my feelings ! I give you my honour 
 that I don't exaggerate when I say, that I 
 believe she would rather see me lying, thrust 
 through the body, at her feet, than married 
 to any one, however good and beautiful, who 
 could not help to enrich, or in some way ag- 
 grandise the family. If she had not, by her 
 money-making schemes and wretched manage- 
 ment, brought both herself and George, who 
 has helped her all he could — the estate is for-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 225 
 
 tunately entailed — to the verge of bankruptcy, 
 she would never have consented to my going 
 to Liverpool to my uncle, when he asked me. 
 I have heard her rail a thousand times against 
 his poverty of spirit in going into trade, and 
 I believe it was she put it into my foolish head 
 that his was not the profession of a gentleman ; 
 and now I wish to God that I had adopted it. 
 No, no; there is nothing to be looked for at 
 my mother's hands : she is as poor as Job ever 
 was, and as proud as Lucifer/' 
 
 Poor Millie rose suddenly from the rude 
 bench on which she had sunk. A few minutes 
 ago she would have said that she could not pos- 
 sibly suffer more than she was then suffering. 
 What a mistake ! She was now inexpressibly 
 shocked and hurt by his undutiful tone, and 
 this dreadful revelation of how she must in- 
 evitably be hated and looked down upon if she 
 ever entered the Temple family. The pain 
 of immediate and even indefinite separation 
 seemed as nothing to the misery and hope- 
 lessness which took possession of her as she 
 listened. Her face was now as crimson as 
 
 vol. i. p
 
 226 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 before it had been pale, and with a kind of 
 spasmodic effort she said, 
 
 u It is all over, then, Frederick ! You say 
 yourself there is no hope for us from any 
 quarter. I would rather die than bring dis- 
 peace into your family, or feel myself looked 
 down on by your mother. This, then, is the 
 last time ; but oh, why did we not hear some- 
 thing of all this before ! " She gave way to 
 violent weeping, and was forced to sit down 
 again. 
 
 The character of his nearest relative, and the 
 state of his family affairs in general, had been 
 so long familiar to Temple, that he was per- 
 fectly astonished at the effect of what he had 
 said on Millicent. 
 
 In a moment he was sitting by her, his arm 
 thrown caressingly round her. " My dearest 
 Millie, you are surely not going to cast me off, 
 because you now know that my mother is poor, 
 and proud, and worldly ? Heaven knows I 
 have all my life suffered enough from this 
 misfortune, without its costing me the loss of 
 you in addition ! Perhaps I ought to have
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 227 
 
 told you all this before ; but I hate disagree- 
 able subjects, and always count on being happy 
 when I am with you. It is God's truth that 
 my mother has not the power, or if she had, 
 would certainly not have the will, to help me ; 
 but neither Las she the right to oppose me in 
 an affair which so entirely involves the hap- 
 piness of my life. I consider that, when she 
 turned me over to the tender mercies of my 
 uncle, she gave up all right to dictate to me,' 
 and should never think of asking her consent 
 any more than her co-operation. But to sup- 
 pose that I have abandoned all hope of soon 
 being able to return and claim my dearest 
 sweetest Millie! Good God ! I believe I should 
 go mad if I considered it possible for one mo- 
 ment. No, no, love ! do not give way to such 
 fancies, or you will kill me. Help will come 
 from some quarter, I have always seen that it 
 does. I know George will willingly help me 
 as soon as it is in his power, though at present, 
 poor fellow! he is worse off than myself, and 
 is often actually without sixpence to pay his 
 turnpike, which is a horrid shame. But people
 
 228 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 in our station are seldom long so cursedly 
 situated. Depend upon it I shall soon get 
 some good appointment through somebody or 
 another. As kind Anne said a moment ago, 
 you and I, dearest, cannot now be long kept 
 separate." 
 
 Millie could not answer him, or feel any 
 great confidence of this fact ; but she was 
 soothed and made less wretched by the passion- 
 ate warmth of his manner towards her. She 
 did not withdraw the hand he had taken, but 
 now wept calmly and silently. 
 
 " But your uncle/' remonstrated the straight- 
 forward Anne, " I don't see that you should 
 despair of being able to interest him in favour 
 of an early marriage. A very few hundreds 
 a-year, which would make but little difference 
 to him, would enable you to live simply but 
 comfortably enough, until you do get some 
 good appointment ; and I don't believe you 
 will be able to live on your pay even by your- 
 self." 
 
 " I should think not," he said, dryly, " seeing 
 I have never yet managed to make the two
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 229 
 
 ends meet on six times the amount. But my 
 uncle, though he is rich, is far from generous. 
 He began the world with half-a-crown himself, 
 and has a confoundedly contracted notion of 
 what is absolutely necessary for a young fel- 
 low who has any pretensions to be a gentleman. 
 You should have seen the serious matter he 
 made of occasionally paying a few extra things 
 for me at Liverpool ; and I know there will be 
 the devil of a blow-up when my bills from this 
 are sent after me. I should not wonder if he 
 threaten to repudiate them. But how can I 
 help it 1 I suppose he thinks this an out-of-the- 
 way place, where I might do with half a coat 
 a-year ; but what with horse -hire, and clubs 
 and balls, and a hundred odds and ends — thiDgs, 
 in short, that I could not possibly do without — 
 I have found the place expensive enough, and 
 the money he sent me little more than I wanted 
 for pocket-money." 
 
 Aune could scarcely help utteriug a groan at 
 this new proof of the imprudence of one on 
 whom poor Millie's happiness was so seriously 
 ventured. In spite of the sympathy and in-
 
 230 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 diligence with which she had looked on at 
 the rise and progress of this unpromising en- 
 tanglement, she was neither without good sense 
 nor right feeling. She now felt dreadfully to 
 blame. She knew exactly how Temple's leav- 
 ing the town deeply in debt would be looked 
 on by her father and everybody ; and, indeed, 
 how difficult it would be for him to get clear 
 off with all his goods and chattels, without the 
 probable occurrence of some painfully awkward 
 and notorious scene. It was an unhappy affair 
 from every point of view ; and, much as she 
 liked him, she would have given the world that 
 they had never seen his face. But what could 
 now be done ? She could only suggest to him 
 that, as he must go, it would be well to say 
 nothing to any one as to the probability of his 
 not returning to stay at St Andrews — he need 
 only take his carpet-bag in the mean time — his 
 things could easily be sent after him — Andrew 
 would give the due directions ; and Temple, 
 half- guessing her suspicions, and always wil- 
 ling to be spared trouble, was quite ready to 
 adopt the suggestion. After another heart-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 231 
 
 rending scene or two with poor Millie, lie was 
 at last prevailed on by Anne to tear himself 
 away, and she was left to get her sister back to 
 the house, and make such excuses as she could 
 for her being so ill as to be obliged to go im- 
 mediately to bed.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 KATHEBINE AN ORPHAN. 
 
 The whole summer passed without bringing 
 any improvement to Mrs Beaton's spirits and 
 health. Katherine could not now bear to be 
 away from her. She paid her the most careful 
 and loving attentions, and tried in a thousand 
 ways to interest and amuse her. But though 
 she would occasionally yield to her entreaties 
 that she would only come down-stairs for an 
 hour — would only take a turn with her on the 
 sunny side of the house, she could rarely suc- 
 ceed, by all her affectionate and playful wiles, 
 in calling the faintest smile into her mother's 
 sad countenance. And yet she loved Katherine 
 fondly, too ; was sensitively alive to her pale 
 and anxious looks ; would often take fright
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 233 
 
 that she was going to be ill from being too 
 much beside her ; and insisted on her going 
 daily out for a walk, and would even occasion- 
 ally suggest that she should walk to the town 
 to call on her cousins, and invite some of the 
 quiet ones to come and spend the day with her 
 at Balbeaton — at which times she invariably 
 kept her room. In the course of the winter 
 she declined more rapidly. Her naturally hy- 
 pochondriacal temperament and gloomy views 
 had acted and reacted on each other, till, at 
 last, disease was fairly developed in some vital 
 part ; and it was as evident to others, as it had 
 very early been to herself, that she was dying. 
 But in spite of her distaste for all that life 
 could offer, she had no comfort in the prospect 
 of death. She felt herself weighed clown by 
 the sins of the whole human race, and doubted 
 whether she might be one of the few who had 
 been chosen for salvation. In vain Miss Hope, 
 with gentle earnestness, would try by Scrip- 
 ture-drawn words of consolation, or strong- 
 minded reasonings, to draw her from the state 
 of spiritual darkness which was almost despair.
 
 234 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 She summoned Archibald from Inverardel in 
 hopes that, by his better theology and greater 
 fervency of prayer, he might be able to lighten 
 the load which was crushing out her very life. 
 Katherine looked on and suffered dreadfully. 
 Hope, and trust in God, were so intimate a 
 portion of her own nature, that, though she 
 could scarcely comprehend a state of feeling so 
 very different as that experienced by her mother, 
 she would willingly have laid down her young 
 life to secure for her the peace with God which 
 seemed so unattainable — to have heard her say 
 once from the depths of her heart — " My Lord 
 and my God ! living or dying I am thine ! " 
 
 But unless by an occasional flood of tears, or 
 raising of the clasped hands, as Oliphant, from 
 the very depths of his fervent soul, uttered an 
 appeal to the mercy and intervention of the 
 Saviour, they could hardly see that she ever 
 noticed what was going on around her ; and 
 she passed away at last without consciousness. 
 
 Poor Katherine was now, indeed, an orphan. 
 but at first her thoughts scarcely turned at all 
 upon her own bereavement. On the night of
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 235 
 
 her mother's death she shared Miss Hope's 
 room. Never since her father's death had she 
 been for a single night separated from her 
 suffering mother. She lay down in her little 
 bed quietly, determined, if possible, to compose 
 her shattered nerves and go to sleep, that she 
 might not disturb Miss Hope, who had watched 
 through the preceding night. 
 
 But in vain did she close her eyes tightly, 
 repeat simple words of prayer, and call upon 
 her Father who is in heaven to shed down 
 peace on her solitary heart and home. A 
 dreadful, haunting thought would constantly 
 suggest itself, and at last, unable to bear it any 
 longer, she crept from her bed, and, awakening 
 Miss Hope, she asked her to forgive her, and, 
 if possible, speak comfort to her trembling heart. 
 Her mother, her poor, poor mother, where was 
 she 1 Oh ! where was she % Where was her 
 troubled, suffering spirit now? In an instant 
 Miss Hope was up, holding her in her arms, 
 wiping her streaming eyes, and trying in vain 
 to soothe her by words of kindness and comfort. 
 A thought occurred to her : she wrapped a shawl
 
 236 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 round Katherine, and, striking a light, led her 
 gently into her mother's room, and having 
 withdrawn the slight covering, showed her her 
 mother's pale silent face, from which had now 
 disappeared every trace of suffering — even of 
 sadness ; for now there was almost a smile on 
 the slightly-parted lips, and the white brow 
 seemed as if no care or wrinkle had ever dis- 
 turbed its marble smoothness. Katherine felt 
 instantly solemnised, and grew tranquil as she 
 gazed on the almost transfigured and yet fami- 
 liar features. She knelt down reverently, and, 
 uttering a few words of heartfelt prayer, rose, 
 and kissing the cold lips, she felt inexpressibly 
 comforted, and offered to go. 
 
 " Yes, dearest Katherine," said Miss Hope, 
 answering to the course of her thought which 
 she could follow in her ingenuous looks, " you 
 read the answer there ! The clouds and errors 
 of earth have disappeared. No more pain or 
 struggle on that lovely countenance ; and it is 
 but a faint image of the heavenly peace which 
 we have every reason to trust is now the por- 
 tion of the lately imprisoned soul. The tears
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 237 
 
 of earthly suffering will sully it no longer, for 
 the seals are brokeu, and the volume of Divine 
 love is open to it now ! " 
 
 " I believe it," said Katherine, solemnly, " and 
 thank God for this moment!" Then, with 
 another glance at the bed and a return of 
 natural grief — " But oh, Miss Hope, if my 
 dearest mother could but have felt and under- 
 stood " 
 
 "Hush, my love," said Miss Hope, gently 
 stopping her. " It pleased God, for reasons 
 inscrutable to our weak sight, that part of 
 your dear mother's life should be dark enough. 
 It is not for us to judge whether or not she 
 might have struggled more successfully ; we 
 only know from looking into our own weak 
 hearts, how frequent is the yielding, how often 
 feeble the best purpose. She believed in God, 
 and feared Him reverently, and that should 
 suffice us ; and oh, my dear, dear child, let us 
 never forget that for her weakness and for our 
 weakness there is an Advocate, a never-slum- 
 bering Intercessor, One who bore our nature 
 and can comprehend and pity its frailty. If
 
 238 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 in deepest humility we can but keep our eyes 
 ever towards that perfect example, try to rule 
 our lives by His word and to use our best 
 powers to bring about His kingdom upon 
 earth, oh, how interesting and noble would be 
 even the poorest of our lives ! and how certain 
 might we feel that our shortcomings will all 
 be hid with Christ in God !" 
 
 Katlierine was satisfied ; she felt that she 
 had gained a firmer standing-ground, and as if 
 much darkness and confusion had disappeared 
 from her view. She tenderly kissed Miss 
 Hope, thanked her for all her goodness, and 
 said she thought she could sleep now. But 
 most fervently did she first thank God for that 
 hour of Sabbath rest and renewed confidence, 
 and earnestly prayed that in days of work, and 
 amidst earthly hindrances, she might always be 
 enabled to recall it and profit by it.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 KIN NOT KIND. 
 
 Katherine's grief for the loss of her mother 
 was by no means lessened by the embarrass- 
 ment she felt as to the choice of a new home. 
 It was clear that she could not remain at Bal- 
 beaton. Mr Ramsay had immediately invited 
 her to take up her abode with him, offering the 
 services of himself, his wife, and the entire 
 family to make her as happy as they possibly 
 could at his fireside. And the proposal was 
 urged so heartily and affectionately by her 
 aunt and cousins, that though Katherine would 
 have preferred accompanying Miss Hope to 
 Tnverardel, she must have accepted it, but for 
 the strong conviction she felt that her mother 
 would not have approved of her making her
 
 240 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 home with them. On consulting Miss Hope, 
 she found that, though nothing would have 
 been more agreeable to that lady than to have 
 had her company, she had neither expected it, 
 nor thought it practicable now that it was pro- 
 posed. 
 
 " It would only be too delightful to me, dear- 
 est Katherine," she said, affectionately, " and I 
 am not without the hope that you will some 
 time come to my Highlaucl home, and that we 
 shall have many a walk together over those 
 delicious heathery hills about which Archibald 
 is so modest. But I fear you will now be too 
 important a lady to be left in so sequestered a 
 nook as poor Inverardel. Your dear mother 
 hinted to me that when she was no longer with 
 you, you would most likely go to live at 
 Sedgely Court with your uucle and aunt 
 Arundel — a very different place ! and a life 
 more suitable to your position and even to 
 your tastes by-and-by, though just now you 
 will naturally think the reverse." 
 
 " Indeed I do think quite the reverse, Miss 
 Hope ; I know that I should be a thousand
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 241 
 
 times happier with you. You care for me, and 
 my uncle and aunt don't, which makes far 
 more difference to me than that between 
 Sedgely Court and Inverardel, even if I did 
 not prefer the idea of the loch and the heather, 
 which I certainly do. Besides, it is quite clear 
 my uncle has no thought of inviting me. 
 What a cold note that was Mr Ramsay showed 
 us in answer to his with the sad intelligence ! 
 Merely apologising for not coming to do the 
 last offices, and saying he should write soon 
 again, which he has not done though it is now 
 a fortnight. He ought to have written to my- 
 self long before this. It seems very strange 
 and unfeeling." 
 
 Miss Hope rather thought so too, but she 
 only begged Katherine to be patient, and not 
 disturb herself about the future ; and she had 
 not much longer to endure suspense. Next 
 day Mr Eamsay sent for her perusal the fol- 
 lowing letter which he had just received from 
 Mr Arundel : — 
 
 "Sedgely Con :r, April 2, IS—. 
 
 " Dear Sir, — I wrote you a very few words 
 
 VOL. T. Q
 
 242 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 after receiving your melancholy letter of the 
 15th ultimo, and have not" written again since, 
 because there were some rather important par- 
 ticulars in connection with the sad event of 
 the 14th to which I wished to give my best 
 consideration before doing so. 
 
 "Between two and three months ago — I think 
 it was on last Christmas-day — my sister, from 
 whom I had not heard before since her hus- 
 band's death, wrote to me that she had been 
 for some time past unwell, and now believed 
 herself to be in a very bad w T ay. She asked me 
 if I should have any objection, in the event of 
 her death, to become sole trustee to her daugh- 
 ter, stating that you, having long and faithfully 
 managed her late husband's affairs (and she 
 hoped would continue to do so), would be 
 incompetent to act in this capacity, and that 
 there was no one else she wished to associate 
 with me in the trust. She stated also that the 
 valuable person who had so long conducted 
 Miss Beaton's education was soon to leave 
 Balbeaton for a home of her own, and that, 
 though a respectable person could be found
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 243 
 
 to reside there with her if necessary, it would 
 be more desirable — indeed, a great comfort 
 to her — to think that her daughter should at 
 her death find a home with me at Sedgely 
 Court. 
 
 " I felt rather at a loss what to reply to two 
 such very important proposals. I have all my 
 life held trusteeship to be a troublesome, dif- 
 ficult, and even dangerous matter, and had 
 determined never to undertake one. I had 
 supposed also that if anything should occur 
 to my sister, it was more probable that her 
 daughter would prefer remaining among her 
 father s relations, whom we are apt to consider 
 the more natural guardians, to coming south 
 to me. As I could not at once resolve on 
 acting against my preconceived notions, and 
 had, besides, the idea that my sister was hypo- 
 chondriacal rather than really ill, I adopted a 
 middle course. I wrote to her saying that I 
 hoped and believed she was quite wrong in 
 supposing herself to be in a dangerous state of 
 health ; that I trusted soon to learn that she 
 was pretty well again ; and that I should take
 
 244 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 time to consider her proposals, and should let 
 her know my decision by-and-by. She never 
 wrote to me again, nor I to her. 
 
 " My reason for troubling you with all this 
 detail is to show you that I had made no 
 promise to my sister in answer to her pro- 
 posals, and still feel myself quite at liberty to 
 decline them both. 
 
 "But there are cases in which one feels that 
 it is not becoming to stand on rights, or hold 
 to favourite resolutions. I do not see that 
 you, being only the husband of my niece's 
 aunt, can be expected to stand to her in the 
 place of a parent rather than myself ; and, as 
 she has still less claim on any one else, I feel 
 it to be a duty, and am willing to undertake 
 the office of trustee, and also that she should 
 henceforward reside with me here, though I 
 am quite aware that my own numerous avo- 
 cations and my wife's delicate health will 
 make Sedgely Court a less desirable home for 
 her than could be wished. As it will be 
 necessary that you and I should meet to talk 
 fully over the affairs of the trust, and it is
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 245 
 
 unlikely that business will permit of your 
 leaving home for a long enough time to come 
 here, I shall make a journey to Balbeaton early 
 next month, and shall hope that my niece will 
 be ready to accompany me on my return. 
 Pray offer her my very sincere condolence, 
 and tell her this." 
 
 " She has, I believe, just completed her 
 seventeenth year. I could have wished that 
 her governess had been able to remain with her 
 for one year longer ; but as my sister men- 
 tioned that her education had been admirably 
 attended to, I hope she will be able to get on 
 tolerably by herself. I have the same objec- 
 tion to sending her to a boarding-school that 
 my sister herself had, and should not think it 
 necessary to look out for another governess. — 
 I am ever, dear sir, yours faithfully, 
 
 "Edward Arundel. 
 
 " To Eamsay, Esq., 
 
 South Street, St Andrews." 
 
 Katherine could hardly read this letter to 
 an end, so affected and indignant, and in every
 
 246 8EDGELY COURT. 
 
 way agitated, was she by the various contents. 
 To think of her poor, suffering, dying mother 
 having felt so anxious about her future that 
 she could so far overcome her reserve and 
 pride as to become a suitor for her to one so 
 cold and calculating, so utterly heartless, as 
 this letter plainly showed her uncle Arundel 
 to be! of the weary time she must have 
 passed expecting in vain that every day would 
 bring his reluctant consent to a request so 
 very natural ! She could now perfectly recall 
 her mother's anxiety at one time of the winter 
 for the arrival of the post, and also her own 
 surprise that it should be so, considering that 
 she had never seen her receive letters, except 
 of the commonest kind. "And then to think 
 that though good kind uncle Ramsay would 
 so willingly take the whole charge of me and 
 my little affairs, I must be indebted to one 
 who, by his own confession, is afraid of the 
 trouble and the risk he would run ; and actu- 
 ally be obliged to live in the house with 
 people who would far rather I were anywhere 
 else ! Oh, Miss Hope, is it not dreadful, and
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 247 
 
 must not my uncle be a bad, unfeeling, hard- 
 hearted man \ " 
 
 Miss Hope was obliged to own that there 
 were certainly few traces of sensibility in the 
 letter. Yet she was inclined to extenuate. 
 "Not a had man, Katherine, only desperately 
 dignified and straightforward ! Having pro- 
 bably been accustomed to think more about 
 his own than other people's feelings, he is 
 evidently not gifted with that very nice per- 
 ception of what ought to be felt, which so 
 often prompts people to assume the virtue 
 they have not. But I see honesty, and justice, 
 and conscientiousness in the letter, and that 
 is something, surely." 
 
 " Well ! I can see nothing in it," said poor 
 Katherine, bitterly, "except that he selfishly 
 evaded my poor, poor mother's dying request ; 
 and don't you perceive that even now he 
 rather boasts of having done this, and glories 
 in his liberty in consequence 1 ' You see,' he 
 says, 'that as I made my sister no promise, 
 I am quite at liberty to decline acting accord- 
 ing to her request.' Oh, why did he not take
 
 248 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 this liberty % I am sure I should a thousand 
 times rather he had !" 
 
 "Just because he has a conscience and a 
 tolerable notion of justice," said Miss Hope, 
 stoutly. "I confess he does gloat a little 
 provokingly over his liberty, as if there would 
 be a certain want of dignity in acting on a 
 promise merely, even if he had made one ; 
 but I think it is only that he may come out 
 more strongly on the higher grounds of jus- 
 tice, conscience, and the eternal fitness of 
 things. 'There are cases/ he says, 'when it 
 is not becoming to stand on rights/ which he 
 thus explains : ' Justice to you, Mr Eamsay, 
 who are only my niece's uncle-in-law, requires 
 that I, who am her uncle by blood, should 
 stand to her in the place of a father, and take 
 upon myself the troubles and risks that guar- 
 dianship imposes/ &c. &c. &c. But all this 
 is far too critical to be profitable, my dear ; 
 we must take your uncle as he is, and be 
 thankful that if he have not the sensibility and 
 refinement we should have preferred, he seems 
 at least to be an honest, upright, and cautious
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 249 
 
 individual, who has thought carefully over all 
 he is undertaking, and will not be apt to grow 
 worse, I think, on further intimacy." 
 
 When Mr Earn say came in the evening, 
 it was plain that he had seen nothing to find 
 fault with in the letter. He was touched by 
 Katherine's warmly expressed feelings of con- 
 fidence in himself, and said, with tears in his 
 eyes, that, as he had always felt towards her 
 as one of his own children, there was no merit 
 whatever in his desire to serve her and make 
 her comfortable. 
 
 "But mind ye, my dear, Mr Arundel is 
 almost a stranger to you and yours. A great 
 man, with, I'll warrant ye, plenty of affairs 
 of his own to take up his time. I am amazed 
 rather at the consideration he shows, and 
 count his letter highly satisfactory. I haven't 
 a doubt he'll be a reasonable man to do busi- 
 ness with ; yet I wish I could only feel certain 
 that he will not be for foreclosing that weary 
 mortgage ; but I'm quite ready to lay every- 
 thing before him, and to carry out his views. 
 I was going to say that, with your leave, we may
 
 250 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 save him the trouble of coming here. I have a 
 case in the Lords, which takes me to London 
 in the beginning of the month ; and if he will 
 meet us there, it will suit me rather better." 
 
 And Katlierine was too glad to put off the 
 evil day of losing sight of one for whom she 
 had a real affection to make any objection. 
 She had now hardly a fortnight more to spend 
 at home, and must exert herself to do many 
 things. A few of these days were, at her 
 aunt's request, passed in South Street, that she 
 might be some time with her cousins, and, in 
 company with herself, call to take leave of 
 some old friends. 
 
 These were, with few exceptions, neither 
 young companions of Katherine's own, nor of 
 the active portion of the St Andrews society 
 in general ; for from all such her mother's pe- 
 culiar ideas and habits had kept her very much 
 apart. They were old intimates of the Bal- 
 beaton family of previous generations, but 
 known also to her father and herself, and life- 
 long cronies of her aunt Kamsay, who well 
 knew of how much consequence it would be to
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 251 
 
 the comfort of many of her own future morn- 
 ing chattings, that Katherine should leave the 
 town in good odour with them. They were 
 principally maiden ladies of great age, daugh- 
 ters of previous professors and other town dig- 
 nitaries, — some of them poor enough, perhaps, 
 but all scrupulous in keeping up their station 
 in the world, — who lived in quaint old-fash- 
 ioned houses, entering from ancient stone 
 courts, or in flats over shops, at the corners of 
 streets, accessible by outside stairs, the small 
 windows of which conveniently commanded a 
 view in almost every direction. Some of these 
 had scarcely set foot out of their grim, but 
 scrupulously neat and well-ordered, little dwel- 
 lings, for the last forty or fifty years, except to 
 walk to church in the best days of summer, 
 and yet, with their temperate habits, contrived 
 to keep themselves always in tolerable health 
 both of body and mind. Of course there were 
 exceptions here and there — wonders of intel- 
 lectual activity, and new views in morals and 
 religion — who were full of theories and schemes 
 for the benefit of their fellow-creatures, — but
 
 252 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 these were rather held in dread by all the rest ; 
 and for the most part these respectable spins- 
 ters read little, except a chapter or two of the 
 Bible on Sundays, and were generally occupied 
 in nothing more dignified than knitting little 
 cotton squares, — to be tacked together, proba- 
 bly by some industrious individual of a future 
 age, into a magnificent bed-quilt, — and in lis- 
 tening to and retailing what they called "news." 
 And yet how lively and varied were their 
 daily and hourly interests ! how wide and often 
 intense their well-cultivated sympathies ! They 
 were cm fait to the concerns of every family 
 the old walls of the city contained — in every 
 man, woman, child, and domestic of which they 
 took a certain amount of interest, propor- 
 tioned, of course, to their importance or inti- 
 macy with themselves. No doubt most, if not 
 all, the objects of their solicitude could very 
 well have dispensed with the favour of it ; and 
 it is as little to be denied, that in all these 
 talkings over of character and conduct, an un- 
 charitable construction would sometimes pop 
 out on doubtful words or motives. But what
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 253 
 
 then % " Young men," as jolly Sir John Fal- 
 staff pleads, " must live/' and so must ancient 
 women ; — and it was not the fault of any of 
 these that they had not family interests to 
 engage their sensibilities, or the better intellec- 
 tual culture which might have enabled them to 
 take wider views. A disappointment in some 
 early romance of the feelings, or a naturally 
 cross temper or very limited intellect, might 
 occasionally produce a specimen spiteful and 
 malevolent enough to give the young and 
 thoughtless some excuse for banning the whole 
 genus. But for the most part these despised 
 women were possessed of feelings quite as 
 respectable as the greater proportion of their 
 more highly favoured neighbours. They were 
 kind to the poor around them, and had alto- 
 gether far more human sympathy within their 
 withered bosoms than many of the more ac- 
 complished laissez alter inhabitants of more 
 stirring places, who thought themselves vastly 
 their superiors. 
 
 Without thinking of all this, Katherine called 
 upon them with a certain feeling of pleasurable
 
 254 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 interest. The peculiar cut of their gowns and 
 large caps, their faces and entire aspect, 
 seemed to have remained exactly the same ever 
 since she could recollect, — as well as the sub- 
 jects on which they went so eagerly off with 
 her aunt, as soon as it had been satisfactorily 
 settled to what grand-aunt she herself was in- 
 debted for the form of her nose, and cousin 
 twice removed the colour of her eyes or exact 
 tint of her hair. It was all so familiar, and 
 yet so strange ! She could not help wonder- 
 ing, as she looked in their wrinkled animated 
 faces, and listened to their voluble talk, whether 
 the old inhabitants of other places were like 
 them, — if they had really once been as young 
 as she now was, and what the old people could 
 have been like who spoke familiarly to them 
 about their grandmothers and great -grand - 
 aunts. Whether she would probably have 
 grown anything like them had she remained, 
 and if her cousins would ? It was all very 
 curious and puzzling ; but she felt much ob- 
 liged to them for their tearful good wishes and 
 prognostications in regard to her future life,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 255 
 
 and could not bid them adieu for ever without 
 certain regretful feelings. 
 
 Most of the remainder of her time at St 
 Andrews was laid claim to by her coevals in 
 age, Mary and Jane, that they might once more 
 visit all their old haunts together, — the Scores, 
 the Links, the delightful sands, and ever-inter- 
 esting Kinkell Cave, with its slippery access and 
 dropping roof, ever green with hanging plants. 
 Katherine used always to be glad to be with 
 these light-hearted girls, but at present felt far 
 more drawn towards the elder girls, — Millie in 
 particular, who had looked very pale and sad 
 for many months, and whose spirits continued 
 so feeble as to have alarmed her mother into 
 many consultations with old Kate, which had 
 resulted in the safe prescriptions of " a cup of 
 warm milk in the mornin', plenty of flannel 
 next her skin — no to tak' muckle notice, but 
 just to try to divert her/' Kate stoutly resisted 
 the mothers suggestion of steel powders and a 
 strengthening plaister. Millie, like many an 
 unfortunate, had a certain craving to dive into 
 futurity by the help of intimations in dreams ;
 
 256 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 and Kate, in spite of all her sense, being an 
 interpreter thereof, and of course confidentially 
 consulted, could see by the direction poor 
 Millie's invariably took, something of the na- 
 ture of her malady, and was able to prescribe 
 accordingly. Anne, too, was graver than she 
 used to be, looked anxious about Millie, and 
 was even more than usually affectionate and 
 protecting towards her. She was evidently 
 trying also to get Mary and Jane to be more 
 quiet, and asked Katherine to use the influence 
 which she knew she had with them, to convince 
 them that they ought to attend better to their 
 lessons, and not walk about so incessantly, and 
 be so indiscriminate in their intimacies — which 
 she did readily, and so kindly and judiciously, 
 that they w r ere not offended with her, and pro- 
 mised to be more on their guard. Poor Millie 
 hung about Katherine with a degree of sensi- 
 bility to the idea of parting which almost sur- 
 prised her. She could not guess, of course, 
 that in consideration of those among whom her 
 future life was to be passed, Millie was uncon- 
 sciously feeling her to be a kind of external
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 257 
 
 link between her and her thoughtless lover. 
 She had had many letters from Temple since 
 he had left St Andrews, — some of them suffi- 
 ciently hasty and careless, but always express- 
 ing unchanged affection for her, and her feelings 
 were deeply engaged by him. 
 
 He had passed his examination, immediately 
 received his commission, and was now at Chel- 
 tenham with his regiment, "a tolerably decent 
 place, certainly," he said, and he hoped to re- 
 main there. But matters looked no more hope- 
 ful in regard to their meeting again. His uncle 
 had been absurdly enraged, he said, at his little 
 extravagances at St Andrews, and had made 
 such a niggardly pother about paying his bills 
 there, that there was no use at present in ap- 
 proaching him with any proposal of doing more 
 for him. 
 
 Miss Hope, who had gone to her uncle's for 
 a week that she might make some preparations 
 for her wedding, which was to be as soon as 
 Katherine had gone to England, now came to 
 claim her, and they returned to spend the last 
 few days quite alone at Balbeaton. The part- 
 
 vol. I. R
 
 258 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 ing between them was almost as if they had 
 been mother and daughter, and many were the 
 topics earnestly discussed, and the judicious 
 words of counsel tenderly given, and affec- 
 tionately listened to. 
 
 Katherine had scarcely before been able even 
 to try to realise her future position, so much 
 was there in the past and present to occupy her 
 thoughts and time. Over and over ao;ain she 
 visited her poor pensioners at "the Latch" — a 
 knot of detached cottages just outside the little 
 grounds : — lame Betty and her idiot son, to 
 whom she had almost all her life carried a daily 
 dole of bread or broken meat ; old Anne, who 
 made her livelihood by farming a few fowls — 
 the entire produce of which was always con- 
 sumed at Balbeaton, Katherine generally fetch- 
 ing the eggs by two or three at a time, and 
 paying most, liberally for the same ; and dear 
 old Cecy "Wilson, who had taught her so pa- 
 tiently to spin at her two-handed wheel, that at 
 last she could make finer and smoother yarn 
 than herself, and initiated her in the difficulties 
 of spreading the lint — one end of which was
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 259 
 
 fastened to her waistband, and the rest laid 
 in thin successive layers, back and forward 
 over her lap, till it was all easy and loose, and 
 was ready to be built up into the magnificent 
 rock ! How sad to think that she might hence- 
 forward have no one to read the ' Pilgrim's 
 Progress' to her on the half-holiday Saturday 
 afternoons, and she now almost blind ! It was 
 all very depressing, and Katherine could only 
 receive their fervent blessings and tearful fare- 
 wells with a return of the same, and a repeated 
 assurance that she would never forget them, 
 and that her kind uncle Eamsay had promised 
 to see that none of them should want assist- 
 ance while she had the means of affording it.
 
 CHAPTER XVI, 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 The meeting with her uncle in London was 
 over, and Katherine had found it less formid- 
 able than she had expected. He arrived at the 
 hotel soon after Mr Ramsay and herself. They 
 had slept one night on the road, and had tra- 
 velled all the second night, and had just re- 
 freshed themselves when he was announced. 
 Katherine knew that he was two years older 
 than her mother, and was, therefore, quite sur- 
 prised to see so little trace of age in his tall 
 upright figure and handsome face. He re- 
 ceived her with a certain formal kindness, called 
 her Miss Beaton, and did not embrace her, but 
 shook her hand kindly, and made considerate 
 inquiries into their journey and fatigues. He
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 261 
 
 was quite gracious with Mr Eamsay, immedi- 
 ately asked him to accompany his niece arid 
 himself into Kent ; and, when he found that 
 business would not permit of his leaving Lon- 
 don, proposed that he should not hurry himself, 
 but take an hour or two's rest before they had 
 their chat together. "A few hours," he said, 
 " would take them home, and now it was but 
 ten o'clock." Mr Eamsay, however, required no 
 rest, and they soon retired to look over papers 
 and discuss business ; and Katherine was ad- 
 vised by both uncles to lie down the while, but 
 felt far too restless and excited to avail herself of 
 the suggestion. The hotel was in a busy, nar- 
 row street ; and as her window commanded a 
 full view of the passing crowd, it seemed rather 
 a relief to the tension of her feelings to watch 
 these nimble active steps and preoccupied faces. 
 Where could they all be going to, and what 
 thinking of, that they could each be so perfect- 
 ly self-contained'? Every one with his own 
 thoughts, and home and history, and not one 
 seeming to be so much as aware of the presence 
 of the others ! It was almost bewildering to her
 
 262 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 imagination. Before the two hours' talk between 
 the gentlemen was quite over, Katherine's tired 
 eyes had got accustomed even to so new a sight 
 as a stream of human beings ; and by the time 
 they joined her, it was beginning to be mingled 
 with her dreams. They had luncheon, and 
 then came the pang of parting with easy, kind 
 Mr Eamsay, which almost overset him, and 
 re-opened all her hastily closed griefs. He 
 embraced her very tenderly, and bade God 
 bless her with tears in his eyes, which were 
 immediately repressed, as if he were afraid he 
 was taking too great a liberty in the presence 
 of her more dignified new protector." 
 
 "Yes, my dear, Mr Arundel must kindly 
 excuse us ; so many things have happened just 
 
 of late, sir, to affect Miss Katherine, and 
 
 but they are all over now. I am sure every- 
 thing will go on well with her. My dear, Mr 
 •Arundel has been most considerate in everv- 
 respect. I shall have great comfort and plea- 
 sure in following; out all his suowstions in 
 
 regard to but, as I said, that is all settled. 
 
 I think you say your -carriage meets you at
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 263 
 
 Seven Oaks, sir, and that you will take the mail 
 at four. Well, God bless you, my dear Kathe- 
 rine ! I am sure you will not forget us, and 
 will let us know what you think of the fine 
 country you're going to — these grand, furnished- 
 like hop-gardens and the noble plantations. 
 Yes, different indeed from our bare quarter 
 — though you 11 never despise it, nor long- 
 ago interests, and old neighbours. And that 
 reminds me, my dear, to tell you that Mr 
 Arundel entirely approves of your considerate 
 arrangements in favour of the old Latch folks, 
 and you may depend on hearing all about them 
 from one or other of us ; too much writing I 
 doubt there'll be for a while, sir, for our pock- 
 ets, ha, ha ! but Miss Katherine knows how 
 little I'll grudge that. Well, I fear I must 
 be off to the Lords. You'll not forget your 
 packages, six in number'? Farewell, my dear. 
 Good morning, sir — good morning." And poor 
 Katherine was left with her new friend and a 
 very heavy heart. 
 
 Mr Arundel was by no means the selfish, 
 hard-hearted man that Katherine had so hastily
 
 264 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 set him clown for. He was only slow, and rather 
 limited. He was a quiet man, of moderate 
 aims, desirous to do his part in the world with 
 propriety, to improve his estate, live sociably 
 with his neighbours, and be respected in the 
 county. He had been a good deal disap- 
 pointed, first by his only sister marrying as 
 she did ; and, secondly, in his own marriage 
 twelve years ago. It would probably have 
 seemed to him in his fortieth year rather a 
 presumptuous venture, to fall in love with, and 
 propose to marry the beautiful Helen Temple, 
 aged eighteen, and just from school, had not 
 her mother first put it into his head, and then 
 so managed matters between them that he was 
 led to mistake the reluctance really felt on the 
 young lady's side for mere girlish timidity; 
 while she, unable to resist the influence of a 
 mother who had never allowed her to act for 
 herself on any important occasion of her life, 
 had not strength of mind to offer such opposi- 
 tion as would have prevented the marriage 
 from going forward. But, although Mrs Temple 
 had contrived, by adroit insinuations of regard
 
 SEDGELY COUftT. 2G5 
 
 and clever explanations of depressed spirits 
 and tears, to convince a simple-minded man 
 very much in love that his affection was 
 reciprocrated, she could not blind him after- 
 wards to the real coldness and want of interest 
 exhibited towards him by his beautiful wife. 
 If he had not been so bitterly disappointed it is 
 quite possible, as she had no other attachment, 
 and he was in every other way suitable, except 
 in the difference of age and his having been 
 forced upon her, that he might by love and 
 kindness have yet won her heart. As it was, 
 he was discouraged, soured, and thrown back 
 upon himself ; and she, ignorant of the cause 
 of his increased gravity and stiffness, set all 
 down to his age and character, and though she 
 could not deny him her respect, only felt more 
 afraid of him as time went on. 
 
 That no family had followed the marriage 
 was an additional misfortune. Mr Arundel 
 seemed born to bring up children with unusual 
 care and propriety ; and, besides the bond 
 between the parents which children always 
 are, they would have given Mrs Arundel re-
 
 266 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 spectable employment. She was too timid to 
 originate pursuits for herself, and having had 
 no help from her husband, she passed her time 
 frivolously enough. After the whole truth of 
 the matter had fully disclosed itself to him, 
 though for a short time he felt too sore to act 
 the dignified part which his taste and conscience 
 approved, he tried hard to get back to his old 
 interests and employments, and prudently de- 
 termined to let the world see as little as he 
 could help of his great disapj)ointment. He 
 attended scrupulously to his home-farm, his 
 roads, and enclosures; and, though unrecon- 
 ciled to his fate, was to the eye of cursory 
 observers very much what he had ever 
 been. 
 
 Of the two, poor Mrs Arundel was by far the 
 most to be pitied. The same number of hand- 
 some, well-appointed dinners were given at 
 Sedgely Court as if its mistress delighted in 
 them, and shone brilliantly at the head of her 
 table, instead of feeling bored to death at the 
 very names of the intended visitors, aud having 
 to look hopelessly over the ' Times ' or ' Kent
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 267 
 
 Journal/ that she might understand the merest 
 outline of the subjects likely to be discussed. 
 
 His sister's letter proposing him to take 
 charge of her only daughter in the event of 
 her death, had given Mr Arundel the same 
 kind of shock people often experience when 
 reminded they ought to make a will. It 
 brought painfully before him the fact, that one 
 of these days he must pass away from his 
 beloved possessions, no son of his succeeding ! 
 There seemed, indeed, no hope that it would 
 be otherwise. 
 
 Failing her mother, Katherine Beaton was 
 undoubtedly the heiress-presumptive of Sedgely 
 Court. That her mother was counting on this 
 certainty, and wishing her to live in full view of 
 her future elevation, was far from a pleasing 
 idea. He brooded painfully over it — thought 
 of it far more than of his dying sister. It put 
 the softness sadly out of his heart for a time. 
 He had not believed that his sister was really 
 so ill. Her death took him quite by surprise, 
 and seemed to open up new business and respon- 
 sibilities, to which he had difficulty in reconcil-
 
 268 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 ing himself; but having revolved the whole 
 matter very carefully, the conviction came 
 slowly but surely that it was his duty to do as 
 she had proposed, and he resolved to do it. 
 Having warily written the scroll of his letter 
 to Mr Ramsay in a large book kept for private 
 records of all sorts, he felt that the time had 
 arrived for informing his wife of the new in- 
 mate to be expected. 
 
 " I forget," he said, as they were eating their 
 luncheon together, " if your brother Frederick 
 saw much of my poor sister and her family 
 while he was at St Andrews ? " 
 
 " Not a great deal, I believe." She was 
 settling a morsel of biscuit on the nose of a 
 pretty little Skye terrier that was sitting 
 quite upright beside her with its paws moving 
 in a begging manner. " Now catch it- — there's 
 a good dog — back, Mrs Di! who said you were 
 to come % Go to your mat, old woman, and 
 wait till you're sent for." 
 
 " I think not," resumed Mr Arundel ; " Cap- 
 tain Beaton was then very unwell. Yet I 
 think he did dine at Balbeaton several times.
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 269 
 
 I recollect his saying it was a curious old place, 
 with a great rookery quite near the house, 
 which could not have been pleasant. Do you 
 happen to remember what he said about the 
 daughter — what she was like 1" 
 
 " No — oh yes — down, I tell you, Di — not a 
 morsel — you know you mustn't. She is very 
 beautiful, I think — no, no, I beg pardon, that 
 was a cousin — will you not scrape my gown, 
 you naughty Di — fat, cross thing that you are 
 — you are to have nothing." 
 
 Mr Arundel rose and rang the bell with a 
 slight jerk, but he said tolerably mildly, " I 
 wish you would leave these animals alone for 
 five minutes, Helen, and think of what you are 
 saying." 
 
 " If they would only leave me alone," she 
 said, smiling timidly. " You were talking of 
 the Beatons " 
 
 " Yes, but please to wait a moment ; I should 
 rather hear what you have to say after your 
 pets leave you a little more at leisure. This 
 is their dinner-time, is not it % John, take the 
 dogs away, and after they have been fed take
 
 270 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 them out for a walk. They are very trouble- 
 some, probably from not having half enough 
 of exercise." 
 
 " Di is certainly far too fat, and grows lazy," 
 said his wife, looking rather chidden. He did 
 not hear her ; he was revolving his subject. 
 She settled her jet bracelets, and, trying to 
 recall her brother's remarks on the Beaton 
 family, said, " I now recollect quite distinctly 
 that it was a niece of Captain Beaton's, a Miss 
 something — Ramsay — who was so beautiful 
 that Fred quite raved about her. The daughter, 
 I imagine, is very young — almost a child.'' 
 
 Mr Arundel hemmed, still slightly at a 
 loss how best to introduce the rather startling 
 fact he had to announce. " Not quite a child 
 certainly. Katherine Beaton completed her 
 seventeenth year od the third day of last 
 March." 
 
 " Is she so much ? I had forgotten — Fred 
 said very little about her. He is never com- 
 municative, you know, about any one who 
 does not interest himself — which Miss Ramsay 
 certainly seemed to do."
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 27l 
 
 " My niece is now an orphan/' Mr Arundel 
 said, rather solemnly. 
 
 Mrs Arundel was quite aware of the fact, 
 and only said, "Ah, yes, poor girl!" then after 
 a moment — " where will she live now, Mr 
 Arundel 1 with these Eamsays, I suppose." 
 
 Mr Arundel again hemmed rather porten- 
 tously. " No," he said, " not with them ;" and 
 then slowly added, " her home will be here 
 henceforward ; she will reside with me — with 
 us." 
 
 Mrs Arundel perceptibly started. Such an 
 idea had never entered her head. She could 
 not help staring for a moment in her husband's 
 face, to be sure, from his look, that she had 
 heard correctly ; but catching the glance he 
 darted at her to observe the effect of what he 
 had said, she felt she had not misunderstood 
 him, and said, " Oh ! I had not thought of the 
 likelihood of that. To be sure, the relationship 
 is the same ; and she will come and stay here 
 always — all the year." She was not particu- 
 larly struck with Katherine's good fortune — 
 rather wondered, indeed, how she would con-
 
 272 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 trive to amuse herself, so dull as it often 
 was. 
 
 Something in her tone rather than the words 
 seemed to indicate the course her thoughts 
 were taking, and he answered more rapidly, 
 " I hope she is a girl of sense and intelligence, 
 able to amuse herself with her books, and the 
 rational interests of a country life. It will be 
 unfortunate for her should it be otherwise." 
 
 Mrs Arundel made no answer. Not so very 
 unfortunate, was her thought. She would not 
 be bound to stay here for ever, whether she 
 found it interesting or not, and most likely 
 would not. Probably Mr Arundel rather ex- 
 pected a word of approval, or acquiescence at 
 least, from his wife, or he would have spared 
 her the fuller explanation of his next remark. 
 " You are aware, I daresay, that Sedgely Court 
 is strictly entailed — that I have but a life in- 
 terest in it ; that Katherine Beaton is now 
 heiress-presumptive, and failing us will inherit 
 the estate, and of course take my name." 
 
 Mrs Arundel's face crimsoned as she bowed 
 without a word more. He might have guessed
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 273 
 
 that having the fact set forth to her thus for- 
 mally by him, would be no more agreeable 
 than his poor sister's unconscious suggestion of 
 it had been to himself : yet it did not occur 
 to him to spare her. She thought rather bit- 
 terly about it all through her dull drive ; and 
 instead of considering the advantage it might 
 be to her to have a companion in the house so 
 much nearer her own age, wondered if it were 
 intended that Katherine should be at once in- 
 troduced to the neighbours as heiress-presump- 
 tive — whether she would contrive to please Mr 
 Arundel better than she herself had ever done 
 — if she was likely to give herself important 
 airs on her prospects — and how she should 
 best manage to keep aloof from anything so 
 painful and disagreeable as it w T as all likely 
 to be. 
 
 vol. i.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 " I am sony," said Mr Arundel, looking at his 
 watch as Mr Ramsay bowed himself out, "that 
 I must hurry you away without even a glance 
 at Hyde Park or the fine west-end streets. By 
 going at four, we shall reach home by eight 
 o'clock instead of eleven as we should do by 
 a later coach. It is a pity, but as you look 
 tired you will perhaps not regret it." Kath- 
 erine assured him that she would prefer going 
 at once, and they set off. 
 
 They were a little too soon, however ; and 
 as they waited in the office, a young man who 
 entered it to take an outside place, was hailed 
 by Mr Arundel, and cordially shaken hands 
 with. He was a tall, well-made, gentleman-
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 275 
 
 like man, of five pr six and twenty, dressed in 
 a short dark green shooting-jacket, with a 
 carpet-bag in his hand, and a rough coat over 
 his arm. 
 
 " Ha ! " he said, " this is luck indeed. Who 
 could have thought of seeing you here, Mr 
 Arundel 1 I had no idea you had been in 
 town ! You are going home % and mean to 
 go outside, I hope. It is a glorious afternoon, 
 and we shall have a famous bowl down the 
 hills." 
 
 " Very pleasant it would be, but I go inside. 
 I have a companion — my niece, Miss Beaton, — 
 allow me to introduce Mr Temple, my brother- 
 in-law. You did not know I was in town, I 
 daresay, George ; I came only for a few hours 
 to meet my niece, who has just come up from 
 Scotland ; and we are getting back as fast as 
 possible, seeing she has scarcely slept by the 
 way. But what is bringing you to our parts 
 in the middle of your busy time ? We heard 
 of your being so engaged professionally, that 
 you have not been able to find a moment to 
 answer any of your mothers notes on par-
 
 276 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 ticularly urgent home affairs for a fortnight 
 past." 
 
 " I am going now, as you see, to answer them 
 all in person. I have been busy enough for 
 once in my life, — I suppose you know with 
 what 1 No ? well, I'm glad of that. I was 
 half afraid my news would have been fore- 
 stalled. I come to tell you all, that I have at 
 last opened my mouth — yes — actually made 
 my maiden speech — and that by no means a 
 short one, for it lasted three mortal hours ! 
 But what is better still, I am on the right — or, 
 at least, the winning side ; the case was decided 
 yesterday in favour of my client." 
 
 " I heartily congratulate you, my dear 
 George," again shaking him cordially by the 
 hand. "This is excellent news — was it any- 
 thing important % " 
 
 " Highly important — no less than the final 
 settlement of the long-vexed question between 
 Lord High am and the Middleton trustees." 
 
 " And what good wind blew it your way ? " 
 
 "A very ill wind, I am sorry to say, blew 
 my poor friend Holberton into a typhus fever,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 277 
 
 — lie is still lying at the point of death, poor 
 fellow. It seems quite shocking to profit by 
 the misfortune of one's best friend — but so it 
 has been. About a fortnight ago, the solicitor 
 came to give him instructions towards this 
 final hearing. I was sitting with him, and he 
 in bed, and looking very red in the face, and 
 rather afraid of what was coming over him. 
 He said, if he should not be able to take up 
 the case, he would like me to act for him, — 
 that as he and I had often talked over the 
 affair together, I should be decidedly better 
 up in it than a stranger. The man of law 
 took leave, promising to consult his lordship 
 and the elder counsel, but as I could see 
 him looking rather over his nose at me and 
 my inexperience, I confess I had no hope, 
 and so was most agreeably disappointed. The 
 elder was fortunately Scarlett, with whom I 
 had lately dined in company, when we had 
 some talk about county matters. Well, he 
 thought fit to patronise me, and as poor Hol- 
 berton was pronounced quite hors de combat, 
 the papers were sent to me, with injunctions
 
 278 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 to make myself complete master of the case, 
 which you may believe I did, to the best of 
 my ability ; and a tough enough affair it was, 
 seeing as much had already been written on 
 both sides as would fill many volumes. I 
 fagged late and early, and I hope mastered it 
 tolerably ; at all events, it cannot be said I 
 did any damage, for here we are, through with 
 costs, — on the contrary, I shall, no doubt, get 
 far more credit than I deserve. But I thought 
 I had worked hard enough as a beginning, to 
 entitle me to a play-day or two, and a run 
 with the hounds. I hear they come off to- 
 morrow at Yelverton Hanger." 
 
 As he spoke in a pleasant voice, readily and 
 rapidly, Katherine looked at him, expecting to 
 discover some likeness to the Mr Temple of 
 whom, though she had not been found worthy 
 of notice in his home letters, she had a distinct 
 recollection. And something of a family re- 
 semblance there certainly was, in the tones of 
 the voice, the air and height ; but the man 
 before her was less handsome, far less of a lady- 
 killer; the mouth was wider, with much more
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 279 
 
 of character and determination in the curves 
 of the well-formed lips ; the nose less delicately 
 regular, and the skin less smooth and fair ; the 
 brow was both broader and higher, the eye- 
 brows more marked, and the eyes — much deeper 
 set — were larger, darker, and infinitely more 
 intellectual and full of spirit. All this Kathe- 
 rine had seen, had given him the preference in 
 the comparison, and had wondered how the 
 Eamsay girls would have decided between the 
 brothers, before Mr Temple seemed to notice her 
 existence, except by the slight bow of the intro- 
 duction. It was now time they should take 
 their seats, and as he handed her into the mail, 
 he looked pleasantly at her, pitied her evident 
 fatigue, drew her plaid-shawl comfortably over 
 her knees, and having advised her to go to sleep 
 if possible, was off to his more elevated position. 
 Mr Temple's dog-cart was waiting for him 
 at Seven Oaks, and the two others were left to a 
 tSte-cl-tete drive to Sedgely Court in Mr Arun- 
 del's carriage. The mail had been too full and 
 noisy to admit of any conversation, but when 
 the uncle and niece were left quite alone, he
 
 280 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 pointed out to her attention several notable 
 places as they passed them, and listened atten- 
 tively to her remarks in return. 
 
 " I am glad you admire the scenery of Kent," 
 he said ; " rich and well diversified it certainly 
 is. People say there is too much wood and 
 too little water, — and we do seem to miss the 
 cheerful sparkle of water just here, where we 
 have quite lost sight of the river ; but on the 
 whole, I confess I see nothing elsewhere that 
 pleases me so much. I once heard an old 
 Indian officer call what we see from this hill 
 a jungle, which sounded somewhat disrespect- 
 ful of such a variety of fine timber, the growth 
 of many ages." 
 
 " One hears too much about jungle fever to 
 make any association with it pleasant," said 
 Katherine. " I had scarcely thought of what a 
 jungle was like. We are so bare in our quarter 
 of the North, and have so much sea to look at 
 always, that I should be apt to overrate a fine 
 wood rather than find fault with it. But oh, 
 look, sir, what a beautiful place there is on the 
 high grounds ! That is a truly noble situation,
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 281 
 
 and there must be a magnificent view both ways 
 — and now that we have turned into this road, 
 I can see the front of the house — what an inte- 
 resting old building ! " 
 
 " I was just going to point it out to you/' 
 he said ; "that is Eedcliffe Abbey. Our friend 
 Mr Temple left the road at the lower bridge, 
 to go there by a shorter pathway. Yes, the 
 Abbey is a fine specimen of Gothic architecture. 
 It is more airily situated than these religious 
 houses often were — quite entire, too, it may 
 be called, though altered to suit the require- 
 ments of a private family — and not in such good 
 repair as we could wish it. You will go to see 
 it soon, I hope. I am glad you take so lively 
 an interest in scenery and architecture/' he went 
 on, complacently : " you draw, I hope 1 — these 
 pursuits give an interest to life in the country 
 that is very valuable." 
 
 " A very little/' Katherine said, " but I am 
 very fond of it, and I am sure this lovely country 
 will quite inspire me. What a tender delicacy 
 of colouring on the new foliage of these beech- 
 trees ! I delight in the spring variety of green.
 
 282 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 almost as much as in the more vivid autumnal 
 tints. And look at these oak-trees — almost 
 green already ! with us they have scarcely the 
 faintest amber hue yet/' 
 
 "And now," he said, "you can just see the 
 towers of Sedgely Court." Katherine quite 
 started, she had no idea of being so near. "Ah ! " 
 she exclaimed, her face lighted up, "that is 
 the most interesting of all. Can that really be 
 the beautiful park I have thought of so often 
 and often ! Oh yes ! it must be ; and the cedars, 
 and the sweet quiet river, and now the sun is 
 full on the towers, and I can actually see the old 
 arch. Oh, how entirely different it all is from 
 what I have a thousand times fancied it to be ! 
 — but lovely, and like fairyland — far far be- 
 yond my expectations !" 
 
 Mr Arundel did not reply to her enthusiasm 
 by a single word of sympathy — he only hemmed 
 dryly, and looked out of the opposite window. 
 The most interesting of all ! ay, no doubt. 
 Far beyond her expectations. It is lucky she 
 is not disappointed by the first view of her 
 future possessions. His jealousy and distaste
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 283 
 
 for her presence had returned in full force. 
 Had he only looked in her face, instead of 
 so sedulously in the other direction, he would 
 surely have been softened. She was now 
 deeply moved by the sight of her mother's early 
 home. It seemed suddenly to bring the whole 
 of her unhappy life so vividly before her — her 
 frequent depression and deep gloom — the rare 
 occasional lighting up of her countenance when 
 she would minutely describe to Katherine, the 
 features and ways of the lovely place now be- 
 fore her. The tears ran over her cheeks, and 
 blinded her for a time even to its beauty. 
 When she did check these feelings, and again 
 turn towards her uncle, she felt chilled by his 
 cold averted looks. He must surely have seen 
 the course her thoughts had taken, she thought, 
 and, yet not a look of sympathy — not one kind 
 word of regret for her poor poor mother. 
 
 He must be a hard-hearted unsympathetic 
 man ! The truth in regard to his feelings was 
 so entirely foreign to her nature, it is not 
 wonderful that no remotest glimpse of it should 
 be visible to her mind.
 
 284 SEDGELY COUET. 
 
 They were now at the handsome modern 
 lodge, from whence an ample avenue of lofty 
 beech-trees brought them by a fine sweep to 
 the house. Katherine had never seen so hand- 
 some and complete a domicile, yet she entered 
 it with a heavy heart, and a presentiment 
 that here she must learn to live without the 
 love and sympathy which had hitherto made 
 life so sweet to her. 
 
 Sedgely Court had been the abode of the 
 Arundels since the time of the Norman Con- 
 quest, when Hugh de Arundel, a brave follower 
 of William's, married Elizabeth Herbert, the 
 Saxon heiress of its broad lands. The remains 
 of a moat, which had long been filled with ash 
 and lime trees, and two grey battlemented 
 towers more than half covered with ivy, which 
 gave consequence to the less assuming but 
 handsome modern building, showed that it had 
 been a place of some strength in the days of 
 feudal warfare. It had then fronted the west, 
 and been approached by a long straight avenue 
 of noble oak-trees, which still remained. But 
 the modern house had a pleasant southern
 
 SEDGELY COURT. 285 
 
 aspect ; and, though more lowly placed than 
 suits the present taste for wide prospects, was 
 a picture of quiet, sheltered beauty and retire- 
 ment. A small stream, clear as crystal, a 
 feeder to the Medway, wound through the bot- 
 tom of the valley ; some pretty meadow-land, 
 round which it made a graceful sweep, came 
 between it and the house, and in some of the 
 sluggish eddies grew the water-rushes or sedges 
 to which the place owed its name. Nothing 
 could be more lovely than the sunny stillness 
 and greenness of this meadow-ground, con- 
 trasted as it was with the deep, rich, wooded 
 uplands that stretched quite over the brow of the 
 hill under which the house seemed to nestle. A 
 little lower down the stream, but in sight of the 
 windows, a rustic bridge led over to the village 
 of Sedgely, with its old grey clock-tower and 
 ancient church ; its neat parsonage-house, the 
 bowery garden of which, embraced by ivy- 
 covered walls, came down to the green margin 
 of the stream. And lower still, on the side 
 opposite to Sedgely Court, rose a short range 
 of low red-sandstone cliffs. On one of these
 
 286 SEDGELY COURT. 
 
 stood the ancient Abbey of Kedcliffe, the earl)* 
 home of Mrs Arundel, the grounds of which, 
 far more varied and romantic than the rural 
 fields and lofty woods of Sedgely Court, were 
 broken into wooded knolls, abrupt cliffs covered 
 with ferns and wild tangled thorn-trees, with 
 here and there a pretty sequestered dell or 
 patch of meadow or hop ground. 
 
 EXD OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 rRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SOXS, EDINBURGH.
 
 t.